It was nearly the hour of Si (9-11AM), and the weather was growing warmer. The Yulong Mountains, where Tianxin Temple stood, were already within sight.
The Buddhist temple had originally been of little renown, nothing more than a humble rural monastery. But when the founding emperor of the Great Xia rose in rebellion against the Yuan dynasty, he happened to pass through this place and stopped to ask for a bowl of water.
The abbot took one look at him and was so shocked that his expression changed completely. He claimed that a golden dragon accompanied the man, and that his future would be beyond measure.
A prophecy that had begun as a bluff actually came true.
The mountain was consequently renamed Yulong Mountain, and the temple was bestowed with the name “Tianxin Temple.” After a century of renovations, it flourished with incense and pilgrims, eventually becoming one of the renowned Buddhist temples of Jiangnan, standing alongside Lingyin and Hanshan.
The abbot of Tianxin Temple was known by the Buddhist name Mengjue. Before entering the clergy, he had been a celebrated scholar. Then, in his thirties, he suddenly saw through the vanity of worldly life, resigned from his official post, returned to his hometown, shaved his head and became a monk. He devoted himself to studying Buddhism and eventually became a great monk of his generation.
Whenever Yan Hongzhi traveled through Jiangnan, he always made a point of coming to see his old friend.
They had not even reached the foot of the mountain before numerous tea stalls and makeshift stands had appeared along both sides of the road. Vendors sold incense they had made themselves, protective talismans, fruit blessed for good fortune and safety, and even Buddhist paintings of their own making.
Xie Xuanying lowered the brim of his broad hat, concealing most of his face.
Yan Hongzhi found it amusing. He deliberately dismounted and said, “Riding has made these old bones ache. I’ll walk for a while.”
With his teacher off his horse, how could a student possibly remain mounted? Xie Xuanying had no choice but to dismount as well and quietly follow behind him.
Yan Hongzhi ambled leisurely down to the bottom of the stone steps and asked the young monk standing guard over several wooden buckets, “When did the temple start selling boiled drinks?”
“Boiled drinks” referred to beverages made by simmering or steeping plants or fruits, such as white cardamom boiled drink.
“This is a recipe donated to our temple by Miss Cheng,” the little monk explained honestly. “It’s called ‘Willow Bough Jade Dew.’ The weather has been hot lately, and many of those coming up the mountain have been suffering from heatstroke. A cup helps relieve fatigue and clear away the heat.”
Yan Hongzhi glanced at the sign above, which read “ten coins per cup”, and readily said, “I am rather thirsty. Pour me a cup.”
Xie Xuanying signaled to his servant to pay.
The servant, guessing at his master’s intentions, handed over sixty coins – enough for a cup for everyone.
The little monk took the money, lifted the lid, and ladled in a spoonful of melon and a spoonful of bingfen jelly, then poured green jade-colored juice over them. It was as verdant as the lingering charm of a bamboo grove, and simply looking at it made one feel refreshed.
Yan Hongzhi took his time drinking for a while, savoring the flavor. “Hmm. Licorice, mint, lemon, and aged Biluochun tea. The tea leaves are a little lacking in quality. And what is this transparent, ice-like substance?”
“I don’t know. It’s a secret recipe belonging to Miss Cheng.” The little monk pointed toward the barriers farther up the mountain. “If the old gentleman would like to know, why not ask her yourself?”
Yan Hongzhi was both farsighted and nearsighted with age. He narrowed his eyes and stared for quite some time before finally noticing a sign over there bearing the words ‘Free Medical Clinic.’
There was also a piece of white cloth with another message written on it:
‘Women and children first; the elderly next. Adult men will not be treated. We ask for your understanding.’
Yan Hongzhi let out an intrigued “Oh?” and went forward with his hands clasped behind his back to investigate.
Xie Xuanying poured out the remaining tea. The leaves were simply too poor in quality; even the licorice could not conceal their astringency.
“Sir?”
“It’s fine. There’s still plenty of time.”
As Yan Hongzhi approached, he finally saw that, partly hidden among the vegetation, a simple thatched shelter had been erected, with thatch hung along two sides to provide some shade and cover.
Sitting in the center was a female physician, currently treating a village woman.
“Master,” one of the Yan family’s servants said, ever quick-witted, having already gone to investigate the whole story. He reported in a low voice, “She’s a relative of Magistrate Chen, the Assistant Surveillance Commissioner. Her parents both died when she was young, and she learned medicine from an early age. From time to time, she comes to Tianxin Temple to provide free medical treatment, treating poor women and children and accumulating merit on behalf of her deceased parents.”
Yan Hongzhi stroked his beard and smiled. “A filial daughter, indeed.”
Once he understood the circumstances—and saw that the doctor was merely a young woman—he lost interest and turned to continue up the mountain.
Xie Xuanying turned his gaze back, wanting to speak but stopping himself.
He had already recognized Cheng Danruo.
“Sanlang?” Little did he expect his teacher to catch him lingering. “What are you looking at?”
Caught off guard, Xie Xuanying could only come up with something to say. “Providing free medical care is certainly a good deed. But in poor households, an able-bodied adult man is the pillar of the family. Once he falls ill, the entire household is left without support.”
“It is probably a matter of necessity,” Yan Hongzhi said with a smile, stopping once again.
At his age, there was no need for him to be so cautious. He took a closer look.
The female physician wore a white top and blue skirt, her clothes exceedingly plain. The only ornament in her black hair was a peachwood hairpin, while her earlobes bore nothing more than two little silver clove-shaped earrings. She looked just like a girl from a poor household.
Only her skin, white as frost and snow, betrayed her true identity. No woman who spent every day struggling to make a living could possibly have such untouched skin.
He said, “How many people in this world can truly live as sages? She is still a young lady, in the bloom of youth and yet unmarried. She must consider her reputation as well.”
On that subject, Xie Xuanying had something to say.
“The morals of society are declining,” he said. “I once heard of a woman in Yangzhou who went out to burn incense at a temple. By chance, she stumbled and was caught by a man. She actually had her arm severed to prove her chastity.”
He was deeply disapproving.
“That is not what propriety truly means. If this continues, everyone will simply seek their own advantage and avoid anything that might bring them harm, and genuine human feeling will disappear.”
Yan Hongzhi could not help laughing.
The School of Pure Sincerity advocated the idea of natural human nature. But what did “natural” actually mean?
A man saving someone was an act of righteousness, not an expression of romantic feeling. It accorded with ordinary human sentiment and human nature, and ought to be praised.
Likewise, when a woman upheld her chastity and died rather than submit, it was not because merely coming into physical contact with a man meant she had to cut off her arm to prove her innocence. Rather, if she was subjected to violence and refused to submit, choosing instead to die defiantly, that was what it meant to be chaste. If her husband died and she was forced to remarry, yet chose death rather than submit, that was what it meant to be unyielding.
The moralists invoked “propriety” at every turn, yet what they advocated had long ceased to be Heavenly Principle.
But while that was the principle of the matter, reality did not necessarily allow one to act accordingly.
“‘Self-interest is part of the human heart. Every person must have some private interest before the heart can reveal itself; without private interest, there would be no heart at all.’” Yan Hongzhi pointed toward the thatched shelter in the distance. “This woman refuses to treat men because she is constrained by society’s judgment. That is indeed self-interest, but it is also only human nature.”
“I did not mean to criticize her. She is merely a woman, yet she is willing to treat ordinary people without charge. That alone is exceedingly difficult. It is just…” Xie Xuanying pressed his lips together and did not finish.
Yan Hongzhi smiled.
He could more or less guess what his student had left unsaid. But with the customs of the time as they were, how many people – women in particular – could truly free themselves from the judgment of society?
He smiled and said no more.
“It’s getting late. Let us go up the mountain.”
The two of them then departed.
Cheng Danruo had no idea that, only ten paces away, two feudal scholar-officials had been drawn into a discussion about chastity because of her, their views remarkably progressive by the standards of the time.
She simply continued seeing patients, one after another.
Why didn’t she treat adult men? The separation between men and women was indeed one consideration, but there was another reason that neither Yan Hongzhi nor Xie Xuanying could have possibly thought of.
If she treated adult men, the women of those households would lose their chance to receive medical care.
Her consultations were free, but the patients had to buy the medicinal ingredients themselves.
And among families who couldn’t afford medical treatment, who didn’t have someone who was sick?
Did poor people really need any more illnesses to worry about?
Women suffered even more. There were gynecological illnesses caused by being unable to maintain proper hygiene, uterine prolapse caused by repeated childbirth, sexually transmitted diseases contracted from unfaithful husbands – the list went on and on.
The easiest condition she had ever treated was amenorrhea.
“Your daughter isn’t sick. She’s simply not eating enough, so she isn’t growing properly,” Cheng Danruo told the girl’s mother. “Give her more food.”
The woman looked miserable. “Where would we get the money? For a little girl like her, if she’s got enough rice to fill her belly, she’s already lucky.”
The girl’s arms and legs were as thin as stalks of hemp, as though a gust of wind might snap them.
She asked timidly, “Doctor, I’m getting married soon. Could you give me some medicine to make me bleed? Then I’ll be all right?”
Cheng Danruo shook her head.
The mother and daughter left, their faces full of disappointment.
Yet more often than not, it was difficult even to write a prescription.
Practicing traditional Chinese medicine was simply too difficult.
She wasn’t the protagonist of some miracle-doctor novel, capable of instantly identifying an illness at a glance. Most of the time, she herself had very little confidence.
The four diagnostic methods – observation, listening and smelling, questioning, and pulse-taking – began with the simplest: observation. A flushed complexion usually indicated a heat syndrome; pallor, a deficiency of blood; a sallow, wan complexion, weakness of the spleen and stomach; a dark, dull complexion, kidney deficiency; jaundice, damp heat. Then there was the coating on the tongue – white, yellow, greasy, black – each corresponding to different conditions.
Pulse-taking was much more complicated.
What exactly distinguished a floating pulse from a deep pulse? To the touch, they could feel almost the same, making them extremely difficult to distinguish. You had to take someone’s pulse again and again, learning to differentiate them before you could catch those subtle variations.
But even if she got the pulse right, how much of traditional Chinese medicine was actually worth drawing upon, and how much was merely the remnants of shamanistic medicine?
If a prescription called for yemingsha, did that really mean she was supposed to prescribe bat droppings?
The ancients believed that bats could fly at night and possessed exceptional eyesight, which was why they called the substance “night-bright.” Yet who among modern people didn’t know that bats were blind?
Eat this stuff and somehow learn echolocation?
The easiest conditions to treat were things like colds, indigestion, tonsillitis, sprains, and intestinal worms. There were established prescriptions for all of these; she merely had to adjust the dosage according to the patient’s condition.
If you practiced medicine this way in the modern world, your teachers would have torn you apart for “treating human life with reckless disregard.”
There had been a time when she wouldn’t have dared treat anyone at all, terrified that she might make a mistake and cost someone their life.
But now…
Don’t chicken out. Just do it.
Human life was cheap here. Some people would never be able to afford medical care in their entire lives if she didn’t treat them.
Things couldn’t get any worse, could they?
Besides, some illnesses weren’t all that difficult to treat.
Take today, for example. Although most of the time all she could do was prescribe something that was better than nothing, she had nevertheless managed to properly cure one patient.
The family lived in the small town beneath Tianxin Temple. Their surname was Wang, and they were reasonably well-off – well-off enough to afford meat every now and then.
A few days ago, the son, out of filial piety, had given Madam Wang a bowl of meat. No one could have expected that after eating it, she would develop unrelenting abdominal pain, accompanied by nausea and vomiting.
The elderly woman was frugal and refused to see a doctor, dragging it out day after day.
Today, when her daughter-in-law heard that Cheng Danruo was offering free medical consultations here – and that the doctor was a woman – she quietly brought her mother-in-law over.
The mother-in-law and daughter-in-law were both from Songjiang. They couldn’t speak the official language and spoke nothing but pure Wu dialect. Fortunately, Cheng Danruo had lived in Shanghai for a period of time, so she could both understand and speak it. Communication was therefore no problem.
After asking a few questions, Cheng Danruo learned that the old woman had eaten pork. She then asked, “When you’ve been using the privy lately, have you noticed little white worms coming out in segments?”
Speaking to a female doctor was far more convenient than speaking to a male doctor.
Madam Wang was embarrassed, naturally, but she answered anyway. In a small voice, she added that the itching around her anus was unbearable and asked whether the doctor could take a look.
Cheng Danruo smiled. Wasn’t this precisely the point of having female doctors? She agreed, put on a finger cot made from sheep intestine, and carried out a brief examination. She immediately confirmed that it was a case of tapeworm infection.
She first had the old woman chew a hundred grams of pumpkin seed kernels, then drink an infusion made by decocting betel nut. The patient had been examined around noon, and by evening she was suffering from relentless diarrhea, passing the worms from her body.
Cheng Danruo put on a homemade mask and examined the stool. She discovered that the worm’s head segment had already been expelled.
“The worms are gone.” The corners of her lips lifted slightly. “Don’t eat undercooked pork again.”
Madam Wang was overjoyed. She went around telling everyone how brilliant the doctor was, how her medicine cured illness the moment it was taken.
At first, Cheng Danruo couldn’t help laughing. Then her heart ached.
Ah. A half-trained doctor like her could actually receive such praise. It was enough to show just how difficult life was for the poor.
