Early on the third day.
Zhao Han was summoned by two Street Office staff members.
Looking utterly confused, Zhao Han arrived at the Street Office.
There, she met a Director Wang from the Street Office.
She was a middle-aged woman.
Her expression was cold.
The office had walls whitewashed with lime, with several slogans posted on them.
White writing paper lay on the plain desk.
Zhao Han stood before the desk while Director Wang sat behind it.
Director Wang looked at her sternly and said, "Zhao San, do you know what you did wrong?"
"Me? What did I do?" Zhao Han looked bewildered.
"This morning, Xu Damao from your courtyard reported that you knowingly broke the law, engaged in speculation and profiteering, and went to the countryside to sell inferior medicine you made yourself."
"You harmed the villagers, and you have no certification."
"Tell me, did this happen?"
"Huh?" Zhao Han was startled, then remembered Wang Weiguo's warning.
She absolutely could not say she had sold anything.
She hurriedly argued—no, explained, "About that, I didn't sell anything. I just used some ingredients from an ancestral prescription to make pills and took them to rural relatives who lacked medicine."
"I didn't take a single cent from them. Not one cent."
"It absolutely wasn't selling. I just went to the countryside to give my relatives some medicine."
"My relatives gave me a little food out of gratitude."
"Enough. A little food? According to Xu Damao, your house is piled full of grain!"
"If it wasn't exchanged for medicine, who would be willing to give you so much?" Director Wang snapped.
"Confess honestly. Don't play games here. You secretly made pills and secretly sold them. Do you know that counts as speculation?"
"Ah..." Zhao Han still did not understand.
At that moment, a