When Zhao Changhe saw Tang Wanzhuang, she was working in the office of the Demon Suppression Bureau.0

This was the first time that Zhao Changhe had ever seen Tang Wanzhuang seated in an office reviewing documents. Despite the solemn atmosphere of the office, there was an inexplicable sense that she was in a serene waterside pavilion in Jiangnan, composing poetry or painting landscapes.0

It seemed as though wherever she sat, the scenery of Jiangnan would follow.0

Baoqin stood by her side as always, preparing tea and grinding ink as needed. She actually held an official administrative position in the Demon Suppression Bureau, akin to a modern-day assistant or secretary. When she saw Zhao Changhe come in, she shot him a glance filled with faint grievance and frustration, then lowered her gaze and continued grinding ink.0

Pouring tea had always been her duty. It was not that she had any extreme desire to fulfill that task, but she found it ridiculous for a supposed emperor to be snatching such mundane tasks away from a maid.0

Unlike before, Tang Wanzhuang’s complexion now glowed with vitality. Gone was the pallid,...0