Chapter Eighteen: Something Seems a Little Off

As the saying goes, an expert only needs to make a move to reveal their skill. These few motions were far more adept than Zhang Qian's earlier hesitant attempts. Witnessing this, Zhang Qian felt a pang of insecurity and quickly offered a quiet compliment, “Imperial Physician Sun, your skills are remarkable! Had I known, I would have let you perform the surgery!”

“It’s not that I am particularly skilled, but rather that the Young Master’s knife is excellent!” Sun Anzu was unwilling to take credit, instead shaking his head and replying softly, “Never before, in all my work treating wounds, have I found it so easy to perform.”

As they spoke, he angled the blade again, turning it slowly along the edge of the wound. He gently excised the last thin layer of infected muscle, then lifted his head, his face full of anticipation, and urged Zhang Qian in a low voice, “I am finished here. If you are to remove the evil toxin, Young Master, please…”

“Rinse the wound thoroughly with saltwater twice. If you have any hemostatic medicine, you may apply a little as well,” Zhang Qian commanded loudly, recalling the emergency wound treatment procedures he had once seen as a volunteer. He then turned to his backpack, quickly pulling out a full strip of cephalosporin capsules.

This was his true source of confidence. Having lived in an era of rampant antibiotic use, until the government banned over-the-counter sales, cephalosporin capsules were a cure-all for orphans like him. From respiratory infections to injuries from fights, there was nothing he wouldn't treat with cephalosporins—if one strip wasn’t enough, he’d take another.

The bacteria of the Tang Dynasty, he reasoned, likely had not yet developed resistance. With these capsules in hand, he was confident he stood a good chance of suppressing the infection raging in the little fatty’s father's body.

“Immortal Master, this… what is this?” Sun Anzu was utterly astonished as his gaze fell upon the medicine strip—ten colorful capsules encased in transparent plastic. For a long moment, he was too shocked to utter a complete sentence.

“I’m not an immortal, nor do I dare accept such a title! Please, just call me by my name,” Zhang Qian replied with a smile, unwilling to put on airs before someone who had just demonstrated such deft surgical skill. He explained in a low voice, “As for this, though the capsules are a little squashed, the medicine is unaffected. It’s just right for treating wound infections.”

He swiftly cut the strip with scissors, tore open the foil backing, extracted two capsules—though misshapen from the pressure—and placed them in Ren Qiong’s mouth. He then took a cup of saltwater and gently coaxed the capsules down the man's throat.

“Just right, just right, Master Ren is truly blessed!” Sun Anzu blinked rapidly, forcing himself not to press further.

A fever that would not subside—just at that moment, two miraculous pills appeared and suppressed it within a quarter of an hour. A poison that was nearly incurable—ten more pills to dispel it. Master Ren’s good fortune was simply extraordinary! Whenever a life-saving remedy was needed, Young Master Zhang happened to have it on hand!

Performing surgery by rote for the first time, Zhang Qian was already exhausted, too tired to notice Sun Anzu’s reaction. As he checked Ren Qiong’s eyes and monitored his condition, he gave quick instructions: “The medicine should take effect in about an hour—half a shichen. For complete eradication of the infection, he’ll need to take it for at least three days. Have you applied the hemostatic powder? If so, suture the wound. You do know how to suture, don’t you? You have the necessary needles and thread?”

“Yes, yes, I have!” Sun Anzu, stunned by how quickly the ‘evil toxin’ could be expelled, nodded like a pecking chick, only then realizing what Zhang Qian had said. His eyes widened in disbelief as he exclaimed, “Suture—the wound can be stitched, like mending a garment?”

“Of course. Haven’t you ever done it?” Zhang Qian frowned, puzzled by Sun Anzu’s reaction.

“No, never!” Sun Anzu’s embarrassment was palpable; he flushed and replied in a small voice, “Please, Immortal—no, Young Master—teach me. Until now, I’ve only ever used a hot iron.”

“There’s not much to it. Just sew the skin together as you would cloth, but leave a gap underneath about the width of a chopstick for any blood to drain,” Zhang Qian explained, no longer surprised by the era’s doctors being unfamiliar with wound suturing.

He glanced at Ren Yingying, whose eyes were squeezed shut and whose brow was beaded with sweat, and then said with a smile, “Alright, open your eyes—the wound’s been handled. Go fetch a needle and thread for Physician Sun. Be sure to boil them before bringing them in!”

“Yes, yes, Immortal Master!” Relieved as if granted amnesty, Ren Yingying struggled to her feet and made her way out. She nearly collapsed crossing the threshold, saved only by Ren Quan’s quick reflexes outside.

“You too, get up. The wound has been treated!” Zhang Qian, exhausted and with no energy for sympathy, nudged Ren Chong, who was sprawled on the ground and on the verge of fainting. “Get up and take the medicine for your father. I’ll teach you how to use it!”

“Alright, alright!” Ren Chong groaned, opening his eyes and trying repeatedly to stand until he finally caught hold of Zhang Qian’s sleeve. “Immortal—Zhang, my legs are numb!”

“You’re hopeless!” Zhang Qian muttered, hauling him up and settling him onto a stool by the bed. He handed him the remaining strip of cephalosporin. “I just gave your father some. Give him two capsules, morning and evening, until they’re gone. Cut with scissors and take only the capsule inside. These are the ‘miracle pills’ you speak of.”

“Alright, alright!” Ren Chong nodded, only half understanding.

“And this!” Zhang Qian pulled out another half-strip of fever medicine, keeping only two pills for himself and handing the rest to Ren Chong. “One every three hours. If the fever—that is, the evil heat—doesn’t return, stop giving them. Use them sparingly; these are all I have, and once they’re gone, there will never be more!”

“Thank you, Brother Zhang!” Only then did Ren Chong realize the true value of the medicine. Clutching the capsules in both hands, he was about to kneel and kowtow in gratitude.

Zhang Qian quickly stopped him, shaking his head with a smile. “No need for that, or we can’t be friends. Put the medicine away. Go wash your face and change into clean clothes, or you’ll fall ill yourself after your father recovers.”

“No kneeling, no kneeling!” Ren Chong, both grateful and moved to tears, tucked the medicine into his inner pocket and straightened his back as he strode out.

From the age of twelve, he had been treated as a wastrel by his entire family. Though he never lacked for material things, he was shown no respect. Especially in his pursuit of a master, he had been the butt of countless jokes—only his half-sister, Ren Yingying, had ever shown him any real kindness.

But today, an extraordinary friend he’d met by chance had saved his father’s life and given him priceless medicine. How could he not feel overwhelming gratitude, or a sense of vindication?

Sighing as he watched the little fatty’s retreating back, Zhang Qian couldn’t help but feel a pang of sympathy.

He himself was an orphan, without parents or siblings, but he’d never experienced familial strife. As for the little fatty, apart from his father and the feisty Ren Yingying, who in the whole Ren family had ever truly cared for him?

“Young Master Zhang, forgive an old man for speaking out of turn,” came Sun Anzu’s voice just then, more formal than before and no longer claiming to be a junior.

“Go ahead, nothing is off limits,” Zhang Qian replied, puzzled.

“Then, if I may be so bold!” Sun Anzu washed his hands with saltwater and saluted with utmost respect. “Young Master Zhang, may I ask, how much of that miraculous medicine do you have left?”

“None!” Realizing Sun Anzu had his eye on the capsules, Zhang Qian immediately grew wary, raising his voice. “Didn’t you just see? I gave everything I had to Ren Chong!”

“Ah, good, good!” Sun Anzu smiled, saluted again, and then turned to carefully check the patient, his thoroughness leaving nothing to chance.