Lin Miao reached out to flip through it; this Mr. Cen wasn't that knowledgeable, but his handwriting was decent. This person seemed to enjoy writing poetry.
Except these poems were more like doggerel, just average in quality.
Nothing worth his attention.
The disease comes from the mouth; since nothing was discovered in the study or living room, then it's time to check the kitchen.
These days, Mr. Cen should have been cooking for himself, so he wasn't someone completely unfamiliar with household duties.
The kitchen was quite messy, clearly not a place often used for cooking. The water jar contained half a jar of water, and rice and flour were plentiful.
Lifting the pot lid, he discovered half a bowl of meat inside.
It emanated a rancid smell, and Lin Miao couldn't immediately identify what kind of meat it was. After all, meat is recognized by taste, not sight.
However, this spoiled meat was certainly inedible; it would upset the stomach.
