Chapter Fifty-Three:

Zhou Shaocheng’s health had always been a source of constant worry for his mother, Zhou Heshi. Although his fever had subsided, he still suffered intermittent stomach pains, and earlier today he had even vomited, which left Zhou Heshi deeply distressed. Unexpectedly, the prescription for treating horses that Zhou Zhi provided drew the attention of a traveling physician, who came to their door offering to examine Zhou Shaocheng. This stroke of luck was almost miraculous for the Zhou family. Furthermore, Zhou Heshi observed the female physician, Tan Yunxian, and found her demeanor calm, her expression composed, and her speech measured—utterly unlike those charlatans who roamed the countryside deceiving people. This brought Zhou Heshi considerable comfort.

She wondered silently to herself: Could it be that the string of misfortunes haunting their family was finally coming to an end?

It must be so. The Zhou family was honest and upright, her son Zhou Zhi exceptionally clever and courteous—surely, Heaven would not overlook them. Better days must lie ahead!

At that moment, Zhou Luyun shared the same sentiments as her mother. She hurried to heat water and had already brought it for Tan Yunxian.

Straightforward by nature, Tan Yunxian took a few sips of the hot water and soon began discussing Zhou Shaocheng’s illness. She asked a few simple questions about his recent condition, then instructed Zhou Zhi to call his younger brother, who was peeking anxiously from the outer room, into the house.

Young Zhou Shaocheng, having just vomited, looked pale and listless. Like most children, he was reluctant to be treated, knowing that illness meant medicine, and the bitter decoctions were almost unbearable.

But seeing Zhou Zhi’s encouraging look, Zhou Shaocheng obediently lay down on the heated bed, allowing Tan Yunxian to examine him.

Her method of diagnosis differed markedly from that of Physician Qiu Huichun; perhaps having discerned the specific nature of Zhou Shaocheng’s illness, she lifted his shirt and gently pressed and stroked his abdomen.

It was only then that the family realized, to their shock, how swollen his stomach had become—an alarming sight. Zhou Heshi’s heart ached so deeply that tears shimmered in her eyes at a single glance.

Tan Yunxian’s touch was delicate and precise, and wherever her hand moved, Zhou Shaocheng felt an immediate sense of relief, unconsciously humming softly.

All the while, his mother, his sister Zhou Luyun, and Zhou Zhi stood quietly by the bedside, scarcely daring to breathe, their eyes shifting between Zhou Shaocheng and Tan Yunxian, searching for any sign of hope or despair.

Even Old Master Wang, who was usually laughing and never able to keep still, remained silent, for it was his first time seeing a female physician at work, and he knew nothing about her skills.

Throughout, Tan Yunxian’s expression remained untroubled, her demeanor as calm as ever.

After merely the time it takes to drink a cup of tea, she finished her examination, straightened Zhou Shaocheng’s clothes, and Zhou Heshi, voice trembling, asked, “Physician Tan, how grave is my son’s illness?”

Pale and anxious, Zhou Heshi waited for the response.

Tan Yunxian replied softly, “I have encountered this illness before, though your young son’s case is somewhat unusual—its onset is acute. In just a few days, his abdomen has swollen rapidly. Without prompt treatment, within several days the pain will become unbearable, and then…” She trailed off, glanced at Zhou Zhi, and continued, “The illness begins in the appendix; it is a form of twisted bowel syndrome.”

Those three words—twisted bowel syndrome—struck terror into the room.

Zhou Heshi was stunned, her body swaying before her mind slipped into unconsciousness. Had Zhou Luyun not caught and supported her, she would have collapsed to the floor.

In this era of the Ming Dynasty, everyone knew that twisted bowel syndrome was incurable. Here in the impoverished, backward village of Baiyue, people spoke of it with dread—there was but one outcome: death.

Only this year, two children Zhou Shaocheng’s age had died of the same affliction, both buried in the overgrown graveyard, no medicine able to save them.

“Alas! What a pity for such a fine child,” Old Master Wang sighed heavily.

Among them, only Zhou Zhi managed to keep a calm expression, though inwardly he was far from composed. He understood precisely what Tan Yunxian meant; the illness beginning in the appendix was clearly what later generations would call “appendicitis.”

Appendicitis was common and easily treated in modern times—with mild cases requiring only some Western medicine, and severe ones handled by a minor surgery, resulting in full recovery within a week.

But here in the Ming Dynasty, such an illness was a grave threat. Not only could Physician Qiu Huichun in Baiyue Village not cure it, but even the renowned doctors in Gaochang Town would be at a loss.

In Zhou Zhi’s view, though, since Tan Yunxian could diagnose his brother’s illness so accurately, she surely had a way to treat it.

After a brief moment of silence, Zhou Zhi quickly helped his sister support their mother onto the bed, while Tan Yunxian pinched the acupuncture point above Zhou Heshi’s upper lip. In a short while, she awakened, dazed, tears streaming as she gazed at Zhou Shaocheng.

The young boy, sensitive as he was, realized his condition must be severe upon seeing his mother so distraught, and his own eyes filled with tears.

Zhou Zhi soothed her gently, “Mother, why are you so upset? We have a physician here—how could anything happen to my little brother? Please don’t worry; with Physician Tan’s help, he will soon be well and healthy again.”

Though Zhou Luyun’s heart was heavy, she had always trusted Zhou Zhi. She joined in, her voice soft and comforting. “Yes, Mother, Zhou Zhi is right. Physician Tan is famous for her skill—she will have a way. If you keep worrying, you’ll wear yourself out and frighten Shaocheng even more.”

The mention of frightening Shaocheng quickly stemmed Zhou Heshi’s tears. She stroked her son’s head tenderly and said, “Yes, your sister is right. Shaocheng will be fine, isn’t the physician right here with us? What’s come over me? Perhaps I’m getting old.”

Tan Yunxian remained composed, frowning in brief thought before turning to Zhou Zhi. “Brother Zhou, may I speak with you outside for a moment?”

Given the gravity of Zhou Shaocheng’s illness, Tan Yunxian was concerned that discussing it openly might frighten the boy further.

Outside in the courtyard, she continued in a gentle voice, “Brother Zhou, I have treated a few cases of twisted bowel syndrome before. Though your brother’s situation is severe, I will do my utmost.”

These words gave Zhou Zhi great relief. He bowed deeply to Tan Yunxian. “Thank you, Physician Tan. I will never forget your kindness.”

She remained serene. “No need for thanks, Brother Zhou. A physician’s duty is to heal. However, the method I must use may be difficult for you to accept.”