A shopkeeper around fifty sat behind the counter, sporting a graying goatee and dressed in a navy-blue Tang suit.
He was looking down as he introduced a century-old ginseng root to a middle-aged couple in luxurious silk clothes, his tone respectful but somewhat distant.
Catching sight of Chen Hao entering out of the corner of his eye, he saw a young man in his early twenties and immediately lost interest, barely bothering to lift his eyelids.
The customers who came to Hundred Herbs Hall were either wealthy or influential—older people tending to their health or knowledgeable buyers seeking remedies. Young visitors were few and far between.
He assumed Chen Hao was merely browsing for amusement and could not afford rare medicinal herbs, so he saw no reason to waste effort serving him.
Chen Hao paid no attention to the slight. He strolled leisurely among the herb cabinets, scanning the various medicinal ingredients and lightly brushing his fingertips over the drawers.
His keen eyes precisely assessed the age and quality of every herb, displaying a discerning eye far beyond that of an ordinary veteran herb merchant.
He remained unhurried, waiting until the middle-aged couple paid by card and left with their elaborately packaged herbs before slowly approaching the counter.
"Shopkeeper, fill this prescription." Chen Hao spoke evenly as he handed over a neatly folded prescription written on rice paper. The sweeping, vigorous handwriting carried an air of classical grandeur.
The shopkeeper took the prescription carelessly, his gaze unfocused, and said offhandedly, "Go on, what herbs do you need? I'll have someone find them for you..."
Before he finished speaking, his eyes fell on the prescription. His languid gaze instantly froze, and the hand holding the paper abruptly stopped. Even his goatee lifted slightly as he jerked his head up and scrutinized