Grand Marshal Luo clutched the meat bun, eating it bite by bite.

These past few days, the food Sheng’er had sent—meat buns, braised delicacies, hot dishes—the dishes were all the same; only the soup changed. Because of this, it made it very easy for him to notice this particular jar of soup.

If Sheng’er was hinting that poison had been added to this food, he believed the most likely place was in this jar of soup.

The rats, drawn by the fragrance as usual, gathered around, scurrying about near Grand Marshal Luo.

Grand Marshal Luo bit into the meat bun with a numb expression.

That opened jar of pork stomach soup seemed forgotten, its fragrance permeating the dark, damp prison cell.

Several rats squeaked wildly, enticed by the fragrance. Finally, one exceptionally plump rat couldn’t resist and knocked over the soup jar.

Milky white broth flowed out, the fragrance growing even more intense.

That plump rat jumped directly into the flowing broth, and soon other rats, unwilling to be outdone, crowded over.

Grand Marshal Luo suddenly snapped back to attention, roaring: “Get away!”

The rats gathered together eating contentedly scattered reluctantly, but Grand Marshal Luo had barely taken another bite of his meat bun when these lawless little creatures gathered again.

Grand Marshal Luo cursed furiously in anger.

A jailer heard the commotion and walked over, shouting impatiently: “What’s all the noise about?”

Grand Marshal Luo gave the jailer a cold glance but said nothing.

Seeing the overturned soup jar and the rats eating with great enthusiasm, the jailer couldn’t help but laugh: “Got your food stolen by rats? Normal—these rats are bolder than cats. If they encounter prisoners who’ve just been tortured and are physically weak, they even dare to tear at their flesh directly—”

As if someone had suddenly seized his throat, the jailer’s words abruptly stopped, his face turning extremely ugly as he pointed at the ground with trembling fingers.

Grand Marshal Luo looked down and saw the plumpest rat convulsing on the ground.

Then, one by one, the rats that had been fighting for food collapsed.

His expression changed instantly as he leapt to his feet: “It’s poisoned!”

The jailer’s eyes widened enormously, his eye sockets trembling, still looking as if he hadn’t processed what happened.

Grand Marshal Luo rushed to the bars, reaching through the gap to grab the jailer’s collar: “Speak! What’s going on? Someone is actually trying to harm me!”

The jailer awoke as if from a dream, shouting in terror: “Impossible!”

A great force pushed the jailer away, accompanied by Grand Marshal Luo’s furious roar: “Go get your superior here!”

“Uh, uh…” The jailer completely forgot his earlier contempt for Grand Marshal Luo and turned to run outside.

The head jailer—that is, the jailer who had been delivering food to Grand Marshal Luo these past few days—was at this moment tearing into roasted chicken and talking with Luo Sheng, who had not yet left.

“Miss Luo, today’s roasted chicken is so delicious. What’s it called again?”

Watching the jailer eat with oil dripping from his mouth, Luo Sheng smiled sweetly: “Crispy roasted chicken.”

“I heard it was made by the cook at your tavern?”

Having eaten what Luo Sheng sent these past few days, the head jailer had long since inquired—turned out this Miss Luo had opened a tavern on Qingxing Street. Reportedly the food and wine were wickedly expensive; eating one meal there would cost him half his family fortune.

“That’s right.” Luo Sheng continued smiling good-naturedly.

“Tsk tsk, your cook is truly skilled. I’m rather fond of eating braised pork knuckle.”

Braised pork knuckle must taste even better than this roasted chicken.

Luo Sheng’s lips curved: “Then tomorrow I’ll bring braised pork knuckle.”

The head jailer was delighted, thinking to himself that rumors couldn’t be trusted—Grand Marshal Luo’s daughter was quite sensible after all.

“How was my father’s spirits today?”

The head jailer spat out a chicken bone and answered lazily: “Fine, eating plenty and sleeping soundly.”

The young lady asked every day—nothing more than questions about whether he ate well, slept soundly, and how his mood was.

He was tired of hearing it.

“That’s good then. I’ll head back now. Tomorrow I’ll come again to bring Father his meal—I’ll have to trouble Big Brother to look after my father.”

“Don’t worry, don’t worry.” The head jailer sucked on the chicken bone, impatiently waving his hand.

Luo Sheng picked up the empty food box and turned around, walking forward step by step.

The bailiff responsible for leading the way followed closely by her side.

The bailiff normally wouldn’t have this patience, but having accepted the young lady’s food many times, he had developed patience.

Behind them, a panicked voice called out: “Chief, something terrible has happened!”

Luo Sheng’s steps halted, and she naturally turned around.

The jailer ran out gasping for breath, his face as if he’d seen a ghost: “Poison, Grand Marshal Luo’s food is poisoned—”

“Speak clearly!” The head jailer’s expression changed drastically.

The young lady who had only walked a few steps before stopping rushed over and grabbed the jailer’s collar: “What do you mean? My father has been poisoned?”

The jailer was shaken speechless by the seemingly frail young woman, only one thought in his mind: Just now when Grand Marshal Luo grabbed me like this, my neck still hurts!

The head jailer was stunned by this sudden scene. When he came to his senses, he saw Luo Sheng throw down the food box and run away crying.

Most terrifyingly, she ran while crying: “Minister Zhao, someone poisoned my father—”

The head jailer froze again.

The jailer finally recovered and violently tugged at the head jailer: “Chief, we’re, we’re in trouble!”

The head jailer pushed the jailer aside and ran toward the prison cells.

Of course he knew they were in trouble!

Minister Zhao and Minister Qian were competing for the last slice of pork knuckle when they faintly heard a girl’s tearful cries.

Oh? The voice sounded very familiar, like Miss Luo.

In this moment of distraction, that slice of knuckle made it into Minister Qian’s mouth.

“Old Qian!” Minister Zhao was beside himself with frustration.

Minister Qian chewed the knuckle meat methodically and kindly reminded: “Brother Zhao, I think I heard Miss Luo calling for you. Probably you have work to do.”

Was it really Miss Luo?

Minister Zhao couldn’t be bothered to compete anymore. He set down his chopsticks and walked out.

Head-on, he saw a young woman running toward him like a whirlwind. Upon drawing near, she grabbed his sleeve and cried: “Minister Zhao, my father has been poisoned!”

“Poi, poisoned?” Minister Zhao was shocked, his voice changing.

The young woman’s face streamed with tears: “Someone put poison in my father’s food!”

“Poison in the food?” Minister Zhao suddenly felt his stomach churning violently, his voice trembling. “How is the Grand Marshal?”

Luo Sheng blinked and cried even harder.

Minister Zhao flung his sleeve and ran toward the prison cells.

Minister Qian walked out of the room, slightly shaking his head.

See? He said he’d come help, but Old Zhao said it wasn’t necessary—now something had happened.

Minister Zhao rushed to the prison cell and saw Grand Marshal Luo with an ashen complexion, along with a ground covered in dead rats.

As for the jailers, they were naturally beneath notice.

“Minister Zhao has arrived.” Grand Marshal Luo gave Minister Zhao a somber glance.

Minister Zhao had run until his old legs were about to break. Supporting himself on the bars, he felt as if he’d come back to life.

Thank heaven and earth, the Grand Marshal was fine. From how Miss Luo looked, he’d thought he’d been poisoned to death!

“Minister Zhao, what is the meaning of this?” Grand Marshal Luo pointed at the ground covered in dead rats, his tone icy. “His Majesty hasn’t convicted me yet, but already someone can’t wait to take my life. What does Minister Zhao plan to do about this?”

Minister Zhao, his soul still settling, said solemnly: “Naturally, this must be reported to His Majesty.”