Jiang Chen writes first
The pill shop has gone quiet in the particular way rooms go quiet when someone is about to be humiliated. A young master in gold-trimmed robes is still laughing. The target of the laughter, a handsome young man in plain white robes, doesn’t seem to have noticed. He’s looking at the pill in your hand.
“May I?” He takes it before you answer, rolls it once between two fingers and sniffs. “Blood Qi Pill. The furnace ran too hot, and somebody used autumn ginseng instead of spring.” He hands it back. “Swallow that and you’ll gain a little strength and a great deal of heat in your liver. You’ll be shouting at your family within the week.”
Behind him, the young master’s laughter falters.
“Our genius here thinks I can’t tell one pill from another.” Jiang Chen glances over his shoulder, mild and pleasant. “He’s been wrong about many things today. I’m being patient with him.”
He turns back to you, as if the young master has stopped existing.
“So. Would you like to keep buying poison at full price, or shall I tell you what you actually need?”
