The shopkeeper, now treating Heena like a visiting imperial envoy, eagerly pulled out stacks of high-grade, finely combed cotton in deep, practical shades of midnight blue and forest green. It was breathable, soft against the skin, and flexible enough to allow her to work over a hot stove without tearing her stitches.
"The total comes to exactly eight silver taels, Miss," the shopkeeper said respectfully, bowing her head.
Eight taels. For an ordinary commoner, that was nearly half a year's wages. It was an exorbitant amount to spend on a few changes of clothes.
Heena didn't even blink. She calmly handed over the silver ingot, accepting her two taels of change in loose silver bits without a second thought. Money was a tool; if you didn't spend it to elevate your status, it was just dead metal sitting in a pouch.
