A Terrible Matter

An Yang slumped on the sofa, looking quite comfortable.

Sister Xiao Qian had put aside everything else and sat down beside him to peel an apple, saying softly, "I finally understand why Husband has never been interested in the power struggles of the real world."

An Yang asked vaguely, "How so?"

Sister Xiao Qian did not answer. She remained silent until she finished peeling the apple in her hand, handed it to his lips, and then said, "Husband deals with monumental matters in other worlds and stays rushed off his feet. How could these petty squabbles in the real world ever catch your eye?"

"You're overthinking it. I'm just lazy."

An Yang took the apple, bit into it fiercely, and smiled with a trace of self-deprecation, steadfastly refusing to acknowledge Xiao Qian's words.

Sister Xiao Qian smiled faintly and shook her head. Ever since An Yang brought her to the Apocalypse World, she had done far more than just attend a grand enthroned ceremony in her finest attire; she had also witnessed the things An Yang actually did.

Every single document piled across that entire desk determined the strategic trajectory of this planet, dictated the future lifestyles of countless people, and even decided the life and death of multitudes. If an ordinary person were in his place, they might not even know how to make choices among those documents, and would bear immense pressure.

Sister Xiao Qian recalled the days when she was still alive, and those scholars and literati who wrote with bold strokes and pointed out the country's destiny whom she had worshipped in her youth, or officials older than her own father. Back then, she probably felt that it was an extraordinary feat for such people to determine the fate of millions across the realm with a