Chapter 27: Taking Medicine to the Villages

“Exactly!” Huixiang laughed, nodding. “Why not write that case on the sign too?”

“No,” Zuo Gui said. “That would damage Huimin Hall’s name. We earn our living, they earn theirs. There’s no call for jealousy. Boast of curing everything if you must, but don’t disparage another shop or climb on someone else’s shoulders.”

Zuo Shaoyang and Huixiang exchanged a look and stuck out their tongues.

As his father raised the brush, Zuo Shaoyang stopped him.

“Put Guizhi Hall on it too. First, it reassures people that we have a shop. A monk can run, but his temple stays put. What frightens patients about travelling doctors is that they’ll talk them out of their money and disappear. Second, it advertises our name. Once we’re known and have savings, we can open a shop and receive patients again.”

“That makes sense.”

Zuo Gui wrote neatly on the cloth. Across the top, in large characters, stood “Guizhi Hall”. Beneath came “Specialists in”, followed by two columns: “Colds, coughs, loose bowels and diarrhoea” and “Boils, swellings, male and female infertility”.

On the reverse he wrote, “Specialists in all kinds of difficult diseases.”

“Your handwriting is marvellous,” his son said. “Wang Xizhi himself could hardly do better.”

“Nonsense. How could I compare with the Sage of Calligraphy?”

But his smile held a trace of pride.

Madam Liang had brought out the medicine chest. Zuo Gui personally chose common sliced herbs, ready-made pills and powders, as well as instruments for treating boils and swellings. While his father was distracted, Zuo Shaoyang added ingredients he needed and the remedies he had made overnight, Purple Snow among them.

Preparations took almost two hours. Then, medicine chest on his back, cloth sign in one hand and bell in the other, Zuo Shaoyang led the way out, head high. His father followed well behind with his hands hidden in his sleeves.

Master Cai across the street laughed.

“Doctor Zuo! Going round ringing a bell?”

Zuo Gui’s face grew warm. He smiled awkwardly.

“Yes!” his son called. “Bringing medicine to people’s doors. A proper home service!”

“Excellent idea!”

The shopkeeper stroked his beard.

“I’ve heard plenty about the woman you cured yesterday. Taking your medicine to people must be better than sitting at home waiting.”

His encouragement strengthened Zuo Shaoyang’s confidence.

“Thank you! We’re off.”

They walked along, ringing the bell, through several streets without a single request for treatment.

No one stopped to stare either. Travelling doctors were common enough in the past, like small vendors pushing carts through modern streets. Apart from the urban enforcement officers, who would find that remarkable?

After several more streets, Zuo Shaoyang stopped.

“Let’s try the alleys, Father. I don’t think anyone on the main streets will call us.”

“Mm.”

Zuo Gui stopped at a distance, looking about as though afraid of meeting acquaintances.

His son knew no one here and had nothing to fear. In any case, what was embarrassing about working for money?

He shifted the chest and entered a narrow lane. There were fewer people, and after more than an hour, still no patients.

As he began to lose heart, his father called from behind.

“Out of town. Try the nearby villages.”

Zuo Shaoyang slapped his forehead.

Of course! Travelling doctors belonged in the countryside. Townspeople had established shops to visit. Only villages short of physicians and medicines offered a market for men like them, just as they did for pedlars.

How stupid of him.

“Which way?”

“Towards Mount Qianren.”

That was where Zuo Shaoyang had arrived in this world. He knew the name covered a whole mountain range. There must be villages there.

They left town one behind the other and followed the main road.

Once they were well away, with fewer people about, Zuo Gui grew more comfortable. Seeing his son struggle with the chest, banner and bell, he caught up.

“Give me the sign and bell.”

“Gladly!”

Zuo Shaoyang recognised a real change in his father’s attitude and handed them over happily.

“Leave the main road,” Zuo Gui said. “We’ll climb to the settlements. If I remember rightly, there are several villages beyond this hill.”

His father led, and he followed up the snow-covered mountain path. Now and then one slipped, fell and got up again.

Neither spoke. Both wondered whether anyone would ask for treatment when they arrived.

Zuo Gui had chosen a village high on the main peak. The climb was steep. More than an hour passed before houses appeared, scattered on a gentle slope near the summit, cooking smoke rising above them.

A huge old scholar tree stood at the entrance, its trunk broad enough for several people to encircle. Beside it, a stone inscribed in clerical script read “Laohuai Village”—Old Scholar Tree Village. Two rows of simple wooden benches stood nearby.

They rested beneath the tree.

Zuo Shaoyang put down the chest and climbed onto a large rock. Mountains enclosed the view. White clouds drifted like belts around the slopes beneath him. Clear birdcalls sounded now and then. Overhead, the great umbrella of branches bore silver-white snow. A gust shook them, showering both men’s heads and shoulders.

The fairyland beauty dispelled the gloom he had carried for days. He drew a deep breath and stretched.

In such expansive spirits, he would have liked to compose a poem. He had no talent for it. A suitable famous verse refused to come to mind.

So he simply shouted, “Damn! This feels bloody wonderful!”

Zuo Gui shared none of his mood.

“Come.”

Bell ringing and banner raised, he entered the village. Zuo Shaoyang shouldered the chest and followed.

The bell announced their profession. Children ran out to look.

There were rules even for travelling practice. Unlike a pedlar, a doctor could not approach a house and ask whether anyone wanted treatment. He should not even walk close to the doors. He rang his bell along the stone-paved lane and waited for someone to call.

They had nearly crossed the whole village and were resigning themselves to failure when a child stopped them.

“Doctor! My granny wants you to see someone!”

Delighted, they followed him to a house. Neighbours, hearing the bell, emerged with arms folded and shoulders hunched against the cold.

An elderly woman brought two low stools and invited them to sit at the entrance. That was another custom: unless a patient was too ill to leave bed, consultations took place outside, not inside the home.

Then she helped a young man out. His hands twitched slightly. His eyes were uneven and askew, half his tongue protruded, and rough sounds came from his throat. Despite a thick jacket, he trembled as he sat.

“Please examine my son. He came back from the fields at noon yesterday like this. A travelling doctor happened to come through that afternoon, but the medicine did no good. We meant to go into town tomorrow, though we hear the fees are too high for us. Please have a look.”

Zuo Gui supported the man’s face and examined it from both sides. He asked about the onset, diet and bodily functions, took the pulse, inspected the tongue and felt the forehead.

After a pause, he said, “I’ll write a prescription for him to try.”

His uncertainty frightened her.

“What is wrong with him, Doctor?”

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