With a surge of terrifying grandma strength, she braced her foot against the table leg, fully intending to drag Heena off the examination plank by her neck and toss her straight out the front door.
A white-hot flash of pain tore across Heena's shoulder blades from the sudden yank. Realizing this lunatic old woman was actually going to paralyze her before she could even make her first batch of perfume, Heena shouted the only language a slum survivor respected.
"Fifty silver taels!" Heena croaked out at top volume.
Old Lady Lin froze mid-yank. Her hands stayed locked in Heena's collar, holding her suspended half an inch off the wood, as her sharp eyes narrowed to slits.
"...Huh?" the old woman rasped suspiciously. "What the hell did you just say?"
Heena was trembling slightly—both from the agonizing pull on her shredded back muscles and the sheer effort of holding her neck up—but she forced her voice to stay steady.
