Lan Ming Yue

Wang Dian transmigrated. He wore a suit and held a bottle of red wine in his hand. On the left was a group of ferocious generals with swords in their hands, and on the right were civil servants with long robes and wide sleeves.

They all knelt down and called him “Your Majesty”.

Wang Dian clenched the wine bottle in his hand and shouted at them to rise on their feet.

At the start, it was still okay to be called the emperor. Unexpectedly, as soon as he entered the bedchamber, he saw a man who looked exactly like himself.

“I didn’t know there was such a strange thing in this world.” The man raised his eyebrows and smiled.

I originally wanted to go up to the Ninth Heaven to embrace the bright moon, but I didn’t expect you to lie drunk on top of the clouds.

-A palace love story of a modern version overbearing president
and an ancient version overbearing president.

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