Chapter 4: Medicine as the Soul of Healing

Zhang Shen completed his business and slipped away, intending to avoid trouble. He hailed a cab back to Shunyi Lane, and the fifteen yuan fare stung a little, but there was no helping it—he was already half an hour late for work. Any longer and he’d be facing more than just a pay deduction; he might lose his job altogether.

He rather liked the night shift at the internet café. It was quiet, giving him time to read, and he could use the computers as he pleased, quickly familiarizing himself with society.

Sure enough, as soon as he stepped in, the day-shift receptionist pouted at him in annoyance. “Shen, what’s up with you? You’re over forty minutes late! Now my date’s going to be late, too.”

“Something came up. Sorry,” Zhang Shen apologized with a sheepish smile, ducking behind the counter. “I’ll cover your shift tomorrow afternoon.”

“You said it!” The young woman darted out from behind the bar, slinging her small bag over her shoulder. In her little leather shoes, she click-clacked away, brimming with excitement.

Zhang Shen shook his head, sat down at the bar, and began fiddling with the computer. He had two more hours to endure before the overnight crowd came in at ten, after which hardly anyone would bother him.

Checking customers in and out, selling drinks, tea, and instant noodles—two hours slipped away in a blink. Zhang Shen was just about to open a webpage to research what he needed to learn when a familiar voice called from the bar above, “Manager, overnight package.”

“ID card…” Zhang Shen looked up, and his brows instantly knit together. “How did you find this place?”

Jiang Muyun smiled, a hint of playful mischief in her eyes. “I wasn’t looking for you. I just wanted to use the internet—is that not allowed?”

“A girl spending the night in an internet café—aren’t your family worried?” Zhang Shen tried to dissuade her.

But she simply thrust her ID at him insistently. “I’m an adult. There’s no law against me booking an overnight session.”

With things said to that extent, what could Zhang Shen do? He sluggishly completed the check-in, arranged for her to be in the closest two-person booth to the bar, and conveniently locked the other machine in that booth.

Jiang Muyun said nothing more, truly acting as though she’d come just to use the internet. She went straight into the booth.

Zhang Shen returned to his computer and opened a webpage, but found he couldn’t focus—half an hour had passed and he hadn’t finished reading a thousand-word article. Was it because too much had happened today? Or was it because…

He subconsciously glanced at the booth where Jiang Muyun was, silently recited a passage from the Classic of Materia Medica to steady himself, and prepared to continue reading, only for a chat window to pop up on his screen.

“Xiaoyun wants to add you as a friend.”

Zhang Shen sighed deeply, feeling the passage he’d just recited was all for nothing.

He clicked accept, then proactively typed two words: “What is it?”

Xiaoyun: “So it is you! What’s your profile picture? It’s really nice.”

Zhang Shen: “It’s a picture of sweet flag.”

Xiaoyun: “Because it’s the first herb in the Classic of Materia Medica?”

Zhang Shen: “Yes.”

Xiaoyun: “Are you skilled at both acupuncture and pharmacology?”

Zhang Shen: “I wouldn’t call myself skilled, but in traditional medicine, both are essential.”

Xiaoyun: “Which are you better at?”

Zhang Shen paused. Acupuncture, massage, the four diagnostic methods—he’d studied all these under his master since childhood. If not a consummate expert, he was at least adept. But as for pharmacology…

Strictly speaking, his master never formally taught him. But ever since he could walk, his master had forced him to interact with all kinds of medicinal herbs—it was as natural as eating, drinking, or breathing. After twenty years, he’d almost forgotten that pharmacology was a field of study at all.

Before his master disappeared, what he left behind was neither acupuncture texts nor massage manuals, nor any strange esoteric medicine. Instead, it was a compendium of herbs—a most extraordinary one. Many of the herbs recorded within were neither common nor widely used, yet they were described in detail, with unique properties that aligned with medical principles.

He fell silent for a long time before finally typing: “Medicinal herbs are the soul of traditional medicine.”

He had never said these words to anyone before—no one had ever cared to listen, and most ordinary people never stirred his desire to speak. This time, the other side fell silent for a long while.

Just as Zhang Shen wondered if she was hinting to end the conversation, the chat window suddenly popped up again:

“Zhang Shen, do you realize how sought-after you are right now?”

Zhang Shen: “Hmm?”

Xiaoyun: “After you left today, Liu Aiguo nearly lost his mind. He kept pestering Old Master Hu about where you’d gone. But Old Master Hu didn’t know either, so he came to ask me. Hehe, you should thank me for not giving you away.”

Xiaoyun: “But if they offered you a reasonable position, would you really turn it down? Being an internet café attendant is such a waste of your talent.”

Zhang Shen recalled the scene when he’d first come down the mountain to look for work, a trace of disdain flickering across his brow. He calmly typed four words: “I’m used to idleness.”

He thought this would be enough to keep trouble at bay. A little longer, and once he’d fully understood this society and saved enough money for travel, he would go to the coastal cities to search for news of his master. As for what he’d do then, it would depend on the circumstances.

After those four words, the other side indeed quieted down.

Zhang Shen’s mind also settled back into its usual calm. He was about to resume his reading, reaching for the mouse, when a giggle sounded from above him. “Manager, log off.”

Zhang Shen arched his brows but didn’t look up. “No refunds for overnight sessions.”

“Oh, then I’m going home. Open the door for me.”

Zhang Shen glanced at the time in the bottom right corner of his screen. It was nearly one in the morning. “We don’t open the doors during the overnight shift.” He wasn’t about to let a young woman go home alone at this hour—this was Shunyi Lane, a place where hooligans outnumbered decent folk.

“Oh, then you have to come with me to do a part-time job after your shift tomorrow.”

“…Can I refuse?”

“Then I’m going home!”

Zhang Shen had to admit he’d met his match.

Though reluctant, the next morning after the shift change, he obediently followed Jiang Muyun onto the bus.

He hadn’t planned to ask about yesterday’s events, but Jiang Muyun told him everything. It turned out Old Master Hu Ying had once been deputy director at Yuehu City’s First People’s Hospital, specializing in post-operative rehabilitation. That very day, Director Shen had been brought back to the nursing home.

But aside from a high risk of sudden death, stroke recovery was an enormous challenge. Regaining basic self-care was already a blessing—managing such a large nursing home again was all but impossible.

Without someone to take over, the home was threatened with closure. Director Shen had no family; it was precisely because she’d lacked parental love growing up that she’d poured all her earnings into this home. Most residents were elderly people from Shunyi Lane, with little money. If the home closed, most of them would not be able to live out their last days in peace.

Old Master Hu had no reason to stay at the Shunyi Lane nursing home, but out of respect for his mentor-student relationship with Director Shen, he’d come to serve as the resident physician after retiring.

“Yesterday Grandpa Hu asked me if I wanted to take over the nursing home and become the director,” Jiang Muyun sniffled, looking troubled. “Sigh, I don’t know what to do.”

“You don’t want to take it?”

“It’s not that…” Jiang Muyun sighed as she drove. “I already told you, I have so many patients…”