She even stopped by a potter's stall to pick up five tiny, cheap porcelain vials and a fine-mesh silk sieve to start processing her cosmetic samples later that afternoon.
As a massive, burly woman carrying two wooden buckets of hot, fragrant broth walked past her toward a nearby noodle stand, Heena paused, her nose twitching.
"Actually," Heena mused, rubbing her chin thoughtfully as her stomach gave a polite rumble, "the broth last night wasn't half bad once it boiled down. Since I have real salt and scallions now, maybe I should walk over to the western butcher stalls and buy a fresh hen to make a proper chicken soup for lunch."
Beside her ear, the System nearly short-circuited, staring at her in utter, scandalized disbelief.
