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As dawn broke, Liu Mingyi slung his medicine chest over his back, ready to set out for consultations. Wei Lan, like a little shadow, followed closely behind him.
Liu Mingyi stopped, turned around with a smile, and said, “Miss Wei, I think you should start by reading a few medical books and learning the local language. At the very least, you need to recognize common medicinal herbs before accompanying me on house calls.”
Wei Lan pursed her lips, feeling a bit reluctant, though she knew he was right. She had always been interested in traditional Chinese medicine, but the thought of having to learn so much at once made her anxious.
Liu Mingyi brought over a stack of books—one, two, three… forming a towering pile on Wei Lan’s desk.
Seeing the mountain of books, a familiar fear of being overwhelmed by medical knowledge crept up on Wei Lan. These Chinese medical books looked even thicker than Western ones!
Liu Mingyi, however, simply chuckled. “You’re smart and quick-witted. I’m sure these books will be a breeze for you.” With that, he left gracefully.
The book on top, Compendium of Materia Medica, was as thick as three fingers and was the masterpiece of the renowned Ming Dynasty physician Li Shizhen. It systematically summarized medical knowledge from before his time, recording 1,892 medicinal substances. The book detailed the properties, uses, and applications of each herb, accompanied by 1,160 illustrations—truly a medical classic.
Flipping through the book, Wei Lan muttered, “These line drawings accurately depict the characteristics of the herbs, but without color, they feel like they’re missing something.”
Sighing, she lamented, “Traditional Chinese characters are such a headache.” But she didn’t give up. Gritting her teeth, she picked up a brush and began carefully copying the text, stroke by stroke.
“Woof!”
A sudden bark startled her. Looking up, she saw the hunter, Dan, standing at the doorway with his large yellow dog, Jiabao. The dog held a lifeless pheasant in its mouth.
Wei Lan’s eyes lit up—she had been wondering what to eat for meat today! She quickly put down the book and rushed over. “Jiabao, where did you get this chicken?”
Jiabao perked its ears and stood in a half-crouch, as if ready to flee at any moment. It watched Wei Lan warily, assessing whether she could be trusted.
Wei Lan gently stroked Jiabao’s head, and only then did the dog relax and release the pheasant into her hands.
“What a smart dog.” Wei Lan praised. Just as she was about to take the pheasant, it suddenly sprang to life, flapping its wings in a desperate bid for freedom—it had only been playing dead!
Jiabao reacted swiftly, lunging forward like a golden flash. Within moments, it caught the clever pheasant again and wagged its tail triumphantly, as if to say, See how amazing I am?
Wei Lan reached out once more, but this time, Jiabao refused to let go.
“Alright, alright, I’ll be careful this time,” she laughed and reassured it. Only then did Jiabao hand over the bird.
Wei Lan locked the pheasant in the kitchen coop. As she stepped outside, she noticed Dan was about to leave.
“Wait a minute, Brother Dan!” she called out. She had already noticed a bleeding wound on his arm.
“You’re hurt! Come inside and let me take care of it.” Without giving him a chance to refuse, she pulled him into the house.
Wei Lan quickly gathered supplies—an aged bottle of rice wine, an iron needle, and a roll of herbal-scented suturing thread. She rubbed the thread between her fingers; it was smooth and strong, though she wasn’t sure what material it was made from. The rice wine smelled weak, likely low in alcohol content, but there was no time to be picky. She soaked the needle and thread in the wine for basic sterilization.
Although Ming Dynasty medical conditions were limited, she was determined to mimic modern wound-cleaning and suturing techniques as much as possible to reduce the risk of infection.
She rolled up Dan’s sleeve, revealing a shallow wound embedded with debris. Bringing over a basin of boiled, cooled water, she began rinsing and wiping the wound. If the debris wasn’t cleaned properly, not only would healing be slow, but infection was inevitable.
“How did this happen?” she asked while cleaning.
“Scratched by a tree branch,” Dan replied casually.
“You should be more careful next time.” Wei Lan’s fingers lightly brushed the wound, causing Dan to feel a slight tickle—both on his skin and somewhere deeper in his heart.
Once the wound was clean, only a bit of blood oozed out. After disinfecting it with the wine, Wei Lan said, “The wound is about a finger’s length. I’ll stitch it up with two stitches—it’ll heal faster that way. It might hurt a little. Can you handle it?” Without local anesthetics like lidocaine, she had no choice but to suture it as is.
Dan didn’t hesitate. Pain was the least of his concerns.
Wei Lan sterilized the needle by passing it through a flame a few times, then carefully pierced his skin. As the needle entered, his arm muscles twitched, but he remained silent.
Tying the final knot, Wei Lan blew gently on the wound and said, “Done.”
Dan felt a surge of complicated emotions. Until today, he had never truly noticed Liu Mingyi’s younger sister. But in this humble little house, she had demonstrated both medical skill and a composed, confident demeanor. It made him see her in a new light.
Wei Lan had long noticed Dan’s tiger-skin cloak and couldn’t help but admire it. “That’s an impressive cloak.”
Dan said proudly, “I hunted it myself.”
Wei Lan was genuinely impressed. “You must be very skilled. Can you tell me how you caught the tiger?”
“It was a harsh winter,” Dan said, his voice tinged with nostalgia. “The mountains were sealed in snow, and even the tigers were starving. One night, it came down to a village and killed their only pig. For that family, losing the pig meant losing their livelihood.”
Wei Lan’s eyes softened with sympathy. “That must have been devastating for them.”
Dan nodded heavily. “The villagers gathered everyone to drive the tiger away, but it became enraged and charged at them.”
Wei Lan gripped her hands nervously. “And then?”
Dan’s eyes flickered with determination. “Then, I ended its life with my bow and dagger.” He lightly touched his abdomen, where a faint scar remained—a reminder of that deadly battle. His words were simple, but they painted a vivid picture of the fierce struggle.
Usually a man of few words, today Dan was surprisingly talkative.
As they chatted, they stepped out into the courtyard. A donkey was lazily chewing on grass, its back loaded with heavy bundles. Wei Lan asked curiously, “Where are you going?”
“To the city to sell furs.”
Wei Lan’s eyes sparkled as if she had just spotted a mountain of gold. “How much silver can you make? Is this something I could do too?”
Dan considered it seriously for a moment before shaking his head. “This isn’t work for someone with arms as thin as yours.”
Wei Lan put her hands on her hips, puffing out her chest. “Nonsense! I may be small, but I’m smart!”
Dan chuckled, his laughter muffled by his thick beard. “Then why not go ginseng hunting with your brother? I heard someone found a five-year-old ginseng root in Wuchuan Mountain and sold it for 36 taels of silver.”
Wei Lan’s eyes widened like saucers. “Thirty-six taels of silver?” She quickly did the math—20 taels could buy a storefront for a medical clinic, leaving her with 16 taels, which was enough to buy 160 Old Tang roasted chickens. She could feast for half a year!
Swallowing her excitement, she thought, Compared to following Liu Mingyi around all day exhausting myself, ginseng hunting seems like a much more profitable career.
Watching Dan leave, she called after him, “Brother Dan! Come visit often! If you ever get injured, you know where to find me~”
As Dan disappeared down the road, Wei Lan pondered a more serious issue—she needed better medical supplies. Without antibiotics and sterile materials, infections could become life-threatening.
She had to find a solution.