Han Chen would have been Qi Wuya's brain-dead fan if he had lived in the modern era.
How could he tolerate the Crown Prince humiliating his Mr. Jiu like this?
"Crown Prince, please get on the carriage."
Han Chen stepped forward to shine his shoes, flattering with a smile, "The King has prepared fine wines and dishes, just waiting for the Crown Prince—"
"Bang!"
Before Han Chen could finish speaking, he was kicked in the chest by Qi Guanglie.
Caught off guard, he stumbled several steps backward.
"Crown Prince—"
His face was extremely embarrassed.
The Han Family of Beiqi, though declined in recent years, was of noble heritage and had never suffered the humiliation of random kicks.
A gentleman can be killed but not insulted.
But Qi Guanglie seemed eager to humiliate him, "Who do you think you are? The master hasn't spoken; what place do you have to speak? What kind of master, what kind of dog!"
To curse indirectly, to scold the chicken by cursing the dog, it was just as so.
