Chapter 29: The Flowing Needle

The first rays of dawn appeared.

Sun Sichen and his group finished breakfast, the mule cart was harnessed, and they were about to set off when Steward Huang came running, almost stumbling. “Help! Young Master, help!”

Sun Sichen was startled. This shouldn’t be happening. After taking the medicine, the Yangkang should have been controlled.

“What is it?”

Steward Huang knelt down, tears streaming down his face. “Young Master, my old master suddenly lost consciousness. His nose is crooked, his mouth is twisted, and he’s gasping for breath. I fear he’s not going to make it.”

“Ping’an, come with me. Ruyi, bring the medical kit. Jixiang, you and Erqiang take care of the cart. We can’t leave today.

Wan Xiong, Di-mei, I apologize, but you should return to your rooms to rest.”

“It’s alright, Young Master. Please attend to your duties.” The magistrate’s father’s sudden illness meant the Young Master couldn’t leave.

Wan Changsheng hurriedly helped Jixiang with the luggage, securing the mule and cart, and taking some luggage back to the room.

Magistrate Huang was pacing anxiously in his residence. This sudden turn of events had stunned him; his father was clearly dying.

Besides his grief, he lamented his own prospects.

Fate.

His father’s recklessness was fate, but it ruined him.

The cart stopped.

Mr. and Madam Huang rushed out to greet them. “Young Master, please save my father’s life!”

Sun Sichen’s plans were disrupted, and his expression was naturally unhappy. “Why did this happen? Didn’t he take his medicine last night?”

Magistrate Huang blushed but had to explain. “Last night, the servant prepared the medicine, but a concubine took it, saying she would deliver it herself.

Before she could administer it, she knocked over the bowl. The concubine begged for forgiveness, and my father forgave her. Since it was late, and he felt better, he thought it would be alright to skip the medicine for one night, so…”

“And then?” Sun Sichen’s face darkened; there must be more to the story.

Magistrate Huang’s ears turned red. “I only learned this morning that the concubine didn’t leave last night.”

She was now locked in the woodshed, awaiting sale.

“Mr. Huang, your father is courting death, possibly ruining your career and now disrupting my schedule. I was about to leave; everyone is busy.

With a patient like this, you should have been more careful. Take us to him.”

It was simply unbelievable. He had given such clear instructions, yet the old man had recklessly risked his life.

Magistrate Huang was drenched in sweat. There were rumors that the Young Master would abandon a patient if his mood was bad. Thankfully, he hadn’t.

Ping’an entered the room and immediately saw the old magistrate on the kang, completely unlike his earlier appearance. As the steward said, his nose was crooked, his mouth was twisted, saliva was dripping, and he was twitching occasionally.

This was a severe stroke.

Sun Sichen, ignoring his anger, quickly opened his medical kit, took out silver needles, and performed a finger-pricking bloodletting technique on the old magistrate.

Ruyi immediately helped squeeze the blood out, and it was dark.

“Mr. Huang, I can only say I’ll try my best. This is a very serious stroke. If it had been half an hour later, we would be preparing for the funeral.

Even if your father is saved, he may be paralyzed for a long time. If he recovers well, he may walk slowly, but not like before.”

Magistrate Huang breathed a sigh of relief. As long as his father lived, it was fine.

“Young Master, please save my father’s life, whatever the cost.”

Sun Sichen glanced at him. The Huang family was wealthy; they had plenty of money. For the daytime consultation alone, he had already received two hundred taels.

“I’ll do my best. Everyone else should leave; the three of us will be sufficient. The old magistrate needs acupuncture immediately.”

“Thank you, Young Master.” Magistrate Huang quickly ushered everyone out.

Since the Young Master was willing to use acupuncture, his father’s life was likely saved.

He collapsed into a chair.

The Young Master was about to leave. Without his silver needles, he might have had to observe a mourning period, losing all his prospects.

He suddenly erupted in anger. “Steward, sell that concubine far away, immediately!”

He turned to his equally distraught wife. “Madam, we’ve delayed the Young Master’s journey; I need to persuade him to stay a few more days. I don’t trust anyone else.

Therefore, prepare a suitable gift. He treasures that little disciple, so give him a red envelope, and a gold ornament or two. I heard the child’s parents are at the inn.”

Madam Huang nodded; these were minor matters. Her father-in-law had been a merchant for many years, and the family was quite wealthy.

Ping’an knew this was a stroke; not too severe. His master should be able to help him recover quite a bit.

But his master had a knack for speaking—making the condition sound as severe as possible and the treatment as only partially successful. If the patient recovered, the gratitude would be immense.

A physician’s duty was important, but they still needed to get paid; otherwise, how would they live?

Modern medicine had extensive research on strokes. As long as it wasn’t too severe, lives could generally be saved. Whether or not paralysis occurred depended on the patient’s fate.

Ping’an had some excellent prescriptions for this, but he wouldn’t use them for now. This was his master’s first time introducing him to the medical path.

“Ping’an, in this situation, the first step is to prick his fingers to draw blood, followed by acupuncture. But not many in the Great Zhou Dynasty know acupuncture; most are just imposters. Watch your master’s technique carefully.”

Ping’an nodded, his face serious. He probably knew more about acupuncture points than his master. He remembered many famous acupuncture techniques, and he had practiced them on dummies, but it differed from using them on a real patient.

This was different.

Sun Sichen’s acupuncture skills surpassed his father’s and grandfather’s, truly achieving mastery.

“Ping’an, look. The main acupoints are Tinghui, Dichang, Hegu, and Yingxiang. The auxiliary points are Fengchi, Shuigou, Jiache, and Sizhu. This technique primarily addresses the crooked nose and mouth.

Your master will use another technique later to treat hemiplegia. Watch carefully.”

Sun Sichen explained as he performed the acupuncture, including the depth of the needles.

Ping’an watched intently. He was fortunate to have a master who was so generous with his knowledge.

After a quarter of an hour, the first set of needles was removed, and the second set began. As the silver needles trembled on the old magistrate’s acupoints, Sun Sichen was already sweating profusely.

Ping’an immediately took out a handkerchief and, standing on tiptoe, wiped his master’s sweat. Sweat in the eyes was bad, so surgeons often had assistants to help wipe sweat in his past life.

Sun Sichen smiled, feeling very pleased.  “This acupuncture will take about five days. We can’t leave these few days. I’ll write a prescription, using both methods. We’ll check the prescription in three days and decide whether to change it based on the patient’s condition.”

“Master’s acupuncture is truly beautiful. I want to learn acupuncture too.”

Sun Sichen laughed. “Silly child, it’s not beautiful; it’s called flowing like clouds and water. Your master will definitely teach you, but it won’t be easy to reach my level.”

If there were other people in the room besides the unconscious patient, his radiant smile might have been more difficult to explain.

Ping’an grinned. He had such a great master; he was truly lucky.