Chapter Fourteen: Lin Su'e

Before him lay the city of Yuezhou. The walled fortifications on the east and west were now little more than ornamental, and for ten miles around the city, an intricate web of rivers crisscrossed the land, nourishing vast stretches of farmland and villages. The muddy roads were difficult to traverse; Kou Li had hurried through the night, yet still arrived late. He had been fretting over where he might rest, but to his surprise, the outskirts of the city were lined with homes designed specifically to accommodate itinerant merchants, saving him much trouble.

At dawn, as soon as the gates opened, the city surged with traffic—carts and pedestrians flooding in, the bustling commerce astonishing even him, a man of modern times. Kou Li soon understood why so many courtyards and villages clustered outside the city walls: the burgeoning trade had pushed them out, giving rise to a new economic landscape.

“The price of property in the city must be sky-high,” he mused reflexively. He also noticed that the architecture here differed sharply from that of his native Jiangning Prefecture. The houses were tall, their gable walls rising five feet above the beams; there were few tiled roofs, with earth and stone predominating, and brick stairways crafted for easy access.

A quick calculation revealed the logic: coastal regions suffered frequent storms and banditry; the flat brick houses of Jiangning would have been destroyed long ago. In the western part of the city, the scene changed again—rows of shops and stores, organized by category and alley, forming a thriving commercial district.

After wandering about, Kou Li entered the grandest pharmacy, Tongxin Hall. The clerk slouched against the counter, dozing. When his gaze swept over Kou Li, he snapped irritably, “Get out, get out! This is a pharmacy, not a grain shop. Go beg somewhere else and don’t waste our time.”

Kou Li frowned, replying coolly, “Why shouldn’t I do business here?”

“You? A drowned wretch whose home was swept away? Don’t expect to buy cheap medicine. We deal only in top-grade goods…” The clerk’s words dripped with disdain as he sized up Kou Li—emaciated, with prominent cheekbones, dressed in a faded robe that still carried a faint fishy odor. Clearly a refugee, he concluded.

Mid-insult, the clerk’s eyes bulged suddenly. What stood before him was not a man, but a tiger—white-browed and fierce-eyed—swaying its body, maw agape, ready to devour him. He gasped, face alternating between pallor and flush, heart pounding, body petrified with fear. His legs buckled, and he collapsed to the ground, stunned.

A knock on the desk roused him. The “pauper” loomed above, calmly stating, “Here’s the list of herbs I require. Please tally the price.”

A quarter hour later, Kou Li departed without making a purchase. He had discovered that Tongxin Hall’s prices were fifty percent higher than the market rate; no matter how wealthy he was, he would not be taken for a fool.

As for the clerk’s snobbery, Kou Li cared little. A scare with a “tiger’s pounce” was enough. “That wretch, thinking he can actually afford anything!” the clerk muttered resentfully, still embarrassed by his earlier collapse.

“Ah He, what’s going on?” A plump middle-aged man descended—onion-shaped nose, beady eyes, wearing a six-sided brocade cap, his appearance anything but honest.

“It’s nothing, Manager. Just a beggar,” Ah He replied, swallowing nervously.

“Come with me, then. After the flood, the price of herbs has risen twenty percent. I wonder if that little lass can keep up. If only she showed such spirit in bed…” Fat Zhang’s eyes glinted lasciviously.

Ah He pitied the young woman, even though she was famed within Yuezhou as the “Lady Bodhisattva” and “Little Mazu.” But in these times, reputation was no substitute for sustenance.

Fat Zhang and Ah He walked to the end of Pharmacy Street, rounded a corner, and found themselves at a narrow, inconspicuous shop barely wide enough for one person. Paupers came and went, their faces full of gratitude.

“Suo’e is a good girl. Without her medicine, my old man would’ve died already.”

“My dear son’s belly was swollen by seawater; thanks to Lin Suo’e, one prick of her golden needle deflated it—miraculous!”

“Auntie, boil this medicine for half an hour and it’ll cure him for sure.”

Hearing the jasmine-like voice, Fat Zhang chuckled, “Suo’e, come out and greet your elder brother.”

The curtain lifted, revealing a beautiful face with furrowed brows—plain and unadorned, yet unable to hide her grace.

“Manager Zhang, what brings you here?” Her voice was edged with undisguised distaste.

“Ah, Suo’e, how can you say that? Given our relationship, can’t I check on you?”

“If you have no business, please leave. My shop is small and can’t accommodate a Buddha like you,” Lin Suo’e said, moving to close the door.

“Of course I have business,” Fat Zhang replied with oily cheer. “I’m here to discuss that little matter of the rent increase.”

“Again?” Lin Suo’e paled, struggling to maintain her composure. “Manager Zhang, the rent’s been raised three times in half a year. That’s unreasonable.”

“There’s nothing unreasonable about it. This land belongs to me, and my word is law!” He leered. “But if you’d agree to become my concubine, everything could be negotiated.”

His gaze wandered brazenly, lingering on her supple waist and full bosom. The hemp cloth dress strained to contain her figure. Her face, as dignified as the Bodhisattva in the temple, excited him even more. A surge of heat rose in his loins, barely contained by his trousers.

Lin Suo’e bit her lip, voice trembling, “Then I won’t rent the shop anymore.”

“That’s fine, but shouldn’t you settle three months’ rent? You serve so many patients, this small sum should mean nothing to you. The clinic’s been open for three months!”

Even Ah He sighed. The poor could barely afford treatment; breaking even was a miracle, especially after Fat Zhang’s manipulations. Paying three months’ rent was impossible.

Such a shame—a beauty like Lin Suo’e about to be devoured by a pig like Fat Zhang. Heaven was blind!

Ah He grumbled inwardly, wishing it were him instead.

Just as Lin Suo’e was overwhelmed with shame and anger, a clear voice rang out.

“Do you sell medicine here?”

In ancient times, pharmacies and clinics were essentially the same, their functions overlapping. Buying herbs at a clinic was not unusual.

Lin Suo’e forced a smile. The visitor looked as if he hadn’t eaten for days—a victim of the flood, no doubt.

Ah He’s pupils contracted. He recognized this man—the “drowned wretch” who could turn into a tiger. The memory of those deadly jaws made his legs weak.

“Is your family ill? It’s best to bring them in. Don’t worry—the consultation here is inexpensive.”

“Of course it is,” Fat Zhang sneered. Even now, this foolish woman cared for others, blinded by her “Little Mazu” reputation. Once she entered his house, he’d teach her the realities.

This was a world ruled by money, not by kindness.

“I’ve written a list. See how many of these herbs you have,” Kou Li said.

Lin Suo’e was startled as she took the slip. The “pauper” could write, and as she looked closer, she realized that despite his shabby attire, he exuded an indescribable aura.

“The list,” he prompted.

Her cheeks flushed. An unmarried woman shouldn’t stare so openly at a man. She glanced quickly and covered her mouth, her slender fingers nearly translucent.

“What’s this? Has someone written a reckless prescription or tried to buy a forbidden drug? That won’t do,” Fat Zhang said, subconsciously treating Lin Suo’e as his concubine.

His concubine’s clinic was his clinic; her business was his business. He couldn’t let her be so foolish any longer.

He shuffled over to look—though his own skill was poor, he could tell the handwriting was superb, far beyond anything he could achieve even with thirty more years of practice. But his attention was drawn to the dense list of rare ingredients.

Centenarian magnolia flowers, three ounces and two tenths
Ginseng aged thirty years, four roots
Exotic nightshade flowers, twenty-five blossoms
Black bear gallbladders, two pairs
Tiger bones, ten pieces
…
Even so, Fat Zhang only managed to read a portion before Lin Suo’e’s hand covered the rest.

“Can you supply them?” Kou Li asked. These were ingredients for one of three body-strengthening prescriptions, the “Tenfold Jade Paste,” quantities adjusted. Though unlikely, someone might recognize the formula, so he preferred caution.

“I can gather them, but it will take time. And the cost…” Lin Suo’e hesitated. Even if she sold her clinic, she couldn’t cover the expense.

“I can pay a deposit.”

Ten silver ingots, each the size of a fist, were laid out in a row, dazzling all present. Kou Li’s first act upon entering the city had been to cash a thousand-tael note at the bank.

He owed thanks to that “Zhou Simpleton”—timid, weak-willed, but not without virtues.

Rich, and extravagant.

A thousand taels meant a thousand. Not a penny less.

Kou Li preferred dealing with such magnates. At current prices, a thousand taels was equivalent to a million in his previous life, spent without blinking. Clearly, his patron was among the wealthiest in the city or the province.

“This, this gentleman, perhaps you’d let our Tongxin Hall handle your order. We’re a century-old brand, and our herbs are of the highest quality,” Fat Zhang stammered, swallowing repeatedly. If he secured this order, he’d profit handsomely—even half would be a windfall.

More importantly, if Lin Suo’e handled the order, not only would three months’ rent be insignificant, a year’s rent would pale in comparison.

“Is that so? But your clerk said I couldn’t afford your premium medicines,” Kou Li retorted, his gaze sharp.

“You—” Fat Zhang nearly exploded with rage, glaring at the half-paralyzed Ah He, murder in his eyes. He tried to salvage the situation, but was stopped.

“You have one day. I’ll return tomorrow for the herbs,” Kou Li said, glancing at the dazed, fair-skinned girl. “Good deeds and evil deeds alike require skill.”

End of page.