Bai had just set his sack down inside the yard gate when a man in a green traveling coat stepped between him and the market lane. The man wore a silver clasp shaped like a coin. He looked over the sealed packets in the sack and smiled as if he had found a bargain waiting for him.
“You sell rejected pills?” he asked.
“I carry labeled stock,” Bai said. “Rejected by one buyer doesn’t mean unwanted.”
The man introduced himself as Huo Jue and offered to buy the whole bundle. He said he could resell it to remote labor camps at twice the price. The money would clear Bai’s courier debt and still leave enough for another stock run.
Bai’s fingers curled around the strap. “You’d buy all of it without seeing the tags?”
“My customers care about potency. They don’t need a clerk’s story attached to every pill.” Huo looked at Yan, who had come through the gate after his shift. “You’re the one who tests them, aren’t you?”
“I record what happens to me.”
“Then prove the stock is good. Take a pill without checking the label. If it works, I’ll buy the bundle.”
Yan laughed once. “I’m not a market act.”
Huo’s smile thinned. “So the pills aren’t good.”
Bai shifted the sack away from him. “That isn’t what he said.”
Yan looked at the packets. Among the stock, one sealed pill had a complete tag and a known route. He took it out, checked the batch mark and dosing instructions, and showed them to Huo. “This is the one I’ll test. Its source is known.”
“You’ve already decided the answer,” Huo said.
“I decided to read what I’m swallowing.” Yan took the measured dose with water. “Now I wait.”
They sat on a bench by the gate. Huo remained standing, arms folded. Bai opened his route book and wrote down the time. Yan felt qi gather in his dantian. The listed imbalance began as pressure across his chest and arms. He kept his breathing even. The pressure changed to a strong, smooth current that moved without a snag. A warm steadiness filled his torso. He closed his eyes for a moment and enjoyed the clean result before opening them again.
Huo watched his face. “Well?”
“The qi benefit came. The listed imbalance turned into stronger circulation for me.”
“So you admit the pills are good.”
“I admit this batch did what its label said it might do, and my result changed. I can’t promise the same result to your buyers.” Yan turned the packet so Huo could see the tag. “Can you tell me what’s in the unmarked jar you want to bundle with these?”
Huo glanced at the sack. “No. It came through a wholesaler.”
“Then you can’t tell those buyers either.”
“They don’t care.”
Bai stepped between Huo and the sack. “I do. I’m not selling you the whole bundle.”
Huo’s expression hardened. “You need the money.”
“I do.” Bai kept his voice low. “That doesn’t make the unknown jar yours to put in a laborer’s hand.”
A porter with a shoulder brace had stopped beside the gate. He glanced at the sack and then at the silver clasp. “Is that the bundle for the western camps? My cousin asked me to bring him anything that helps him stay awake on night watch.”
Huo gestured toward the sack. “There are pills in there for every need.”
Bai closed the flap. “Not for every need. I can show you the source on each packet, but I won’t claim they keep someone awake or cure an injury.”
The porter looked between them. “So you don’t know which one helps?”
“I know what the labels say and what I’ve observed in one test. Your cousin’s body is not mine.” Yan tapped the known tag. “If he wants to ask the infirmary about this one, here’s the batch.”
The porter copied the number onto his work pass and thanked them. He did not buy. Huo watched him walk away, and the remaining opportunity to sell a whole bundle seemed to irritate him more than the refusal itself.
“You can’t run a route on scruples.”
“I can run it on tags, prices, and customers who come back.”
Huo looked from Bai to Yan. “You’ve both made your choice.”
Bai nodded toward the gate. “I have.”
Huo gave a short, annoyed laugh and walked toward the market. He said he would bring more money the following week. Bai did not follow him. Yan did not speak for the courier; the sack and its debts belonged to Bai.
When Huo was out of earshot, Bai opened the book to the page with his debt amount. “I hate turning down money when I know exactly how much I owe.”
Yan leaned against the gatepost. “I can pay the courier fee in advance for three runs. That gives you a week to clear the debt without selling the whole route.”
Bai frowned. “I don’t want you owning my deliveries.”
“Then set the limit. Three runs, the ordinary fee, and after that you choose whether you want another advance.”
“You wouldn’t ask to approve my buyers?”
“I want the tags and prices on goods you bring me. Your other clients are yours.”
Bai considered the offer, then pulled a scrap from his book. “Three runs. Each fee credited against the delivery, not the stock. No claim on the route.”
Yan read the terms and nodded. They signed beneath the line. Yan paid the advance. Bai counted it, set aside what he owed, and put the rest in a separate pocket for the next stock run.
“You’re still short if the debt collector comes early,” Yan said.
“I know.” Bai folded the receipt. “But this gets me through the week without giving Huo every packet I own.”
“Then we’ll see what the next three runs earn.”
Bai tied the sack closed again. The unknown powder stayed wrapped and apart from the labeled pills. “You made a clean demonstration. You could have let Huo think the result proved the whole bundle.”
“That would have sold a story.”
“And not a useful one.” Bai tapped the route book. “I need to remember the difference when I’m short on money.”
Yan picked up the walnut Bai had left on the bench. “Can I crack this one too?”
“Only if you share it.”
Yan pressed his thumb to the seam and split the shell. The kernel remained whole. He broke it into two pieces and offered Bai one.
Bai accepted. “We should put that in the sales pitch.”
“‘One pill, one walnut, no broken stalls.’”
“That slogan might get customers.”
“It might get you charged for the walnut.”
Bai laughed. A passing worker paused near the gate and asked what they were selling. This time Bai opened the sack just enough to show the labeled packets, keeping the blank jar wrapped separately. He explained which route he could verify and what each tag claimed. The worker chose to look at the printed instructions and left without buying.
Bai made no complaint. He wrote the interaction in the route book and tucked the book beside the receipt for the advance. “One customer might come back after asking the infirmary.”
“Or not.”
“Either way, I still have three runs to make.”
Yan returned to the yard with the clean, labeled batch recorded in his own notes. The result had pleased him. It did not settle the fate of the unmarked powder or make Huo’s bundle dependable. Bai had needed the money, but the advance bought him time without taking away his route.