Chapter 4

The apothecary’s backroom smelled of dried star anise and the sharp, metallic tang of an overheating radiator. Mei sat at the scarred oak desk, the ledger open before her like a confession. The ink under the low-hanging bulb seemed to pulse. Every name listed under 'Community Fund' wasn't just a neighbor; they were the shopkeepers whose storefronts formed the architectural spine of the district.

She traced a line from the butcher’s monthly remittance to the scholarship fund that had paid for her own law degree. The realization hit her with the force of a physical blow: her professional independence had been a lie. She hadn't been an outsider looking in; she had been the primary beneficiary of the extraction.

Auntie Li burst through the beaded curtain, her face a mask of frantic composure. She snatched at the ledger, her fingers trembling like dry leaves. "Give it to me, Mei. You don't understand what you're holding," Li hissed, her voice sharp enough to cut the heavy scent of herbs. "If the others see these names—if they know their savings were used to bankroll your life instead of their own—they won't just turn on Chen. They will burn this place to the ground."

Mei pulled the book away, her grip tightening. "Then let them know. Maybe they deserve to know why they’re being evicted."

A sharp, rhythmic rapping at the front door silenced them. It wasn't the tentative knock of a customer; it was the heavy, authoritative strike of someone who owned the space. Mei shoved the ledger into the hollow beneath the floorboards just as the curtain swayed.

Stepping onto the street, the block felt like a crime scene. Every storefront—the herbalist with the rusted gate, the dim sum place where the steam always smelled of burnt sugar—seemed to watch her with a fractured awareness. They knew her as the

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