He always suspected that someone was out to harm him.
I crushed the eighteenth cup of poisonous tea, broke the ninth poisonous hairpin, and sighed: "Husband, there really are no assassins in the family."
With a sinister look in his eyes, he handed over a piece of sweet-scented osmanthus cake: "You taste it first."
I gritted my teeth and swallowed. As expected, the pastry was laced with poison. It was a new product developed by me myself.
He finally smiled and gently wiped the blood from the corner of my mouth: "I believe it now."
