The waste cart stopped beside Furnace Three with one wheel jammed against a bent grate. Rinse water ran over the stone lane and pooled above the drain. Two workers stood on the far side with cracked jars in their arms, unable to cross without stepping onto the slippery metal.
Yan saw the cart tilt. Ning was near the lane entrance, returning from the sorting room with the crew slate. Gu came from the library carrying a basket of empty jars.
“Keep them back,” Yan called to Ning. “The frame is caught under the wheel.”
Ning put one arm across the workers’ path. “Stay where the stone is dry. Set the jars down first.”
Gu moved the empty baskets away from the drain and cleared a path toward the dry lane. The cart was loaded with broken jars and metal scraps; if it shifted, the wet stones could send it across the drain.
Yan crouched beside the frame and checked where the grate had bent. The wheel sat on the near corner, trapping the metal beneath its hub. He could not pull it free by hand without putting his fingers near the wheel.
“Use the bar?” Gu asked.
“We need to raise the wheel first. The bar can move the frame once there’s room.”
Yan set his feet on the dry stone and braced the frame with Ashen Marrow. The pressure through his bones became firm, strengthening warmth. The cart’s weight did not change. He felt it press against his arms and legs as the wheel settled harder on the grate.
He drew qi for a single low-output circulation of Blood Ignition. The red surge moved through his limbs. Its internal life cost began and then reversed into renewed vigor. He kept his footing on the dry patch and lifted the wheel just enough to free the grate.
“Move it,” he said.
Gu slid the lever bar under the bent corner and pried the grate loose. Ning guided the two workers across one at a time while Yan held the wheel. They carried the cracked jars to the dry lane and set them on a stable shelf.
The cart rolled clear, but the wheel kept turning for a moment. Yan held the frame while Gu braced the far corner with the bar. Ning told the workers to carry one basket at a time; the cracked jars had shifted and the load was not balanced. The first worker crossed, set his basket down on dry stone, and returned for the next. The second followed after the cart was stable.
One jar shifted and broke inside the basket, splashing cold rinse water over Yan’s boots. A worker laughed. “You defeated a grate and lost to a puddle.”
“The puddle has home-field advantage,” Yan said.
Ning checked the workers’ hands and arms for cuts. One had a small scrape from the jar basket; she rinsed it at the wash station and wrapped it in a strip of clean cloth. The other worker was unhurt. Yan stepped away from the wheel and checked his own hands. His bones felt strong, and no skin had broken. His boots were soaked, but the cold water had not injured him.
Gu reset the frame with the lever bar, then put a wedge under the grate’s bent corner so it could not jam the next wheel. The cart still needed a mechanic to replace the frame. Yan and Gu tested the wheel by rolling the empty cart over the lane. It passed, but the bent edge scraped the stone.
“We need a better repair than a wedge,” Gu said.
“The mechanic can replace the corner,” Ning said. “I’ll write the cart number and ask the steward to keep it out of the drain lane until then.”
The workers thanked Yan and asked if he could teach them the technique. Yan shook his head. “The full art carries serious harm for ordinary bodies. Don’t imitate it.”
The worker looked at Yan’s stance. “Could you lift the whole cart if it caught again?”
“I don’t know, and I wouldn’t try. The load can shift, the wheel can roll, and the wet stones can take your feet out from under you.” Yan showed them where he had planted his shoes. “The grate was stuck under the hub. We lifted the wheel only as much as we needed.”
“Then how do we keep the grate from catching the next cart?” one asked.
Yan showed them the lever bar and the wedge. “Lift the wheel clear before you pull the frame. Use this bar, and keep your hands away from the hub.”
They took the bar and tried it together. The first worker held the wedge while the second shifted the grate. The corner slipped once, and they stopped to reset it. The next attempt held. They found that the frame caught only when the wheel struck the bent edge at an angle.
Ning wrote the finding on the repair slip. “If the wheel reaches the corner straight, it rolls past. If it hits from the side, it jams.”
Gu marked the same spot with chalk. “That gives the mechanic the problem, not only the broken part.”
The crew returned the empty jars to the dry shelf and carried the good baskets back to the yard. Yan wrung water from his boots beside the drain. “The force got everyone across, but it didn’t fix the frame.”
“It got the cart unstuck,” Gu said. “The lever and wedge keep the next one from sticking.”
Ning handed Yan the crew slate. “And the repair slip gives the mechanic the exact corner.”
They returned to their work. The wheel had been freed, the workers were safe, and the bent grate was marked for repair. The frame’s weight had remained real while Yan braced it, and the wet stone still threatened to slip. He had used the techniques to lift the wheel, but simple tools solved the repeated jam. His boots held on the dry patch; if he had planted them in the rinse water, he might have fallen with the cart still pressing against him. The two arts changed his own internal costs. They did not dry the lane or lock the wheel in place.
At the end of the shift, the mechanic replaced the loose wedge and bolted a metal guard over the bent corner. The rescued workers carried the jars to the dry shelf and returned with the lever bar. They reset the grate together, rolling an empty wheel over the repaired corner to check the fit.
It passed without catching. One of them asked Yan to sign the maintenance note as a witness. Yan did, then shook the water from his boots and went back to work. The grate would not trap the next cart, and the crew had a method they could use without copying his art.