Chapter 889 — The First Commission

CHAPTER 889

The First Commission

By noon there were six letters on the courtyard table, and six messengers standing in the Willow Ford lane.

Auntie Niu had lined them up against her bun stall. She’d also doubled the price of a bun. Nobody wanted to be the messenger sent home without an answer.

“Gu general’s household,” Ji Yuanhe read, setting down each letter as he opened it. “Two sects, both Cangming. An Old House from the eastern coast. A Tang branch.” He stopped at the last one and turned it over. “And the Jiang.”

Every letter asked the same thing in different words. A 6 Mark pill, for a Profound Heaven elder, at any price the master named.

Shi Feng sat on the step with his bandaged arms on his knees and listened to all six. He hadn’t slept properly in four days, and his rib still ground when he breathed in deeply.

“Tell the first five I’m grateful,” Shi Feng said. “Tell them to come back in seven days. I don’t take a Profound Heaven commission on no sleep. If I fail one, I’ve burnt a family’s best herbs, and they’ll remember it longer than they’ll remember any success.”

Ji Yuanhe went out to the lane and told them, very politely. Five messengers did not go. They stood against Auntie Niu’s stall and bid against each other, each man naming a higher fee than the last. Auntie Niu sold buns to the losers and took a cut of every bid.

“Three million,” Shi Feng said from the step. “The same for all five, and for anyone who comes back in seven days. Bidding doesn’t move it.”

The five wrote it down, bowed, and went.

The sixth messenger didn’t leave, because he wasn’t a messenger.

He was an old man in plain silver-grey, with a jade abacus at his belt and a face like a dried walnut. Shi Feng had last seen him at the princess’s table, raising a cup. Elder Jiang Bozhou.

“Master Shi,” Jiang Bozhou said, and bowed a little lower than an elder of the Jiang needed to. “The family heard you were sending people home. This old man thought he’d better come himself.”

“Elder Jiang,” Shi Feng said, and rose. “The Jiang backed the princess when I was still twenty-eighth on a list nobody reads. I’m not sending you home.”

Jiang Bozhou smiled for the first time, and took a second paper from his sleeve.

“Our Third Ancestor,” Jiang Bozhou said. “Early Profound Heaven. A meridian has been hardening at his left wrist for nine years, and the inner heaven leaks through it. Our own alchemists won’t touch it. The Pavilion’s two 6 Marks are busy for a year.”

“What does Master Jiang Xu say?” Shi Feng asked.

“Master Jiang Xu,” Jiang Bozhou said dryly, “says to ask you.”

Shi Feng read the paper. The meridian was hard but not dead, and the herbs the Jiang listed were exactly right.

“Three million,” Shi Feng said. “Your herbs, enough for two tries. If the first try works, the spare herbs are mine. Those are my terms for everyone.”

“The Jiang don’t haggle with a 6 Mark,” Jiang Bozhou said.

“Then I haggled for both of us,” Shi Feng said. “It’s done.”

Jiang Bozhou laughed out loud and clapped his hands. Two Jiang servants came down the lane with a sealed chest between them.

Shi Feng lit Mo’s cauldron in the courtyard an hour later.

There was no glass wall this time, no notaries and no gallery. There was Ji Yuanhe at the herb tray, Auntie Niu’s grandson sitting on the wall, and half the lane pretending not to watch through the gate.

“Cold Jade Root,” Ji Yuanhe said, lifting each herb as he handed it over. “One. River-Stilling Moss. Two. Nine-Joint Vine, three joints cut. Three.”

He didn’t need to count. His soul had been whole since the Hunt. He counted because he liked it.

“Four,” Niu Tiezhu shouted from the wall.

“Four,” Ji Yuanhe agreed, laughing.

Shi Feng worked the Second Anvil Fire low and steady. He didn’t fold any clouds this time. He didn’t need nine. A pill for a hardened meridian had to go in gently, so he took his time.

“Slow work makes fine goods,” Ji Yuanhe said approvingly, watching the fire.

At dusk, seven clouds stood over the Willow Ford roof.

The lane went silent. Then somebody started clapping, and the whole lane joined in.

“Seven clouds! Over our roofs!”

“Auntie Niu, your buns are going to double in price again!”

“They already have!” Auntie Niu shouted back.

Shi Feng lifted the lid. One pill, pale green, with a cool scent like river water. He sealed it in jade and handed it to Jiang Bozhou with both hands. The spare herbs he put in his ring.

Jiang Bozhou counted three million in stone notes onto the courtyard table without being asked. Shi Feng counted them again. Nine million three hundred and sixty thousand, near enough, once he added it to what he already had. He’d paid six million to sit, and he’d won half of it back in one day.

“Our Third Ancestor will want to thank you himself,” Jiang Bozhou said, tucking the jade case inside his robe.

“Tell him to rest the wrist for ten days first,” Shi Feng said. “Then he can thank me.”

Jiang Bozhou bowed again and left with his servants. Ji Yuanhe swept the herb dust off the tray.

Shi Feng sat down on the step and closed his eyes. For the first time in four days, he thought he might actually sleep.

Someone knocked politely on the open gate.

A Pavilion runner stood there in the grey of the Ninefold Tower, holding a card in both hands.

“Honoured guest,” the runner said, bowing. “Old Tower Master Dai invites you to the top room of the tower. At your convenience.” He paused. “The Tower Master hopes your convenience is tomorrow morning.”