Zhao Junyao smiled.
"There isn't even a proper forest. What good things could there be?"
"Just a few wild chickens and hares!"
"Wild chickens and hares are good too. When accompanying the Emperor, surely many people didn't even manage to get a wild chicken or hare!"
Zhao Junyao curved his lips into a faint smile, not saying anything more.
But he thought to himself, with so many skilled archers among the Imperial Forest Army—Xia Tingfeng, Yang Chenyi, and Little Seventh—yet in the end, only he had caught something. What did that imply? Did it mean they had let him have the game?
You see, as an emperor, one can never experience true joy. No one dares to win against you in chess, and no one dares to best you in hunting. You can't even get a fair competition. Sometimes, it's actually quite disheartening. He didn't really need them to do that, did he?!
Shaking his head, he threw aside these worries.
