Yan took the stairs from the disposal yard without the limp he used to hide. Meridian Opening had made his qi circulate through the channels that once caught beneath his ribs. His legs felt firm, and his breath stayed even after the climb.
At the top, he practiced a complete three-step footwork form from the yard’s basic examination manual. The first step turned the body aside, the second moved out of the direct line, and the third brought him to a stable stance. He had rehearsed it with no qi until the sequence came naturally. When its tendon strain began, the System reversed it into stronger tendons and a light, steady warmth. The movement was simple enough to use in a narrow aisle.
The path from the disposal yard passed between two drying rows. Workers carried shallow trays of roots under the eaves, turning them so they dried evenly. Yan stepped to one side to let a woman pass with a stack. His feet followed the three-step pattern without interrupting the flow. The channel-opening breakthrough had made the movement feel stable, but he still watched the ground for spilled leaves and a loose board by the rail.
He had learned the complete form from the yard’s basic examination exercises. It was not a secret art or a fight trick. Its turns helped a worker avoid a falling basket or clear a crowded aisle. He had practiced it without qi until he could remember each step. Now the internal tendon strain became a quiet strengthening warmth, not pain. He did not need to announce it to anyone; he simply walked the stairs without the limp he used to hide.
Ma Zhen waited beside the herb drying racks. He was an overseer assigned to Zhao’s work crew, with a narrow knife in a sheath at his belt. His eyes followed Yan’s feet.
“You walk differently,” Ma said. “What did you take from Zhao’s testing room?”
Ma had been watching from the gap between the racks. He counted Yan’s last three steps under his breath, then held up three fingers.
“What are you counting?” Yan asked.
“Your pace. You climbed from the disposal yard without stopping.”
“I took the stairs.”
“You used to limp on the final step.”
“I don’t now.”
“Convenient timing.” Ma’s eyes moved to Yan’s coat. “What changed?”
Yan kept his answer narrow. “I drank the assigned draught in Zhao’s testing room. The examinations found no visible damage.”
“The assigned draught.”
“Nothing else?”
“I have no other stock from the testing room.”
Ma stepped closer. “You’re lying. Empty your sleeves.”
Yan kept both hands visible. “Did that order come from Zhao or from the yard office?”
“The elder doesn’t need to write every instruction.”
“Then show me the work order.”
Ma glanced back toward the yard office. “The testing room keeps records. I don’t carry every order in my pocket.”
“Then I’ll ask the office.”
“You’ll do no such thing until I’ve checked your sleeves.”
“Why?”
“To make sure you haven’t taken anything.”
“The room kept its sample. I left with my work clothes.”
“Did you see the clerk write that down?”
“I saw the jar sealed and the card filed.” Yan kept his voice even. “If you want a search, show me who authorized it and what the rule allows.”
Ma pulled a folded scrap from his sleeve. Yan looked at the paper without reaching for it. The signature line was blank. The note said nothing about a search; it carried no stamp from Zhao or the yard office.
“That proves you have a question,” Yan said. “It doesn’t authorize you to search my coat.”
Ma unfolded the scrap again as if the answer might have changed. “It says I’m responsible for Zhao’s crew.”
“It has no signature, stamp, or instruction to search.”
“You read a lot into a blank line.”
“The line is blank.” Yan kept his arms loose at his sides. “You can ask me questions. You can’t take my private notes because you dislike the answer.”
Ma folded the scrap and slid it away. “I’m responsible for Zhao’s work crew. I can’t allow a laborer to hoard experimental medicine.”
“The testing office kept the sample.”
“The official account is one thing. What you actually swallowed is another.” Ma moved toward the open path that led to the yard gate. He stopped close enough to block it. “You could be carrying something from the room.”
Yan shifted his feet. The drying corridor remained open to his right; the gate was behind Ma. He could not reach it without passing the overseer. The corridor bent around the drying racks and opened near the water barrel, where workers moved in and out throughout the shift. He kept his hands where Ma could see them. The narrow knife at Ma’s belt was close, but the man had not drawn it.
A porter named Ren pushed a cart around the far end of the racks. Two stacked baskets wobbled as the wheel crossed a crack in the path. Yan called, “Ren, stop at the corner a moment.”
Ma turned his head. “Keep moving.”
Ren slowed but did not turn away. The cart stood several paces from them, its handles angled toward the aisle. A jar clinked inside the top basket.
Ma looked back at Yan. “Why do you need a witness if you’ve done nothing wrong?”
“I want the cart out of the way before anyone gets hurt.”
Ren held the handles and kept the cart still. Ma’s attention returned to Yan. “Name the person who supplied your extra pills.”
“I bought labeled rejects from Bai Jiu. I paid him for them.”
“Another lie.”
“It’s the truth.”
“You think a courier book makes you untouchable?” Ma’s hand dropped to his belt. “Empty the coat.”
Yan saw the movement and stepped toward the drying corridor. His right foot turned through the opening step of the complete form. The tendon strain became a strengthening warmth. He had room to move but no clear way past Ma yet.
“Don’t reach for my clothes,” Yan said.
Ma’s hand closed around the knife hilt. Ren’s cart blocked the far aisle. The drying racks stood between Yan and the open yard. He measured the distance to the corridor, the angle of the cart, and the space around Ma’s right shoulder.
Ma leaned in. “You’ll tell me the supplier.”
Yan kept his hands up. “If Zhao sent you, bring the stamped order.”
Ma drew a breath and moved his wrist toward the knife. Yan shifted his weight onto his back foot, ready to move out of the direct line. The walkway narrowed beside the racks, and the cart could not pass until Ren turned it.
“Ren, keep the cart where it is,” Yan said.
Ma’s eyes flicked toward the porter. “Don’t involve him.”
“I didn’t. You told him to keep moving.”
The cart wheel squeaked as Ren adjusted his grip. The space between the rack and the cart narrowed further. Ma’s fingers closed on the knife. Yan had no time to summon help. He kept the first step of the footwork form ready and watched Ma’s hand.