The last thing Ma Daye remembered was the rocket special effects exploding in the live broadcast room.
She had just finished an eight-hour live broadcast of "Powerful Minister Simulator". The ashtray was filled with cigarette butts and the instant coffee on her desk had gone cold. As one of the top three strategic game anchors on the Internet and the financial director of a listed company, Ma Daye's life is like the cash flow statement she designed, which is accurate to every penny and every minute. At this moment, she was rubbing her sore temples to check the quarterly report, when a string of blue sparks suddenly erupted from the monitor, and electricity rushed to her fingertips along the mouse cable. In the severe pain, she seemed to hear the hum of the server being overloaded, and then she lost consciousness.
When he opened his eyes again, his nose was filled with the choking smell of mugwort.
A carved bronze lamp hung above the head, with fine dust floating in the dim yellow light. The cold and hard jade steps beneath him made his tailbone ache. Ma Daye sat up suddenly and found that he was wrapped in a burlap skirt. The hem of the skirt was stained with dark brown stains, like dried blood.
"How dare you, you wretched maid! How dare you make a noise in the Zichen Palace!"
