Five glittering silver pieces lying on the old, scratched wooden counter.
In Lin Qing's small shop, five silver pieces wasn't just money. It was a myth. It was a full month's profit, in the best of months. It was rent, food, and herb costs for weeks. And now, it lay there, earned in less than an hour, in exchange for one small pot of pearlescent ointment.
Lin Qing stared at the money. She didn't move. She didn't breathe.
Ye Feng was also looking at the money. He was calculating. "One pot costs... let's say, five coppers for the ingredients and the jar. We sell it for one hundred coppers. That is a profit of... ninety-five coppers. A 1900% profit margin. Not bad."
That clinical calculation snapped Lin Qing out of her stupor.
"Not bad?!" she shrieked, her voice high with a mix of pure euphoria and sheer terror. "Not bad?! Ye Feng, you're insane! This is robbery! Grandma Li is going to realize she's been swindled! She'll come back with the city guards! She'll have us arrested! We'll be hanged for sorcery!"
She started pacing frantically in the tiny shop, her hands tearing at her hair. "One silver! What were you thinking?! We should have sold it for twenty coppers! That would have been expensive! But one silver?! We're finished. We're dead. I'd rather be evicted by Zhao than hanged for fraud!"
Ye Feng calmly picked up one of the silver coins. He held it up to the lamplight. "She wasn't swindled."
"What?" Lin Qing stopped pacing.
"Her hand," Ye Feng said. "The result was real. She wasn't paying for an ointment. She was paying for the result. She was paying for the twenty years she got back on her hand. For a wealthy woman who is afraid of growing old..." Ye Feng looked at Lin Qing. "One silver... is a bargain."
The cold logic hit Lin Qing. He was right. Grandma Li hadn't looked angry. She had looked... triumphant.
"And right now," Ye Feng continued, sweeping the five silver pieces into the cash drawer with a satisfying CLINK, "Grandma Li is on her way to Madam Wei's tea party."
"The Magistrate's wife," Lin Qing whispered, a new kind of fear dawning.
"Exactly," Ye Feng said. "Grandma Li is our bait. Madam Wei is our target. And now... we have a much bigger problem."
"What other problem?" Lin Qing sighed, feeling as though this day had already lasted a week.
Ye Feng walked to the storage room. He returned with the small ceramic jar that held the last of the Silver Moon Flowers. It was now almost empty.
"We need more Silver Moon Flowers," he said, repeating his earlier statement. "A lot more."
Lin Qing felt her newfound spirits, which had been soaring, crash back to earth. "More? Ye Feng, it took me a month to harvest what we used this morning! I only have... maybe three ounces left in the storeroom. That's enough for... maybe one more pot?"
"Those three ounces," Ye Feng said, taking a pinch from the jar and crushing it between his fingers, "are flower corpses. Garbage. We can't use them."
"Garbage?!" Lin Qing was insulted. "That's..."
"It was picked at the wrong time and dried the wrong way," Ye Feng cut in, all trace of awkwardness gone from his voice. Only facts. "We cannot sell hope wrapped in garbage. We need the fresh ones. The 'living' ones. Picked correctly."
Lin Qing bit her lip. "Picked correctly... you mean... like you said? Before dawn? With the dew?" "Precisely." "But... Ye Feng..." Lin Qing hesitated. "Those flowers... they don't grow in my backyard. They grow on the Northern Slope." "Then we go to the Northern Slope." "You don't understand!" Lin Qing said in frustration. "The Northern Slope is dangerous! It's a sheer cliff. There's a thick fog that can get you lost forever. There are... vipers! Even experienced herb gatherers avoid it if they can. And it will take a full day to go and come back!"
Ye Feng looked at Lin Qing. Then he looked at the small hourglass on her shelf. The sand for their seven days was already flowing. "We don't have a full day," Ye Feng said. "Let's go. Now."
Fifteen minutes later, the shop was padlocked. A simple wooden sign hung on the door: 'CLOSED - GATHERING INGREDIENTS'.
Lin Qing, now in practical climbing gear (thick cotton trousers, leather boots, and a jacket), was leading the way out of the city gates. She carried a sturdy wicker basket on her back, a small herb sickle at her belt, and a coil of hemp rope over her shoulder. She was a professional.
Ye Feng... was just walking behind her. He was still in his simple blue cotton robe and his cloth shoes. He was carrying nothing.
"Are you sure you don't want to bring anything?" Lin Qing asked, slightly annoyed. "At least a waterskin?" "Not necessary," Ye Feng said. "And those shoes? You'll slip and break your neck." "They're comfortable."
Lin Qing snorted. "Fine. But if you fall, I'm not carrying you."
They walked for an hour, leaving the well-worn paths and entering the dense forest at the foot of the mountains. Lin Qing moved like a deer. She was nimble, agile, and knew exactly where to step. She had been doing this her entire life.
Ye Feng, in contrast, just... walked.
He didn't look like he was hiking. He wasn't breathing heavily. He wasn't sweating. When Lin Qing had to nimbly leap over a hidden root, Ye Feng just stepped over it as if it weren't there. When Lin Qing paused to listen to a rustling sound (perhaps a wild boar), Ye Feng just stood silently, having already spotted the squirrel that made it from fifty yards away.
He didn't look like a master. He looked like someone taking a stroll in a park, a park that just happened to be a dangerous, vertical forest.
It was... infuriating.
"Be careful," Lin Qing said sharply, as they reached a steep incline. "The rocks here are..." Before she could finish, Ye Feng had already passed her, stepping on the slickest, most moss-covered rock without the slightest hint of a slip.
"Oh, forget it!" Lin Qing grumbled.
Finally, they arrived. The Northern Slope was exactly as she had described it: a near-vertical wall of grey rock, shrouded in a cold fog, even in the middle of the day.
"There they are," Lin Qing whispered, pointing up.
About thirty meters above them, in impossible crevices in the cliff face, grew the Silver Moon Flowers. In the dim light, they seemed to glow with a faint blue aura. They were beautiful. And unreachable.
"Alright," Lin Qing said, taking a deep breath. "This is the hard part." She began to uncoil her hemp rope, looking for a sturdy anchor. "I'll climb. You wait here and watch for falling..."
"Not necessary," Ye Feng said.
"What do you mean 'not necessary'? Are you going to fly up..."
Lin Qing didn't finish her sentence. Because Ye Feng... had started walking.
He stepped from the flat ground onto the 90-degree cliff face... and he didn't fall. He just kept walking. Upwards.
One step. Two steps. His cloth shoes clung to the smooth rock surface as if it were a wooden floor. He walked straight up the wall, defying gravity, as if he had simply forgotten that he was supposed to fall.
He wasn't climbing. He was strolling.
(In his mind, Ye Feng was just channeling 0.0001% of his immortal qi to the soles of his feet, creating a simple spiritual adhesion. To him, this was easier than breathing.)
To Lin Qing, it was the end of the world. Her mouth dropped open. The basket she was holding fell from her hands, her waterskin spilling. She couldn't scream. She couldn't think. She could only stare, her eyes wide with a mixture of terror and awe.
Ye Feng reached the flowers in ten seconds. "Ah," he said, his voice drifting down clearly. "Here they are. The 'living' ones." He didn't pick them crudely. He picked them respectfully, one by one, the morning dew (which was, miraculously, still clinging to them despite it being afternoon) perfectly intact. The flowers glowed faintly in his hand.
He filled the small pouch he had borrowed from Lin Qing's belt, and then... he walked back down. Just like that.
He stepped back onto flat ground in front of Lin Qing. He held out the pouch, which was now overflowing with the most pristine, glowing flowers she had ever seen.
Lin Qing... was trembling. She couldn't take it.
"Ye... Ye... Ye..." she stammered. She pointed at Ye Feng. She pointed at the cliff. "You... you... the cliff... you... walked..."
Ye Feng looked at the cliff. Then he looked at the deathly pale Lin Qing. He realized he had made a major mistake. He had broken the unspoken rule: "Don't reveal you are a god."
He had to revert to 'clumsy menial worker' mode. Fast.
"Ah!" he said, slapping his forehead. "It's... my shoes!" Lin Qing stared at him, still shaking. "...Your shoes?" "Yes!" Ye Feng said enthusiastically. "These cloth shoes! They're amazing! I bought them from a traveling merchant. He said they were... 'Anti-Gravity Wall Shoes'. Very... sticky. Yes. Extremely sticky. I didn't even know they would work this well!"
He looked down and patted his shoes. "Good shoes. Sticky."
Lin Qing stared at the cheap, dirt-stained cloth shoes. Then she stared at Ye Feng. Then she stared at the cliff. It was the dumbest, most nonsensical, most ridiculous excuse she had ever heard in her life. And somehow... it was so Ye Feng that she almost believed it.
She didn't. Not for a second. But her brain, unable to process the reality that her menial worker had just walked up a wall, preferred to accept the stupid lie for now.
"Sticky... shoes," she repeated, her voice numb. "Very sticky," Ye Feng nodded in agreement. Lin Qing took a deep, shuddering breath. She took the pouch of flowers from his hand. She wasn't going to ask any more questions. Not yet. "Let's go home," she said, her voice still trembling. "We... have a lot of ointment to make."
While Ye Feng and Lin Qing were on the mountain, the time bomb they had set was finally exploding.
Location: The Spring Blossom Pavilion, the most luxurious private tea room. Madam Wei's monthly tea party was in session.
The mood was tense. Madam Wei (the Magistrate's wife) was in a bad mood—her husband's 'Rejuvenation' project was stressing her out. Madam Liu (wife of the Liu's Medicine Shop owner, Lin Qing's rival) was showing off her new jade hairpin. Madam Zhao (Young Master Zhao's mother) was complaining about how ungrateful her son was.
"And then I told him," Madam Zhao was saying, "if he wants to tear down that shabby block, just do it! But why must he deal with that cheap herb girl personally? It's beneath..."
SLAM! The sliding door of the room burst open, and Grandma Li bustled in, out of breath, smelling of ginger and... something else. Something fragrant.
"So sorry I'm late, ladies!" Grandma Li chirped, waving cheerfully. "I had to stop by Qing's Shop first!"
Madam Liu snorted. "Hmph, Qing's Shop? I heard that place will be a memory soon. My husband said Lord Zhao is finally tearing it down. Good riddance."
"Really?" Grandma Li said, her eyes twinkling. "What a shame. They just started selling... this."
Silence. Grandma Li lifted her left hand, the one that had been treated. She placed it on the table, next to her porcelain teacup. Then, she lifted her right hand, the untreated one, and placed it directly beside the left one.
Under the bright light from the window, the difference was so dramatic, so horrifying, that it looked unreal. One hand was wrinkled, spotted, and dry. The other was smooth, supple, and glowing.
The noblewomen fell silent. Madam Zhao dropped her teacup. CRASH! Hot tea splashed onto her expensive silk, but she didn't feel it. Madam Liu froze with her hairpin in her hand. Madam Wei, the Magistrate's wife, leaned forward. Her sharp eyes were glued to the two hands.
"Grandma Li," Madam Wei said, her normally calm voice now strained. "What... what did you do to your hand?"
Grandma Li smiled, savoring every second of the moment. She pulled both hands back. "Oh, this?" she said breezily. "Just some silly new concoction. It's called... 'Morning Dew Ointment'. From Qing's Shop, you know. That new boy who works there told me I looked old." She snorted. "I bought it just to prove him wrong. But look at that? Seems to work." She waved her 'new' left hand. "One silver piece for a tiny pot. A bargain, don't you think?"
"One... silver?" whispered Madam Liu. "Where is your pot?!" demanded Madam Zhao, forgetting her spilled tea.
"Oh," Grandma Li said. "I bought five. But I was planning on giving them to my granddaughters. Of course..." She looked directly at Madam Wei. "I'm sure if the Magistrate's wife herself asked... they would make more. If... their shop is still there, that is."
Madam Wei stood up. The tea party was over. "Excuse me," she said curtly. She marched to the door and called for her personal attendant. "All of you, with me. We are going... to Qing's Shop. Now."
An hour later, Ye Feng and Lin Qing returned to the city. They were tired, dirty (Lin Qing, at least), and carrying a basket full of the finest Silver Moon Flowers the province had ever seen.
Lin Qing was still quiet, her mind trying to process 'sticky shoes' and the fact that Ye Feng was not human. She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the strangeness until they turned onto their street block.
The street... was crowded.
"What... what is this?" Lin Qing said, stopping. "Did the demolition team come early?"
It wasn't a demolition team. It wasn't thugs. It was... carriages. Not just one. There were five, six, seven luxury carriages parked haphazardly in their narrow street, blocking everything. Thoroughbred horses snorted impatiently.
And in front of "Qing's Tea & Medicine Shop"—whose door still had the 'CLOSED' sign hanging—there was a queue.
It was not a queue of their usual customers. It was a queue of the richest and most powerful women in Spring Cloud City. They were dressed in silk, jade, and pearls. Their attendants held parasols to protect them from the sun.
Madam Wei (The Magistrate's Wife) was at the very front, tapping impatiently on the locked door. Behind her was Madam Zhao (Young Master Zhao's Mother), looking furious and anxious. Behind her was Madam Liu (the rival's wife), biting her lip. And at least ten other noblewomen.
As Lin Qing and Ye Feng appeared, an attendant spotted them. "Madam! There she is! The herb girl!"
The entire queue turned in unison. Madam Wei, ignoring her status, rushed forward, almost running. She grabbed Lin Qing's climbing-stained sleeve.
"Miss Lin! Miss Lin! Open the door!" she said, her usual calm voice now desperate. "Grandma Li... she said you have the 'Morning Dew Ointment'?" She pointed to her own face. "Look at these wrinkles! I will pay two silver for one pot!"
"Move aside, Wei!" Madam Zhao shoved her. "I'll pay three silver! Miss Lin, whatever the price! Just give it to me!" "I'll pay five silver for two pots!" shrieked Madam Liu.
Lin Qing was frozen, utterly flabbergasted. She was being pushed, pulled, and shouted at by a dozen women wearing the value of her entire shop in jewelry. They were waving pouches of silver in her face. She was suffocating on their expensive perfumes mixed with their panicked sweat.
She looked at Ye Feng.
Ye Feng, surrounded by the screaming noblewomen, just looked... bored. He gave Lin Qing a small nod.
"We're going to need more jars," he said. "And I'll light the stove."