Zhao nodded, apparently satisfied that they weren't complete frauds. "Then let's talk business. What are you offering?"
"Secure waystation stop. Protection from spirit beasts. Clean water. Shelter." Qiu's pitch was practiced, professional, the kind of smooth delivery that came from three decades of talking people into things. "First merchant through gets preferential rates. Establish regular route, we both profit."
"And what do you need from me?"
Here it comes, Hunter thought. The negotiation. The part where they revealed their desperation and got exploited for it like fish in a barrel that was also on fire.
Qiu hesitated, merchant instinct warring with necessity. His ledger hand twitched. "Supplies. Food primarily. Building materials. Medicine. We're establishing operations. Need resources."
"How much food?"
"Enough for fifteen people. Two weeks minimum."
