Surviving the apocalypse with a wife and a system! [GL]

the healer, who was tired, overworked, and not cruel, but had allowed the pressure of running the clinic to make him forget that poor families sometimes needed help rather than another bill. Bai Li did not threaten him. She asked to see his records and offered to arrange a supply of common medicines through Mount Hua’s medical hall. The healer’s embarrassment was plain. He explained that the clinic had been short of money for months and that he had begun asking for payment in advance because he feared the town would be unable to keep the doors open.

Bai Li listened. She did not excuse the way the child’s mother had been treated, but she understood that the problem was larger than one healer’s decision. She arranged for the clinic to receive emergency supplies and asked the healer to provide a list of families who had postponed treatment for lack of money. The sect could not pay every expense forever, but it could help the clinic establish a small fund for urgent cases while the town’s accounts were reviewed.

When Bai Li returned, Yan Cijin had helped the mother settle into a more comfortable position. She had also written down the healer’s instructions so the woman would not need to guess how long to rest or when to return for another examination. Xiao Mei sat near her mother’s stool, licking sugar from her fingertips and watching Yan Cijin with quiet fascination.

Before they left, Bai Li slipped a pouch of silver into Yan Cijin’s hand. It was heavier than the money needed for one visit to the clinic.

Yan Cijin glanced down. ”For the clinic?”

”For your next charitable impulse.”

Yan Cijin looked genuinely offended. ”I do not have charitable impulses.”

”Of course not.”

”You are laughing at me.”

”I would never.”

Bai Li’s expression was so solemn that the lie became impossible to ignore. Yan Cijin narrowed her eyes, then hid the smile that threatened to escape. She knew exactly what Bai Li was doing. Her wife was giving her the chance to help without making her ask for money or explain that the matter had touched her heart. It was one more quiet act of care, so ordinary that Bai Li would probably forget it before the day ended.

Yan Cijin tucked the pouch away. ”You are a terrible woman.”

”Only for you.”

”That excuse will not save you every time.”

”I will take my chances.”

They left Xiao Mei and her mother with the promise that someone from Mount Hua would return to check on the clinic. Outside, the town had grown busier. The smell of steamed buns and hot oil drifted through the market. A vendor shouted a price, a cart creaked over the uneven road, and two old men argued about whether the previous winter had been colder than the one before.

Yan Cijin looked back toward the narrow lane once. Bai Li watched her.

”You are worried about them,” Bai Li said.

”I am thinking about how easy it is for a small problem to become a serious one when no one has enough time or money to deal with it. The mother injured her ankle. She could not work. The family lost income. The clinic needed payment to keep its doors open. The child began worrying about medicine instead of thinking about school. None of them did anything wrong, but every part of the problem made the next part harder.”

Bai Li took her hand. ”We cannot solve every problem in the world.”

”I know.”

”But we can help with this one.”

Yan Cijin looked up at her. ”Yes. We can.”

They walked on, hands linked, while the market carried on around them. Their afternoon had begun as an excuse to eat sweets and take a break from council work. It had turned into a reminder of why Mount Hua mattered beyond its reputation. The sect was not great because its Matriarchs could defeat every martial artist in the jianghu. It was great because its strength could make life a little less frightening for people who had never held a sword.

They were passing a row of stalls selling dried fruit when the mood in the market shifted.

It began with the sound of a basket hitting the ground. A few hawthorn berries rolled across the stones, followed by the sharp voice of a man demanding money. The vendor at the sweet stall had been approached by three armed men, all wearing dark sleeves and belts marked with a rough iron-colored emblem. More men stood behind them, blocking the lane as if they had come to take possession of the entire market.

”You know the rules,” the leader said. He was broad through the shoulders, with a short beard and a scar that crossed one side of his chin. His sword hung low at his waist, and his manner suggested that he had spent years treating other people’s fear as proof of his own importance. ”The lodge keeps this road safe. You pay the fee, and you can sell your goods without trouble.”

The vendor bowed awkwardly. ”Master Duan, I paid last week. I have had little business since the rain. Could you give me a few more days?”

Duan Kuo kicked the basket. The fruit scattered over the stones.

”Do I look like a man who runs a charity?”

Several merchants lowered their eyes. A woman pulled her child closer and stepped behind a cart. Two men who had been carrying sacks toward the grain shop stopped, then looked away as if they had suddenly remembered an urgent errand. Nobody wanted trouble with a martial group, particularly one that carried weapons and had already shown that it was willing to use them against people who could not fight back.

Yan Cijin’s smile disappeared.

Bai Li stopped walking.

The change in them was so slight that anyone who did not know them might have missed it. Bai Li’s hand settled more firmly around the handle of her shopping basket.

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TO BE CONTINUED.