Chapter 1: Emerging from Seclusion

Shunyi Alley was the most famous urban village in Yuehu City. Talk of demolition had lasted over a decade, yet nothing ever happened. The narrow street, barely wide enough for a single car, was crowded with stalls selling braised snacks, spicy hotpot stands, and all manner of illegal makeshift towel racks. The already congested traffic would come to a complete standstill whenever anything occurred.

Zhang Shen sat amid a row of towel racks, cradling a bowl of noodles. He ate calmly, watching the chaos unfolding not far away. A crowd of baffled uncles and aunts blocked the alley, craning their necks as if watching a drama. Among them lay a man in tattered clothes, rolling on the ground for several minutes, eyes turned white and foam seeping from his mouth.

The crowd grew denser, the curses louder. Those at the back, after venting their anger, pushed forward, only to become just like those in front.

Such was the nature of spectators.

Zhang Shen shook his head, slurped down the last mouthful of noodle soup, pulled out five yuan and placed it on the table. "Check, please." Then he strode toward the throng, frowning and using his hands to push aside the greasy bodies. "Make way, make way... I'm a doctor!"

Hearing someone take charge, the crowd quickly opened a passage, several phone cameras immediately pointed at him.

Zhang Shen sighed inwardly, but his face remained composed. He squatted beside the homeless man, turned his wrist, and caught the man's pulse. After a moment, he confirmed his diagnosis.

A minor epileptic seizure—almost too easy.

He sat cross-legged on the spot, took out his box of silver needles, his fingers moving deftly. One needle pierced the Fengchi point behind the ear, another the Shuigou point beneath the nose. He twisted them gently, then withdrew his hand and slapped the man's chest with a "whump."

The silver needles vibrated with a hum, bouncing out and landing perfectly between his fingers.

Zhang Shen flicked his wrist, letting the bead of blood fall from the needle. He took a cotton ball from the box, carefully wiped the needles clean, and put them away.

He glanced at the homeless man lying on the ground. The man's complexion had returned to a healthy flush; he seemed fine.

Just as Zhang Shen rose to leave, the man suddenly opened his eyes and, with surprising strength, grabbed Zhang Shen's arm. "Hey! Who gave you permission to save me?"

"Uh?"

Zhang Shen frowned again, packing up his tools as he waved dismissively. "Don’t worry, I won’t charge you..."

"Hmph, you even thought of asking for money?" The homeless man leapt up, scowling, blocking Zhang Shen's path and tugging at his arm in a fit of shamelessness. "You know, when I'm starving, I have an attack. After ten minutes, it passes, and my hunger is gone!"

"Now you’ve cured me without my consent. If I can’t use this trick to fill my belly anymore, just think what a loss that is!"

Such brazen words were delivered with righteous indignation, leaving Zhang Shen momentarily stunned before he burst into laughter at the absurdity. Two months since leaving his master, he thought he'd seen enough of people's ignorance and apathy, but never anything quite this shameless.

He was at a loss for what expression to wear.

The homeless man, thinking he'd gained the upper hand, grew even more arrogant.

"Not only do you owe me today’s meal, you owe me future meals!"

"And... compensation for emotional distress!"

"If you don’t pay up, I’ll die right here. Then it’ll be your fault—you’ll have killed a man with your treatment! You’ll rot in jail!"

The more the homeless man spoke, the more outrageous he became. He acted not like a beneficiary, but as if Zhang Shen owed him a debt.

Following the principle of not arguing with fools, Zhang Shen packed his things and prepared to leave. Unexpectedly, the man’s eyes rolled, and with a sudden cry, he threw himself back on the ground, rolling and wailing, "Aiyo, you’ve killed me! Help, the quack doctor has killed me... Ugh—"

Zhang Shen was considering whether it was time to use force when the homeless man crashed into a pair of slender legs. At the same time, a sharp voice rang out, clear as an oriole’s song, "Scoundrel!"

Zhang Shen paused, amusement flickering in his heart.

Heh—a busybody as meddlesome as himself, in this world?

He tilted his head slightly and saw a beautiful young woman, her large, bright eyes brimming with anger. She glared down at the homeless man from above. "Have you no shame? Someone saves you out of kindness and you turn around and bite the hand that feeds you! Pretending to be sick to deal with hunger? Then what’s the point of living? Dead men don’t need to eat—it’s a permanent solution!"

The homeless man, clearly a bully who feared the strong, wilted as soon as he saw the well-dressed, assertive girl. He dared not meet her gaze, his eyes darting wildly as he clutched his stomach and wailed, "Ah, my stomach hurts! Really, it hurts now, must be those needles that messed me up..."

"Nonsense!" The girl, full of righteous indignation, nearly leapt with fury at his shamelessness. Hands on her hips, she was about to continue her tirade when she paused, swept her gaze around, and sneered. "Forget it, I won’t waste my time with you. Everyone, whoever filmed just now, I’ll buy your videos—five hundred for a short clip, five thousand for the full version. If you won’t act morally, we’ll let the law decide..."

Before she finished speaking, dozens of phones were raised around her. Everyone clamored that they had video evidence. The homeless man’s face changed several times; he’d only acted on impulse, thinking Zhang Shen looked gentle. Now faced with someone even more forceful, he dared not make a scene.

He leapt up, cursing under his breath, but quickly squeezed through the crowd and disappeared without a trace.

The girl raised her chin triumphantly, like a proud young deer. She looked around, then exclaimed, "Hey, where did that doctor go?"

Zhang Shen had already returned to his rented room above the noodle shop. To him, the incident was nothing but a minor episode. Since the girl had resolved it, he was spared the trouble.

He pulled from his drawer an ancient, yellowed book—“Qibo’s Pharmacopeia”—and, reclining on his narrow bed by the window, read in the sunlight.

This was the only thing his master left him before disappearing. He’d begun memorizing medicinal formulas at age three, studied medicine for twenty years, and yet had never seen such miraculous prescriptions. They were like the sixteen trigrams of antiquity—legendary, supposed to be erased from history.

How could his master have possessed such an artifact?

And why give it to him only the day before vanishing?

It was a mystery.

He turned a page, feeling inexplicably irritable. He glanced out the window; the crowd from earlier had dispersed completely. It was now late afternoon, time for grocery shopping and picking up children. The elders were busy, and being able to spare time to watch the commotion was already remarkable.

The girl surely had her own affairs to attend to and wouldn’t linger.

Just as this thought crossed his mind, the plywood door to his rented room began to shake violently. Zhang Shen, startled, nearly hit the ceiling as he jumped up.

Outside came the girl’s voice, "Hey, doctor, open the door!"