Chapter 10 – Authentic Chinese Medicinal Herbs

Jiang Yan quickly found the rice noodle shop.

At first glance, the environment looked worrying. Since it wasn’t mealtime, the shop was empty except for a plump lady boss who was still busy inside.

She went in, glanced at the menu, and ordered a bowl of Huaxi beef rice noodles, with extra beef, pickled vegetables, and beef tendon.

Just as she sat down, her phone rang—the caller ID showed it was her private client manager from XX Bank.

They had already called in the morning, saying they’d noticed abnormal transactions on her bank card.

“Abnormal” was how they put it, but in the past, Jiang Yan had also spent millions—even tens of millions—in a single day.

Back then, though, her consumption was on cars, houses, jewelry, luxury handbags.

Today, with most of her transactions happening in wholesale markets, compared to her usual spending patterns, it really did look suspicious.

Anything out of the ordinary raises red flags, so naturally, the bank had to conduct risk control checks.

She still answered the call.

After confirming that the transactions were indeed made by the cardholder herself, the manager politely reminded her to be cautious, then quickly hung up.

Only then did Jiang Yan realize—fortunately, she had only been paying deposits today.

Altogether, she had spent just over one “small target” (a few tens of millions), but the deposits totaled less than 30 million.

Her black card had a limit of only 30 million.

If she had paid in full, while her accounts held enough money, the bank would most likely have frozen her card.

After putting away her phone, her beef rice noodles were ready.

She walked over, picked up the steaming bowl, and the rich aroma hit her instantly.

“Wow, that smells amazing!” Jiang Yan couldn’t help swallowing her saliva, praising aloud.

The chubby lady boss didn’t even lift her eyelids, her tone curt:
“Cilantro, scallions, chili are over there—add them yourself.”

Jiang Yan spotted the condiment counter, carried her bowl over, and scooped in one spoon each of cilantro, chili, and Sichuan pepper.

Pulling down her mask, she stirred the noodles and immediately dug in.

The bright green cilantro, fiery red chili, silky smooth noodles, tender yet chewy beef, and the rich, flavorful broth—it was simply mouthwatering.

In just a few minutes, Jiang Yan finished the bowl, not leaving even a drop of soup.

As expected—true masters are hidden among the people.

This shop’s flavor was absolutely unbeatable.

Normally, she would’ve whipped out her phone and gone live on Douyin (TikTok) to share it.

But now, with more important things at hand—and since her Douyin account had already been suspended for a week—there would be no more livestreams in the future.

“Boss lady, I’d like to order 1,000 bowls of this beef rice noodle—with extra beef and offal. How much would that cost?” Jiang Yan stood up, mask on.

The lady boss paused mid-wipe of a bowl, then said flatly:
“Not possible. I can’t make that many.”

“…” Jiang Yan froze for a second, then quickly explained:
“I don’t need them today. Tomorrow or the day after is fine. I can pay in advance.”

The lady boss glanced at her. Seeing a well-mannered, elegant young woman, her tone softened slightly:
“Girl, even tomorrow or the day after won’t work. I have to keep the shop running in the mornings. I’ve got lots of regular customers here in the market. I can’t just close for two days.”

“What about afternoons?” Jiang Yan asked.

“Going to play mahjong.”

“Can’t you work overtime just this once?”

“No way, girl. Life is short, and you can’t earn all the money in the world. In about ten minutes, I’ll be closing up and heading out anyway.” The lady boss sighed leisurely, continuing to wipe her dishes.

Jiang Yan couldn’t really comment on or interfere with someone else’s lifestyle.

In the end, though, she managed to persuade the lady boss to accept the order—only on the condition that her husband would help cook and deliver it in a few days.

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Leaving the noodle shop, Jiang Yan drove the small truck straight to the Chinese medicinal herbs wholesale market nearby.

Taking advantage of areas with no people or surveillance cameras, she secretly stowed away all the spices and hot pot bases from her truck into her space.

By the time she left the medicinal herbs market, it was nearly 6 p.m., and most shops were already closed.

This trip had been fruitful, but she had maxed out all her bank cards.

Yes—aside from that black card, each of her other bank cards had a daily spending limit of only 500,000 yuan. And she had maxed out every single one.

On top of that, her phone was blowing up with calls from bank customer managers.

Still, she had bought nearly everything she wanted at the market.

Walking through the stalls, she realized that the same medicinal herb could vary drastically in price depending on its quality and grade.

Naturally, she bought only the best quality ones.

Gastrodia elata, Panax notoginseng, notoginseng flowers, Scutellaria, snow lotus, lingzhi mushrooms, snow frogs, dendrobium, American ginseng—she bought between 200–300 kilos of each, spending over 5 million yuan in total.

Cordyceps sinensis was the most expensive—just 10 kilos cost nearly 2 million.

This stuff was for stewing chicken soup—toss in a few pieces, whether it worked or not was another matter. Still, she had enough to last several lifetimes.

As for high-quality ginseng and deer antler, she bought 10 kilos each, costing almost 3 million.

Those were more like “strategic reserves.” Honestly, Jiang Yan felt she didn’t really need them.

Bird’s nest, she bought symbolically—just 1 kilo of dried nest for 20,000 yuan, mostly for fun. She thought maybe she could pluck out the fine hairs when bored.

Still, jokes aside, she also bought 3,000 packs of ready-to-eat rock sugar bird’s nest, burning through another 2 million instantly.

Other common herbs like Chaihu, Codonopsis, Atractylodes, Banlangen, Angelica sinensis—she bought 100 kilos each.

Aside from dried bird’s nest, cordyceps, and notoginseng flowers, the rest she had processed into slices or powders, and packaged in 500g packs.

The market also offered customized medicinal decoction services, so she ordered 4,000 sets of prescriptions—covering common issues like colds, fevers, abdominal pain, menstrual irregularities, cough relief, blood circulation, and blood nourishment.

Normally, the safest way would’ve been to get them prescribed at a traditional Chinese medicine hospital—but that wasn’t practical for her.

She still needed to stockpile Western medicine and medical equipment, but judging from her schedule, that would have to wait a couple of days.

Given the quantities she needed, she’d probably have to use some “special channels.”

After paying the deposits, leaving her warehouse address, and collecting the sellers’ corporate account details, Jiang Yan finally drove her small truck home.

For one thing, she had no money left to spend; for another, she was exhausted.

Even with her body strengthened by the space, it had only been a day or two. After an entire day of walking, buying, and talking nonstop, it would be a lie to say she wasn’t tired.

Back home, she took a hot shower, blow-dried her hair, and immediately entered her space.

The materials she had thrown in earlier were now neatly stacked in the gray [Warehouse Zone].

Thankfully, everything could be moved with just a thought—taken out or placed wherever she wanted, like magic.

After fussing for a while, she took out the shelves and set them up.

Her plan was that once all her supplies were fully stocked, during her time hiding out at home, she would organize the commonly used items neatly on these shelves.

That way, she could grab anything she wanted at a glance—convenient and efficient.

After all, even the sharpest memory sometimes failed.