South City Prison.
Chen Ping'an sat securely in the seat of honor, holding a cup of freshly brewed, high-quality tea.
Before him, a dense crowd was kneeling on the floor. These were the core members of the South City Prison staff.
"Lord Chu, tell me, what is going on here? It's Lord Chen's first day on the job. What kind of arrangements are these?"
Pang Miao, seated nearby, looked at Zhu Qirong with a displeased expression.
"Lord Pang, my sincerest apologies. We have been diligently making preparations these past few days, awaiting Lord Chen's arrival. But unexpectedly, this subordinate and a few others misremembered the time of Lord Chen's appointment."
An apologetic look appeared on Zhu Qirong's fierce, scarred face. But combined with a face like his, it just seemed strange no matter how you looked at it.
