Chapter 226: The Charcoal Fire at the Medicine Hall Door

The eighth day of the Fifth Month, Chen hour. The lid of the charcoal furnace at the Medicine Hall door moved first.

Cheng Banshan used his formation hand to lift the lid aside. White steam surged from the furnace chamber, curling up along his sleeve. His other hand worked the furnace hook, leveling the coals; the hook tip clinked twice against the grate bar. Du Xiaochuan crouched by the furnace, both hands padded with old cloth, and carried the tray out of the furnace mouth, setting it on the worktable.

"One, two, three..." He counted to ten, then looked up, face flushed from the heat. "Ten pills."

Ten pills sat on the tray, round, not a single crack. Cheng Banshan bent over to inspect them once, straightened up, and pushed the lid back over the furnace mouth. The iron ring clinked against the furnace rim.

Xu Yan lined up ten small porcelain vials on the worktable. The labels—he'd written them the night before, only the words "Qingya," leaving the date blank because the date had to match the day of the batch. One day off, and the label was worthless. He sat down at the table, picked up the brush, and filled in the eighth day of the Fifth Month one by one. Du Xiaochuan affixed each label as he finished. Once all ten were done, the vials went back on the shelf, mouths facing outward.

A layer of pill powder remained at the furnace bottom. Cheng Banshan scraped it out with a bamboo slip, collecting it into a small pile. Xu Yan wrapped it in medicine paper, wrote the eighth day of the Fifth Month on the packet, and set it in the wooden box on the shelf alongside the earlier packets.

The furnace log was flipped to its last page. Xu Yan added a line: the eighth day of the Fifth Month, Qi-Gathering Pills, ten.

"This batch sells on the tenth." Cheng Banshan hung the furnace hook back on the wall. "Charcoal furnace frees up tomorrow morning."

"One and a half dan under the back wall, straw mat pressed down with stones."

"Tomorrow morning at Chen hour, fire up the furnace. Just be there." Cheng Banshan crouched down, raking the remaining coals in the chamber into a pile. "That load under the back wall—sort it before firing. Broken pieces burn first, the hard ones underneath. Don't just dump the whole basket in."

"The leftover broken pieces for kindling?"

"Dry grass is for kindling. Broken pieces first so the fire burns even."

Xu Yan opened the ledger. On the page he'd written at the start of the month: Dewdrop Pills, starting on the ninth day of the Fifth Month, seven days. The charcoal price had been updated too—one and a half dan, fifteen spirit stones. He studied it for a moment, then closed the ledger.

Ninth Day, Chen hour. A sheet of oiled paper was spread across the Medicine Hall worktable.

Cheng Banshan took the paper packet from the shelf's inner compartment and unwrapped it layer by layer. Twelve Dewdrop Grass stalks lay nestled together, leaves closed at the centers, roots carrying a bit of dried earth. He picked them up one by one and arranged them on a fresh sheet of clean paper in a row; when done, he counted from one end to the other, only straightening when the count was right.

The oilcloth bundle was unfolded too—two small packets of medicine paper inside. One held reddish-brown fragments, the other gray-white flakes. Du Xiaochuan set up the small scale at the table's edge, cradling the beam with both hands, the pan resting on the tabletop. Cheng Banshan pinched a small amount of the reddish-brown and placed it in the pan, lowering his head to read the stars on the scale.

"Too much."

Du Xiaochuan brushed a little back with the bamboo slip, glancing at the scale's stars with each movement, stopping only when Cheng Banshan grunted approval. The two ingredients, once weighed, went into a small dish. Cheng Banshan smoothed them flat with a finger and pushed it to the center of the table.

The previous night's charcoal ash was raked out and piled by the wall. Du Xiaochuan stacked fresh charcoal into a well shape, stuffed a handful of dry grass into the center, and struck the fire starter. The dry grass caught first; flames climbed through the gaps between coals, red soaking upward from below.

Cheng Banshan stood at the threshold watching.

"Seven days. The fire cannot go out."

"What if it does once?" Du Xiaochuan asked.

"Then the whole batch is ruined." Cheng Banshan slid the lid on, pressing the edge down tight. "Twelve stalks, two auxiliary ingredients, only one batch."

Xu Yan added a line to the ledger: the ninth day of the Fifth Month, Dewdrop Pills furnace started, twelve stalks, two auxiliary ingredients.

He handed the dish of auxiliaries over. Cheng Banshan took it with one hand, adding each ingredient to the furnace, then tapped the dish's edge against the furnace mouth twice so every last grain fell in.

There was movement over at the firewood stove in the back. Bai Xiaoman came around from behind it, hands stained with charcoal ash. She looked at the paper on the table, then at the furnace by the door.

"Elder Cheng, how many pills will this batch produce?"

"We'll see when the time comes."

"Who's taking them?"

Cheng Banshan didn't answer. He hung the furnace hook on the wall.

"Then I—"

"You watch the firewood stove first." Cheng Banshan said. "Tomorrow at Chen hour, those ten vials—not one less."

Bai Xiaoman swallowed her words and turned back, crouching by the firewood stove to tend the fire. She glanced back at the furnace lid once as she went down.

Xu Yan kept the ledger under his hand. "The sixteenth isn't a market day."

"Not a market day." Cheng Banshan said. "The person taking the pill will be on the mountain that day."

Xu Yan ran it through his mind: the sixteenth wasn't a market day, the Market stayed closed, no stalls, no one needed to go down. Thirteen people's meals, the kitchen could handle it. He noted that too.

"When these pills come out," Cheng Banshan's finger pressed on the lid's iron ring, "they must be taken within one shichen. After that, the medicinal potency dissipates."

"One shichen—from the furnace?"

"From the moment the lid comes off. When it opens, the potency starts escaping."

Xu Yan stared at the lid, calculating it through from beginning to end. "Taken within one shichen means the person has to wait on the mountain."

"On the mountain."

"Inside the mountain gate isn't enough." He spoke slowly. "The lid comes off, and it has to reach their mouth right then."

Cheng Banshan lifted his eyes to him once, then lowered his gaze and pressed the iron ring again. "You worked that out yourself."

Xu Yan opened the ledger again and wrote beneath that line: Take within one shichen of the furnace opening.

"Those seven days, the two I'm down in the Market," he closed the ledger, "should I send someone up to watch the fire?"

"It'll hold." Cheng Banshan said.

Before lamp-lighting time, Du Xiaochuan carried his bedding roll from the West Wing into the outer room of the Medicine Hall and spread it on the plank bed. One end of the roll touched the furnace door, the other the room's entrance.

"You'll sleep here at night." Cheng Banshan said. "Charcoal's by the wall. Get up once every shichen to check. If it's red, add more. If it's turning white, stir it so it doesn't smother."

"Once a shichen?" Du Xiaochuan asked. "What if I fall asleep—"

"Falling asleep doesn't count. You check awake."

Du Xiaochuan nodded and set the furnace hook beside his pillow. Cheng Banshan glanced at it, said nothing.

"I'll watch during the day." He said. "The tenth and fifteenth are market days. You and Duoduo head down before dawn. I take over on those mornings."

Both stoves burned inside the Medicine Hall. The firewood stove in back glowed white; the charcoal furnace by the door burned red, a thread of it seeping through the lid seam and lying along the threshold.

Xu Yan glanced back as he left the Medicine Hall. Du Xiaochuan sat on the plank bed, both hands on his knees, staring at the furnace lid.

Tenth Day, Mao hour.

Qian Duoduo and Du Xiaochuan headed down the mountain before dawn, carrying two pots of Spirit Meals on poles. Xu Yan went out the mountain gate with his market box on his back and the market ledger tucked at his side. Shao Ming followed behind. The leaves at the mountain gate were swept halfway; Nie Bo stepped aside half a pace as they passed, his broom never stopping.

They reached the town at Chen hour. The east gate of the grain shop's back courtyard was already open. Shao Ming lifted the door panel off and leaned it against the wall, hanging the scale and hand scale just inside the entrance. Xu Yan sat down at the counter and opened the market ledger.

The first two rogue cultivators came through the weighing: one basket of sun-dried spirit herbs, one bundle of hemp rope. After weighing, the one with the herbs lingered, asking whether consignment money would be paid out on the tenth day of the Eighth Month.

"The tenth day of the Eighth Month." Xu Yan said. "Whatever sells is recorded under your name and paid in full that day. Whatever doesn't sell can be picked up on any market day."

The man stacked his herbs into the compartment under the counter, wrote his own price tag, then asked, "Any pills on the tenth?"

"Yes. They'll arrive shortly."

Shortly after Si hour, Qi Qi ran into the Market from the north end of Market Street, ten vials of Qi-Gathering Powder under his arm and ten pills in his sash bag, his collar soaked through.

"The sect's batch came out at Chen hour. Ten vials, none missing." He set the powder under the counter. "These ten are for you."

Xu Yan arranged the ten small vials on the countertop one by one, bases facing inward, labels turned toward the light at the door.

The herb-selling cultivator was the first to buy a pill. He held the vial up to the light and read the date on the label aloud before counting out his money—eight spirit stones, placed one by one on the counter.

"When's the next batch?"

"End of the month."

"Nothing on the twentieth?"

"Nothing on the twentieth. The month-end batch sells here in the Market."

The man tucked the vial into his robes and left. Two more came after—one buying one pill, another two. By the middle of Si hour, only two remained on the counter.

Shao Ming finished a weighing and turned. "These ten on the tenth are selling faster than the Fourth Month's batch."

"People trust the date now." Xu Yan said.

At the end of Si hour, the last two pills were bought by a woman coming up from the wharf. She asked what date was on the label first. Xu Yan opened the furnace log to that line and pushed it over; she read it aloud, then counted her money onto the counter. When she'd finished counting, she held both vials in one hand, her empty basket in the other.

By the time the Market wound down, the counter was empty. The pill proceeds went into the cloth pouch inside his sash bag, separate from the market box under the counter; the box held the consignors' money, and not a single grain mixed in. The two pots of Spirit Meals sold out by the end of Si hour, and Qian Duoduo restocked Spirit Rice for the next market day at the grain shop. At the end of Wu hour the Market gate closed. Shao Ming took down the scale, and Xu Yan closed the market ledger.

They left town during Wei hour. Where the official road turned onto the mountain path, the three walked up single file.

"Sect Master, no more pill materials to buy?" Qi Qi asked.

"The furnace is occupied."

"The charcoal furnace is given to the Dewdrop Pills, I get that." Qi Qi shifted his carrying pole to the other shoulder. "I mean for the next batch."

"Buy on the twentieth." Xu Yan said. "Pill materials picked from consignments, charcoal from the wharf."

Shao Ming walked behind him and answered, "On the twentieth, still opening the Market at Chen hour?"

"Chen hour."

"Then I'll watch the scale."

Qi Qi asked again: "After the sixteenth, when the pills are out, the charcoal furnace frees up?"

"It frees up." Xu Yan said. "Buy materials on the twentieth, fire the next batch on the twenty-first."

At the flat stone halfway up the slope, Qi Qi set down his load and rested a moment, took a drink of water, spun the carrying pole in his hands, and asked nothing more.

They entered the mountain gate at Shen hour.

The charcoal furnace outside the Medicine Hall still burned red, light seeping from the lid seam. Cheng Banshan sat on the threshold, furnace hook across his knees, his formation hand resting outside his sleeve. The bedding roll still lay on the plank bed in the outer room. Du Xiaochuan wasn't there—likely gone to the kitchen for water.

Cheng Banshan heard the footsteps and lifted his eyes.

"The ten sold out?"

"Sold out." Xu Yan said. "On the twentieth I'll buy next batch's materials and charcoal."

"Mm." Cheng Banshan lowered his gaze back to the furnace. "The ninth to the sixteenth—these seven days, nothing else happens on this mountain."

Xu Yan stood below the steps and acknowledged. The red at the furnace mouth hadn't weakened.