When the cold tea flowed down my neck and into my collar, I knew I was finished.
"Bad maid!"
The tyrant Xiao Jue's voice seemed to be squeezed out from between his teeth, with a ferocity that would chill people's bones. I knelt on the ground, pressing my forehead against the cold floor tiles, not even daring to breathe too loudly.
Memories of the original owner surged wildly in his mind - this was the third year of Emperor Ming of the Jokhang Kingdom. The tyrant in front of him killed people without batting an eye in the book. Just last month, he killed an eunuch who had knocked over the dishes in the imperial kitchen with a cane. Three days ago, a palace concubine just looked at him one more time while serving tea, and was dragged to the cold palace and imprisoned.
And now, I poured tea on his dragon robe.
It was a hell of a start.
