Before noon, patients seeking medical consultation came one after another.
Apart from those suffering from colds and coughs, there were also people with long-standing chronic illnesses, all common ailments.
Mo Li was born in Qimao Mountain and had been practicing medicine in Zhushan County under Qin Lu’s guidance for many years. He was highly skilled in treating the illnesses of these impoverished people, using moxibustion and acupuncture where necessary and prescribing medications when appropriate.
Ning Changyuan was quite resourceful, providing paper, pen, moxa, silver needles, and other supplies.
Mo Li had lost his own needles, and while these silver needles were not ideal, they were passable. Fortunately, his profound internal energy, sharp eyesight, and accurate acupoint selection, combined with the efficacy of his spiritual energy, resulted in fast recovery for the patients. As a result, despite his young age, many patients regarded him highly for his medical expertise.
Meng Qi watched attentively from the side, occasionally offering assistance. It was his first realization of the challenges faced by a physician. Before, he only knew that Mo Li had excellent martial skills, a good temperament, and extensive knowledge, with a deep understanding of worldly matters.
Although these achievements seemed remarkable, as soon as one thought about Mo Li’s master being the renowned Xuanhu Divine Physician of the past, any admiration immediately turned into understanding. Even Meng Qi, who held Mo Li in high regard as a person, couldn’t help but have such thoughts.
Throughout their journey, Mo Li saved Lin Dou, who was fleeing with a descendant of the Chu Dynasty royal family, rescued a servant from the Si family who had stolen the account book, and tirelessly treated injuries after the earthquake… Meng Qi thought he had seen enough, but today he realized he was mistaken.
During regular consultations, Mo Li’s expression was gentle, with a faint smile on his lips. His movements were neither fast nor slow, and his speech had a measured tone, exuding a sense of confidence. Regardless of the person or the severity of their illness, as soon as they saw him and heard him speak, they couldn’t help but be infected by this sense of assurance, feeling that their ailments were not severe.
Many people have illnesses, but they were afraid to see a physician.
It’s because they either lack money or simply don’t understand the physician’s words, such as terms like “xu” or “han.” They can only obediently take the prescription and clumsily note down how many times a day they should take the medicine and how to take it.
For the wasteland refugees, who have fled from various places, their situation is even more difficult.
They speak in diverse accents, encompassing all the dialects of Yongzhou and Pingzhou, and there was even an elderly person speaking in the dialect of Yangzhou. Even if they have money to seek medical treatment in the county, there’s a high possibility that the physician won’t understand what they are saying.
In order to communicate with patients and prescribe appropriate treatments, physicians need to engage in observation, listening, questioning, and pulse examination. However, if a physician is unable to ask questions and understand the patient, how can they prescribe the right treatment?
In such cases, after feeling the patient’s pulse, physicians often prescribe a generic remedy as a precautionary measure. They instruct the patient to take it home and return after a few days to assess any changes in their condition and adjust the treatment accordingly.
However, for impoverished people, it is difficult to afford the expenses of repeated visits to the physician.
The so-called generic remedies were neither harmful nor effective in curing illnesses.
They provide temporary relief, but they only address the symptoms without addressing the root cause. Individuals with a strong constitution may withstand the effects of the medicine, while those with weaker bodies may feel temporarily better but quickly relapse when they engage in physical labor.
–However, these issues were not problems in front of Mo Li.
Meng Qi listened as the physician casually conversed with patients using various dialects and regional expressions. Sometimes, when Mo Li couldn’t understand the patient due to a heavy accent, he patiently asked again using the local dialect.
When encountering elderly individuals with unclear speech, Mo Li would carefully use his internal energy to examine their meridians.
If acupuncture could cure the illness, Mo Li would not prescribe medication.
Even when prescribing medicine, he would select affordable herbs, even if the efficacy might not be as good, at least within the patients’ financial means.
Mo Li had no barriers in his conversations with these wasteland residents. He understood the hardships of the impoverished and had a deep understanding of the causes of chronic illnesses. He accurately assessed the severity of the conditions, bringing comfort to the patients’ minds and spirits.
In the eyes of others, he was undoubtedly a divine physician.
“Physician, your medical skills are truly remarkable. I have visited clinics in my hometown before and received acupuncture, but it was never this effective.”
Facing the praise from others, Mo Li did not accept it but instead advised, “Many physicians who provide medical services are not young anymore and have poor eyesight. How can I compare to them?”
Another person immediately shook their head and firmly said, “Physician, you are too modest. I have also encountered renowned divine physicians in Yangzhou, but none of them were able to pinpoint my symptoms as accurately as you did.”
Mo Li chuckled and said, “Yangzhou is prosperous, with rivers running through it. It is not like Pingzhou or Yongzhou, which suffer from water scarcity. How could physicians in Yangzhou understand the consequences of your lack of proper care and chronic water shortage that resulted in your current condition?”
The crowd was deeply convinced, and as they left, they praised the physician brought back by Daoist Ning for his exceptional medical skills, vast knowledge, and humble demeanor.
Meng Qi, who was boiling water under the eaves, inexplicably felt a glow on his face.
He entered the room and saw that there was only one patient left with Mo Li. Unable to restrain himself, he quietly approached and asked, “How many dialects can you actually speak?”
“…All the places my master has been to.”
Mo Li held a silver needle, roasted it over the fire without lifting his head, and said, “When my master traveled around the world with the intention of helping people, he realized that he couldn’t understand the language spoken by the local villagers after walking just a hundred miles. Throughout history, many divine physicians did not fail due to the injustice of the world or their own capabilities, but because of the language barrier. Although Mandarin is good, how can the rural people speak fluent Mandarin? So, my master vowed to learn all the dialects in the world. If he couldn’t even achieve this, how could he fulfill his goal of helping people?”
Meng Qi absentmindedly wondered, when Emperor Yuan of Chu conquered the world, did he understand the local languages?
No, they all spoke Mandarin among themselves. Among those with extremely low backgrounds, only a few made an effort to learn Mandarin.
When marching and fighting in a certain place, they would find local people to guide them and recruit officials who could speak the local language. Who would think of learning dialects? After all, there were people proficient in both the local dialect and Mandarin acting as intermediaries.
The words spoken by the people had to go through two or three people before reaching the emperor’s ears.
The emperor could do this, officials could do this, but physicians couldn’t. Physicians needed to truly listen to every word the patients said.
“Many people don’t know what illness they have, they only know where it hurts. Physicians always have to put in some effort. They can’t simply treat leg pain as leg pain or a headache as a headache. The causes of illness are diverse… What they eat, their daily habits, the age at which their parents passed away, and any other symptoms…”
Mo Li brushed his hand, and the needle was firmly inserted. He was completely focused until he removed the needle and continued, “These are all things that need to be known. My master once encountered an elderly woman with swollen joints. She heard from her neighbor that it was rheumatism, so she refused to be examined and only wanted a prescription for rheumatism. After asking a few questions, my master realized that the woman had no signs of rheumatism in her daily life. In the end, it was discovered that she had been bitten by a venomous spider… It was a close call, and she almost lost her life.”
Meng Qi handed over a piece of steaming cloth, and Mo Li wiped his hands.
“Thank you, Brother Meng.” Mo Li felt content. Today, whenever he needed hot water, he had it. When the mugwort ran out, someone immediately lit it up again. It was all thanks to Meng Qi.
–After leaving Zhushan County, everything he encountered was distressing. It had been a long time since he felt this relaxed.
This reminded Mo Li of his intention when he set out, to find a companion who would stay with him for a long time.
“Brother Meng, are you also interested in medical skills?” Mo Li stared at Meng Qi, wishing he would nod immediately.
“…”
Meng Qi tried to imagine himself traveling around the world with the physician, the physician treating patients while he ran around. If he became a physician too, he probably wouldn’t receive this treatment. He would likely be sent to another room, separated from the physician and patients.
“No, I have no knowledge of medical skills, and I can’t understand prescriptions either.” Meng Qi decisively shook his head and said, “I’m afraid I don’t have that ability.”
Mo Li felt slightly disappointed.
“However, assisting the physician is possible,” Meng Qi said confidently.
When it comes to tasks like boiling water, who can be faster than a martial arts expert?
As for lifting patients, it can be done with just one hand!
As they were talking, the patient who had received the final acupuncture treatment sat up.
“Thank you, physician. My leg feels much better.”
“Here is the prescription, take it with you, and don’t lose it,” Mo Li patiently said as he handed over the prepared prescription. “Chronic ailments are difficult to treat. If it recurs and you can’t find a physician to administer acupuncture, take a few doses of the medicine.”
The person took the prescription, expressed gratitude, and left.
Ning Changyuan happened to enter the room, smiling as he spoke, “Truly a disciple of my benefactor. The whole village knows now. They say I’ve brought back a divine physician and are urging me to quickly show you the way out.”
Meng Qi was momentarily stunned, not understanding why.
If the people here encountered such a highly skilled physician, why would they want him to leave quickly?
“…They say that a divine physician like you is respected wherever they go. This place is extremely impoverished, and it’s tough for the physician to stay here. They saw that there was nothing in this room, and they were anxious. There were even some who wanted to send you bedding and firewood. It took a lot of effort to persuade them.”
Ning Changyuan turned his head and noticed that the room was no longer as empty as it was yesterday.
There were several worn-out tables and chairs in the corner, with some rice and grain placed on them, as well as a small piece of salted meat hanging.
“I told them not to bother, but they insisted.”
Mo Li didn’t feel uncomfortable. After they left, these things would still be left for the villagers here.
“Just accept them. Make some steamed buns with dried meat. It can be provisions for your journey,” Ning Changyuan advised. “In the southwest of Yongzhou, nine out of ten households are empty. We’ve had a severe drought for three years, and even tree bark and grassroots have been consumed. No matter how high your martial arts are, you’ll still die without food.”
Meng Qi thought to himself that it might not necessarily be the case.
Chu shamans probably had some method of absorbing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. The ancient books mentioned it, didn’t they? On Mount Mogu, there lived a divine being. Their skin was like ice and snow, their figure exquisite like a virgin’s, they didn’t eat the five grains but absorbed the wind and drank the dew… Yet they were still alive, right?
Wait a moment…
Meng Qi felt that something was off. Wasn’t he of the same clan as the physician?
What was that about having skin as cold as ice and snow? So, it wasn’t soy milk white but snow white?
Meng Qi lowered his head and looked at his arm, thinking about that description, and immediately felt a sour sensation in his teeth.
Author’s Note:
Ning Changyuan, the ultimate fan of the Divine Physician Xuanhu: Humph, let me tell you, Master Qin was the kind of person who could do anything in the storybooks.
Several years later–
Mo Li holding a fat rat in his hands: Master, I’ve found a fellow of my kind!
Master Qin, who could do anything in the storybooks: …
Author: Quick, get the Heart-Protecting Pill!
Before noon, patients seeking medical consultation came one after another.
Apart from those suffering from colds and coughs, there were also people with long-standing chronic illnesses, all common ailments.
Mo Li was born in Qimao Mountain and had been practicing medicine in Zhushan County under Qin Lu’s guidance for many years. He was highly skilled in treating the illnesses of these impoverished people, using moxibustion and acupuncture where necessary and prescribing medications when appropriate.
Ning Changyuan was quite resourceful, providing paper, pen, moxa, silver needles, and other supplies.
Mo Li had lost his own needles, and while these silver needles were not ideal, they were passable. Fortunately, his profound internal energy, sharp eyesight, and accurate acupoint selection, combined with the efficacy of his spiritual energy, resulted in fast recovery for the patients. As a result, despite his young age, many patients regarded him highly for his medical expertise.
Meng Qi watched attentively from the side, occasionally offering assistance. It was his first realization of the challenges faced by a physician. Before, he only knew that Mo Li had excellent martial skills, a good temperament, and extensive knowledge, with a deep understanding of worldly matters.
Although these achievements seemed remarkable, as soon as one thought about Mo Li’s master being the renowned Xuanhu Divine Physician of the past, any admiration immediately turned into understanding. Even Meng Qi, who held Mo Li in high regard as a person, couldn’t help but have such thoughts.
Throughout their journey, Mo Li saved Lin Dou, who was fleeing with a descendant of the Chu Dynasty royal family, rescued a servant from the Si family who had stolen the account book, and tirelessly treated injuries after the earthquake… Meng Qi thought he had seen enough, but today he realized he was mistaken.
During regular consultations, Mo Li’s expression was gentle, with a faint smile on his lips. His movements were neither fast nor slow, and his speech had a measured tone, exuding a sense of confidence. Regardless of the person or the severity of their illness, as soon as they saw him and heard him speak, they couldn’t help but be infected by this sense of assurance, feeling that their ailments were not severe.
Many people have illnesses, but they were afraid to see a physician.
It’s because they either lack money or simply don’t understand the physician’s words, such as terms like “xu” or “han.” They can only obediently take the prescription and clumsily note down how many times a day they should take the medicine and how to take it.
For the wasteland refugees, who have fled from various places, their situation is even more difficult.
They speak in diverse accents, encompassing all the dialects of Yongzhou and Pingzhou, and there was even an elderly person speaking in the dialect of Yangzhou. Even if they have money to seek medical treatment in the county, there’s a high possibility that the physician won’t understand what they are saying.
In order to communicate with patients and prescribe appropriate treatments, physicians need to engage in observation, listening, questioning, and pulse examination. However, if a physician is unable to ask questions and understand the patient, how can they prescribe the right treatment?
In such cases, after feeling the patient’s pulse, physicians often prescribe a generic remedy as a precautionary measure. They instruct the patient to take it home and return after a few days to assess any changes in their condition and adjust the treatment accordingly.
However, for impoverished people, it is difficult to afford the expenses of repeated visits to the physician.
The so-called generic remedies were neither harmful nor effective in curing illnesses.
They provide temporary relief, but they only address the symptoms without addressing the root cause. Individuals with a strong constitution may withstand the effects of the medicine, while those with weaker bodies may feel temporarily better but quickly relapse when they engage in physical labor.
–However, these issues were not problems in front of Mo Li.
Meng Qi listened as the physician casually conversed with patients using various dialects and regional expressions. Sometimes, when Mo Li couldn’t understand the patient due to a heavy accent, he patiently asked again using the local dialect.
When encountering elderly individuals with unclear speech, Mo Li would carefully use his internal energy to examine their meridians.
If acupuncture could cure the illness, Mo Li would not prescribe medication.
Even when prescribing medicine, he would select affordable herbs, even if the efficacy might not be as good, at least within the patients’ financial means.
Mo Li had no barriers in his conversations with these wasteland residents. He understood the hardships of the impoverished and had a deep understanding of the causes of chronic illnesses. He accurately assessed the severity of the conditions, bringing comfort to the patients’ minds and spirits.
In the eyes of others, he was undoubtedly a divine physician.
“Physician, your medical skills are truly remarkable. I have visited clinics in my hometown before and received acupuncture, but it was never this effective.”
Facing the praise from others, Mo Li did not accept it but instead advised, “Many physicians who provide medical services are not young anymore and have poor eyesight. How can I compare to them?”
Another person immediately shook their head and firmly said, “Physician, you are too modest. I have also encountered renowned divine physicians in Yangzhou, but none of them were able to pinpoint my symptoms as accurately as you did.”
Mo Li chuckled and said, “Yangzhou is prosperous, with rivers running through it. It is not like Pingzhou or Yongzhou, which suffer from water scarcity. How could physicians in Yangzhou understand the consequences of your lack of proper care and chronic water shortage that resulted in your current condition?”
The crowd was deeply convinced, and as they left, they praised the physician brought back by Daoist Ning for his exceptional medical skills, vast knowledge, and humble demeanor.
Meng Qi, who was boiling water under the eaves, inexplicably felt a glow on his face.
He entered the room and saw that there was only one patient left with Mo Li. Unable to restrain himself, he quietly approached and asked, “How many dialects can you actually speak?”
“…All the places my master has been to.”
Mo Li held a silver needle, roasted it over the fire without lifting his head, and said, “When my master traveled around the world with the intention of helping people, he realized that he couldn’t understand the language spoken by the local villagers after walking just a hundred miles. Throughout history, many divine physicians did not fail due to the injustice of the world or their own capabilities, but because of the language barrier. Although Mandarin is good, how can the rural people speak fluent Mandarin? So, my master vowed to learn all the dialects in the world. If he couldn’t even achieve this, how could he fulfill his goal of helping people?”
Meng Qi absentmindedly wondered, when Emperor Yuan of Chu conquered the world, did he understand the local languages?
No, they all spoke Mandarin among themselves. Among those with extremely low backgrounds, only a few made an effort to learn Mandarin.
When marching and fighting in a certain place, they would find local people to guide them and recruit officials who could speak the local language. Who would think of learning dialects? After all, there were people proficient in both the local dialect and Mandarin acting as intermediaries.
The words spoken by the people had to go through two or three people before reaching the emperor’s ears.
The emperor could do this, officials could do this, but physicians couldn’t. Physicians needed to truly listen to every word the patients said.
“Many people don’t know what illness they have, they only know where it hurts. Physicians always have to put in some effort. They can’t simply treat leg pain as leg pain or a headache as a headache. The causes of illness are diverse… What they eat, their daily habits, the age at which their parents passed away, and any other symptoms…”
Mo Li brushed his hand, and the needle was firmly inserted. He was completely focused until he removed the needle and continued, “These are all things that need to be known. My master once encountered an elderly woman with swollen joints. She heard from her neighbor that it was rheumatism, so she refused to be examined and only wanted a prescription for rheumatism. After asking a few questions, my master realized that the woman had no signs of rheumatism in her daily life. In the end, it was discovered that she had been bitten by a venomous spider… It was a close call, and she almost lost her life.”
Meng Qi handed over a piece of steaming cloth, and Mo Li wiped his hands.
“Thank you, Brother Meng.” Mo Li felt content. Today, whenever he needed hot water, he had it. When the mugwort ran out, someone immediately lit it up again. It was all thanks to Meng Qi.
–After leaving Zhushan County, everything he encountered was distressing. It had been a long time since he felt this relaxed.
This reminded Mo Li of his intention when he set out, to find a companion who would stay with him for a long time.
“Brother Meng, are you also interested in medical skills?” Mo Li stared at Meng Qi, wishing he would nod immediately.
“…”
Meng Qi tried to imagine himself traveling around the world with the physician, the physician treating patients while he ran around. If he became a physician too, he probably wouldn’t receive this treatment. He would likely be sent to another room, separated from the physician and patients.
“No, I have no knowledge of medical skills, and I can’t understand prescriptions either.” Meng Qi decisively shook his head and said, “I’m afraid I don’t have that ability.”
Mo Li felt slightly disappointed.
“However, assisting the physician is possible,” Meng Qi said confidently.
When it comes to tasks like boiling water, who can be faster than a martial arts expert?
As for lifting patients, it can be done with just one hand!
As they were talking, the patient who had received the final acupuncture treatment sat up.
“Thank you, physician. My leg feels much better.”
“Here is the prescription, take it with you, and don’t lose it,” Mo Li patiently said as he handed over the prepared prescription. “Chronic ailments are difficult to treat. If it recurs and you can’t find a physician to administer acupuncture, take a few doses of the medicine.”
The person took the prescription, expressed gratitude, and left.
Ning Changyuan happened to enter the room, smiling as he spoke, “Truly a disciple of my benefactor. The whole village knows now. They say I’ve brought back a divine physician and are urging me to quickly show you the way out.”
Meng Qi was momentarily stunned, not understanding why.
If the people here encountered such a highly skilled physician, why would they want him to leave quickly?
“…They say that a divine physician like you is respected wherever they go. This place is extremely impoverished, and it’s tough for the physician to stay here. They saw that there was nothing in this room, and they were anxious. There were even some who wanted to send you bedding and firewood. It took a lot of effort to persuade them.”
Ning Changyuan turned his head and noticed that the room was no longer as empty as it was yesterday.
There were several worn-out tables and chairs in the corner, with some rice and grain placed on them, as well as a small piece of salted meat hanging.
“I told them not to bother, but they insisted.”
Mo Li didn’t feel uncomfortable. After they left, these things would still be left for the villagers here.
“Just accept them. Make some steamed buns with dried meat. It can be provisions for your journey,” Ning Changyuan advised. “In the southwest of Yongzhou, nine out of ten households are empty. We’ve had a severe drought for three years, and even tree bark and grassroots have been consumed. No matter how high your martial arts are, you’ll still die without food.”
Meng Qi thought to himself that it might not necessarily be the case.
Chu shamans probably had some method of absorbing the spiritual energy of heaven and earth. The ancient books mentioned it, didn’t they? On Mount Mogu, there lived a divine being. Their skin was like ice and snow, their figure exquisite like a virgin’s, they didn’t eat the five grains but absorbed the wind and drank the dew… Yet they were still alive, right?
Wait a moment…
Meng Qi felt that something was off. Wasn’t he of the same clan as the physician?
What was that about having skin as cold as ice and snow? So, it wasn’t soy milk white but snow white?
Meng Qi lowered his head and looked at his arm, thinking about that description, and immediately felt a sour sensation in his teeth.
Author’s Note:
Ning Changyuan, the ultimate fan of the Divine Physician Xuanhu: Humph, let me tell you, Master Qin was the kind of person who could do anything in the storybooks.
Several years later–
Mo Li holding a fat rat in his hands: Master, I’ve found a fellow of my kind!
Master Qin, who could do anything in the storybooks: …
Author: Quick, get the Heart-Protecting Pill!
