Chapter 11 – The Female Military Doctor of the 1950s

A nephew’s wedding was supposed to be a joyous occasion.

After Old Madam Xu returned home, Xu Hehua began thinking about what gift to give.

Xu Wanchun was in the middle of copying her homework from the two teachers. Noticing her mother bustling in and out of the house indecisively, she suggested,
“There must’ve been other weddings in the village these past two years. Just go with whatever the going rate is.”

“You little rascal,” Xu Hehua teased her with a fond glare. Then, picking up a piece of fabric, she hesitated. “How about two lengths of cloth? The wedding was so rushed. Otherwise, I’d go into town to buy a washbasin—now that would look proper.”

Wanchun tilted her head and asked, “Do people really give two whole pieces of cloth?”
From the look of it, the fabric was quite sizable. Two lengths would be enough to make a full outfit.

Xu Hehua looked reluctant to part with her best material and started rummaging again.
“One piece is to cover for your aunt. She’s married off far away, and we haven’t heard anything from her yet. I’ll front it for now.”

Judging from that, the relationship between her mother and her aunt seemed to be good.
Seeing her mother pull out two pillowcases, Wanchun tried again,
“How about just giving money in a red envelope?”

Hehua shook her head quickly. “No way. If I hand over a red envelope, your uncle and his wife will think I’m hiding money.”

Oh. Right. Wanchun had forgotten about that.

“Don’t worry about it. Just focus on your homework. I’ll figure it out,” Xu Hehua said while picking up the cloth again, still torn between the pillowcases and the fabric.

Since she really had no say in this, Wanchun buried her head in her assignment obediently—though she still overheard her mother muttering to herself:
“Maybe I should just give the pillowcases… This fabric is too pretty and rare. Better save it for Taohua’s dowry.”

Wanchun was only eight—basically a bean sprout at this point. A dowry was definitely not urgent.

Reading and writing were far more important.

So, the next morning, Xu Wanchun still showed up on time next door.

Cao Xiu already knew about the wedding between the Xu and Han families. When he saw the little girl, he wasn’t surprised.
“Here to ask for leave?”

Wanchun patted the bookbag slung over her shoulder.
“Nope. I’ll go to the wedding after class.”

A diligent child was always a joy to teach.
Cao Xiu was clearly pleased, smoothing down the front of his long tunic before walking over with a nod.
“Very good. Hardworking and steady. Let me see your homework.”

Meanwhile, Su Nan, who was boiling tea nearby, teased lightly,
“Haven’t had a wedding in the village in ages. Maybe give Taohua a little less homework today—let her relax for once.”

It was a nice thought, but not exactly suitable.
After all, weddings were supposed to be joyous occasions where two families joined together.
But the Xu and Han union was more like a public feud. There was bound to be trouble at the banquet.

And just as Wanchun had guessed—it was exactly that.

Though no one physically fought, both families wore long faces throughout. It felt less like a wedding and more like a funeral.

Only the bride and groom were genuinely happy. Their beaming, dopey smiles made them look like a pair of simpletons.

The banquet itself was nothing to brag about—in fact, it was downright bland.

By the end, most of the guests left with black faces and bad moods.

Wanchun wasn’t invited to sit at the adult tables.
Nor did she get the promised chicken drumstick from Grandma.
She ended up hiding in the kitchen, hurriedly shoveling in a few bites of whatever she could find, and then dragged her mother to leave.

Xu Hehua tried to calm her down.
“Why don’t you go play with your cousins for a bit? I’ll help wash the dishes before we head home.”

She’d already spent the whole morning working. And the worst part? She hadn’t even gotten a seat at the table.

Wanchun didn’t want her mother being bossed around for free—especially not by her snobby aunt, who acted like the whole world owed her something.
“Mom, just now I heard Uncle Da say someone’s giving away puppies…”

“Really?” Xu Hehua had been thinking about getting her daughter a puppy for a while now. The moment she heard that, she forgot all about cleaning up and immediately turned to look for Xu Jingjun.

Xu Wanchun tugged her mother toward the door. “Uncle just left. Let’s tell Grandpa and Grandma and catch up with him.”

In these hard times, most people could barely feed themselves—let alone keep a cat or dog. Fearing someone else would beat them to it, Xu Hehua tore off her apron and hurriedly rushed out with her daughter.

Seeing this, Hu Yangmiao’s face darkened.
“Just gonna leave like that?” she muttered. The house was still a mess and no one had started cleaning.

“I’m heading back, Big Brother, Sister-in-law!” Xu Hehua didn’t even glance back.

“Tch, look at her—so stuck-up,” Hu Yangmiao snapped, bitter and loud. “She won’t lend a cent when we need it, and now that her nephew’s getting married, she only brings two pillowcases. And now she can’t even stay to help clean up. That little stray she picked up—treats her like treasure! Even sends her off to study. What’s reading even good for? Can you eat it? Everyone laughs behind her back—says she’s a fool. That kid’ll turn on her in a few years, you watch!”

Her voice grew shriller the more she talked, and she started slamming dishes as she worked.

Xu Fengnian sat at the door, smoking dry tobacco. He said nothing—just stared out at the yard with a heavy heart.

He hated to admit it, but his divorced little sister was now living a better life than he was.

—
Once they were out of earshot from Grandma’s house, Xu Wanchun quickly came clean.
“Actually… Uncle Da never said anything about a puppy.”

“What?” Hehua blinked.

“I just couldn’t stand Aunt’s attitude,” Wanchun huffed. “Why do you have to bring gifts and help out, and still not even get a seat at the table? That’s ridiculous!”

A divorce was supposedly “bad luck,” sure.

But her mom had been careful—she didn’t go near the bridal chamber or the couple. And still, they wouldn’t let her eat with everyone?
“That’s just bullying. Next time someone treats you like that, don’t even go. If you’re so ‘unlucky,’ then why invite you at all?”

That was something Xu Hehua hadn’t expected.

She never imagined her daughter would speak up for her like this.

And suddenly, a dense, aching feeling welled up in her chest.

She was supposed to have grown used to this kind of treatment.

After all, she’d been a widow since she was sixteen. She’d heard it all—every insult, every whisper. From her parents, her siblings, her neighbors—and even from herself.
She’d told herself she was a jinx at happy occasions. She belonged on the sidelines.

But now, hearing her daughter’s indignant defense, the weight she’d buried for years suddenly rushed back—and it stung.
It hurt because deep down, she still cared.
She cared very, very much.

She was quiet for a long while.
Then, after taking a breath to steady herself, she reached out and gently patted her daughter’s head.

Softly, she said, “I didn’t want to go, either. But sometimes… some obligations just can’t be avoided. You’re still young. You’ll understand when you’re older.”

Wanchun did understand.

Avoiding everyone completely would only isolate you. And in this era—where “unity is strength” and bandits still roamed the countryside—being isolated was as good as digging your own grave.

She let out a small sigh.
“Okay, Mom. Let’s go home.”

But Hehua shook her head gently. “Not just yet. Your cousin-in-law said their ewe gave birth. I’ve arranged for some goat milk for you. We’ll go pick it up.”

“Goat milk?” Wanchun was surprised.

“Yes,” her mother replied. “Doctor Cao said your body’s weak. It’ll do you good to drink a little every day.”

Wanchun already knew the benefits of goat milk.
This time, she didn’t ask how much it cost.

…but she kept the warmth quietly in her heart, letting her foster mother take her by the hand.

—

From that day on, Xu Wanchun’s days became even busier.

Mornings were for studying. In the afternoons, after helping with housework, she and her mother spent what time they could paving a stone path in their courtyard.

It was only a meter wide, stretching from the main room’s doorway all the way to the courtyard gate.

To a professional, it was a small, unimpressive job. But for the Xu mother and daughter, who could only work an hour or two each day, it took over two weeks to finish.

And so, time passed in a blur of labor—until it was suddenly June.

The weather had warmed, and many herbs were now in their prime for harvesting.

One such herb was honeysuckle, which they hadn’t touched much before.

So, Xu Wanchun strapped on her basket and headed back into the mountains.

Honeysuckle fetched a high price, and chances to earn like this didn’t come often. She asked her two teachers for half a month’s leave and brought her mother along. The two of them practically lived on the mountain—leaving at dawn and returning at dusk.

And in just two weeks, they made nearly 100 yuan just from selling herbs.

When they got home, Xu Hehua—flushed and glowing with joy—sat cross-legged on the kang bed, counting and recounting the money to make sure it wasn’t a dream.
“This is too easy!” she gasped.

After savoring the excitement, she carefully stashed the money under the bed in front of her daughter and said, “Wanchun, you go back to your studies tomorrow. I’ll go up the back mountain by myself.”

Xu Wanchun was happy about earning money, too, but more than that—she was exhausted. Her tiny body was still slumped in a heap.

Hearing her mom’s plan, she sat up and massaged her sore legs as she tried to talk her down.
“We’ve already picked almost all the blooming honeysuckle. You should take a break. Besides, farm work’s starting soon.”

Xu Hehua was still reluctant to give up the money-making window.

Sensing her mom’s hesitation, Wanchun continued:
“Once the busy season’s over, we can dig up a round of gastrodia (tianma). And there’s licorice root to harvest in October. Mom, we’ll never run out of chances to earn. But if your health gives out, what good is money?”

That sobered her up. With a few more gentle words from her daughter, Xu Hehua tied up her slightly messy bun, stood up, and headed to the kitchen.

“Alright, alright. Let’s have a good meal today. We’ve earned some money—let’s kill a chicken and make some soup for you.”

That perked Wanchun up right away. She swallowed excitedly and ran after her.

“Chicken soup?” she asked, already drooling a little.

Her mother chuckled. “Sure, and once it’s done, I’ll bring half to your Aunt Nan and Uncle Cao.” She still hadn’t given up on getting her daughter formally accepted as their apprentice.

“I’ll help!” said Wanchun eagerly.

“You don’t need to. I’ve got it,” Hehua replied with a smile.

“Okay then, I’ll head next door and let Auntie know not to cook soup for lunch.”

It was summer, after all—no refrigerators. Everything needed to be eaten the same day.

—

It was just before ten in the morning.

So when Xu Wanchun arrived next door, Aunt Nan was busy writing and hadn’t started preparing lunch yet.

Upon hearing the little girl say they’d be sending over some old hen soup, Su Nan didn’t bother with polite refusals. She capped her fountain pen, stood, and went to the bedroom—where she brought out a dainty little dress.

“For me?” Wanchun asked, surprised.

She hadn’t come over for over half a month and was currently being quizzed—rather harshly—by stern-faced Uncle Cao about everything she’d learned. She hadn’t expected this.

Su Nan smiled gently.
“Yes, for you. I had some leftover fabric. Just enough to make a small dress. Go on, try it and see if it fits.”

That made Wanchun freeze on the spot, awkward and a little overwhelmed.

After all, she hadn’t even paid tuition for her studies, and now they were giving her clothes?

…but in that moment, all she felt was awkwardness, as if she’d taken too much.

“You’re blushing? You’re just a little kid! Auntie only made it for you because she likes you,” Su Nan teased, thoroughly amused. She gave Wanchun a gentle push toward the back room. “Go try it on so I can see!”

But when Wanchun came out wearing the dress, Su Nan’s smile disappeared.

Without a mirror, Wanchun couldn’t see what she looked like—but little girls in floral dresses usually looked cute, right?
So why did Auntie look… weird?

“Does it look bad?” she asked nervously.

“Not at all,” Su Nan shook her head. Then she held up a small mirror, struggling not to laugh. “Here. Take a look—what happened to your skin?”

Wanchun stared.

She’d been pampered and cared for over the past two or three months, and she had grown a bit taller and chubbier. With fuller cheeks, her facial features were actually turning out quite delicate—she clearly had the makings of a beauty.

But after half a month of herb gathering in the mountains, her once fair skin had become sun-baked and dark.

She tugged at the pink-flowered dress and mumbled with forced dignity,
“Pink just makes me look darker.”

Pfft. That would’ve been a normal comment from an adult, but coming from an eight-year-old girl?

Su Nan burst into laughter. Her stomach ached from how funny it was.

She rarely laughed so openly. Hearing the commotion, her husband Cao Xiu came over out of curiosity. After Su Nan explained, he looked at the little girl and chuckled,
“She has tanned quite a bit.”

Wanchun sighed. Yes, yes, she knew already. No need to keep pointing it out! Thank you very much!

Seeing the little girl looking so devastated and defeated, Su Nan laughed even harder. She wiped away tears of mirth from the corners of her eyes and finally comforted her,
“Don’t worry—we’ll have your Uncle Cao mix up some whitening powder for you.”

Oh, right! Wanchun’s eyes lit up.

She was still young, and a bit of sun damage could easily be reversed. She just had to stay out of the sun and be more careful. But her foster mother was a different story—her skin had turned nearly charcoal-black from all the sun lately. She definitely needed some serious skincare.

With her mother’s tall, slender frame and long legs, she had the perfect base—Wanchun was determined to turn her into a true beauty.

Cao Xiu didn’t refuse. As he walked toward the medicine cabinet, he began to quiz her again,
“What herbs do you think we should use?”

Wanchun answered smoothly. In her previous life, she already knew this recipe:
“White atractylodes (bai zhi), white tuckahoe (bai fu ling), and white peony root (bai zhu).”

Surprised that she could rattle off the correct ingredients, Cao Xiu’s heart warmed even more. He carefully measured out 5 grams of each, then stood nearby, watching as she ground the ingredients into powder.

As she was leaving, he still managed to keep a stern expression, reminding her not to slack off—she must study more new herbs tomorrow.

—

Watching all this from the side, Su Nan couldn’t help but tease,
“What’s the difference between this and formally accepting her as a disciple?”

She was back at her desk, finishing a letter to their son.

Seeing the satisfaction on her husband’s face every time he talked about Xu Hehua and her daughter, Su Nan laughed,
“Want me to write to Jingliang and let him know he has a junior sister now?”

Cao Xiu, deep in thought about his next trip and whether he should take Wanchun along, didn’t catch her meaning right away.
“Tell him what?”

“That you’ve taken in a new disciple,” Su Nan said. “He’s got a little shimei now.”

Cao Xiu blinked.

There was no denying it—this little girl was a rare talent for medicine. She might even have more potential than his son had at her age. Still, his original plan was to observe her for six months. It had only been two.

Seeing him hesitate, Su Nan smiled,
“So? Should I write it or not?”

Cao Xiu lifted his chin slightly and gave a proud little huff.
“Write it. That ungrateful brat doesn’t appreciate what he has. I’ve now found a worthy student—one day, she’ll surpass him!”

Su Nan chuckled.
“Showing off, are we?”