Chapter 38: Half a Bun

“Aren’t those all exterior-releasing decoctions?” Zuo Shaoyang asked, more puzzled. “How did they become pills and powders?”

“I wouldn’t know. Huimin Hall sells them. It’s convenient: buy them, take them, get better. I keep plenty at home. A headache or fever, and I take some myself. No need to leave work for a consultation or bother boiling medicine.”

He smiled bitterly.

“Now I understand why you keep catching cold.”

“Really? What’s wrong with me?”

“You’ve made yourself ill by taking ready-made exterior-releasing medicines indiscriminately.”

“What do you mean?”

“Externally contracted illnesses differ. Wind-heat and wind-cold need different treatment: acrid-cool medicines for one, acrid-warm medicines for the other.

“They must be prescribed according to the pattern. Take an acrid-warm remedy for wind-heat, and you may dry out your mouth and tongue. Take an acrid-cool remedy for wind-cold, and you can constrain lung qi.

“You may notice nothing; you may even recover despite choosing medicine at random. But the body’s healthy qi has been injured without your knowing. Do it repeatedly over time, and exterior yang becomes deficient, lung qi cannot disperse, constraint worsens and healthy qi is badly weakened. With less resistance to external pathogens, naturally you fall ill more easily.”

“But I follow what the shop says each medicine is for.”

“People say, ‘A physician doesn’t treat himself.’ Even doctors seek another doctor’s judgement. You haven’t studied medicine. How can you know precisely what you have?

“These illnesses are complicated. It isn’t just a choice between wind-heat and wind-cold. There’s wind-cold with exterior deficiency, wind-cold-dampness, external illness with internal heat, external cold with internal retained fluid, lung-heat cough, wind-cold constrained until it turns to heat, and more.

“A physician must observe, listen and smell, question you and take your pulse, then identify the pattern before choosing the medicine. Relying on your own experience to spare yourself trouble will often be wrong. It harms the body and weakens its resistance. It would be surprising if you didn’t fall ill.”

She began to understand.

“What should I do?”

“Don’t worry. Father will prescribe something to restore you gradually. Above all, stop taking these ready-made medicines at random. When you’re ill, see a physician. With proper treatment and care over time, you’ll grow strong again.”

“I understand. Thank you!”

Zuo Gui glanced at his son and wrote a prescription. This time the formula suited the condition well. Zuo Shaoyang dispensed it unchanged. The woman paid seven wen and left.

His father turned and looked him over.

“You explained that clearly. Very good. But none of it is in the books I gave you. Where did you learn it?”

“From… the old travelling doctor I told you about.”

“Ah.”

Zuo Gui smiled, stroking his beard.

“You said he only let you read for a day. Learning so much in so short a time is quite something. You must have worked hard. I was wrong to scold you for not studying.”

Zuo Shaoyang laughed awkwardly.

“Hungry, Father? Shall I fetch our food?”

“Yes. Go.”

He glanced towards Peilan. She stood beside her firewood, hands tucked into her sleeves, secretly looking his way. When their eyes met, hers slipped away.

He grinned, took the little bag of pine cones and hurried home through the streets.

Madam Liang had lunch ready: four hard dark-flour and mulberry-bark buns, two bowls of leafy soup and two pairs of chopsticks, packed in a bamboo food carrier.

He emptied the cones onto the storeroom floor and tucked the bag inside his jacket.

“Could I have two extra buns, Mother?”

“What for?”

“I’m hungry. Father looks hungry too. If we don’t finish them, I’ll bring them back.”

She looked fondly at his pale, chilled face and rubbed his reddened nose. Then she took two more buns from the pot, put them in the carrier and wrapped it snugly in blue cloth.

He hurried back to the market.

This time he entered from the other side and reached Peilan first. Returning her bag, he said, “I brought two buns. Hot ones. Eat them while they’re warm.”

She took the bag, glanced at the food and shook her head, blushing.

From inside her jacket she brought a little parcel wrapped in a white handkerchief. Inside lay a hard bun with nearly half bitten away.

It too was made of dark flour and mulberry root bark, but contained even more bark. Evidently people throughout this area knew the mixture and used it as a staple when grain was short.

He touched her remaining half.

“Hard as a stone! How can you eat that? Have these. Quickly, before they cool.”

She shook her head again, lifted her bun and bit into it, chewing with difficulty.

Exasperated, he snatched it away and pressed his two steaming buns into her hands.

“You gave me a squirrel. I give you two buns. Now neither owes the other. Eat!”

Without waiting for an answer, he took the food carrier and ran.

She followed a couple of steps, then stopped. Looking down at the buns, she gently took a bite.

They were warm. Warmth seemed to spread through her whole body.

Holding them, she watched him go, her eyes growing moist.

No patients were at the stall. Zuo Shaoyang set the carrier on the table.

“Lunch, Father!”

Zuo Gui noticed the half-bun in his hand. Its shape and contents differed from theirs.

“Where did that come from?”

He could hardly say Peilan.

“The man from the general shop opposite gave it to me. It’s not as good as ours. I took a bite and couldn’t finish it.”

Zuo Gui glared.

“He kindly gives you food, and you turn fussy? Eat it!”

Zuo Shaoyang obediently raised it to his mouth. That familiar scent of tender spring grass rose to him.

He looked back. Peilan was watching. Seeing him about to eat what she had left, she went scarlet and turned away.

“What are you waiting for?”

He hastily faced his father again, secretly amused, and bit hard. He nearly broke a tooth getting a little piece off. It crackled like ice as he chewed. Unable to break it down, he held it in his mouth until saliva softened it enough to swallow.

His father relented.

“Enough. It’s cold. Warm it when we get home. Have our hot ones first.”

As though pardoned from a sentence, he tucked the remainder inside his jacket and opened the carrier.

Two bowls of soup, four steaming buns. They made short work of everything.

While eating, he stole glances at Peilan. Seeing her eat his gift reassured him.

Zuo Gui noticed.

“Who is she?”

“The girl who climbed up and rescued me when I fell. Her name’s Miao Peilan.”

“Then why haven’t you thanked her?”

“We did. Sis offered her money, but she wouldn’t take it.”

“A good person,” Zuo Gui said approvingly. “Kindness without thought of reward.”

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