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Chapter 138: Acupuncture to Expel Cold, Internal Medicine for Regulation
Among the few people present, Auntie Qi was the least clever one — but also the one listening most attentively and earnestly. She took every word Chu Yue said and carefully turned it over in her mind, dissecting and pondering it piece by piece.
And just like that, relying on a sort of intuition from deep within, she actually understood.
Auntie Qi looked at Chu Yue with wide, excited eyes and asked, her voice trembling,
“I… I can be cured? Is that what you mean? I can really be cured?”
Chu Yue nodded,
“Mm, if you follow the treatment properly, there’s still hope.”
Chu Yue didn’t dare to make any bold or absolute promises, but in her heart, she felt ninety percent confident that treatment was possible.
Her simple words — “There’s hope” — were like a divine gift from the heavens.
Auntie Qi’s eyes immediately turned red. Her thin, frail frame began trembling slightly from joy, and she kept murmuring,
“That’s wonderful, that’s wonderful… Thank you, thank you…”
Beside her, Han Shi was just as overjoyed and hurriedly asked on her behalf,
“Comrade Chu, you say it’s treatable — but how? Auntie Qi has wanted a child for decades. Can’t it be a bit faster?”
Before Chu Yue could speak, Song Hongmei had already stepped in to smooth things over and explain,
“Healing and saving lives isn’t something that happens quickly just because we want it to. Since Little Sister Chu said it’s treatable, then we should take our time. It will work, as long as we stick with it.”
Han Shi quickly agreed,
“Yes, yes, I was just being impatient. Take it slow — as long as it works, that’s what matters. So what’s the next step?”
Chu Yue had already taken Auntie Qi’s pulse and identified the root cause of her infertility. The next step was to dispel the cold in her body and regulate her internal systems to reach a state where conception was possible.
The treatment would proceed in two phases:
Chu Yue took out paper and pen and, without a hint of hesitation, wrote down a prescription. The confidence and ease in her movements showed just how deeply she understood the properties and uses of medicinal herbs — she didn’t need to consult any medical texts.
One after another, she carefully wrote out a list of over a dozen traditional Chinese herbs.
Holding the prescription, Chu Yue said,
“Auntie Qi, take this prescription to the herbal pharmacy in town. Boil the herbs in eight bowls of water until it reduces to one bowl, then drink it. Take one dose every three days. Stick with it for a month, and I’ll take your pulse again after that.”
“Okay, okay, good… good…” Auntie Qi hurriedly wiped her hands on her pants to get them as clean as possible before carefully accepting the slip of paper.
Chu Yue continued,
“The herbs listed here are mostly common, affordable ingredients you can get from any herbal shop. However, there’s one ingredient that’s a bit rare and hard to find.”
Rare and hard to find usually meant expensive.
Auntie Qi and her husband, the village blacksmith, had spent their entire lives scrimping and saving — and had only managed to put away a hundred yuan. If one of the herbs was too costly, they simply couldn’t afford it.
So Auntie Qi grew nervous immediately, her face showing deep worry as her lips trembled — she wanted to say something but didn’t know how.
Chu Yue patted her hand gently,
“Don’t worry.”
Han Shi and Song Hongmei were both watching Chu Yue closely.
They saw Chu Yue calmly stand from her stool and walk over to the door of her house.
Leaning against the wooden door was the stick Chu Yue had gotten from Han Shi earlier — the “chicken blood vine.”
Chu Yue picked up the stick with one hand and, with the other, grabbed a kitchen knife. Then, she began chopping at the vine.
Thump, thump, thump!
The kitchen knife wasn’t very sharp, but since there was no axe at home, it had to do.
Just a moment ago, they were talking calmly about treatments and healing… and now suddenly she was chopping wood?
What kind of magical twist was this?
Han Shi was completely confused, like a monk scratching his head—he didn’t get it at all.
Since he couldn’t figure it out, he turned to look at Song Hongmei, his eyes full of bewilderment.
Song Hongmei was just as puzzled. She shook her head, having no idea what Chu Yue was doing either.
For a moment, Chu Yue was chopping wood while the three of them stood dumbfounded, not even thinking to help.
This strange scene lasted for a while—until a sharp crack! rang out!
Finally, Chu Yue’s kitchen knife split the piece of wood. She clapped her hands clean and placed the chopped wood in front of Aunt Qi and Han Shi.
She didn’t keep anything hidden and explained frankly,
“The rarest ingredient in this prescription is this.”
“This… wood? Wood?!” Han Shi looked utterly incredulous.
Chu Yue explained patiently,
“This isn’t ordinary wood. Its scientific name is Spatholobus suberectus—commonly called ‘chicken blood vine’. Look at the cross-section here. See how it’s ringed with a reddish hue? That’s how it got its name. It’s a rare traditional Chinese medicinal herb.”
Following her explanation, the three leaned in closer—and sure enough, they saw what looked like fresh blood-red rings in the grain.
Both Han Shi and Aunt Qi were from the mountains, yet neither of them had noticed it before. They had just assumed it was normal wood.
Chu Yue continued,
“Chicken blood vine promotes blood circulation, replenishes blood, regulates menstruation, and relaxes the muscles and joints. Aunt Qi, once you take this home, slice it and dry it in the sun. You can boil it into medicine, stew it in chicken soup, or even steep it as tea—it’ll all be good for your body.
But remember: too much of a good thing is harmful—don’t overuse it.”
Aunt Qi carefully cradled the wood as if it were the most precious treasure in the world, unwilling to let it go for even a second.
Whatever Chu Yue said, she just nodded seriously, committing everything to memory.
“Comrade Chu, you’re truly a good person… a great person… my husband and I will pray for you for the rest of our lives.”
Aunt Qi nearly dropped to her knees again, ready to treat Chu Yue like a living Bodhisattva, but Han Shi quickly stopped her.
He insisted that doing so would be inappropriate and might reflect badly on Chu Yue, so Aunt Qi gave up the idea.
—
That same day, Chu Yue brought Aunt Qi into a room, asked her to lift her clothing and expose her stomach for her first acupuncture session.
Since Han Shi, being a man, wasn’t suitable to be inside, he waited at the door.
Staring at the half-chopped piece of wood, he muttered to himself,
“Who would’ve thought this is actual medicine? Looks just like ordinary wood…”
He was still in shock—just like that night he saw Chu Yue pull the calf out of a cow with her own hands.
—
Inside the room—
Chu Yue opened her acupuncture kit, revealing a neat row of fine, long silver needles.
She carefully located the acupuncture points on Aunt Qi’s abdomen, sterilized the needles with fire, and inserted them smoothly—each motion swift and precise, carried out with quiet focus.
Standing beside her, Song Hongmei could feel an energy radiating from Chu Yue—something far beyond her age and appearance.
It was something that made people instinctively respect her.
Aunt Qi had lived her whole life in a closed, backward village.
She’d never even had an IV drip or injection. Now, watching all those long silver needles go into her belly, she couldn’t help but grab tightly onto her clothes with both hands.
Yet her eyes remained fixed on Chu Yue.
She was scared, but because it was Chu Yue, she trusted her unconditionally.
As long as she could have a child, no matter how much pain or suffering—it was worth it!
Chu Yue gently reassured her,
“Aunt Qi, don’t be nervous. It won’t hurt.”
And in the end—
It really didn’t hurt. Not even a little.