Chapter 193: Two Auxiliary Herbs

Breakfast on the first day of the Tenth Month broke up early. Qian Duoduo was wiping the long table in the Main Hall for the second time when the dew on the eaves finally dried. Wind poured through the gate archway, rattling the coarse porcelain bowls against each other on the table. A Sui carried the last bowl out to the low hut by the Mountain Gate and came back with it empty, the two pieces of pickled vegetables that had been tucked underneath gone. Nie Bo swept his stretch of path below the steps, his broom working its way west, stroke by stroke.

Xu Yan set his chopsticks down flat and spoke. "The Ninth Month's markets. We made all five."

"Five, not a single one missed." Qian Duoduo slung his rag over his shoulder. "The thirtieth-day fair we cooked two extra pots of rice. The last pot sold out before we closed."

"Uncle Wang's rent rice came up in two sacks. For the Tenth Month rations we only bought one sack of coarse grain." Xu Yan said. "The Seventh Rank certificate is tucked inside the ledger."

"Days are getting cold, but the pot still sells." Qian Duoduo said. "The rogue cultivators are willing to stand under the eaves for a hot bowl."

By the kitchen door, A He came out hugging a small bundle of firewood, his steps hurrying toward the Ancestral Hall. It was Dragon hour, time for him and A Sui to recite the formulas. Shao Ming was already waiting at the bottom of the stone steps. A Sui ran past him, wiping both hands on the front of her clothes.

"A Sui's section is still slow." Shao Ming waited until the two children settled into place, then turned his head to say, "No rush. The formula should be memorized first."

Shi Po came around from behind the kitchen, the firewood bundle in his arms wider than his shoulders. He set it against the base of the wall, nodded once at Xu Yan, and went back.

Cheng Banshan sat on the long bench at the south end, a hand around his Wine Gourd, the stopper still in. He waited until the bowls in the Main Hall were mostly cleared before setting the gourd on his lap.

"The Dewdrop Grass has been sitting in the Medicine Hall from the Sixth Month to the tenth. Time to talk about it." He said. "This herb can't be refined into a pill on its own. It needs two auxiliary herbs. What the town sells is mortal medicine. Doesn't have them. The Linchuan Apothecary does."

"And once refined, what's it for?" Xu Yan asked.

"We'll talk about that when the time comes." Cheng Banshan leaned back against the chair. "The moment the grass is cut, the medicinal nature fixes in the root. Without those two herbs, it can sit three years and stay just grass. Those twelve stalks would be wasted."

"What are the two herbs?" A Sui stuck half her body in through the doorway.

"Grass root, tree bark, ground stone powder." Cheng Banshan said. "Even if I told you, you wouldn't recognize them."

"Expensive?" Qian Duoduo braced the wooden basin against his hip.

"Things no mortal medicine shop carries. You tell me." Cheng Banshan said.

Bai Xiaoman had been crouched inside the threshold arranging her five pebbles. She gathered them into her palm and stood. "Sect Master, East Wood and South Fire are still the old stones."

Xu Yan knew which two she meant. On the ninth day of the Ninth Month, standing outside the Mountain Gate, he'd watched Wen Su raise a palm. The light penetrated a bare half-foot, then pressed flat and pushed back.

"Getting it to rise is one thing. Taking a hit is another." Bai Xiaoman said. "Keep two in reserve. If they crack, swap them out."

"A hundred apiece at the Formation Implements Shop." Xu Yan said. His voice stayed low, but the moment he said it, the math settled in: two hundred for the pair.

"It's for backup, not because one's already broken." Bai Xiaoman added. "The old stones held this time. Whether they'll hold next time, nobody can say."

Xu Yan ran the account through his mind at the table: two Formation Stones, two hundred; round-trip cart fare, four; two nights at an inn, four; the price of those two herbs, he wouldn't know until he saw the paper at the Apothecary. Two hundred twenty was tight, tight as a sleeve cinched at the wrist. But on eighty li of official road, carrying too much in your clothes wasn't safe. What sat in the cash box could stay tucked beneath the ledger rack. He set the matter aside and spoke. "Second day, Qi Qi and I go down to Linchuan. Formation Stones and the two herbs. We'll handle both."

Qi Qi sat by the door chewing the last half of his flatbread. He shoved the final bite into his mouth and stood. "I'll go down at noon to book the cart."

"We leave the Mountain Gate at Yin hour on the second." Xu Yan said. "Miss it and we won't catch the Mao-hour run."

"The stones heavy?" Qi Qi asked.

"Twenty-some jin each." Bai Xiaoman said. "Two of them. If the groove mouths don't match, hauling them back's a wasted trip."

"One for you, one for me." Xu Yan said.

A Sui asked, "The buildings in Linchuan really that tall?"

"Not tall." Qi Qi said. "Three stories taller than the Ancestral Hall."

"That's not so tall." A He turned from the stone steps.

"Plenty of people on the streets." Qi Qi said. "At one market, ten times the crowd of town."

Jiang Wan came back from the East Courtyard, her sword hung on the nail by the door, the red cord still on the scabbard, the end worn a notch shorter. She didn't sit. She stood inside the doorway and asked, "How many days?"

"Go on the second, back on the fourth." Xu Yan said.

"Who installs the stones when they're back?" she asked.

"I will." Bai Xiaoman said. "I've already measured the grooves. If the stone's a finger-width too wide, it won't seat."

"How do you pick them at the shop?" Jiang Wan asked.

"Pick one up and tap it against another. Listen to the ring." Bai Xiaoman said. "A crisp ring can take a hit. A dull sound means cracks inside. It can look clean and still be useless."

Jiang Wan nodded once and headed toward the kitchen.

"Anything to bring back on the way?" Qian Duoduo asked. "Something you can't buy in town. Pick up one thing while you're at it."

"Money's only enough for the two." Xu Yan said. "Nothing else."

Cheng Banshan rose from the bench, one hand carrying the Wine Gourd. "Snake hour, come to the Medicine Hall. I'll write the names for you."

At Snake hour the Medicine Hall smelled of raw herb. The twelve stalks of Dewdrop Grass were still spread on the old mat beneath the worktable, the leaf centers dry and curled, a little soil clinging to the roots. Cheng Banshan pulled open a drawer in the table, drew out a sheet of pre-cut prescription paper, weighed one corner under the inkstone, and wrote with the brush.

He wrote slowly. After the first name he paused with the tip resting on the paper before writing the second. The empty sleeve was tucked into his belt.

"The Linchuan Apothecary keeps both in stock." He set the brush down. "In stock is one thing. Quality's another."

"How do I judge?" Xu Yan asked.

"Whatever the apothecary hands you, that's what you look at. Don't let him wrap it before passing it over." Cheng Banshan said. "Once it's wrapped, you can't tell through the paper. Smell it, pinch it. Roots with soil still on them beat washed-clean ones. The washed kind's already lost its scent."

"How much to buy?"

"Enough for one furnace." Cheng Banshan said. "Buy extra and it just sits. Sit long enough, the qi goes."

"How to bargain?"

"He won't name a price. You name it." Cheng Banshan said. "You name it, he won't sell, you turn and leave. Take two steps, if he calls you back, then talk. Whether the Apothecary respects Qingya or not, no need to hang it on your lips."

Xu Yan picked up the paper. Wind came through the door; the ink wasn't fully dry. He held it by the edge to air it a moment, folded it along its original crease, and tucked it inside his clothes.

Out in the Front Courtyard, Bai Xiaoman waited inside the threshold, a length of hemp cord in her hand. Two knots in it, a stretch between them.

"Wood trough, Fire trough. Match them against this." She handed the cord over. "A finger-width too wide and it won't drop in. Too narrow and it rattles. Without the stone in hand, I can't measure better."

Xu Yan looped the cord twice and slipped it into the inner pocket beside his cloth sack. The end of the cord still carried the sweat from her palm.

"There's still ten taels in the silver ledger." Bai Xiaoman said. "Want to take it?"

"Not yet." Xu Yan said. "The Apothecary and the Formation Implements Shop both take spirit stones."

At noon Qi Qi went down the mountain. The Luoxia Carriage House sat at the town gate, three mule carts parked under the awning, two of the animals chewing grass at the trough. The old man who handled bookings had his back to the street, marking days in a register with a charcoal stick. He looked up halfway through a stroke.

"Second-day, Mao hour, one cart." Qi Qi said.

The old man scratched another line with the charcoal. "Three carts free on the second. Fewer grain haulers this time of year."

"Which one's steady?"

"The first. The one in back jolts. Stops a lot on the road." The old man held the charcoal between his fingers. "Four spirit stones, pay when you board."

"Can we make it by Monkey hour?"

"With good going, Monkey hour." The old man said. "If the official road's blocked, then somebody else's cart tipped over. Nothing to do with me."

"Book the return for the fourth too?"

"On your first day back, just say the word at the carriage yard." The old man said. "First day, second day, I'll be here. One word's enough."

Qi Qi filed the words in his memory, left the Carriage Office without lingering in town, and walked straight back up to the mountain gate. At Monkey hour he stood outside the Accounts Room and reported: "Second-day Mao hour, four stones, pay at boarding. First cart's steady, said to reach Linchuan by Monkey hour. For the return, say the word at the carriage yard the day before."

"Not a word missed." Xu Yan said.

At Dog hour they fried flatbread in the kitchen. Qian Duoduo moved the workboard to the stove mouth, kneaded the dough twice, rolled it thin, and flipped each round the moment one side spotted yellow. A He crouched at the stove vent feeding firewood, the flames lighting the kitchen half red, half dark.

"Two packs. Enough for three days." Qian Duoduo stacked the flatbread into a pile. "Fried dry, they'll keep to the fourth. At the inn, just ask for hot water. Soak them and they soften."

"That'll do." Xu Yan said.

"No pickled vegetables." Qian Duoduo added. "Bring those, and you'll be drinking water all day."

A Sui counted the flatbread onto oiled paper, a layer of paper between each layer. She wrapped the last bundle and handed it over: "Don't crush them on the road. Squashed, they'll turn to paste."

Xu Yan took them. Neither pack was large, but they weighed heavy in his hand. From the far end of the veranda came a dull thud, then after a pause, another. He listened and counted them down.

Before lamplight he returned to the Accounts Room and hauled the cash box out from under the ledger rack. He undid the two loops of cord and lifted the lid. The spirit stones inside were stacked in rows of ten. He counted them out pile by pile, stopped at twenty-two, smoothed the heap flat with the back of his hand, and loaded them into the old cloth sack. He folded the mouth over twice, slipped it inside his clothes, pressed against his chest, slightly to the outside. What remained in the box he didn't recount. Enough to get through the month.

The ledger lay open on the table. He didn't post an entry. On the fourth, when he got back, he'd write it all at once: cart fare, inn, and whatever price the two items came to.

At Hai hour, only one lamp burned in the Accounts Room. Xu Yan drew the prescription paper from inside his clothes, pressed it along the original fold once more, and tucked it inside with the cloth sack. The hemp cord he pulled out too, held the stretch between the two knots up to the lamplight, then wound the ends into loops and returned it as it was—the west end of the Market was where the stones were, the Apothecary inside the Market itself, one route straight through: stones first, then ask about the two herbs. Money was only enough for the two items; whichever side settled first, he'd buy first.

The ledger pressed against the inner side of his chest. He didn't open it.

Outside beneath the veranda, Huo Qing was still thrusting at the wooden target. One step, the shoulder moved first, the left hand arrived, wood thudded dully. A pause. Then again.