Chapter 4

The next morning, Jiang Zichun, after breakfast, told Bailan he would go into the city. Their household supplies of remedies for headaches, fevers, and injuries were running low, and since no one had requested a house call that morning, he would take the opportunity to replenish their stock.

Although they didn’t farm to make a living, the family had a few small plots of land. Jiang Zichun had planted a small vegetable garden, and the rest was used for herbs.

The herbs were easy to grow but worth little money. Once harvested, they were either sold to the city’s pharmacies for silver or exchanged for household medicine.

Bailan had harvested some herbs yesterday to sell in the city, so with his father gone, he had free hands and set about his tasks.

Feeling slightly better, he lingered in bed for another hour before rising.

He took a small hoe and went to weed the herb plots. The mugwort in the field had grown lush and thick. If neglected, someone might steal a few plants—though not worth much, losing even a little would reduce the harvest.

It was the same principle as worrying about someone digging up melons or stealing vegetables in the village.

Whenever his father had time, he would tidy up the herb garden. There weren’t many weeds to hoe, so Bailan’s trip had been almost in vain.

Still, he longed to go through all the familiar tasks he had done before. Even at home, he couldn’t sit idle, so he grabbed a small basket and decided to try his luck in the mountains.

As the saying goes, “live off the mountain you rely on.” Even a family of herbalists like theirs needed more than the small amount of herbs they grew and the fees from treating patients. To supplement the household, they had to go into the mountains to collect wild herbs.

Mountain herbs were scattered and rarer than those grown in the garden, but they were generally more valuable. City pharmacies liked to buy them, and there were even people who made a living solely by collecting herbs in the wild. Similar to hunters, they would stay in the mountains for long periods, accumulating enough herbs to bring down to sell in the city.

However, this was mostly the work of half-trained physicians who knew the herbs but could not actually diagnose or treat patients. Those skilled in medicine seldom did this; it was grueling, unstable work, and anyone with better prospects would avoid it.

Spring planting was just over, and farmers had a little free time—less hectic than the planting season itself. On his way up the mountain, Bailan met several villagers gathering firewood.

When they saw him, they called out a greeting. “Master Bailan!”

Bailan smiled warmly, chatting briefly with his neighbors as he made his way uphill.

“Bailan! Bailan!”

Suddenly, urgent voices pierced the air. Everyone turned to see a burly woman running toward them, waving her hands—the village butcher, Mrs. Qin.

“Master Jiang! My Erniu’s stomach is hurting badly. Can Master Jiang come take a look?”

Bailan shook his head. “It’s unfortunate. My father left for the city early this morning. He won’t be back for a while.”

The woman’s forehead beaded with sweat. “What can I do? Master Jiang isn’t home, and I don’t know when he’ll return. The boy’s little face is pale with pain.”

Bailan tightened the straps of his small basket and noticed how she nervously paced the slope, genuinely worried for her child. He offered comfort: “Auntie, why not call a doctor from another village? My father won’t be back anytime soon.”

Hearing this, the woman grew even more anxious. A round trip to another village could take several hours, and who knew if the doctor would even be home? She pondered for a moment, then her eyes lit up. “Bailan, would you come with me instead?”

Bailan frowned slightly. “I’ve never treated patients before. Are you sure, Auntie?”

She grabbed his arm. “You’ve been learning from Master Jiang since you were little. You’ve been the one to prepare herbs for headaches, fevers, or stopping bleeding and bruises. Just take a look—our boy is in a lot of pain.”

Bailan pressed his lips together, then glanced at the villagers watching expectantly. Since everyone could see that it was Mrs. Qin asking him for help, and he had a personal motive too, he finally agreed. “Alright, I’ll take a look. If my father comes back later, it will be easier to explain things to him.”

The woman finally exhaled and nodded in relief.

Bailan followed her to the Qin household. The couple was strong and formidable, making a good living from butchering pigs. Their courtyard was large and well-kept—a household the villagers respected and did not dare offend. Just seeing the couple with their two large butcher knives was enough to intimidate people.

“Erniu, Bailan’s here to check on you!”

As soon as he entered the yard, Bailan heard the boy’s wails from inside. Mrs. Qin dashed in, fussing over him as if the pain were her own.

Although the Qin family was well-off, they had only one child, whom they doted on endlessly.

Bailan checked the boy’s pulse and examined the plump eight- or nine-year-old, who was lying on the bed, his wrists even thicker than Bailan’s own.

He withdrew his hands and asked Mrs. Qin, “Has he vomited or had diarrhea?”

“No, he just keeps holding his stomach.”

Bailan gently pressed the boy’s belly. “Erniu’s discomfort is due to bloating and food accumulation. Has he been eating a lot of meat lately?”

Mrs. Qin nodded repeatedly. “We butchered a pig recently. The weather is warm, and leftover meat tends to spoil. We’ve been eating it at home almost every day, and yesterday we slaughtered another pig.”

Bailan thought it through. “Give him some calamus and garlic to aid digestion and break down the meat. For now, no more heavy meals—keep it light and easy to digest.”

He added, “For bloating, massage the abdomen with salt fried in white lead powder.”

He demonstrated the massage technique and pressure points for Mrs. Qin. She followed his instructions carefully, impressed with both his knowledge and skill.

When he finished, Bailan stood. “That’s all for now. If Erniu isn’t better tomorrow or you’re unsure, wait until my father returns to come again.”

Mrs. Qin politely saw him off. “If the boy still cries tomorrow, I’ll trouble Master Jiang again. Thank you so much today, Bailan.”

Bailan waved his hand lightly.

“Bailan can treat patients now? Where’s his father? Don’t say anything wrong.”

Erniu’s grandmother had come over to check on him and happened to see Mrs. Qin sending Bailan off.

“Master Jiang’s skill isn’t worse than the city doctors. He wouldn’t let the boy suffer unnecessarily, and Bailan explained everything so clearly.”

“Since he’s our only child, we’ll be careful.”

“Master Jiang is out. Who knows when he’ll return? I’ll follow Bailan’s instructions. If it doesn’t work, we’ll see him later—by then, everyone should be back.”

With that, Mrs. Qin called her mother inside to give the boy the medicine.

Bailan had originally intended to go to the mountains, but now his plan had been delayed. By the time he left the Qin household, the sun was already high. Still, he had brought provisions and didn’t want them to go to waste. Hesitating briefly, he picked a lotus leaf by a pond and placed it over his head before heading toward the mountain.

At this time, few people were heading up the mountain. Those who went early had already gathered two bundles of firewood and were carrying them down. Bailan walked quickly, but he felt footsteps behind him.

He turned and saw a young man, head slightly lowered, with a somewhat awkward expression, keeping a moderate distance behind him.

Bailan didn’t know when the man had started following him, but the path from the village to the mountain was well-trodden. It wasn’t unusual for someone to walk the same way, so he said nothing and continued up the slope.

After about half an hour, he realized the man was still following him. Normally, those gathering firewood or hunting would head toward dense forested areas, while herb collectors went to sunlit, overgrown areas. But this man hadn’t diverged from Bailan’s path—it seemed he was deliberately following him.

The mountain was sparsely populated, and caution was necessary. Seeing that the man looked familiar and was from the village, Bailan asked, “Brother, are you here to gather firewood or hunt?”

The man replied simply, “I’m following you.”

Bailan frowned. “Following me? For what purpose?”

The man, speaking awkwardly, said, “My father and yours matched our birth dates. They said we’re compatible. Since you’ve promised me, I’m to watch over you.”

Bailan’s heart skipped a beat. He guessed this must be Liu family’s fifth son his father had mentioned. Yet looking at this seemingly honest young man, it was shocking to hear such presumptuous words.

Still, Bailan spoke politely. “There must be some misunderstanding. My father hasn’t promised me to anyone. Don’t let this delay Liu Wuge from finding a suitable spouse.”

The man ignored Bailan’s tact and continued: “The Jiang family may be poor, but you’re beautiful, and I like you. In the future, if you bear me two sons, you won’t need to climb mountains gathering herbs or sell them in the city. You could stay home, care for the children, and manage the household. You’d never go hungry.”

The words hit Bailan like a stone to the chest. He almost couldn’t breathe.

In these prosperous times, laws were enlightened. Sons and daughters could freely go to the marketplace, do business, and earn money—something that brought honor rather than shame. Even official families often managed shops and property. It had been many years since anyone had spoken as presumptuously as Liu Wuge did.

Bailan said firmly, “I am the son of an herbalist family. I’ve always enjoyed going up the mountain to collect herbs and never found it burdensome. Liu Wuge, please don’t speak like this again. I am my father’s only son, and I still wish to honor him for another two years. I have no intention of marriage yet, and I fear I would disappoint your goodwill.”

“The Liu family is unmatched in the village. My father is a wealthy landlord, and my older brother works in the city in an official’s mansion. If you pass me by, where else could you find someone better?”

Liu Wuge was quiet in the village, rarely chatting with neighbors. Though not as smooth as his older brother in the city, he was tall and often helped his father manage the village fields, earning a reputation among the villagers as dependable and hardworking. In some ways, the villagers preferred him over his elder brother for marriage alliances.

Yet Bailan had never expected this honest, simple man to speak with such self-satisfaction.

He had no marriage plans and, now knowing Liu Wuge’s character, found the idea even more unbearable.

“Family wealth is secondary. The important thing is whether two people are compatible. I fear Liu Wuge and I could never get along. We are perhaps fated but not meant for each other.”

With that, Bailan turned and walked away.

Liu Wuge, left standing, realized he had been rejected. Even without further understanding, it was clear. Still, he did not pursue Bailan. He simply stood there, his honest-looking face tilted upward, muttering, “If you dare not agree, your father and you will not live comfortably in the village.”