Audrey fished a card out of a zipped pouch in her purse. She turned it over to reveal the advertisement for the TCM shop. For thousands of years, her people had relied on the old ways. And now she had bet Joshua’s life on Western practices only a few decades old. And the new ways were failing. She held the card delicately in her fingers as she pondered its Faustian proposition.

The next evening, as her shift was ending, Stephen invited Audrey to try a new noodle stall a friend in the Triad Bureau had recommended. Audrey politely declined, saying she had other plans. She then headed out on foot.

Her destination was only half a kilometer away. As she turned off Queen Street onto Ko Shing, she was immediately hit by a wave of smells that took her back to her youth: cinnamon, ginseng, goji berries, dried fish and other earthy aromas she couldn’t quite place. She pressed deeper down the congested, narrow street, which glowed pink and red and green from the neon signs over the medicine shops. Their wares ranged from the standard herbs to grislier things. Many of the storefronts featured clear plastic sacks of shark fins that looked like giant tortilla chips, while others sold all manner of curious animal parts: deer tails for joint pain, dried seahorses to help the kidneys, geckos flayed and mounted on sticks like jumping jacks, to be eaten to cure disease. Audrey, however, was looking for something even more exotic.

She checked the address on the business card, surprised at the building it had led her to: a modern high-rise at the end of the little street. She entered the bottom floor, which featured an arcade of small shops. Passing vendors of beauty products and luxury goods, Audrey eventually arrived at a hole-in-the-wall medicine shop.

Skeptical, she double-checked the address before entering. At the counter was a single customer—a trendy young Chinese woman in a short designer dress, with jewelry that dazzled. The woman was in the midst of purchasing an ornate bottle of rice wine with a tiger on the label. The old woman behind the counter smiled as she handed the woman her change. “Your boyfriend will be very pleased with this,” she assured her. “As will you,” she added with a wink.

The wine went into a decorative gold and red display box, which in turn went discreetly into a brown paper bag. The stylish young woman took it under her arm and left.

Audrey approached the counter, nervously scanning her surroundings as she handed the old woman the business card.

“I was given this card in the hospital. My son is very sick.”

The old woman’s expression grew somber. “Cancer. I see.”

“Can you help him?”