Doomsday: I Open a Pharmacy in the Wasteland

There's only enough medicine to save one person. In the third year of the apocalypse, gray-lung disease spreads across the wasteland. Medicine is rationed, prescriptions are locked down—whoever gets the medicine lives. Ye Qing is the last apprentice of Jirentang. He has a skill no one takes seriously: any herb that touches his tongue, he can taste exactly how much potency it has left. Rhubarb at thirty percent, licorice at fifty, dried tangerine peel at twenty. The spent dregs others throw away, he picks back up, swaps one ingredient, adds another, and brews a bowl of life-saving soup. But who should get the medicine? Those who came first, those who came later, those who can pay in grain, those who can't. He can only taste three times a day—after the third, his nose goes empty. Inside the walls the medicine is piled mountain-high; outside the walls people die at the door. By the third month the shop is open, someone from the ration station comes knocking, and asks him just one thing: your medicine—who is it for? — Description from novelcodex.orgFull novel: Doomsday: I Open a Pharmacy in the Wasteland — read the rest free on N​o⁠v​e⁠l​C⁠o​d⁠e​x⁠.​o⁠r​g⁠