Wang Anfeng was not serving an ordinary palace maid.
Dressed in a blue robe, with a silver fish pouch at her waist, her forehead adorned, hair bound, her appearance may only be delicate, but her demeanor was dignified, hinting at authority, clearly a female official in the palace.
Wang Anfeng raised his hand and drank the wine in his cup.
The female official, whose posture was graceful yet devoid of any vulgar charm, took the wine pot from the hands of a palace maid, bent down to refill his cup, her lips like vermillion, fingers like green onions, wrists as white as frost and snow.
Many ministers ate, drank, and laughed without discussing state matters, occasionally roaring with laughter, and the Former Emperor seemed to be in exceptionally good spirits. Wang Anfeng held his cup, pondering the matter of returning the sword, while a young eunuch continuously brought out one imperial dish after another from the Imperial Kitchen.
