On the third day of her vacation, Zhulan and the Empress were dressed as peasant women, and truth be told, after all the years Zhulan had traveled through time, this was her first time working in the fields.
Zhulan felt sorrowful as she cradled the bundle of rice in her arms. Her delicate hands now bore cuts, and they felt like they no longer belonged to her, not to mention her now robust waist!
Zhou Shuren also sported a sickly pallor, the knife in his hand looking as if it could slice his own leg at any moment, which terrified the guards and others.
The Emperor straightened up and wiped the sweat off his forehead with a handkerchief, looking at Zhou Shuren with utter disdain, "You haven't even done a third of the work that I have."
Zhou Shuren plopped down on his behind. He had wanted to support his wife, but his spirit was willing, and his flesh was weak. Only after taking a drink from his water canteen did he feel revived, "I am a man of mental labor, mental labor!"
