Beneath the morning rays of sunlight, a man dressed in a white robe was seated in a wooden chair, and it was not until he saw Emperor Murong did he put away the book in his hands and slowly rose to his feet. His irises glowed faintly as he greeted, "My Prince, long time no see."
"Master, please sit!" Emperor Murong was exceptionally polite when he saw the man to the point where he almost bowed and dropped to his knees, "Please, master, give me some advice. What should I do next?"
The man's face broke into a simple and clear smile, yet the words that fell from his lips were so cold that they turned the air into ice, "I heard that the Emperor is on his deathbed, why don't you take his place?"
After saying that, the man took confident strides into the fine drizzle, his posture tall and straight; he was the exact definition of perfection.
Inside the residence, the servant peeked out of the corner of his eyes, but he could not pick up what his Prince had said.
