The morning cart rattled over the yard stones, and the jar Yan had noticed the day before knocked gently against its wicker brace. Its chipped neck had been sealed with red thread. A narrow label listed one weak spirit-rice pill, a small qi gain, and nausea. Someone had tied a disposal tag around the handle, but the inked ingredient list remained clean.
Yan set down his broom and read the label from top to bottom. He had already checked the jar number against the mark he copied onto his shift sheet. The pill was not the damaged packet from the other end of the shelf. Its seal was intact.
A young courier stood beside the gate with a leather satchel slung across one shoulder. He watched Yan finish reading.
“You’ve looked at that jar three times,” the courier said. “Are you waiting for the words to change?”
“Are you waiting for it to be thrown out?”
“I’m waiting to see whether the waste count closes before I take my next parcel.” He nodded toward the jar. “Bai Jiu.”
“Yan.”
“Your name’s on the shift board. Mine is on the delivery slip. Neither of us has answered the other’s question.”
Yan glanced at the label. “What do you want for one dose?”
Bai’s brows rose. “A laborer wants to buy a pill nobody else will buy. Why?”
“I asked the price.”
“And I asked why.”
Yan considered giving him the safest answer. It would also be useless. “The label lists a qi gain and nausea. I want to see what happens to each.”
Bai studied him in the cool morning light. “You plan to swallow a reject in front of me and make me watch?”
“I’ll pay you to stay. If I fall over, you can get Wu.”
“That is an unusual way to hire a courier.”
“I’m not hiring you to carry anything.”
“Then I charge for the waiting.” Bai rubbed his thumb against the strap of his satchel. “One copper for the dose. One for my time. Future deliveries cost more if you want me to stop and watch you turn colors.”
“One coin for the pill. One for the time. I’ll decide on future deliveries after I see this one.”
Bai smiled. “You bargain like you expect to see another morning.”
“I expect you to stay until I finish.”
Bai untied the jar. The red thread loosened but did not break. He slid out a folded paper sleeve holding the pill and showed Yan the batch number through the crease. Yan checked the number against the jar label before placing a copper coin in Bai’s palm. Then he set another beside it.
“Two,” Bai said. “You could have called a witness for free.”
“A witness who wants a fee will pay attention.”
“That is a cruel thing to say to a working man.” Bai pocketed the coins, then leaned one hip against the wash basin. “Proceed, honored customer.”
Yan took the small pale pill from the sleeve. The coating had a faint rice smell beneath the bitter mineral taste. He let it rest on his tongue, then swallowed with a mouthful of water. He kept the jar and the label where both of them could see.
Nothing happened at once. He sat on the low stone rim of the basin and waited. Bai shifted the weight of his satchel, impatient but present. A handcart passed the gate. Yan counted its wheels by sound, then checked his breath against the route he had learned in the yard.
The first warmth gathered below his navel. It was slight, like standing close to a kettle in another room. He felt the qi collect and settle. The amount was small, but it was distinct from the warmth of the sun on his face.
Then his stomach clenched.
Yan put one palm on the basin. A sour taste rose behind his tongue. He breathed through his nose and kept still.
“There it is,” Bai said. “Do I fetch Wu?”
“Not yet.”
“You went gray.”
“It’s nausea, as the label said.”
“Should I fetch him?”
Yan waited for the next twist. It did not come. The queasiness loosened and sank away, replaced by an ordinary settled feeling in his belly. His appetite, which had been blunted by the bitter pill, returned as a clear, comfortable hunger. The warmth stayed low in his abdomen.
A quiet notice appeared in his mind.
Cultivation benefit retained. Cultivation-linked nausea reversed.
Yan kept his expression fixed. The System gave no explanation beyond the words. It did not name a realm, offer instructions, or tell him what to try. He only knew that the listed benefit remained and the listed adverse effect had changed.
Bai leaned forward. “Your color came back.”
“I feel steadier.”
“Is that the pill?”
“The qi is still there. My stomach stopped turning.”
“You could have had a small cup of tea and felt better.”
“I had water.”
Bai tapped the label with one finger. “The warning says nausea. You got nausea. Then you stopped being nauseated. That is all you know.”
“And the qi stayed.”
“You’re sure?”
Yan placed two fingers at his wrist. He checked the pulse against the count he had taken before the pill at dawn. It beat evenly. He did not have a measuring stone, but Bai could see him take the count and watch the second hand of the water clock.
“Steady,” Yan said. “A little stronger than before.”
Bai kept his gaze on Yan’s face. “Should I try the remaining pill?”
“No.”
“You don’t need to think about it?”
“I don’t know what the dose would do to you. Your body isn’t mine. The label says nausea, and it could give you a stronger reaction than it gave me.”
Bai tipped his head. “That’s your explanation? Your body is strange?”
“It’s what I can tell you. The pill gave me qi. It made me nauseated. The nausea stopped, and the qi remained.”
“You don’t know why?”
“No.”
Bai accepted that with a small shrug. “At least you don’t pretend the answer is bigger than the facts.”
He found a sliver of clean paper in his satchel and laid it beside the wrapper. Yan wrote the batch number and the time of the dose on his half. Bai wrote it on his. They compared the figures before using the jar’s paper sleeve as a straight edge. Bai tore it along the fold, giving each of them a piece that showed the number and the red rejection mark.
“One coin for the pill,” Bai said, “one for the time, and I should charge another for paperwork.”
“Then you’ll need to write that on a label.”
“You’re the first customer who pays extra for a warning label.”
“It’s why I bought the pill.”
The yard bell rang. Yan rolled his shoulder and stood. His appetite had returned; his channels felt no different from the clean circulation he had gained after the draught, and the small new warmth settled without crowding it. He did not mistake a pleasing result for safety. He put the jar back in its place and tied the red thread around its neck.
Bai slung his satchel over his shoulder. “I pass this gate again in two days. If I see other labeled rejects, I’ll bring the names and prices first.”
“Bring the ingredients and the warnings.”
“That costs extra.”
“Then bring the price too.”
Bai grinned and stepped into the lane. Yan tucked his half of the wrapper beside his notes, then returned to the cart before the next jar could shift.