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After the diarrhea outbreak caused panic among the people, both the medical clinic and pharmacy had to temporarily close. Once the turmoil settled, the newly reopened Weimin Pharmacy quickly regained its former liveliness—thriving even more than before. Its competitor, Baoyuantang, suffered a loss of reputation and eventually shut down.
From then on, Weimin Pharmacy became the “lifesaver” in the eyes of the neighborhood, with business booming and daily earnings skyrocketing. Shunxing had to do the accounting until his eyes blurred, and whenever Wei Lan had time, she would personally check the books to ensure that every transaction was accounted for. They had even begun preparations to open a branch store.
Just when Wei Lan was overwhelmed with work, a neighbor came rushing over, speaking anxiously, “Doctor Wei, Zhou Xiaosi is very sick and burning up!”
Hearing this, Wei Lan’s heart tightened. She immediately set down her account book, grabbed her medical kit, and hurried to Xiaosi’s home.
Xiaosi’s house was close to the clinic, just a few steps away, but Wei Lan felt as though something was pulling at her heart, making her quicken her pace unconsciously.
As soon as she stepped inside, she heard Xiaosi’s persistent coughing. He was only five years old—at an age when children should be lively and playful—but now, he was curled up in bed, his little face flushed red with fever. His runny nose dripped like beads on a broken string. His wide, watery eyes were full of helplessness, and his occasional hoarse coughs made one’s heart ache.
Zhou Damei, his grandmother, rushed over as soon as she saw Wei Lan, her face full of worry. “Doctor Wei, Xiaosi’s condition is scaring me. His cough is terrible, and his fever won’t go down!”
Wei Lan comforted her while quickly moving to Xiaosi’s bedside. She gently lifted the blanket, feeling a pang of sorrow at the sight of his weak form.
In this era—the Ming Dynasty—without antibiotics, respiratory infections could only rely on the body’s natural healing. Healthy individuals could usually pull through, but Xiaosi was so young that it was heartbreaking to see him suffer.
Wei Lan pondered. In the long run, perhaps she could use her medical clinic, pharmacy, and available funds to develop simple antibacterial remedies. Allicin from garlic, for example, had limited effects but might provide some relief.
As for penicillin, she understood the principles behind it, but developing it in this era would be incredibly challenging. Still, she thought, what if it worked? Even if there was only a one-in-ten-thousand chance, it would be worth trying.
Xiaosi saw Wei Lan and weakly whispered, “Big sister…” His voice was barely audible, filled with exhaustion.
Wei Lan gently touched his forehead—it was burning hot. Her biggest concern was whether he had developed pneumonia. She carefully observed his complexion and breathing. His face was flushed, and his breathing was slightly rapid but still steady.
Next, she took out a homemade stethoscope and placed it lightly on his chest and back, holding her breath as she listened carefully. When she confirmed that there were no noticeable crackling sounds in his lungs, she finally sighed in relief—this meant there was no immediate lung infection, and pneumonia was not a concern for now.
Finally, she took his pulse. Thanks to Liu Mingyi’s guidance, she had become quite skilled in pulse diagnosis. Xiaosi’s pulse was fast and somewhat tight, easily detectable with slight pressure. This indicated an external invasion of wind-cold, causing an imbalance in his body’s defensive function.
Wei Lan understood that this was a typical wind-cold flu. While it hadn’t progressed to pneumonia, it still required careful treatment.
She took a piece of paper, thought for a moment, and wrote down a prescription for Jingfang Baidu San, a traditional remedy for wind-cold illnesses. She handed it to Zhou Damei and said gently, “It’s just a cold from the wind chill. He needs to be properly nourished. Take this prescription to the pharmacy, brew the medicine, and give it to Xiaosi to drink.”
Zhou Damei took the prescription with regret on her face. “It was because he got caught in the rain yesterday and didn’t change his clothes in time. That’s how he got sick.” Her voice trembled with guilt, and her eyes turned red.
Wei Lan sighed and reassured her, “Don’t blame yourself too much. Children have weak constitutions and will inevitably get sick. Just make sure to keep him warm and wipe his body with warm water.”
She added, “If his fever doesn’t go down, give him some ginger water to induce sweat. That might help.”
After Zhou Damei left, Xiaosi suddenly croaked out, “Big sister, I don’t want to drink medicine.” His little eyebrows furrowed, his eyes full of resistance.
Wei Lan’s heart softened at his pitiful expression. She reached into her medical bag and pulled out a small packet of snacks. With a smile, she said, “Look, I brought you some sweet and sour hawthorn candy. If you drink your medicine like a good boy, you can have some as a reward!”
Xiaosi’s eyes lit up instantly. He loved that flavor! Ever since Wei Lan gave him a bag of hawthorn candy last time, he had been craving it. His grandmother could make pastries, but nothing compared to the ones from Old Tang’s restaurant.
“Can I have a taste now?” Xiaosi asked hopefully, looking at Wei Lan with big, expectant eyes.
Wei Lan couldn’t bear to refuse him, so she broke off a small piece and placed it in his mouth.
Xiaosi chewed, then muttered, “I wish medicine tasted like this.”
Wei Lan chuckled. This child is so innocent.
But his words suddenly sparked an idea in her mind. She had been thinking about how to promote their new pharmacy branch, racking her brain for the perfect marketing strategy.
Looking at the hawthorn candy in her hand, she suddenly had an epiphany—why not create medicinal snacks? These could be both delicious and beneficial for health, making them the perfect signature product!
She recalled meeting Miss Tang, the second daughter of the Tang family, whose pastry skills were extraordinary. If Miss Tang could turn ordinary ingredients into such delightful treats, she could surely make medicinal confections. If they collaborated—Wei Lan providing the herbal formulas and Miss Tang handling the flavors—they could create a series of medicinal delicacies that would be wildly popular!
Wei Lan remembered how, in her childhood, doctors would give out tiny, sweet medicinal tablets—actually oral vaccines for polio, invented by Professor Gu Fangzhou. His work had saved countless children from paralysis.
She grew more excited. If they could turn medicine into tasty snacks like sugar pills or hawthorn treats, kids wouldn’t resist taking their medicine anymore!
She imagined a future where the pharmacy shelves were filled with various medicinal treats. Children would eagerly pick their favorite flavors, while parents felt reassured buying these healthy and delicious snacks.
She patted Xiaosi’s head and said with a smile, “Maybe one day, medicine really will taste as good as candy!”
Later, back at the medical clinic, Liu Mingyi was engrossed in an old medical book.
Wei Lan, rubbing her tired shoulders, asked, “Mingyi, do you know any medicinal snacks we can make? While taking care of Xiaosi today, I suddenly thought—if we could make delicious medicinal pastries, wouldn’t that be amazing?”
Liu Mingyi looked up and smiled. “I just read about one.”
He was holding a copy of Wai Ke Zheng Zong, a classic Ming Dynasty surgical book by Chen Shigong. It detailed not only surgical treatments but also various health-preserving recipes.
Flipping to a page, Liu Mingyi said, “This book mentions a pastry called Eight-Treasure Cake. It’s said to nourish the spleen and stomach, benefiting overall health—perfect for children.”
Wei Lan’s eyes sparkled. “I’ve had that before! It’s soft, sweet, and melts in your mouth. I never knew it had such a long history!”
And thus, the idea of Eight-Treasure Cake was born.