“My king, this is Cang Qiong Mountain.” A highly lethal pillow flew over and struck Shang Qinghua, making him grimace in pain. Shang Qinghua picked up the pillow. He attempted tact. “My king, that is my bed.” Mobei-Jun stuck up a finger and waved it at him. Cool and aloof, he said one word: “Mine.” Understood.
