On her wedding night, she went into exile with her pharmacy arsenal

Chapter 2248 The Feeling of Death

A hint of relief flashed in Huo Changhe's eyes.

"Zhou Lao Er traveled all the way from Chongzhou to Youcheng, just in time to find us investigating the Baixing Teahouse."

Perhaps it was fate that brought him this crucial clue, exposing the true face of the fake Zhou Zhenghang.

Yan Ruyu's fingers tightened slightly as she held the letter. A sly glint flashed in her eyes as she said, "Why don't we go with the flow and let them cause some more chaos?"

Inside the dark and damp cell, some dry grass was piled up in the corner, emitting a smell of mildew mixed with dust.

The man huddled on the haystack, hugging his knees, his brow furrowed, his face full of anxiety.

Ever since Yan Ruyu visited him and told him that she would pin the leak of secrets on him and let Mr. Mo know that he had betrayed him, he hasn't been able to have a single day of peace.

He knew Mr. Mo's methods better than anyone else.

When he worked for Mr. Mo, he witnessed the fate of many traitors. It wasn't just a matter of dying; they suffered endless torment, a fate worse than death.

The more he thought about it, the more frightened he became. A layer of cold sweat seeped out from his back, and his fingertips unconsciously dug into the soil on the ground.

If I had known it would end like this, I would have preferred him to have died instead.

Just as he was feeling agitated, he heard footsteps outside the cell, getting closer and closer.

The waiter looked up, a hint of wariness flashing in his eyes, but when he saw it was the jailer who brought him food, his expression quickly turned numb.

He thought it would be another bowl of thin rice porridge that was hard to swallow, and he didn't even want to move.

This time, however, the footsteps stopped outside his cell. The jailer did not bring in the rice porridge as usual, but instead opened the cell door and carried in an earthenware pot.

A rich aroma wafted from the earthenware pot, not the sour smell of thin rice soup, but a mellow fragrance carrying the aroma of herbs and meat.

The waiter was taken aback, and subconsciously sniffed, his eyes full of doubt.

The jailer placed the earthenware pot on the ground, his face expressionless, and said in a low voice, "Eat quickly, this is a medicinal meal specially prepared for you by Manager Qi."

"Manager Qi?" The shop assistant looked up abruptly, a hint of disbelief flashing in his eyes, followed by a glimmer of hope.

Manager Qi was sent by Mr. Mo, just like him. Could it be that Mr. Mo hasn't given up on him yet?

Or did Manager Qi come specifically to save him?

He quickly scrambled up from the haystack, strode over to the jailer, and carefully took the earthenware jar.

The earthenware pot was warm to the touch, and the aroma was even more intense. Inside was a thick medicinal soup, and you could also see a few pieces of stewed meat that were tender and soft.

These past few days in jail, he'd been eating either stale, watery rice porridge or hard, dry cornbread. He was starving, and the mix of surprise and delight in his heart made him swallow hard, even though he wasn't really in the mood.

He picked up the wooden spoon handed to him by the jailer, scooped up a spoonful of hot soup, and put it in his mouth.

The warm broth slid down his throat, carrying the slight bitterness of the herbs and the savory aroma of the meat. The warmth spread along his esophagus to his whole body, easing his tense nerves and making his stomach feel much more comfortable.

Without further hesitation, he began to eat heartily, stirring the earthenware pot with a wooden spoon, making a soft sound.

After a few sips of soup, he finally raised his head and looked at the jailer, his tone filled with urgency and expectation: "Does he have any news for me? Is he going to rescue me?"

Before he could finish speaking, he saw the jailer's expression suddenly change, his originally calm expression turning sinister, and a strange smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

The waiter's heart skipped a beat, and an ominous premonition instantly welled up in his mind.

"You..." He had barely opened his mouth when a sharp, agonizing pain suddenly shot through his stomach, as if countless tiny knives were violently churning inside.

His face changed drastically, the wooden spoon in his hand fell to the ground with a clatter, he clutched his stomach with both hands, curled up into a ball, and his forehead was instantly covered with cold sweat.

He was horrified, looking down at the earthenware pot on the ground, his eyes filled with terror: "Poison!"

My vision gradually blurred, my eyes became dizzy, and my ears were ringing, making it impossible to hear anything clearly.

He could feel his strength rapidly draining away, his body growing heavier and heavier, and his breathing becoming increasingly difficult.

Just as his consciousness was about to fade, the jailer slowly squatted down, leaned close to his ear, and said in a very low voice with a hint of cold malice, "Go and talk to the King of Hell."

The man tried to call for help, but could only make weak hoarse sounds. Finally, everything went black, and he lost consciousness completely.

The jailer looked at the employee curled up on the ground, a cold, mocking smile playing on his lips.

He bent down, grabbed the man by the back of his collar, and easily lifted him up like a sack, throwing him onto a simple wooden cart outside.

He raised his hand to pat the dust off his clothes, then looked down at the motionless servant on the cart, and pushed the wooden cart toward the Prince's Mansion.

Outside the study.

He raised his hand and knocked on the door: "Your Highness, Your Highness, the person has been brought."

Yan Ruyu looked up: "Come in."

The jailer pushed open the door and entered.

Yan Ruyu looked at the waiter's pale face: "Let him experience the feeling of being on the verge of death, consider it a small lesson for him."

"Now that I have personally experienced the fear of 'death,' any sense of complacency will naturally disappear."

About half an hour later, the waiter's fingers twitched slightly, and his eyelids began to tremble gently.

A faint groan escaped his throat, and he slowly opened his eyes.

What came into view was the flickering candlelight, the light so bright that he could hardly open his eyes.

A faint sandalwood scent lingered around my nose, quite different from the musty smell in the cell.

He blinked blankly, his mind a complete blank. He vaguely remembered drinking the poisoned medicinal food in the prison cell, and then suffering unbearable abdominal pain and losing consciousness.

"Is this...the underworld?" he murmured to himself, his voice hoarse and dry.

Is the underworld really this elegant?

There was also sandalwood incense and candlelight, which made it seem less eerie and terrifying than the legends suggested.

Just as he was speculating, a clear and calm voice rang in his ear: "Awake?"

The voice was familiar, carrying an invisible sense of oppression.

The waiter felt a chill and turned to look in the direction of the sound.

When he saw Yan Ruyu and Huo Changhe sitting at the table, his pupils suddenly contracted, and his heart sank as if he had fallen into an ice cellar.

Why is he here?

Isn't he dead?

The man struggled to get up, but his limbs felt as heavy as lead, and he couldn't move no matter how hard he tried. He could only lie on the wooden cart, looking utterly pathetic.

His face was filled with shock and fear, his lips trembling: "Where is this? I...I'm not dead, am I?"

Huo Changhe's gaze fell coldly on him, his tone completely calm: "The princess saved you, spared your life."

"Saved me?" The man was stunned for a moment, then recalled everything that had happened before he fainted.

The jailer's sinister smile and the intense cramping in his abdomen flashed through his mind, sending a chill down his spine.

He subconsciously touched his stomach, where a faint ache still lingered, reminding him that what he had just experienced was not an illusion.