Yun Jiao raised an eyebrow; she admired Yan Beichen's ability to think about such things at the brink of life and death. Truly, a twisted mind is beyond ordinary comprehension.
Then, Yan Beichen opened the second layer and took out three small bottles, arranging them neatly on the table. He looked at Yun Jiao and said, "Your poison is no more than applied onto the hairpin and needle."
"Even if the hairpin pierces my skin, the amount of poison my body contacts remains very little. Such a small dosage is difficult to be lethal. Only a few kinds of potent poison can kill with just a tiny bit, especially those that seal the throat upon contact with blood. Without an antidote, certain death awaits."
He raised his still-bleeding hand, "You just mentioned an hour; I guess it's the kind that seals the throat upon blood contact."
After saying this, he picked up a small bottle from the table and, without hesitation, poured the contents into his mouth and swallowed.
