But it wouldn't budge.
Zhao Changqing used the Thousand-Pound Drop technique to firmly nail his body to the ground.
Kneeling down wasn't the end of it; his head suddenly slammed downwards, his forehead hitting the floor tiles hard.
Thump—
"Your Majesty, I do not wish to be granted the title of King. Could you... allow me... to return to the Han family?"
The air suddenly became quiet.
A moment later.
The teacup on the imperial desk suddenly fell to the ground.
The sound of shattering suddenly broke the silence. Shards of porcelain flew through the air, then hit the ground, bounced up, and fell again, making a piercing noise.
The eunuchs who were waiting outside the imperial study heard the commotion and hurriedly came in, only to find the floor in a mess.
"Everyone who has no connection with this, get out! No one is allowed to come in!"
The emperor was furious, which frightened the eunuchs so much that they hurriedly retreated.
Zhao Changqing knelt on the ground, head bowed, silently enduring the emperor's wrath.
The person he was kneeling before was not only his own brother, but also the emperor of a dynasty.
It can protect him, or it can destroy him.
A few shards of porcelain fell in front of him, their whiteness blinding.
Zhao Changheng threw the scroll of imperial edict aside, stretched out his arm, and pointed at his face.
"Zhao Changqing! Do you know what kind of life I've endured for the past ten years or so, trying to get you back?!"
Zhao Changqing clenched his fists, closed his eyes, and veins bulged on his forehead.
"You think I care about this position? Without it, I'd be a carefree prince for the rest of my life, how happy I'd be!"
Upon hearing this, Zhao Changqing suddenly bent down, his forehead slamming heavily against the shards of porcelain in front of him.
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