"Idiot! How could I have a son like you? I give you a few small tasks, and you make a complete mess of them! How can I possibly entrust the future of this Prince's Mansion to you?!"
In the main hall of Prince Xiang's Mansion, Prince Xiang Zhao Zhen's expression flickered between light and shadow, tinged with a stern authority.
He slammed a heavy palm down on the red sandalwood table, rattling the teacups. His eyes churned with undisguised anger and disappointment.
And deeper still, there was a hidden, almost imperceptible trace of panic.
Below, the Heir of Prince Xiang, Zhao Chengxiang, was prostrated on the floor. Though his face showed fear as he kept his head bowed and eyes lowered, the tight set of his lips and a look deep in his eyes betrayed a hint of defiance and resentment.
The Jingwu Bureau's raid in Ning'an was, in truth, not his fault.
