Chapter 3: Under the Name Shen Wan

West Market, Capital City. Jishi Hall.

Before the sun had even fully risen, someone was pounding on the door.

Shopkeeper Sun threw on a robe and opened it to find a girl who looked as thin as a sheet of paper. She was dressed in dusty, coarse cloth, clutching an old medicine chest to her chest.

"Shopkeeper, are you hiring?"

"I'm not." Shopkeeper Sun started to close the door.

The girl jammed her foot into the gap. "I can read pulses."

"Where did this wild brat come from? Get lost, get lost."

"If I misdiagnose, I'll pay with my life," she said, looking up. "If I'm right, give me a bowl of porridge."

Shopkeeper Sun froze.

Suddenly, someone shouted from behind her: "Shopkeeper, help—!"

The tofu vendor from next door rushed over, clutching her grandson. The child was seizing from a fever, his eyes rolling back.

"It's been three days, and the fever won't break," the woman wailed. "We tried two prescriptions from Huichun Hall, but they didn't work. And I can't even get a foot in the door at the Imperial Medical Bureau."

Shopkeeper Sun felt the pulse and frowned. "Did you give him ginseng soup?"

"Two bowls."

"Damn." Chu Wan squatted down, peeling back the child's eyelid and prying open his mouth to check the tongue coating. "One more bowl and you'll be burning incense for him tonight."

"You—"

"The heat toxin is trapped inside. Ginseng soup is like kindling; the more you add, the hotter it burns."

She opened her chest and took out a needle.

Shopkeeper Sun grabbed her wrist. "Who do you think you are? You dare use needles in my shop?"

"My mother taught me." She yanked her hand back. "My mother is dead, but what she taught me remains."

"Who was your mother?"

"You wouldn't know her even if I told you." The needle had already pierced the child's webbing between thumb and index finger.

"Shopkeeper, go fetch the herbs. One tael of gypsum, six qian of Anemarrhena, three qian of licorice, and a pinch of non-glutinous rice. Three bowls of water, decoct it down to one."

Shopkeeper Sun didn't move.

The woman collapsed to her knees. "Shopkeeper, let her try! My grandson is dying—how am I supposed to live without him!"

Shopkeeper Sun gritted his teeth. "Fetch them!"

Half an hour after the medicine went down, the seizures stopped. The flush in the child's face faded by half, and a small moan escaped his throat.

The woman lunged forward. "Gou'er? Gou'er?"

The child opened his eyes. "Granny..."

The woman burst into loud, sobbing tears.

Shopkeeper Sun stood there, staring at the girl for a long time.

"What's your name?"

"Shen Wan."

"Where are you from?"

"Jiangnan. I'm a refugee."

"Was your mother a physician?"

"Yes." She looked down and began cleaning her needles, one by one. "My mother said that medicine isn't about extending a life, but about giving someone a chance."

"Who said that?"

"My mother."

"Did your mother have a name?"

Chu Wan looked up and smiled. "Shopkeeper, a bowl of porridge."

Shopkeeper Sun looked at her for a long while, then turned and walked into the back kitchen.

"No porridge, but I have noodles." He brought out a bowl. "Starting today, you'll hold clinic here. Room and board included, thirty wen a month."

"Fifty."

"You've got a nerve, bargaining."

"I'm worth it."

Ten days later.

A messenger arrived from the Duke of Ding's Manor. The steward's surname was Zhou, and the moment he stepped inside, he barked, "Shopkeeper Sun, can you fill the Old Madame's prescription or not?"

"I can, of course I can."

"It's useless even if you do." Steward Zhou sighed. "The Imperial Medical Bureau wrote the prescription. She's been taking it for half a month, but she still coughs at night—coughs up blood."

Shopkeeper Sun's hand stopped on his abacus.

Chu Wan was grinding medicine behind the counter. Without looking up, she asked, "When she coughs, is it a dry cough first, and then a streak of blood in the phlegm at the very end?"

Steward Zhou blinked. "Who are you?"

"The physician on staff."

"A little girl? Why are you asking this?"

"She coughs at night, but not during the day, right?"

Steward Zhou went silent.

"And it gets worse in the early hours of the morning, to the point where she has to sit up?"

"...Yes."

"If you press on the right side of her chest, does it hurt?"

Steward Zhou took a half-step back. "How... how do you know that?"

Chu Wan put down the pestle. "Because the Imperial Medical Bureau is treating her lungs, but the sickness is in her liver."

Shopkeeper Sun turned pale. "Shen Wan!"

"Shopkeeper, does the Old Madame's prescription contain lily bulb, Ophiopogon, and Fritillaria?"

"How could you—"

"The more she takes, the more she coughs," she said. "The yin-nourishing herbs are trapping the fire inside. It has nowhere to go."

Steward Zhou stared at her. "Come with me."

"I'm not going."

"What did you say?"

"I said I'm not going." She looked down and continued grinding. "I'm the physician here; I get fifty wen a day. If I leave, there's no one to take my place. If the Manor wants a doctor, invite Shopkeeper Sun."

Shopkeeper Sun waved his hands frantically. "I'm not going, I'm not going! With my meager skills, the moment I step into the Duke's Manor, my legs will turn to jelly."

"Then bring a sedan chair to invite me," Chu Wan said.

Steward Zhou was stunned.

"The Old Madame's condition won't last more than seven days." She poured the powder into a jar. "Within seven days, you'll be back."

Steward Zhou's expression shifted several times before he flicked his sleeve and stormed out.

Shopkeeper Sun slammed the table. "You brat, you're asking for death! That's the Duke of Ding's Manor!"

"I know."

"You know and you still—"

"Shopkeeper." Chu Wan looked up. "If I deliver myself to their door, I'm a servant. If they come to invite me, I'm a doctor."

Shopkeeper Sun opened his mouth, but after a long pause, he only managed: "Your mother taught you that?"

"My mother taught me."

On the night of the fifth day, a sedan chair from the Duke of Ding's Manor stopped at the door of Jishi Hall.

Steward Zhou came personally, his face as black as a锅底. "Miss, the Manor requests your presence."

Chu Wan was grinding medicine under the lamp. "Is the Old Madame coughing again?"

"She's coughed for three days. Last night, she spat up half a bowl of blood."

"Not even seven days yet." She closed her medicine chest. "Let's go."

Duke of Ding's Manor, West Courtyard.

The old woman lay reclined on a couch, her complexion a sickly grey-blue. The room was crowded. Standing by the bed was a young man in a moon-white robe, his brow furrowed deep.

"This is her?" The young man looked up. "Zhou Shun, you picked up a girl from the street to treat my grandmother?"

"Third Master, the ones from the Imperial Medical Bureau..."

"If the Imperial Medical Bureau can't cure her, we should seek a true expert, not someone of unknown origin."

Chu Wan set down her chest and stood in silence.

The old woman opened her eyes, her voice raspy. "How old?"

"Sixteen."

"How many years of study?"

"My mother taught me for seven years, and I studied for two."

"So it's only been two years?"

"Two years is enough to cure a patient."

Someone in the room chuckled.

Chu Wan didn't smile. She walked over, lifted the old woman's sleeve, and pressed the inside of her forearm. "Does it hurt here?"

The old woman hissed.

"And here?" She pressed under the armpit.

"It hurts."

She stepped back half a pace. "Third Master, your grandmother doesn't have a lung disease. It's liver stagnation turning into fire. The fire is rushing upward, forcing blood out of the lungs. For the past six months, has she often been unable to sleep at midnight and prone to temper tantrums during the day?"

The young man froze. "How do you—"

"The Imperial Medical Bureau's prescription, I assume, is to clear the lungs. The more they clear, the more they block."

"What do you know?"

"I don't know much." Chu Wan took a packet of herbs from her chest. "I only know how to cure."

"Wait—"

"Third Master." She turned around. "If I misdiagnose, you can send me to the Ministry of Justice and have me beheaded; I won't cry foul. But if I'm right?"

"What do you want?"

"Twenty taels of silver. Also, I want to stay at the Manor for ten days to oversee the Old Madame's medication."

The young man stared at her for a long time, then smiled. "You certainly know how to set a price."

"I'm worth it."

The old woman on the couch suddenly laughed. "This girl is interesting."

The young man bowed. "Grandmother."

"Let her treat me."

"Grandmother—"

"I said let her treat me!" The old woman gasped for air. "If I let those people from the Imperial Medical Bureau 'clear' these old bones any further, I'll truly be gone."

Three days.

The old woman could sit up, could drink porridge, and only coughed once or twice at night.

On the fourth day, the Manor hosted a banquet.

Chu Wan was packing her chest in the west wing when she heard music and cheering from the front courtyard. She asked the little maid delivering medicine, "Are there guests at the Manor?"

"Several have arrived," the maid whispered. "Vice Minister Cui of the Ministry of Justice, and the Chief Steward of Prime Minister Pei's estate. They've all come to see the Old Madame."

Chu Wan's fingers stopped on a packet of herbs.

The words "Prime Minister Pei" were like needles piercing her ears.

"Miss?"

"It's nothing." She looked down. "Vice Minister Cui... which one is he?"

"The one who led the raid on the Jing'an Marquis's Manor three years ago," the maid said casually. "He's very influential now; I heard he's due for a promotion."

"Oh."

"Miss, why are your hands shaking?"

"The medicine got cold." She gripped the packet tight. "I'll take it over now."

Lanterns hung along the corridor.

Chu Wan carried the medicine tray, walking with her head down.

A group of people approached. The leader wore a scarlet robe; he was in his forties with a layer of stubble on his chin and a face full of wrinkles when he smiled.

She stopped and stepped back against a pillar, lowering her head.

The man in scarlet walked past, then suddenly stopped and turned back.

"You."

Chu Wan didn't move.

"Look up."

She looked up.

Cui Ming narrowed his eyes at her. "Unfamiliar face. New here?"

"Yes, My Lord. I am the physician invited by the Manor."

"A physician." He looked her up and down. "How old?"

"Sixteen."

"Where from?"

"Jiangnan."

Cui Ming watched her for a moment, then suddenly smiled. "A physician from Jiangnan. You look a bit like someone from the past."

Chu Wan's hand was under the tray, nails digging into her palm.

"Who does she look like, My Lord?" an aide asked playfully.

"A dead ghost." Cui Ming waved her off. "Go on, go on."

Chu Wan curtsied and carried the tray past him.

After three steps, she heard Cui Ming say one more thing behind her.

"By the way, another honored guest arrives today. Prime Minister Pei's newly adopted daughter will be here shortly."

"Oh? What kind of woman could catch the Prime Minister's eye?"

Cui Ming laughed. "The one who informed on the Jing'an Marquis's Manor three years ago. The second miss of the Chu family. She doesn't use the name Chu anymore; she's a Pei now."

Chu Wan stopped dead.

The wind in the corridor made the medicine tray rattle softly.

"Miss?" the little maid looked back.

She lowered her head, took two steps forward, and stopped again.

The front courtyard was brightly lit and noisy.

A small sedan chair landed outside the second gate, and the curtain was lifted.

A woman was helped out, dressed in peach-red, a golden hairpin swaying on her head.

She lifted her face.

Chu Wan recognized that face.

Back at the Marquis's Manor, this person always loved to sneak into her mother's pharmacy to steal candied fruits, calling her "little sister" whenever they met.

"Little sister, you're so frail, don't go outside."

"Little sister, let me keep your mother's medicine chest for you."

"Little sister..."

Chu Wan looked down at the bowl of medicine in her hand.

The dark brown liquid was steaming.

She walked forward a few steps, passing the woman in the corridor.

"Sister," the woman suddenly stopped and looked back at her. "Your face is very unfamiliar."

Chu Wan kept her eyes down. "I am the physician invited by the Manor."

"Oh." The woman smiled. "Look up so I can see you."

Chu Wan looked up.

Under the lanterns, their eyes met.

The smile on the woman's face stiffened for a second, then softened again. "...You look like a sister of mine."

"Is that so," Chu Wan said.

"She's dead."

"What a coincidence." Chu Wan held the tray, her voice very soft. "I have a hard fate; I bring bad luck to my kin."

The woman stared at her, and the smile vanished.

The wind swept through the corridor, making the lanterns flicker.

Chu Wan curtsied, turned, and walked into the depths of the light, her silhouette as thin as a needle.

In her mind, she was counting.

Cui Ming, Prime Minister Pei, and this "sister" who had changed her name.

One by one.

She carried the medicine and knocked on the old woman's door.

"Old Madame, your medicine is here."

A voice came from inside: "Come in."

The moment she pushed the door open, she held the medicine bowl a little steadier.

—The twelve gates of the Capital City; she was in.

The name Chu Wan died today.

The one who lived was Shen Wan.

An orphan with a medicine chest, walking into the Duke's Manor.

She was going to peel this Capital City open, layer by layer, from the bottom up.