His grip was so tight her waist ached, and the hard throne pressed uncomfortably against her tailbone.
Zhao Mingyan's expression turned cold. "Stop thinking about Wei Ting."
The heat of the moment had yet to fade, so Ji Qingwu wasn't intimidated by his cold expression or his attempt to act aloof.
In fact, she grew bolder, reaching out to tug at the corners of his downturned lips.
"Don't be upset."
She gave his head a gentle shake. "I wasn't thinking about him, I swear. Can we sit down and talk, please?"
Zhao Mingyan's expression remained grim, but he did as she asked.
He carried her over to the Dragon Chair and sat down. Their positions changed from standing to sitting, but otherwise, nothing was different. He still had her straddling his lap.
Behind the gilded, dragon-carved throne was a seven-paneled screen, also lacquered in gold and intricately carved with nine dragons amidst swirling clouds.
All of them seemed to be staring right at Ji Qingwu.
