Chapter Forty-Seven: Learning to Write Prescriptions

“Crack!” Luo Chunli struck first, the cattle whip lashing fiercely across the woman’s body as he cursed, “You filthy hag, fell into the latrine and ate dung, foul-mouthed, today I’ll beat you to death, you wretch. Let’s see if you dare spew filth again.”

The early autumn heat was oppressive, clothes thin; the whip’s sting left the woman speechless, and as Luo Chunli raised his arm for another blow, she rolled on the ground in terror. The busybodies nearby scattered like frightened birds and beasts, unwilling to be caught in the fray.

With the crowd dispersed and space cleared, Luo Chunli found it easier to wield his whip. His aim was deadly accurate—three rapid strikes landed solidly, and the woman howled like a ghost.

“Little brother, stop! Don’t hit her anymore!” Luo’s sister shouted nearby.

Luo Chunli lashed twice more, then spat forcefully in the woman’s face. “That’s for your vile tongue.”

Luo’s sister stepped in front of the woman. “Sister Zheng, you can eat whatever you want, but you can’t say whatever you want. If you keep spouting nonsense, I’ll take you to see the village head.”

Sister Zheng lay prone, silent.

Luo Chunli kicked her. “You dog, pretending to be dead? My sister’s talking to you—are you deaf, or do you want another taste of my whip?”

Sister Zheng shuddered, then climbed to her feet. “I won’t say it again.”

“Big sister, it’s late. Take Xi’er home,” Luo’s sister said, and she and An Yi turned to leave.

Luo Chunli pointed his whip at Sister Zheng. “Listen well. If you dare gossip again, my whip won’t care who you are.”

Sister Zheng hunched her shoulders and nodded.

She was clearly in the wrong. The beating she took was deserved, and her family, being reasonable, didn’t come looking for trouble. Yet the bruises ached through the night. The next day, she sought out Doctor Lu.

"Xi’er, what medicines are used for external wounds?" Doctor Lu asked.

Sister Zheng watched An Yi nervously, afraid she’d seize the chance for revenge.

“For external bleeding, suitable medicines include Bletilla, Pseudoginseng, Amber, Cuttlefish bone, Hairy Starfruit, White-backed leaves, Adiantum, Lamb’s Ear Daisy, and Wild Mugwort,” An Yi said, amused by Sister Zheng’s anxiety. However petty she might be, An Yi would never endanger a life over a few careless words.

Doctor Lu stroked his beard and nodded, “Go to the left drawer of the medicine cabinet and fetch a bottle of Pseudoginseng oil for Sister Zheng.”

An Yi retrieved the oil, but Sister Zheng was uneasy; she uncorked it and showed it to Doctor Lu. “Doctor Lu, is this really medicinal oil?”

“Indeed, it’s Pseudoginseng oil,” Doctor Lu replied with gentle patience, unfazed by her doubts about his apprentice.

An Yi had never intended to retaliate, and simply smiled at Sister Zheng’s behavior.

Sister Zheng counted out six coins and left with the oil.

A few days passed, and the annual, most important festival for girls arrived—the Seventh of July, Daughter’s Day. At dusk, Luo’s sister sent An Yi to bathe, change into fresh new clothes, and dyed her nails red with balsam. She also had An Jian catch a lucky spider and placed it in a small box.

Once night fell and the moon rose, Li’s sister, Luo Xiaomei, and others arrived. Under the moonlight, worshipping the Weaver Girl was the heart of Daughter’s Day.

The festival belonged to young girls and young wives; grandmothers like Yang and Fang would not attend. An Jian moved the table into the courtyard, and Luo Xiaomei and others helped arrange the offerings prepared by Luo’s sister.

Led by Li’s sister, they burned incense and prayed before the altar. An Yi listened as Li’s sister softly recited, “Seven Star Lady, Seven Star Lady, I do not ask for gold, nor for silver; I ask for skillful hands, for beauty and grace; I ask for understanding, for radiant looks; I ask for my parents to live a hundred years, for my sisters to live thousands.”

After paying respects to the Weaver Girl, everyone sat in the courtyard, chatting under the moon and cracking melon seeds. An Yi soon grew sleepy and went inside to rest. She did not join the midnight gathering under the gourd trellis to watch the Cowherd and Weaver Girl—such rituals were not meant for a little girl not yet eight years old.

At dawn, An Yi opened the little box at her bedside. “Mother, the lucky spider is gone.”

“What’s gone?” Luo’s sister was too far to hear clearly.

An Yi carried the box to the kitchen. “Mother, the spider’s gone.”

Luo’s sister looked into the empty box, “Oh dear, last night I accidentally knocked it over. In the dark, I didn’t see it escape.”

“It’s alright, it’s just gone,” An Yi replied with an easy smile.

After breakfast, An Yi slung her embroidered satchel—handmade by Luo’s sister—and set off for the Lu house to study. She spotted a bullock cart parked by the door from afar.

Doctor Lu had just finished examining a patient and was about to write a prescription when he saw An Yi enter. “This patient suffers from weakness, leading to dryness and heat in the intestines, constipation, and abdominal distension, with bleeding under the eyes. How would you prescribe?”

An Yi glanced at the elderly woman reclining on a bamboo chair, pondered, then answered, “Five coins each of Angelica, Prepared Rehmannia, and Raw Rehmannia; three coins each of Peach Kernel, Apricot Kernel, Magnolia Bark, Baikal Skullcap, Hemp Seed, Bitter Orange, Licorice, and Rhubarb.”

“Why this prescription?” Doctor Lu asked as he ground ink.

“The patient is elderly, so fierce medicines are unsuitable. This is a gentle purgative. Angelica and Prepared Rehmannia are warming, nourish dry blood, and generate new blood; Raw Rehmannia and Baikal Skullcap are cooling, moisten dryness; Peach Kernel, Hemp Seed, and Apricot Kernel lubricate the intestines and promote circulation; Bitter Orange and Magnolia Bark dispel intestinal gas; Rhubarb and Skullcap relieve intestinal heat,” An Yi explained each effect.

Doctor Lu nodded and issued the prescription as An Yi recommended. The patient’s family paid the fee and left, full of gratitude.

“Xi’er, it’s excellent that you consider the patient’s age when prescribing,” Doctor Lu praised with a smile.

An Yi smiled in return.

Doctor Lu pulled a copy of “Pulse Classic” from the bookshelf and handed it to An Yi. “The ‘cut’ in ‘inspection, listening, inquiry, and palpation’ refers to pulse diagnosis. Study it well.”

An Yi took the book with both hands and devoted herself anew to its study.

After finishing her lessons, An Yi made a detour on the way home to check the transplanted cocklebur. Its fruit was still green, not yet yellow, and couldn’t be harvested—it would need more time.

Turning to leave, she passed a small mound and saw Li Guyu staggering toward her.

Li Guyu noticed An Yi as well. He tugged at the corners of his mouth, seeming to want to greet her, but before he could speak, he collapsed stiffly to the ground, startling An Yi.

She hurried over and found Li Guyu with eyes tight shut, his pale, thin cheeks tinged an odd red. She touched his forehead—no thermometer was needed; the heat radiating from his skin told her his temperature was at least thirty-nine degrees.

Though Li Guyu was frail and light, An Yi lacked the strength to carry him to Doctor Lu. Just as she was growing anxious, she saw Luo Wuqi passing by with several bundles and called out loudly, “Luo Wuqi, Luo Wuqi!”