It was late at night, and the Forbidden City was dead, with no movement at all. Only in the small courtyard of Shangshi Bureau, which is as far away as possible, there is still a yellow oil lamp burning, and the light is dim.
The shadow of the lamp swayed back and forth, illuminating Su Niantang's face. Her face was already frighteningly white, and this light made the little person she was holding in her arms even more disturbing.
That little dumpling, whose name is Xiao Yan, is only three years old. At this time, he was like a small stove, his face was burning red, and his breathing was extremely rapid.
Niantang tremblingly stretched out her hand and lifted off Xiaotuanzi's swaddling clothes. As soon as she lifted it, she felt a cold air rush up her spine. Oops, the child's chest is red and swollen, and there are several blisters. It looks like he is poisoned!
"Tang Yatou..." Mother Zhang's voice was trembling as she spoke, and her expression was not much different from Nian Tang's, "The little prince's ginseng soup today... Was cooked by you yourself?"
Niantang nodded like a wooden man, as if a swarm of bees were buzzing in his head.
