The dragon chair is really uncomfortable to sit on.
When Yin Xing opened his eyes, his bottom was sore and his back was stiff. It was like someone had stuffed him into a wooden box. He looked at everything in front of him expressionlessly - the golden roof of the palace, the vermilion pillars, the dark ministers kneeling on the ground, and the etiquette officer next to him who was shouting at the top of his lungs.
"Long live your Majesty, long live your Majesty—"
The voice dragged on for a long time, as if the chicken was being killed without stopping.
Yin Xing sighed inwardly.
