The warehouse fight ended, leaving behind a deep silence. Zhao Kun and his men, wounded and tied up, were taken away to face Master Chen's justice, which Li Wei knew might shift but would not fail, not with the market watching.
The night air still smelled of blood and sweat as Li Wei walked away, his dagger untouched at his waist, his body tired but his mind already turning to Mei.
Zhao Kun was finished, but the fight for his wife's life wasn't over.
Mei's illness, a cough that left her gasping, had worsened during the months of Zhao Kun's control over the town. The stress of seeing her husband face Zhao Kun's threats, the constant fear of losing him, had worn her down.
Li Wei had fought for the market, for the merchants, but most of all for her, to give her a chance at a life free from fear. Now, he had to find a way to get her medicine.
He reached their small home as dawn crept in, the single room illuminated by a dim lantern. Mei lay on a thin bed, her face pale, her breathing weak. Li Wei sat beside her, taking her hand. It felt too light, too cold.
"It's over," he said, keeping his voice calm. "He's gone."
Mei's eyes opened, tired but focused. "You're back," she said, her voice faint but steady enough the knot in his chest.
He nodded, but worry gnawed at him. Mei needed real medicine, herbs, tonics, not the thin soups he'd been scraping together.
The fight had left Li Wei nearly penniless, and the market's recovery was too slow to help.
There was one man with the resources to make a difference: Master Huang.
He had tested Li Wei at that banquet, throwing him to Zhao Kun's thugs to see if he'd break. Li Wei hadn't, and Huang's promise of a partnership was now his only leverage.
***
Li Wei headed to Huang's trade house that morning, the sprawling compound a stark contrast to the market's battered stalls. Workers hauled crates of silk and spices, clerks scribbled in ledger, and the air carried the sharp tang of dried herbs and expensive dyes.
Huang stood in the courtyard, his luxurious robe catching the light, gold rings glinting on his fingers as he barked orders.
"Li Wei," Huang said when he spotted him, his tone smooth but edged with calculation. "You have made quite a name for yourself, toppling Zhao Kun. My trade is already running smoother without his men sniffing around."
"I'm here for my wife," Li Wei said, cutting through the pleasantries. "She is sick, fever, coughing, getting worse. I need medicine, strong herbs."
Huang's eyes narrowed as he assessed Li Wei. "I know your wife has been ill for a long time. She needs astragalus, licorice root, maybe white peony—a proper tonic. I have the stock, but it is not cheap, and my suppliers are squeezing me after Zhao Kun's chaos."
"How much?" Li Wei asked, bracing for the answer.
Huang named a sum that hit like a fist, far beyond what Li Wei could afford.
"I don't have that sum," Li Wei said, keeping his voice steady. "But we have a deal from the banquet. You said we would work together. Help me now, and I will deliver on my end."
Huang smirked, the same sly look he had worn when Zhao Kun's men surrounded Li Wei.
"Our deal was for silk and trade, not charity. But I will make you an offer. I have a shipment of herbs stuck with a supplier, Liang, in the next town. He is holding out for a better price, and I cannot spare the coin until my silk moves. Get him to release the herbs, and I will give you what Mei needs at cost."
Vincent, who had been silent watching all these scenes unfolded before him, caught the flicker of frustration in Li Wei's mind. Huang was testing him again, pushing him into another dangerous game.
But there was no choice, Mei's life depended on it.
"I will do it," Li Wei said. "Where is Liang?"
Huang tossed him a wooden token etched with a dragon, his trade house's seal.
"This says you are my man. Liang knows me, but he will still try to squeeze you for more. Don't fail—your wife does not have time."
***
Li Wei set out at noon, the half-day walk to the next town stretching across dusty roads and thin woods. He carried Huang's token and a small bundle—a roll of silk and a bronze cup, the last scraps of value form his shop.
Liang's compound was a cluttered yard, crates stacked high, guarded by men who waved Li Wei through after seeing the token. Liang, a wiry man with sharp eyes, sat at a table counting coins.
"Huang's errand boy?" he said, glancing at the silk and cup. "This is worthless. My herbs are worth real silver."
Li Wei kept his cool, channeling the same nerve he had used at Huang's banquet. "Huang needs your herbs now. I am here to make a deal."
Liang snorted. "What is in it for me?"
Li Wei leaned in, his voice steady. "The market is free of Zhao Kun. Huang's trade is picking up, and so will yours. I will get you a stall in Chang'an, prime location, no fees for a month. That is worth more than your herbs."
Vincent noted Li Wei's gamble—offering a stall he did not fully control, banking on his new ties with Huang. It was bold, the kind of move Vincent respected.
Liang's eyes flickered with interest, but he was not easy to convince. "Two months, and you cover my first shipment's transport costs."
Li Wei hesitated, knowing his shop could not afford the hit. But Mei's face flashed in his mind—pale, struggling to breathe.
"Done," he said.
Liang tossed him a sack of astragalus, licorice root, and white peony. "Do not make me regret this."
***
Li Wei returned to Huang's trade house by dusk, the sack of herbs heavy in his hands. Huang raised an eyebrow, impressed despite himself.
"You got Liang to crack? Not bad for a small-timer."
"I held up my end," Li Wei said, tired but firm. "Make the tonic."
Huang nodded, gesturing to a clerk to fetch the tools. "It will be ready by morning."
He paused, then pulled a small cloth bag from a locked chest. "And take this for your wife."
Inside was a ginseng root, dark and knotted like a dried branch.
"Top-grade," Huang said. "Came from a northern trader I trust. It will help her strength. No charge—you earned it, cleaning up the market."
Vincent felt Li Wei's relief, mixed with wariness. Huang's generosity was not pure, it was a nod to the profit Li Wei's actions had unlocked.
Still, the ginseng was real, and Mei needed it.
Li Wei met Huang's gaze. "I will remember this."
Huang's smirk returned. "Good. Keep proving yourself, and we will both come out ahead."
***
Dawn light crept into the house as Li Wei sat by Mei's bed, the tonic—a dark, bitter liquid—in a clay cup. The ginseng steeped in a pot, its sharp scent cutting through the room's stillness.
Mei was awake, propped up slightly, her face pale but her eyes steady.
"This is from Huang," Li Wei said, holding the cup the her lips. "It will help."
Mei gripped the cup with shaky hands, leaning on him for support. She drank slowly, wincing at the taste but forcing it down.
Li Wei watched, his throat tight. Then he spooned a bit of ginseng tea for her.
"This will keep you going," he said, his voice calm but thick with unspoken fear and hope. He held her gaze, seeing the same stubborn fight in her that had kept her alive through Zhao Kun's reign.
Mei finished, leaning back, her breathing a little easier. She looked at him, her eyes tired but warm.
"You did not give up," she said, her voice soft but clear.
Li Wei squeezed her hand, the tension in his chest loosening just a fraction. "Neither did you."
Vincent, caught in the moment, felt the quiet strength between them. No grand words, no tears, just two people holding on.
The scene made him remember Selena, and a pang of sadness tightened in his chest. "If only..."