A sudden jolt went through my heart, and it dawned on me a beat too late that the bowl of soup I had just finished was probably spiked.
In a panic, I scrambled to reach out, grabbing Mùróng Yān by her delicate wrist. My gaze was a frantic mix of anxiety and suspicion as I demanded, "Empress, what kind of soup did you give me?"
Mùróng Yān was entirely devoid of her usual dignified, majestic composure as the mother of the nation.
Chapter 25