Chapter Thirty-Seven: Desperate Measures

Hearing the old man suddenly awaken and speak, the middle-aged man was instantly overjoyed. He strode quickly to the wooden bed, grasped the old man's hand tightly, and asked urgently, "Father, I'm here—are you feeling better?"

"Dizzy, my vision is blurry, golden stars swirl before my eyes, the world is spinning!" the old man replied, his voice surprisingly robust, not at all like that of an invalid.

"Doctor, look! Quickly, look! My father is awake. He says only that he's dizzy. If you can cure this dizziness, he'll be fully recovered," the middle-aged man turned anxiously to Qiu Huichun.

Qiu Huichun was already stunned. Just moments ago, he had said the old man would remain unconscious for some time. Yet now, the one who had lain in a deep faint had suddenly awakened. How could he possibly explain this? His face turned awkward as he puzzled over the cause.

As a rural physician, he could not explain it, nor did he know where to begin treating the old man's dizziness. The diagnosis he had just pronounced was nothing more than idle perfunctory words.

Indeed, he’d claimed it was a heart ailment. But should he now say it was a stubborn illness of the head?

The more he thought about it, the more confused he became, until beads of sweat began to form on his brow. He coughed weakly, forcing himself to remain calm, then steeled himself to take the old man's pulse once more.

Good heavens, when will this Doctor Qiu finish his examination? My little brother has been waiting here anxiously all this time.

By modern standards, my little brother must have a fever above thirty-nine degrees. It's not right to let him wait like this.

Unable to endure any longer, Zhou Zhi forced himself to remain calm and spoke softly, "Doctor Qiu, my little brother has been feverish for a long time. Could you see him first?"

Before Qiu Huichun could reply, the middle-aged man's sharp, icy gaze shot over. He barked angrily, "There is an order to these things. Can't you see the doctor is treating my father?"

Zhou Zhi had no grounds for protest and could only glare fiercely at the man, falling silent.

He had just heard Qiu Huichun say the old man would be unconscious for a while, yet now the old man had awakened almost instantly. Clearly, Qiu Huichun had not diagnosed the illness; he was incapable of treating it. Zhou Zhi wanted to say as much, to urge the man to take his father elsewhere to seek a skilled physician, but restrained himself in the end. If Qiu Huichun took offense and refused to treat his little brother, that would be even more troublesome. After all, while Qiu Huichun couldn't handle serious illness, he was competent with minor ones.

Another incense stick's time passed, and Doctor Qiu still couldn't make heads or tails of the illness. Zhou Zhi waited anxiously, occasionally casting worried glances at the old man on the bed, who continued to complain of dizziness.

His little brother stirred noticeably on his back, then was seized by nausea and vomited a large mouthful of undigested food. At this, his elder sister Zhou Lüyun, alarmed, pleaded tearfully, "Doctor Qiu, please see my little brother first—he's started vomiting!"

Qiu Huichun, already flustered, grew stern and snapped, "Wait as I told you. A child's fever and vomiting is a minor matter, nothing serious."

He spoke with great nonchalance.

But in truth, he was not wrong. For ordinary ailments like fever, headache, and stomach pain, a few doses of his medicine would often suffice.

The middle-aged man frowned slightly but ignored Zhou Lüyun, keeping his attention fixed on Qiu Huichun's treatment of his father.

Soon after, Zhou Shaocheng, the little brother, vomited again and then could not stop. How could this be left to wait any longer? Zhou Zhi, his features sharp with anger, demanded in a harsh voice, "Doctor Qiu, will you or will you not treat my little brother? How can you spend so long on a single patient? You cannot diagnose the old man's illness!"

No sooner had Zhou Zhi spoken than the middle-aged man shot him a venomous glare.

Qiu Huichun, irritated, retorted, "What, you think I can't treat him? And you can?"

Well, well! Who would have thought Doctor Qiu would say such a thing? Who here is the physician? If I were a physician, would I have come to your house?

Wait a moment—could it be that the old man is suffering from high blood pressure?

He was sedentary, overweight, constantly dizzy and light-headed—these were classic symptoms of hypertension. And now, with the weather turning cold, it was exactly the season for such attacks. In the Ming era, most people suffered from malnutrition, so hypertension was rare; it was no wonder Qiu Huichun had seldom seen it and failed to recognize the signs.

In the modern era, hypertension was commonly treated with Western medicine—diuretics or vasodilators to lower pressure. With Chinese medicine and diet, results were slower. But Zhou Zhi could not recall the names of any of the relevant herbs.

The quickest way to lower blood pressure in this case would be to let some blood. It would only relieve the symptoms temporarily, not cure the root cause.

No matter—first he must help the old man recover, so Qiu Huichun could then tend to Shaocheng.

"Heh! Doctor Qiu is right—I can't treat other illnesses, but I can treat this one," Zhou Zhi declared decisively, though he could not be absolutely certain the old man suffered from hypertension.

Regardless, letting a little blood wouldn't kill him, and if it was hypertension, it would have a dramatic effect and the old man would recover.

Qiu Huichun paused, casting a dismissive glance at Zhou Zhi, not bothering to respond.

He was the village physician of Baiyue, and he had long since heard the villagers' tales about Zhou Zhi. Especially after learning that Zhou Zhi had attempted to grow fresh vegetables in winter, he, like many others, concluded the young man must be mad—or, at the very least, troubled in spirit.

Desperate for a cure, the middle-aged man had also realized by now that Qiu Huichun could not treat his father's illness. But there was nothing for it but to wait. Hearing Zhou Zhi speak with such conviction, he looked over and, seeing Zhou Zhi's solemn expression, asked quickly, "Young man, do you truly have a way to cure my father's illness?"

He seemed to have forgotten how harshly he had just berated Zhou Zhi.

"Of course I can cure him," Zhou Zhi replied without hesitation.

"And how would you treat him?"

"By letting blood."

"What? Bloodletting? Are you trying to kill my father? Is this just so Doctor Qiu will treat your brother first?" The middle-aged man exploded in fury.

Qiu Huichun snorted in contempt, "Nonsense! That is a sure way to kill a man. In all my decades of practice, I've never heard of curing illness by bloodletting. Zhou family boy, your heart is truly malicious."

Zhou Zhi remained unperturbed. "Doctor Qiu could use a needle to prick the tip of the old man's ear and let the blood flow slowly. The old man is stout—how could losing a little blood kill him?"

Qiu Huichun frowned, shot Zhou Zhi a cold glance, and ignored him completely. In his opinion, even if the old man didn't die from Zhou Zhi's method, it would do no good, and the old man's condition would not improve. It would simply be a waste of effort.

The middle-aged man hesitated for a moment, then said, "What the young man suggests is not unreasonable. If it's just a prick at the ear and a little blood, my father will not be in danger. Doctor, you may as well try it."

Only when the middle-aged man spoke did Qiu Huichun take it seriously. He had a measure of respect for this man, and did not wish to contradict him. After a moment's thought, he stroked his beard and said, "I can try bloodletting by needling, but if anything happens, I bear no responsibility."

The middle-aged man's face showed his quandary. He looked at Qiu Huichun, then at his father, who was still moaning on the bed, and finally made up his mind. "Doctor Qiu, go ahead with the needling. If anything happens to my father, you are not to blame."

Qiu Huichun nodded lightly, took out a silver needle, found the acupoint at the tip of the old man's ear, and pricked it sharply. Dark, thick blood soon began to ooze slowly forth.