The Innocent Heart - Chapter 93

The two had just returned to the courtyard when they saw the area in front of Chen Zhi’s room next door crowded once again. It was that same Wu Sheng, performing those same deceptive, spirit-invoking tricks that Guan Yueyao so despised.

Because Chen Zhi had not received effective treatment over the past two days, his high fever had never subsided. As his condition fluctuated, it was accompanied by Wu Sheng’s alarmist rhetoric.

“Recently, battles at the border have left corpses piled as high as mountains. The ‘corpse energy’ has accumulated in the capital, causing its star to shine brightly; this dictates that the common people shall suffer much illness. This time, the Young Lord has been invaded by this ‘Great Tomb of Accumulated Corpses’ star. If this star is not extinguished, I fear recovery will be difficult.” Wu Sheng swayed his head, spouting a series of obscure and mystifying phrases.

As he finished speaking, as if suddenly sensing some movement in the crowd, he abruptly snapped open his half-closed eyes. With a furious glare, he strode several paces toward Huo Qubing and Guan Yueyao, nearly pointing at Guan Yueyao’s nose as he shouted:

“This youth’s body has already been seized by a vengeful ghost! If he is not eliminated, he will sooner or later turn into a plague demon. By then, pestilence will surely spread within the Pass, and corpses will lie for a thousand miles! By the time you wish to subdue it, it will be too late…!”

Before Wu Sheng could finish his sentence, Guan Yueyao’s fist had already swung into his face.

Though the man was an adult in his prime, he was accustomed to being pampered and sought after; he could not withstand a punch delivered with ten-tenths of Guan Yueyao’s strength. He was instantly struck off-balance, stumbling back several steps before falling onto the ground, dizzy and dazed.

Guan Yueyao, however, did not intend to stop there. Seeing this, she did not hesitate to sit directly atop Wu Sheng, swinging her rounded fists to rain blows upon him. Guan Yueyao did not hold back in a fight; her fists fell like raindrops upon Wu Sheng while she continued to curse him incessantly.

“If you’re so capable, how did you fail to foresee that you’d suffer a bloody calamity today?”

“You damn liar, who are you calling a ghost? I see that in this entire camp, you’re the only ‘shaman’ spending all day acting like a spirit. With that look of yours—neither human nor ghost—you have the nerve to call others ghosts?”

The more Guan Yueyao spoke, the more energized she became. Her fists seemed to carry the wind, beating Wu Sheng until he wailed without end, losing every bit of his usual “transcendent” air.

Some in the onlookers could not bear the sight and stepped forward to intervene. Unexpectedly, as soon as their left foot moved, they were blocked by a hand.

“A good beating. This man deceives his superiors, deludes his subordinates, and intimidates the common people; he deserves to be struck. However, Ayao, be careful not to kill him. It isn’t worth getting tangled in a murder charge for someone like this.”

The person who stopped them was Huo Qubing. He stood with his back to Guan Yueyao, his arms spread wide to block those who wanted to break up the fight, speaking quite casually. While the words seemed directed at Guan Yueyao, they were actually a warning to the crowd.

Pressed by the might of the Wei family, and seeing that the Chen family servants remained inactive, the crowd abandoned their thoughts of intervening.

Having delivered a thorough beating, Guan Yueyao felt her anger vent. She stood up from the man, her eyes scanning the tightly packed circle of soldiers. She clapped her hands and pointed at Wu Sheng, who lay on the ground like a pile of mud.

“No one is allowed to treat his injuries! Since he claims to know sorcery and can communicate with gods, let him find a god to heal him!”

The courtyard became so quiet that a falling needle could be heard. The onlookers avoided Guan Yueyao’s gaze, seemingly fearful of her. This youth fights with true ruthlessness; Wu Sheng has likely broken at least one arm, the soldiers muttered to themselves. Then, Guan Yueyao spoke again.

“Manager of the Chen family, you had best find a proper physician to examine Chen Zhi immediately. Look at us: we fell ill at the same time, yet I am nearly recovered while Chen Zhi remains bedridden with no improvement. Should something truly happen to him, are you not afraid the Grand Princess of Guantao will hold you accountable?”

Guan Yueyao’s words were like a sudden wake-up call to a dreamer. The Chen family manager had originally been worried about offending Wu Sheng and being scolded by the Grand Princess upon returning to Chang’an. But seeing the current situation, Wu Sheng was clearly a deceptive charlatan. If he truly had ability, how could a shaman be beaten senseless without being able to lift a finger in retaliation?

He felt a surge of resentment; this Wu Sheng had nearly delayed the Young Lord’s treatment, which was the most important matter. Compared to the Young Lord, Wu Sheng was nothing! Simply put, when these sorcerers entered the capital, they were precious only because the nobles believed in and elevated them. Once the nobles no longer wished to show them courtesy, they were merely traveling swindlers.

Most physicians in the army specialized in sprains and bone injuries but had little research into common illnesses. To find a reliable physician, one would have to go into the city. At this thought, the Chen family manager spat on the still-paralyzed Wu Sheng. Without even ordering his subordinates to help the man up, he hurried toward the city of Juyang to fetch a physician.

Although the culture of shamanism was prevalent during the Western Han, fortunately, in every era, there are always men of insight who refuse to abandon the light of reason to pursue the most fundamental laws of nature. There were still healers who believed that the symptoms causing a patient’s suffering were not caused by ghosts. It was only that, at this time, such healers often lived less comfortably than the more intimidating shamans.

In Juyang City lived such a physician. Tracing his lineage back, his family had studied under the famous Warring States physician, Bian Que.

The Chen family manager, holding a letter from the Grand Princess’s manor, knocked open the locked gates of Juyang City. It was already past the hour of the Pig (11:00 PM) when he brought the healer, a man surnamed Yue, back to Juyong Pass—half-invited and half-forced.

In Chen Zhi’s room, besides the usual personal attendants, Huo Qubing and Guan Yueyao were also present. A cloth soaked in ice water rested on Chen Zhi’s forehead; it was Guan Yueyao who had ordered it placed there. When Guan Yueyao and Huo Qubing came to visit, Chen Zhi had already begun to talk in his delirium due to several days of high fever. Yet, aside from some brambles and peach wood used for exorcism, Wu Sheng had not performed a single useful medical measure for him. Usually, there was no medicine given; only “talisman water” was poured down his throat twice a day to “drive out evil.”

Looking at him lying on the bed—disheveled, sickly, and with an unhealthy flush—even someone like Huo Qubing, who held an old grudge, felt a sense of pity.

“Attendant Guan, Attendant Huo, you are…?” The Chen family manager asked with some confusion as he looked at his Young Lord’s state.

“Chen Zhi’s fever is quite severe. I didn’t know what medicine he should take, so I could only use a cold cloth to lower his temperature. If this fever continues, he might end up with brain damage,” Guan Yueyao said with no small amount of worry. As a child, there had been a child in her neighborhood who became intellectually disabled because a high fever wasn’t treated in time.

She noticed a young man behind Manager Chen, carrying a medicine box. Likely unaccustomed to such long rides, his delicate face looked somewhat haggard.

“Is this the doctor you brought back? Quickly, let him examine Chen Zhi.” Guan Yueyao pulled Huo Qubing aside, yielding the space by Chen Zhi’s side to Yue Pengzu. Her tone was exceptionally polite—a world of difference from her treatment of Wu Sheng.

Physicians of this era were rarely treated with such courtesy by nobles. Yue Pengzu couldn’t help but steal a few glances at the two youths, and a secret sense of goodwill toward them rose in his heart. He was an exceptionally gifted member of his generation. Despite being in a society where a healer’s status was far lower than a shaman’s, he still worked diligently to treat those who sought his help.

After entering and seeing Chen Zhi, he formed a judgment without even needing to feel the pulse. He frowned, his tone carrying a hint of helplessness: “How could you delay for so many days?” But having said that, he felt the question was redundant and let out a heavy sigh. The reason for the delay was, naturally, that they had sought a shaman first.

He removed the cloth from Chen Zhi’s forehead and tested the skin with the back of his hand. This method of using external objects to cool down was somewhat effective. Additionally, though the fever was high, Chen Zhi was a youth who practiced martial arts year-round; his physique was robust, and the symptoms were not critically severe.

Yue Pengzu felt his pulse and then turned to write a prescription on bamboo slips. They were all common herbs; having heard of the patient’s condition from the manager, he had packed a few in his box, so they were all available without needing to rush back to the city in the middle of the night.

“Do not worry. The Young Lord has merely caught a cold. Although he has a fever, this officer’s handling was quite appropriate; the fever has already receded slightly. Once I go down and brew a medicinal soup of Banlangen (Isatis root) and Jinyinhua (Honeysuckle), he will be well in three to five days.”

Hearing this, Manager Chen had not even had time to breathe a sigh of relief when Yue Pengzu added, “However, I left in a hurry this time and did not bring many herbs. I must trouble you, Manager, to send someone to the city tomorrow to purchase more.”

“No matter, no matter! As long as the Young Lord is well, I will buy you ginseng and deer antler if you ask,” Manager Chen said grandly.

As he spoke, Yue Pengzu handed the written bamboo slips to him. The Chen family manager looked down and saw:

Talcum six qian, Wine-processed Tianma six qian, Borneol one qian, Musk one qian, Silkworm three qian, Baifuzi three qian, Alum-processed Banxia one liang two qian, Calcined Ningshuishi four liang eight qian. Grind into fine powder, mix with refined honey into pills the size of a cherry. Take one pill after meals, chew thoroughly, and wash down with warm Jingjie spike tea.

“This… why is this different from the medicine Physician Yue is brewing today?” Manager Chen looked at Yue Pengzu with a hint of mistrust, appearing worried.

“I brought few medicinal materials today, so I can only do this for now. The prescription I have written is called the Eight-Winds Pill (Bafeng Dan). It treats various ‘wind’ ailments and the upward attack of phlegm-heat, as well as headaches, facial flushing, dizziness, nasal congestion, dry throat, neck stiffness, thick sputum, joint pain, tinnitus, facial spasms, and twitching of the mouth and eyes. I just felt the Young Lord’s pulse; it is surging and his physique is solid. He has heat in the blood but a strong constitution. Administering this Eight-Winds Pill is the most targeted treatment.”

Though the Chen family was powerful and the manager’s attitude was somewhat arrogant, Yue Pengzu’s response remained neither humble nor arrogant. Manager Chen finally gained some faith in his medical skills. However, seeing that the prescription contained only common herbs, he realized there was no opportunity for him to show off his prowess to his masters. With a slight smirk, Manager Chen handed the slips to a personal attendant and politely escorted Yue Pengzu out.