The moment Liang Yue stepped into the herbal shop, her attention was seized by the crowd.
It was unusually large—far more than she had ever seen here. Liang Yue had been coming to this shop for years, since childhood, yet never once had it brimmed with such restless noise and bodies pressed close together. People moved freely among the shelves, choosing herbs with their own hands, speaking over one another in animated voices. The air hummed with confusion and excitement, as though the shop itself had forgotten its usual restraint.
A question rose in Liang Yue's mind—what is happening here?
But Zhao Ren saw none of it.
His gaze had already found her, swift and unerring, like an arrow released long ago only to strike its destined mark at last. A faint smile touched his lips. The person he had been waiting for—day after day, breath after breath—stood now before him, closer than his own thoughts.
Liang Yue looked up and met his eyes.
For a brief, dangerous moment, a tide surged within Zhao Ren. His chest tightened; his heartbeat quickened, loud and unsteady. Instinctively, he pressed his palm against his own heart, as though trying to quiet it.
Don't let her hear it, he thought.
Yet Zhao Ren's fixed stare and sudden movement only deepened Liang Yue's confusion. Something about him felt… strange. And then—faint but unmistakable—she heard it.
A heartbeat.
She frowned slightly.
"What is this?" she asked softly. "Are you all right?"
Zhao Ren froze.
Did she hear it?
"Yes," he replied at once, forcing calm into his voice. "I'm fine."
Before the moment could stretch any further, an elderly woman approached the counter, a small bundle of herbs cradled in her arms.
"I've taken these," she said kindly. "I heard that in this shop, one may pay whatever one wishes."
Zhao Ren nodded quickly. "Yes—yes. Exactly."
The old woman placed a few copper coins on the table—far less than the herbs were worth—and smiled.
"May fortune bless you," she said before turning to leave.
Liang Yue stood silently, astonished.
She had known the shop's owner for many years. He was a man famous for his stinginess, someone who never lowered prices and often found excuses to raise them. To allow such freedom—pay as you wish—was unthinkable.
When the old woman disappeared into the street, Zhao Ren looked back at Liang Yue.
"You were saying…?" he asked gently.
Liang Yue hesitated, then asked the question that had been circling her thoughts.
"Where is the shop owner? And who are you?"
"He's at home," Zhao Ren replied. "I'm his employee. I'm taking care of the shop for now. What do you need?"
So many thoughts crowded Liang Yue's mind, yet she let them pass without voicing them. Instead, she calmly named several herbs she needed.
This time, Zhao Ren did not ask her to take them herself.
He wanted—no, needed—to hand them to her with his own hands.
But the moment he turned toward the shelves, reality betrayed him. He could not remember where each herb was kept. His movements slowed; uncertainty crept into his fingers.
Liang Yue noticed at once and quietly began to guide him.
"That one is there… the dried roots are on the upper shelf… not those, the darker ones."
Zhao Ren watched her, half-listening, half-lost.
"You must be a physician," he said suddenly, attempting confidence.
She shook her head. "No. My father is."
"Then you must know herbs and medicine well," Zhao Ren said.
"Yes," Liang Yue replied. "I've helped my father prepare medicines since I was little. I know a little."
Zhao Ren let out a long breath, as though something old had surfaced within him.
"When I was young," he said quietly, "my dream was to become a physician—to help the poor. But the dreams of the poor rarely come true. Now I work in this shop."
He waited.
He waited for her to say something—anything.
But Liang Yue remained silent.
Zhao Ren exhaled again, more softly this time, and continued gathering herbs with her help.
From a corner of the shop, Han Bo watched in disbelief.
A king calling himself poor, he thought, stunned by the performance.
When Zhao Ren finally finished, he realized that many of the herbs Liang Yue needed were already gone—the shelves had been emptied by the crowd earlier that day.
"You'll have everything tomorrow," Zhao Ren said quickly. "Please come back then."
But those herbs were needed by the next day.
Still, inside Zhao Ren's chest, a quiet joy bloomed.
Tomorrow, he thought. I'll see her again.
When Liang Yue prepared to pay, she asked, "How much?"
Zhao Ren hesitated. He didn't know the prices.
"Give whatever you think is fair," he said.
That answer unsettled her.
Liang Yue knew the exact value of the herbs. She calculated silently and placed the proper amount on the counter. Yet doubt lingered in her heart.
Perhaps I should come to another shop from now on, she thought.
She turned to leave.
After she had taken only a few steps outside, Zhao Ren called after her, louder than he intended—
"Please come tomorrow! The herbs will be here!"
Liang Yue paused for just a moment… then continued walking.
And Zhao Ren stood there, watching her leave, already counting the hours until morning.
The next day, Zhao Ren sat leaning back in a wooden chair behind the counter, waiting.
A smile filled his face—wide, unguarded, almost boyish. He was certain of one thing: Liang Yue would come today. She had to. The herbs she needed had been unavailable yesterday. There was no reason for her not to return.
The shop, however, looked different today.
Zhao Ren's men were busy rearranging the shelves, moving hurriedly yet clumsily. Dressed plainly like ordinary townsfolk, they tried their best to appear natural, but their hands betrayed them. Bundles of herbs were misplaced, labels turned the wrong way, roots stacked where leaves should have been. The shop owner stood among them, correcting each mistake with growing impatience.
"No, no—those go on the upper shelf," he said, pointing sharply. "That one must be kept away from moisture. And don't mix those two—they look similar, but their uses are completely different."
The men nodded repeatedly, flustered, shifting jars and bundles under his constant supervision.
Zhao Ren watched briefly, then turned to Han Bo.
"All the herbs have arrived, right?"
"Yes," Han Bo replied. "Most of them were delivered before dawn. The remaining few arrived just a short while ago. You may rest assured."
Hearing this, Zhao Ren finally felt at ease about the herbs. He glanced at his men and said quietly but firmly,
"Hurry up. If Liang Yue comes and sees you like this, it won't do. I don't want her to see any of you."
Then his gaze shifted to the shop owner.
"And you—"
The shop owner looked at him with a pleasant, expectant smile. "Yes? What is it?"
"If she sees you, that will be the real problem," Zhao Ren said. "You should leave first."
The shop owner was taken aback. Questions bloomed in his mind.
Who is she? And why would it be a problem if she saw me?
But he didn't ask. Instead, he thought to himself, There's no benefit in knowing too much. I was paid well to rent out the shop for a month, and now I'm being paid again to help. That's enough.
"Yes, yes," he said aloud. "I'm done here. I'll leave right away."
Yet he remained standing exactly where he was.
Every time Zhao Ren looked in his direction, the shop owner greeted him with an exaggerated, overly warm grin—his eyes narrowing, cheeks lifting, lips stretching into a smile that seemed to say I'm still here without words. It wasn't quite laughter, but a soft, pleased chuckle escaped him each time, like a merchant savoring a profitable deal.
Zhao Ren frowned slightly, puzzled as to why the man wasn't leaving.
He glanced at Han Bo.
Han Bo responded with a subtle gesture of his fingers—money.
Understanding dawned.
Zhao Ren murmured, "Pay him."
Han Bo stepped forward and placed a pouch heavy with coins into the shop owner's hands. At once, the man's smile bloomed even wider, radiating pure satisfaction.
Seeing that smile, even Zhao Ren and Han Bo couldn't help but smile faintly themselves.
The shop owner finally turned and left.
Soon after, Zhao Ren's men finished arranging the shop and quietly withdrew. The shop returned to its usual state.
Now, there was only waiting.
Customers began to fill the shop again, one after another, until it was crowded once more. Zhao Ren stared at them in disbelief.
"These people were here yesterday too," he said to Han Bo. "How many herbs do they need? What are they even doing with so much?"
"I was wondering the same," Han Bo replied. "Herbs aren't food. It's strange for them to buy such quantities."
Zhao Ren's eyes drifted toward the entrance.
"Why hasn't Liang Yue come yet?"
He waited.
The afternoon passed. Evening approached.
Still, she did not come.
Unease crept into Zhao Ren's heart.
"Han Bo," he said at last, unable to sit still, "go and check on her. Make sure she's all right."
Han Bo obeyed and left at once.
Some time later, he returned and stood before Zhao Ren.
"Well?" Zhao Ren asked urgently. "What did you find? Is Liang Yue all right?"
"Yes," Han Bo replied. "She's fine."
Zhao Ren released a breath he hadn't realized he was holding.
"Then why didn't she come?" he asked. "She needed many herbs. Yesterday the shop ran out—she couldn't buy them."
Han Bo hesitated before answering.
"I found out… she bought the herbs from another shop."
For a moment, Zhao Ren stood utterly still.
Then he said slowly, "So… she has started going elsewhere now."
Silence followed.
Zhao Ren lowered his gaze, thoughts turning heavy. After everything he had arranged, after all the careful planning, his effort had still failed.
And the shop—once full of waiting—felt suddenly empty.