Mysterious Prescription

“Can’t go back… Isn’t that worse?” His throat felt as if it were stuffed with cotton, and his voice became somewhat hoarse. “Being a stranger here must be difficult, right? You’re not used to the food, the clothing, or the lifestyle. You’re treated like a monster. And yet, you still manage to smile every day?”

His eyes were filled with pity. Though he couldn’t fully understand her situation, he could imagine the feeling of being isolated and helpless. It must feel like being stranded on a deserted island, trying to blend in with the locals. It must be incredibly hard. But Wei Lan had done it.

Wei Lan walked over to the window and pushed open the wooden frame. The night breeze rushed in, carrying a hint of coolness. She pointed to the stars above: “Look at these stars. Some of them have been shining for hundreds of years. Just like how I can’t return to 2025, as long as what I do here is passed down, there will be people remembering me hundreds of years from now. At least I won’t have come in vain.”

She smiled gently, her tone carrying a sense of relief: “So whenever I think of it like this, I no longer feel lonely.”

Ming Yi walked over to her side and looked up at the starry sky. He understood now—Wei Lan couldn’t go back to the future, but her thoughts, her medical skills, her contributions, could be passed down through history and culture. Perhaps that was another form of “going home.” This was her motivation for persevering in this era.

“You’re not alone,” Ming Yi’s voice was so low it almost got drowned out by the wind.

Wei Lan turned around, the soft glow of the oil lamp casting a faint red tint on his ears, but his expression was serious. She felt a warmth in her heart, her nose a little sore. She lowered her head, secured the window latch, and whispered, “I know.”

Suddenly, Wei Lan felt a familiar presence behind her. She turned around sharply and found that Liu Ming Yi had silently appeared. His gaze was calm and profound.

Wei Lan’s cheeks flushed slightly, and she instinctively grabbed a thin booklet from the table, fanning it gently, trying to hide her inner fluster.

“By the way, Ming Yi Ge, do you know about Artemisinin?” She hurriedly changed the subject. “This is a prescription that modern scientists found in ancient medical texts, specifically for treating malaria. Ge Hong from the Eastern Jin Dynasty recorded the use of Artemisia annua juice in his ‘Zhou Hou Bei Ji Fang.’ Later, this discovery won a Nobel Prize. It’s like a top achievement in the medical field.”

Liu Ming Yi stepped back two paces, leaned against the medicine cabinet, and raised an eyebrow. “Since it’s an ancient remedy, how did it become your modern people’s achievement?”

“Because the ancients only recorded the phenomenon, while modern people have researched the principles behind it. It’s like how we now assess the effectiveness of prescriptions. Tu Youyou’s team tested over 2,000 ancient remedies, and ultimately found that Artemisia extract was the most effective in killing the malaria parasite. Now, this medicine is used worldwide and saves hundreds of thousands of lives every year.”

She paused for a moment, a hint of helplessness flashing in her eyes. She remembered the precious prescriptions hidden in the medical cases she had been reviewing today, especially Doctor Lin’s “28 Formula” for treating fractures. The secretive attitude towards passing down these prescriptions made her both understanding and helpless. If the world had protections for intellectual property, every penny made from the “28 Formula” could be shared with Doctor Lin, perhaps he wouldn’t be so stubborn.

“Shun Xing’s leg injury is almost healed.” Wei Lan said softly, her tone full of amazement. “Such a comminuted fracture could have healed poorly or not at all in modern times, yet a simple herbal remedy works so miraculously. If we could write the ’28 Formula’ into a book, it could benefit many more people.”

She looked up and met Liu Ming Yi’s gaze. He had been quietly listening. Wei Lan knew he understood her thoughts well.

“Why don’t you follow him while he collects herbs?” Liu Ming Yi suggested lightly, as if joking, “Maybe we can find some clues.”

“That’s not a bad idea!” Wei Lan grinned mischievously, her eyes sparkling.

Shun Xing took the task of tailing Zhou Da Hu. His light-footed skills were excellent, and in case he was discovered, he could run fast.

That day, he hid in the shadows and watched as Zhou Da Hu delivered a jade bracelet to the eldest daughter, handed some silver notes to the second daughter, and carried a whole box of ginseng to the third daughter. By evening, a new face, dressed in a golden-thread embroidered skirt, appeared.

Zhou Da Hu was living a lavish life, eating well, drinking spicy, and wearing gold and silver. No wonder he was so greedy. Shun Xing thought to himself: This guy probably spends most of his earnings on these women.

The most alarming part came after nightfall. First, there were the giggles of a woman, then strange sounds emerged. Shun Xing quickly climbed to the roof, pressed his ear against the roof tiles, trying to figure out what was going on. He heard the creaking of a wooden bed and strange water sounds.

He frowned, feeling uneasy all over, a chill running down his spine. He didn’t fully understand what those sounds meant, but it felt uncomfortable. He quickly withdrew, trying to reassure himself: It’s late at night, he shouldn’t be going out to gather herbs now.

In fact, Wei Lan had been right to send him. It was he who had caught the culprit in the poisoned well case. Liu Ming Yi had patted his shoulder and said, “You’re the best at following people.” At that time, Shun Xing had proudly held his head high. But now, he wished he weren’t so capable.

Finally, on the seventh morning, Zhou Da Hu set off with a bamboo basket, leaving the city. Shun Xing, like a mountain cat, followed behind, watching as Zhou Da Hu entered a remote wilderness. Zhou Da Hu looked around, saw no one, and pulled out a piece of black cloth from his chest. With a flick of his left hand, the cloth covered the ground, and with his right hand, the sickle moved so fast it left behind afterimages. In the blink of an eye, he had harvested a patch of herbs.

“This old fox!” Shun Xing nearly fell from the tree branch. Even though he was sharp-eyed, he couldn’t have seen that clearly! Zhou Da Hu, thinking no one was nearby, took such precautions. Harvesting herbs was like doing something sneaky. It was truly baffling.

Shun Xing marked the location and continued to follow. Only when Zhou Da Hu returned to Doctor Lin’s medical hut did he go back to the marked spot. Squatting in the muddy ground where the herbs had just been picked, Shun Xing felt troubled.

Within a five-step radius, there was dogtail grass, dandelions, and the most valuable were a few summer cypress plants. These were all very common herbs, nothing special. He had to collect one of each and take it back to report.

After hearing Shun Xing’s description, Wei Lan furrowed her brows: “Could it be that the most effective prescriptions require the most common herbs?”

She casually picked up a handful of dogtail grass and waved it, smiling, “Could it really be this that treats fractures?”

Liu Ming Yi asked, “Do you think Doctor Lin is alone at home? Is Zhou Da Hu usually at Changsha Prefecture?”

“Doctor Lin’s medical hut has been very quiet lately.” Shun Xing rubbed the edge of his teacup, “Zhou Da Hu opened a magnificent medical clinic in the city, tripled his consultation fees, and now the clinic is crowded with people seeking treatment.”

Liu Ming Yi paused, then said, “We’ll visit Doctor Lin another day. As for the ’28 Formula,’ we can directly ask him if he’s willing to share some details.”

Wei Lan nodded, feeling both concerned about Doctor Lin’s situation and increasingly curious about the secret of the “28 Formula.”

When Wei Lan and Liu Ming Yi visited Doctor Lin’s medical hut again, they found the door wide open, and it was eerily quiet inside. Wei Lan’s heart tightened, and she quickly walked in. She saw Doctor Lin lying in the rocking chair, staring blankly at the door.

The elderly man’s thin fingers twitched slightly on the armrest, and his cracked lips moved weakly, struggling to produce a faint sound: “Water…”

Liu Ming Yi quickly rushed into the inner room, flipped the teapot, and poured half a cup of water mixed with tea leaves. Wei Lan supported the elderly man’s neck and gently fed him the water, only then noticing a layer of salt crust around his collar. His clothes seemed to have gone unchanged for days.

Doctor Lin’s voice was weak, like it came from deep in his throat: “You’ve come.” His face was pale, and his body frail. He had clearly not eaten in several days.

Ming Yi broke off a piece of dry food he was carrying and fed it to Doctor Lin. He reluctantly ate a few bites, then shook his head and stopped.

Wei Lan couldn’t help but ask, “Where’s your disciple Zhou Da Hu? Why hasn’t he come to take care of you?”

Doctor Lin’s voice was almost inaudible: “He only asks me for the ’28 Formula.’ I told him the prescription is made from several herbs but didn’t tell him the key to preparation. He rarely comes now, only taking the medicine I prepared earlier.”

He pointed to the inner room, where a few packages of herbs wrapped in paper lay on the floor, and said in a low voice, “When these run out, I’ll be gone too.”

Wei Lan looked around and noticed several empty medicine jars piled in the corner, the stove cold, as if it hadn’t been used for a long time. She walked over, lifted the rice jar, and found only a few grains of millet stuck in the cracks at the bottom.

Her heart tightened, realizing that Doctor Lin’s situation was worse than it appeared. Zhou Da Hu had clearly intentionally withheld food and water from him, using this tactic to force him to reveal the secret of the ’28 Formula.’ Doctor Lin was old and frail, and Zhou Da Hu was using such means to manipulate him, soft and hard methods to pressure him into giving up the prescription.

Wei Lan grew anxious and said, “Doctor Lin, don’t say that. Why not come with us? We can take care of your food and water.”

Doctor Lin shook his head, his voice full of resignation: “Miss Wei, your heart is kind. But I know my time is short.” With that, he gave a subtle look, signaling that he wanted to speak with Ming Yi alone.

Wei Lan understood and quietly stepped outside. She stood in the courtyard, her gaze falling on the stone wall opposite. The cliff was called the “Thinking Over Cliff.” Doctor Lin had been staring at it—was he contemplating his actions?

Doctor Lin slowly raised his head, his eyes cloudy. “I heard your conversation last time.”

Ming Yi froze, then realized that it was probably a conversation from a few months ago in the courtyard with Wei Lan, where he had indeed mentioned “finding a way to get the prescription.” His face immediately turned red: “Please don’t misunderstand. We want to write the ’28 Formula’ into a medical book, signing it with your name, so future generations will know it was you who developed it.”

He paused, then added, “If you’re worried about the secret being leaked, we can sign an agreement. Through the pharmacies selling the ’28 Formula,’ we can share the profits with you. What do you think?”

Doctor Lin’s thin fingers tapped twice on the chair back. A strange flush appeared on his face, and his previously cloudy eyes seemed to brighten. His voice grew clearer: “Writing it into a book is fine! But this formula was not my own idea. The origin of the ’28 Formula’ dates back fifty years…”