Chapter 219: The Stall at the South End

Xu Yan lined up the four small porcelain vials in a row on the long table in the Main Hall, labels facing out, the date column on each one plainly visible.

"That date on the label—our furnace never lit that day," he said evenly. "The Medicine Hall's charcoal stove was only first fired that day."

A dozen or so people crowded into the Main Hall. Qian Duoduo arrived last, apron still tied at his waist, both hands wiping against it. A He and A Sui leaned against the doorframe, one on each side, neither coming in.

Xu Yan recounted the events of the fifteenth day of the Third Month from beginning to end. Steward Miao of Ink Pool Gate had brought two rogue cultivators and one Ink Pool Gate disciple to the counter in the Market. On the fifth day of the Third Month, the three of them had bought pills at a stall at the south end of Linchuan Market—six spirit stones apiece, labels reading Qingya. After taking them, their meridians prickled in waves; their qi wouldn't rise. They were laid up for three days. The disciple had bought two pills, eaten one, and kept the other tucked away, too afraid to touch it.

"Elder Cheng looked at them last night," Xu Yan said. "Mixed in is the dregs of a qi-guiding medicine that had already been boiled once. It scrapes the meridians. Won't kill, but it injures."

Cheng Banshan sat on the bench by the door, his empty sleeve tucked into his belt, his formation hand resting on his knee. He grunted at that. "Ten days or so to recover."

"So on the eighteenth I went to Linchuan," Xu Yan said. "Qi Qi came with me, to file a complaint at the Market Office. Four days total. We got back the twenty-first."

Jiang Wan stood beside the table, arms crossed. "Will the complaint hold?"

"The Market rules are carved into the wall," Xu Yan said. "Selling goods under another name is one violation. Impure elixirs is another. The stall's still standing. When the Autumn Evaluation reaches Luoxia, what people say about this year's pills—they'll be talking about Qingya."

He said that last bit very quietly. Jiang Wan tilted her chin toward the four vials on the table. "The writing on the labels—same as ours?"

"Same. Whoever forged them copied carefully. Copied well." Xu Yan pressed down the label on the leftmost vial, making the date column clearer. "He filled in a date we never had. Which days Qingya's furnace burns, the ledger records. He can't forge the ledger."

Jiang Wan asked nothing more, only said, "Four days."

"I won't be at the twentieth-day market," Xu Yan went on. "Bai Xiaoman goes down the mountain to keep the market ledger. Qi-Gathering Pills at the regular price, eight spirit stones each. Du Xiaochuan waits for the Qi-Gathering Powder batch to finish at mid-morning, carries ten bottles down—you'll carry the Qi-Gathering Pills too, hand them over to the Market. Once that batch sells, pick alchemy materials from the consignment stock. For charcoal, ask at the wharf. Uncle Shao watches the gate and the scale."

Shao Ming nodded. "Who locks the market ledger?"

"Bai Xiaoman brings it back that evening and hands it to the Accounts Room," Xu Yan said. "I'm carrying the master ledger with me. I'll fill it in myself when I get back."

"The eighteenth's batch—I'll take it in," Cheng Banshan said. "Write the labels on the seventeenth, dated the eighteenth."

At lamp-lighting time on the seventeenth, a single lamp burned in the Accounts Room. Xu Yan spread label paper across the desk and wrote them one by one. Ten read "Qingya" and "the eighteenth day of the Third Month"—for the Qi-Gathering Pill batch fired at mid-morning on the eighteenth. Ten read "Qingya" and "the twentieth day of the Third Month"—for the Qi-Gathering Powder batch on the twentieth. After writing, he counted them twice, waited for the ink to dry, then folded them neatly and handed them to Bai Xiaoman.

"The packet at the bottom of the furnace," he said, "the eighteenth batch is yours to wrap. Use medicine paper, write the date on it."

Bai Xiaoman held the twenty labels, thumb rubbing along their edges. "I know. Write the date, put it on the rack."

Qian Duoduo set a package at the corner of the desk, wrapped in oiled paper, tied twice with hemp cord. "For two people, four days of flatbread. Once you get to Linchuan, only ask for hot water. Don't buy meals—a bowl of spirit food in town costs two spirit stones, Linchuan's even pricier. If the bread goes hard, soak it in water."

On the night of the seventeenth, once everything that needed handing over was handed over, Xu Yan finally went to bed.

At the Tiger hour on the eighteenth, it was still dark at the foot of the Mountain Gate. Nie Bo stood his broom by the gate, nudging the handle aside to leave half a step of room.

Qi Qi carried a cloth bundle: the four vials inside, the small retained sample, the furnace log, and the written statement Steward Miao had signed. Xu Yan's ledger was wrapped at the other end of the bundle, the account book itself tucked against his chest. The two of them went down from the Mountain Gate—ten li of mountain road—and by the time they reached the street entrance of Luoxia Town, the sky was just brightening.

At the Mao hour, the mule cart from the carriage house waited at the street corner. Qi Qi counted out four coins from his chest and put them into the carter's hand. The carter tucked the money into his waist pouch and flicked the whip. "Get on."

Eighty li of official road. The cart left town, and the sky brightened bit by bit. Qi Qi sat up front, both legs dangling over the side, swinging. "Sect Master Xu, can I ask something?"

"Ask."

"What if Manager Xue says this isn't her business?"

Xu Yan watched the trees along the road fall behind. "Then ask whose business it is."

"What if she won't even ask that much?"

"I'll set the four vials on her desk," Xu Yan said. "If she won't look, I'll open the furnace log and state the date on the label one more time. She's the manager—she has to say something."

Qi Qi thought it over. "And if she says something, but still won't handle it?"

"Then I write down what she said and bring it back," Xu Yan said. "Once it's down on paper, there's always somewhere it'll be needed."

Qi Qi clicked his tongue and pulled his legs in. "I thought you'd worked out seven or eight moves ahead."

"Can't," Xu Yan said. "I only know which move to open with."

At the Shen hour, the cart stopped at the carriage yard outside Linchuan City. The two got down and walked into the city. Half an hour later, they reached the inn on the edge of the Market. The counter was low; someone behind it was wiping bowls. Qi Qi took the room at the east end of the second floor—two plank beds, two spirit stones a night, settle on departure. He only asked for a pot of hot water, nothing else.

Before lamp-lighting, the two sat on the plank beds eating flatbread. Xu Yan untied the bundle and laid everything out on the bed, piece by piece: the four vials placed at the very back so they wouldn't get knocked over by accident; the small sample packet in the middle, one corner of the medicine paper weighted down; the furnace log opened across his knees; the written statement rolled up, tied with a thread. He turned his ledger over to the back pages, where he'd recorded what the three Linchuan merchants had said on the third day of the Tenth Month, Alliance Year 301—line by line, with dates and with who was present.

"Tomorrow morning, should I check the south end first?" Qi Qi said. "See if the stall's still there, what the man looks like?"

"Market Office first," Xu Yan said, straightening a vial. "File the complaint first. Look after we've filed, while someone from the Office is with us. If we look before filing, they can wipe the whole thing with one sentence: Qingya's people came to make trouble at the stall."

Qi Qi stuffed the last half of his flatbread into his mouth, mumbling, "You really think through the details."

"This one can't leave any opening for talk," Xu Yan said.

That night, neither of them slept well. From the street, someone pushed a cart past; wooden wheels ground over flagstones. Qi Qi turned over and asked, "What time is it?" but before anyone answered, he was asleep again.

At the Dragon hour on the nineteenth, the Market Office. A long desk in the hall, a chair behind it, a row of wooden boards nailed to the wall, each one carved with a Market rule. Xu Yan set his bundle on the desk and waited for Xue Guizhi to come out from the inner room.

"What's the complaint," she said, sitting down and rolling her sleeves up once.

"A stall at the south end," Xu Yan said. "Selling pills under Qingya's name."

Xue Guizhi pulled a sheet of paper from under the desk and pushed over a brush. "Say it yourself, write it down, press your thumbprint."

Xu Yan wrote slowly, line by line: which day, what label, how many people bought them, what happened when they took them, which days Qingya's furnace actually burned. When he finished, he pressed his thumbprint, arranged the four vials on the desk, opened the furnace log, and set the written statement to one side.

Xue Guizhi took the statement first and read it over. "Who wrote this?"

"Steward Miao of Ink Pool Gate. Three people pressed their prints."

She set the statement back on the desk, then looked at the vials, turning each one over to inspect the label. She said nothing. When she'd seen them all, she looked up. "The retained sample."

Xu Yan opened the bundle, took out the small packet, and set it on the desk, folding open one corner of the medicine paper. She pulled the packet closer to herself, looked down, pinched up a little of the powder between her fingers, rubbed it apart, held it near her nose, then set it back down.

"The twenty-eighth day of the Second Month," Xu Yan said. "The date on the label—our furnace was never lit that day. The batch before it was the twenty-eighth day of the Second Month."

Xue Guizhi stood and walked to the row of boards on the wall, searching one by one, stopping in front of one. She didn't call for the clerk; she read it herself:

"Using another's name or mark to sell goods is forbidden. Any shop found selling under another's name or mark shall be sealed for one year, with a fine paid to the Branch; if done by an agent, the penalty falls on the agent."

After reciting that one, she read the next: if a complaint is made that food or elixirs are impure, the stall is sealed first, and an alchemist from the Medicine Guild shall test it within three days; if poison is found, compensation is paid and the offender is expelled from the Market; if nothing is found, the complainant bears the cost.

"Under this rule, the stall gets sealed first." She walked back behind the desk. "I can have an alchemist here by the Wei hour. Which samples do you want tested?"

"A pill collected from the stall, one of mine, and this packet," Xu Yan said. "Three samples laid out. Two have the dregs; one doesn't."

"The stall at the south end—can you point it out?"

"The one with the wooden sign that reads Qi-Gathering Pills."

At the Snake hour, Xue Guizhi set out for the south end with two men from the Office; Xu Yan and Qi Qi followed behind. At the south end was a row of small stalls—one selling cakes, one selling used talisman paper, one selling dried herbs—stalls pressed tight against each other. The stall in question was at the very edge: a low table, a wooden sign on it reading "Qi-Gathering Pills" across, and beside it a tray of small porcelain vials, dozens of them lined up shoulder to shoulder.

The stall owner was thin, with medicine stains on his knuckles that no washing could remove, head bent as he counted bottles.

"Seal the stall," Xue Guizhi said, stepping up to the table.

The stall owner looked up—first at her face, then at the two men behind her, then finally saw Xu Yan. "On what grounds?"

"Someone filed a complaint," Xue Guizhi said. "Impure elixirs."

"These pills are my own work," the stall owner said, stepping in front of the tray.

"Save that for the Wei hour at the Office." She lifted the tray, vials and all. The Office men pulled a rattan chest from under their arms, set it on the table, and opened it. Vial by vial went into the chest; when it was full, they shifted things aside and kept loading. Midway through, she looked up. "Purchase ledger."

The stall owner stood behind the table without moving. "The ledger's mine."

"It stays at the Office."

The stall owner reached for the thin booklet at the corner of the table, but the Office man was faster, taking it first. The stall owner's hand froze in midair, then came down and pressed against the edge of the table.

The rattan chest lid closed. Xue Guizhi took a paper from her sleeve, stamped it with the Office seal, laid it over the lid, smoothed the four corners, and pressed it down in the center.

Qi Qi stood at the edge of the stall, both hands tucked in his sleeves, not moving. Xu Yan stood two paces from the table, also not reaching out. The stall owners along the south end had all stopped working; some pulled their goods back a little, clearing a path.

"How long's the seal?" Xu Yan asked.

"We'll say more after testing," Xue Guizhi said, pushing the chest farther onto the table.

The stall owner looked at Xu Yan. "Who are you?"

"From Qingya," Xu Yan said.

The stall owner's lips moved, but before the words came out, Xue Guizhi laid her palm flat on the rattan chest lid and raised her eyes. "Wei hour. The Office. The testing. Both parties present."