Minister Qian had indeed rushed over upon hearing the news.

Ever since Grand Marshal Luo’s incident occurred and his charges remained undetermined, it wouldn’t be appropriate to visit the Youjian Tavern for quite some time.

Being implicated with a treasonous minister was no laughing matter.

Under these circumstances, how could he not crave the food?

Truthfully, he envied Old Zhao somewhat—able to eat Youjian Tavern’s dishes for free every single day.

“Brother Qian is too enthusiastic. Our Ministry of Justice and Ministry of Works handle quite different matters—no need to trouble you.” Minister Zhao politely declined, feeling somewhat anxious inside.

If Old Qian didn’t leave soon, Miss Luo would arrive.

Once Miss Luo came, Old Qian would definitely refuse to leave without mooching a meal.

Minister Qian grew indignant upon hearing this.

“Our Ministry of Justice and Ministry of Works handle quite different matters”—in his view, it was more like Old Zhao’s face that was quite different in size.

Couldn’t he sit in the Minister of Justice position? Those troublesome matters weren’t handled by Old Zhao anyway.

With one sweep of Minister Qian’s expression, Minister Zhao knew this old fellow felt indignant. He immediately sneered three times inwardly.

Hmph, indignant?

What use was indignation? He had capable right-hand and left-hand assistants anyway, while Old Qian had none.

At this moment, a bailiff hurriedly came to report: “Your Excellency, Miss Luo has arrived.”

Minister Zhao lifted his feet and walked past the bailiff.

This left Minister Qian utterly bewildered. He couldn’t help but ask the bailiff in a low voice: “Why does your superior personally go to greet her when Miss Luo arrives?”

Even when he himself came, he didn’t receive such great courtesy.

The bailiff kept his head lowered, the corner of his mouth twitching: “Our superior habitually moves about when tired from work.”

Could he possibly say that the Minister didn’t trust others and insisted on personally receiving the food box?

Minister Qian silently followed along.

From what the bailiff said, he understood completely.

Minister Qian had just caught up when he saw Luo Sheng hand a food box to Minister Zhao.

Minister Zhao gripped the food box, his steps back appearing somewhat labored.

“Brother Zhao, let me help you carry it.”

“No need!” Minister Zhao noticed his tone was somewhat intense and smiled until his face creased with wrinkles. “It’s quite heavy—I’d feel terrible if Brother Qian tired himself.”

“Brother Zhao speaks too formally. Given our friendship, would I fear getting tired?” Minister Qian closely followed his old friend’s steps, his eyes fixed on the food box. “That’s a food box, isn’t it? I noticed Miss Luo delivered it…”

“Ah.” Minister Zhao thought to himself, here it comes, and gave a vague acknowledgment.

“Then it must be dishes and wine from Youjian Tavern. Ah, arriving early isn’t as good as arriving at the right time—I’m in for a treat.”

Minister Zhao: “…” Shameless old thief! This is arriving at the right time? Clearly he timed his arrival deliberately!

However, since the person had already come, could he really drive him out? He could only reluctantly share with him.

The bailiff leading Luo Sheng toward the prison cells felt excitement no less than the two ministers.

Maintaining composure was impossible—his eyes practically glued themselves to the cloth bag the young lady carried.

Today’s cloth bag looked fuller than usual—by his estimate, there were delicious things inside.

Luo Sheng pulled out an oil paper package and handed it over: “Today I made crispy roasted chicken. Big Brother, please try it.”

A hand swiftly received the oil paper package, the voice filled with enthusiasm: “Many thanks, Miss Luo.”

Arriving at the prison entrance, Luo Sheng handed the food box to the jailer as usual.

Along with it, besides silver, she also passed over an oil paper package.

“Wait here.” The jailer carefully put away the oil paper package wrapped around the roasted chicken and carried the food box inside.

The food box was tightly covered, emitting no fragrance, yet the jailer knew just how fragrant the dishes inside were.

Of course, he had never tasted the dishes in the food box, but he had tasted the meat buns.

Carrying the heavy food box through the dimly lit prison, the jailer’s heart stirred: the dishes were so delicious, why shouldn’t he try them?

Once this thought arose, it couldn’t be stopped.

The jailer stopped, brazenly opening the food box.

The top layer was an assorted platter of braised delicacies—braised beef sliced thin enough to be translucent, beautifully colored duck tongues, soft, glutinous, and richly fragrant sliced pork knuckle…

The jailer tasted a bite, then another, then yet another…

One bite after another—when he regained his senses, the plate of braised delicacies had reached the bottom.

The jailer paused momentarily, casually tossed the empty top plate onto the ground, closed the food box lid, and walked forward as if nothing had happened.

It would be good if Grand Marshal Luo’s charges were determined soon. Once determined, he would have to be held in the Ministry of Justice prison for some time before execution—then all these delicacies Miss Luo sent could go straight into his stomach.

As for now, he still needed to exercise some restraint.

“Grand Marshal Luo, your daughter has brought you food.” Standing outside the bars, the jailer called out unkindly.

Eat, eat, eat—a person about to die still had the appetite to eat so much, truly wasting good things.

Grand Marshal Luo naturally heard the change in the jailer’s tone but couldn’t be bothered to quibble with him.

Having served as Jinlin Guard Commander for so many years, he had seen plenty of this type.

Upon entering this kind of place, while one might initially retain some courtesy, day by day it would be exhausted, until finally only cruelty remained, no longer treating prisoners as human.

Receiving the food box, Grand Marshal Luo instinctively frowned.

Today’s food box was lighter in weight.

He couldn’t help but glance at the jailer, his gaze briefly resting on the jailer’s oil-gleaming lips.

The jailer grew increasingly impatient: “What is Grand Marshal Luo looking at?”

“Nothing.” Grand Marshal Luo calmly withdrew his gaze.

Minor devils were difficult to deal with—he didn’t want to offend such a creature, lest he later spit in the food Sheng’er sent him.

Opening the food box, one layer was clearly missing inside.

He arranged the bowls and plates one by one—placed at the very bottom was a jar of soup.

Grand Marshal Luo passed the food box back out. The jailer carried the empty food box with such heartache, his face darkening as he walked away.

Only then did Grand Marshal Luo open the steamer basket—inside, as usual, were six meat buns arranged in a plum blossom pattern.

He picked up the meat bun positioned in the center and took a small bite.

These past few days, each time he had found the character “wait” inside the meat bun—would today be different?

Rationally speaking, Sheng’er was just a young woman who couldn’t possibly change anything in these few short days, but as long as one was human, who could be without some curious anticipation?

The familiar sensation of touching something hard appeared again. Grand Marshal Luo quietly spat out the small bone fragment.

The bone fragment still bore only one character, yet the instant Grand Marshal Luo clearly saw this character, his expression suddenly changed.

There, carved distinctly, was the character “poison.”

Grand Marshal Luo stared at that character, his heart churning.

For several consecutive days it had been “wait,” but today it changed to “poison”—what did Sheng’er mean by this?

Could someone be planning to poison him, and Sheng’er detected it?

Grand Marshal Luo quickly rejected this speculation.

Transmitting messages through bone fragments hidden in meat buns had begun after Sheng’er came to visit him. Sheng’er had no ability to predict the future—even with Prince Kaiyang’s assistance, she couldn’t possibly have known at that time that someone would poison him.

Perhaps… Sheng’er meant something else.

Grand Marshal Luo’s gaze swept across the bowls and plates one by one, finally settling on that jar of soup.

It was a bowl of pork stomach soup.

“Stomach” and “poison” were homophones—

Grand Marshal Luo’s brow twitched, the speculation in his heart growing increasingly clear: was Sheng’er hinting that this jar of pork stomach soup was poisoned?