"Your Majesty is joking."
Mùróng Zhuó’s voice was as dry as a withered well that hadn’t touched water in ages. Groping for the teacup on the table, his fingertips slid across the smooth porcelain surface several times before he managed to grip it.
Unexpectedly, his sleeve knocked over the teapot, and the scalding tea poured out, splashing onto the back of his pale hand.
Chapter 258