Chapter Forty-One: Li Shimin

Unable to go outside, Yun Hao could only wander around the pharmacy. Being small, no one paid him much attention, so he roamed about, peering here and there. Whenever he came across some Chinese medicine or object he didn’t recognize, he never forgot to ask about it.

“Brother Ye! What is this ‘beam dust’?” Yun Hao had spotted a box in a corner labeled ‘beam dust’ and asked curiously. Could earth really cure illnesses? He knew about ‘Guanyin clay’, which could kill if eaten, but he had no idea what ‘beam dust’ was, not in this life or his previous one.

“Oh! Beam dust is just the fine gray dust found atop house beams, used especially to treat hanging!” Brother Ye was the youngest apprentice in the shop, only three or four years older than Yun Hao. Over the past couple of days, they’d grown quite close.

“Hanging? What kind of illness is that?” Yun Hao found the ailment rather odd and inquired out of curiosity.

“Hanging, as in hanging oneself. Go play somewhere else, I’m busy.” Brother Ye gave Yun Hao a friendly shove and went back to dispensing medicine.

Good heavens! What kind of prescriptions did ancient Chinese medicine have? Whoever came up with this ought to have been strangled by their own family. He’d never heard of anyone being cured after hanging themselves, let alone with dust from a beam. Even if you used earth from the king of hell’s own house, could you bring a hanged man back?

They say the theories of Chinese medicine are vast and profound, with all that talk about the five organs being yin and the six viscera being yang, and the heart, liver, spleen, lungs, and kidneys corresponding to metal, wood, water, fire, and earth. It all sounded mysterious enough. But in practice, it was even more fantastical. The revered “Yellow Emperor’s Inner Canon” had been twisted into something straight out of a fantasy novel.

The pharmacy was filled with all sorts of strange medicines. As Yun Hao looked around, he spotted quite a few spices. Weren’t these things used for cooking in modern times? Why were they being used as medicine here?

As he was puzzling over this, suddenly a large crowd burst in, carrying a door panel. At their head was a man wielding a broadsword, his face ashen and grim. With a kick, he sent someone blocking the doorway sprawling to the ground and shouted, “Divine Physician Zhang! Divine Physician Zhang! Save him, quickly!”

The pharmacy was instantly thrown into chaos, as if a pack of weasels had invaded a chicken coop. The common folk most feared these rough men who lived by the sword. At the sight of them, the sick abandoned their treatments and scattered like startled birds and beasts. Yet, once outside, they didn’t leave but clustered at the entrance, peering in to see which important person had met with trouble.

In these times, a pharmacy was much like a future hospital. The shopkeeper doubled as the consulting physician, often prescribing medicines after a quick pulse diagnosis. So, it wasn’t uncommon for patients with urgent illnesses to be brought directly to the pharmacy.

On the stretcher lay a man, covered by a garment, his head hanging down, the fabric stained with blood so that his face was unrecognizable.

Zhang Wenzhong hurried out on hearing the commotion, and, recognizing the man at the front with the broadsword, demanded impatiently, “Who are you people? No matter how serious the illness, you can’t just drive out the other patients!”

“Please, Divine Physician Zhang, don’t be angry. I am Changsun Wuji. This is the second son of the Duke of Tang, the military governor of Taiyuan. We were out hunting when we encountered a giant bear. His back…” As Changsun Wuji spoke, he lifted the garment from the man on the stretcher.

At the mention of the Duke of Tang’s second son, Yun Hao’s eyes lit up. Could it be Li Shimin? The name Changsun Wuji also rang a bell—he’d often heard it in television dramas about Empress Wu, where Changsun Wuji was said to be her greatest nemesis, nearly killing her. Li Shimin, gravely wounded? This was something to witness.

Zhang Wenzhong, hearing it was the Duke of Tang’s son, dared not be negligent and hurried over to take a closer look.

Li Shimin was a robust man, but his back had been raked open by the bear’s claws, leaving several gashes half a foot long. Skin and muscle were flayed to the sides, raw and red. Blood had flowed so freely it was impossible to tell how much had been lost; the man seemed on the brink of death.

Zhang Wenzhong was taken aback. Such a grave wound was almost hopeless. He pressed lightly on the wound—thankfully, the bones were intact. But even that light touch made fresh blood well up. Li Shimin lay face-down, his complexion yellow as gold leaf, unconscious. When Zhang placed a hand beneath his nose, he could barely feel a thread of breath—little different from a corpse.

“The young master’s injuries are too severe, I fear…” Zhang Wenzhong sighed. He was powerless in the face of such wounds. If the Duke of Tang’s son died in his shop, it would be a dreadful business, especially if Li Yuan held a grudge—he’d die a death worse than a pig’s. Zhang felt compelled to state the harsh truth up front, lest he be blamed in the future.

“Divine Physician Zhang, they say you’re the best doctor in Taiyuan. You must try to save him, I beg you.” Changsun Wuji fell to his knees, kowtowing with a resounding thud. The first among the heroes of Lingyan Pavilion—his loyalty was beyond question.

“Enough, get up!” Zhang Wenzhong helped Changsun Wuji to his feet and said, “Though I can use needles to stop the bleeding, these wounds are too long and won’t heal easily. And though summer has passed, the weather is still hot. With such lengthy wounds, there’s sure to be swelling and suppuration, and poison will enter the organs. He’ll die an agonizing death, beyond all hope.”

“This…!” Changsun Wuji was at a loss. He and Li Shimin had gone hunting today, never imagining they’d encounter such a monstrous bear in the woods. Had the guards not risked their lives to save them, Li Shimin might have been torn apart on the spot.

“These wounds can be treated—so long as you can stop the bleeding, I can save his life!” As the two despaired, a crisp young voice suddenly rang out. Turning, they saw it was a child of only seven or eight, with fair skin and a lovable face.

“Out of my way!” Changsun Wuji was furious. The great Divine Physician Zhang was at a loss, and here was a child claiming he could save a life? He wanted nothing more than to cut the boy down on the spot.

But Zhang Wenzhong’s eyes lit up. Yun Hao had amazed him before, and in the past few days he’d been tinkering in the courtyard, always steaming something or other with firewood. Zhang had been too busy to investigate, otherwise he’d have gone to see what exactly the boy was up to.

“You can cure him? Mind you don’t boast—this is the Duke of Tang’s second son. If you fail, your life won’t be enough to repay it.” Zhang Wenzhong was suspicious, but something told him the boy might be telling the truth.

“Hurry and use your needles to stop the bleeding! If this goes on, even a bull would bleed to death—no immortal could save him then.” Yun Hao said urgently.

It was obvious Li Shimin had already lost too much blood. The best thing would be a transfusion, but where could he get needles and equipment for that? Besides, blood transfusions required matching blood types—who on earth knew what Li Shimin’s blood type was?

“Hands off! Anyone who moves, I’ll take his life!” Changsun Wuji drew his broadsword and stood guard over Li Shimin. He could not accept a mere child treating him.

“Wuji, do not be rude!” Suddenly, a voice of authority rang out from behind Changsun Wuji.