Bai spread the week’s rejected stock across a clean cloth on the market bench. He had sorted the packets by source instead of putting all the weak pills together. Red twine marked batches from the guild storehouse; blue marked returns from the west route. The unmarked jar from Huo remained in quarantine, and the other unknown powder was still on Tao’s shelf.
“This is what I can trace,” Bai said. “The red bundle has three packets. The blue bundle has two. One has a missing instruction slip, so it stays with me until I get a copy.”
Yan checked the seals and batch numbers. He selected two cultivation pills from different lots, reading each slip before setting them apart. One gave a modest qi benefit and listed a brief tremor. The other promised a little warmth and warned of uneven circulation. A third pill had an intact label, but its batch had not yet been matched to the guild ledger.
“I’ll pay for these two,” Yan said. “Hold the third until I have time to test it separately.”
Bai tied the two selected packets with separate twine. “You’re paying the courier fee for all three.”
“I know. You brought the stock and checked the tags.” Yan counted out the fee and the price of two doses. “The third stays with you and stays sealed.”
Bai wrote the batch numbers, source, price, and hold status into his route book. Yan copied the same numbers into the reject map, keeping the wrappers in different sleeves. Their small exchange would not support a shop or a full medicine business, but the fees and sales had paid for meals and contributed to Ning’s treatment costs.
Ning arrived at the bench with her treatment pouch. She read the labels before Yan carried anything home. “This one has warming root.” She pointed to a small ingredient line on the red packet. “It’s in the broth I make for my cough.”
“That is the same root you noticed on the other tag?” Yan asked.
“Yes, though this pill may use a different amount. Bai, can you keep this bundle separate from anything labeled as ordinary herbs?”
Bai looked at his twine. “Red for the guild stock, blue for the west route. I can add a white tie for packets containing warming root.”
“That would help. The root itself isn’t dangerous in the broth, but I don’t want someone mistaking a cultivation pill for cooking stock.”
Bai pulled out a narrow strip of white string and tied it around the packet. He marked “warming root—keep separate” beside the batch entry. Yan added the same note to his record, not as a result but as a handling reminder.
Ning tied her pouch shut. “What station will you ask for?” Yan asked. “The shift map is at the steward’s board.”
“I want to move away from the Furnace Three vents, even if it means slightly less pay.”
“I can find the map and bring you the days when the wind shifts.”
“Find the supervisor’s actual schedule,” she said. “I’ll choose which days to request. The higher wage is not worth the coughing every night.”
Yan nodded. “I’ll bring the sheet home.”
Bai finished the sales entry and held out the route book so Yan could check the total. One copper had been added to the courier fee for the sorting time. Yan confirmed the number and paid the extra coin.
“What’s this for?” Bai asked.
“The extra handling. You sorted by source and marked the warming root.”
Bai accepted the coin with a bow. “Part courier, part market teacher, part twine decorator. I’ll have to add a fee for the string.”
“Put it in the book.”
“I will.”
Yan went to the yard board and found the shift map. It showed the furnace crews by station and wind direction for the coming week. He copied the relevant days onto a small paper but left the request blank. Ning would choose which shifts to trade. He brought her the map copy at the table, and she marked the nights when the worst wind passed the vents.
“This gives me a lower-pay option on the same number of workdays,” she said. “I’ll ask for these three nights first. If the steward refuses, I can ask to swap with someone on the east line.”
“You’re changing the plan without losing the whole week’s wages.”
“I’m asking. The steward can say no, but the schedule is clear.” She folded the marked copy and put it beside the treatment estimate.
Ning added the expected pay difference beside the new station. “If the east line pays less, we use the trade profit for the gap. We don’t spend the coat money unless we have to.”
“I’ll leave the two coins where they are.”
“And if the steward approves only two nights, I’ll try those first. I don’t need you to turn down every good shift for me.”
“I can work the later furnace shifts while you’re on the east line.”
“Ask for the map, then let me decide the days. That was the agreement.”
Yan nodded. She checked the dates against her treatment appointment and moved one request to the following week. The lower-exposure station would take a little income, but it did not mean leaving work altogether. She kept the choice and the budget beside the care estimate.
Yan left the third pill with Bai, sealed and awaiting its source check. He placed the two purchased packets in separate sleeves inside his locked tool chest. The red and blue twine made the route visible before anyone needed to read a small tag. It was a modest improvement, but neither Bai nor Ning had to rely on memory to keep the stock apart.
At the library gate, Bai joked that the next lot would require three colors of twine and a painted sign. “If you start a shop, I want a better courier fee.”
“I don’t have a shop.”
“Yet.”
“I have two doses and a treatment estimate.”
“Then I’ll charge exactly what I charged today.” Bai shut his book. “Until there’s more to count.”
Yan went inside. Gu had set a damaged manuscript aside on the supervised-reading table, along with its source tag and a note identifying two missing leaves. The Ashen Marrow book remained locked away, warning attached to its corrected sequence. Yan looked at the new manuscript but did not open it yet. His trade had given him some time and coin to pursue another art, but he would read the tag and missing-page record first.
Gu stood beside the table. “The source is an apprentice storage crate. The two missing leaves fall between the opening and the first full circulation.”
“Do we know what they contained?”
“No. There is a diagram on the next surviving page, but no key for its marks. The tag records what we know and what we don’t.” Gu pointed to the shelf ledger. “You can read the intact pages under supervision. You cannot use a diagram you cannot interpret.”
Yan examined the paper edges. “Could we compare it with another copy?”
“Not yet. The library has no second copy.”
“Then I’ll copy the source and the gap into my notebook before reading. I won’t call the method complete.”
“That is a useful start.” Gu slid a clean sheet across the desk. “Tomorrow, if you still want to examine it.”
Yan copied the crate number and the missing-leaf note. He left the manuscript closed. The record mattered as much as the first readable lines; a partial page could not tell him what the missing circulation required.
He returned the shift map to Ning before leaving the library. She had the three requested nights circled and a note beside the lower-exposure station. She asked him to keep the original copy for the steward, then put her own mark beside the days she preferred.
The small business brought enough to improve their meals and pay part of her medicine bill. The new twine did not solve every uncertainty. It helped Bai keep the stock and its records together, and it let Ning recognize which items belonged nowhere near her cooking pot.