The next day, as dawn’s light first appeared, Han Qian got up and lit a lamp, then sat by the window to read. Before long, Zhao Ting’er came in carrying a copper basin filled with hot water for Han Qian to wash up.

Zhao Ting’er had perhaps just entered the Han residence and hadn’t slept well from tossing and turning. Seeing the lamp lit on this side, wanting to make a good impression upon first entering the Han residence, she forced herself to get up and replace Qing Yun in rushing over to serve. She placed the copper basin on the wooden stand, then couldn’t help but yawn.

Seeing Han Qian look over, Zhao Ting’er’s face flushed bright red, her delicate beautiful face seeming as if it had been dyed by the morning glow.

Han Qian looked and was slightly stunned, only now noticing that Zhao Ting’er had changed into a round-collared jacket and a skirt made of small-patterned cloth in alternating red and yellow. The rustic air was completely gone—she truly possessed an outstanding pure and beautiful elegance.

Han Qian put down the scroll in his hands and walked to the washbasin stand to wash up. Turning his head, he saw Zhao Ting’er standing on tiptoe to peek at the book spread out on the long table, and asked: “You can read?”

“The Young Master taught Wuji to read characters, and Ting’er learned some following Wuji,” Zhao Ting’er said, sticking out her tongue.

“Then how much of this book can you understand?” Han Qian asked.

“I recognize most of the characters, but when they’re put together I don’t quite understand the meaning,” Zhao Ting’er said.

“Oh!”

Han Qian looked at Zhao Ting’er with surprise. He had only formally taught Zhao Wuji to read for just over twenty days, after which he’d left Zhao Wuji with a few primers for character recognition before returning to the city first.

If Zhao Ting’er could generally recognize most of the characters with complex strokes on those two pages in just three months, her aptitude was truly remarkable.

“The Young Master doesn’t believe me?” Zhao Ting’er asked boldly, her bright crystalline eyes fixed on Han Qian.

Although Qing Yun was about the same age as Zhao Ting’er, perhaps because Qing Yun had been subject to too many restrictions in the Han residence for too long, she already had the self-awareness of being a servant, always acting cautiously and carefully—unlike Zhao Ting’er, who still retained the bold, curious nature of a mountain girl.

“What does this character read as?” Han Qian placed the hand towel on the stand and walked over with considerable interest, pointing at a character to ask Zhao Ting’er.

“Yi. The ‘Shuowen’ writes that ‘yi’ means the appearance of flying…” Zhao Ting’er said.

Han Qian pointed to several characters in succession. Wherever the “Shuowen” and other primer books he’d left for Zhao Wuji had recorded them, Zhao Ting’er generally recognized them. It was truly no simple feat.

Han Qian took a piece of paper, wrote down some book titles, and handed it to Zhao Ting’er saying: “When you encounter Old Man Han, give this paper to him and say these books are ones I want to read, and have him buy them back. From now on in my room, start learning from these books first. If there’s anything you don’t understand, we’ll discuss it at night when I return.”

“Ting’er can truly read and learn characters while at the Young Master’s side?” Zhao Ting’er asked joyfully.

“Why not?” Han Qian smiled, thinking that even if he could divert his father’s attention elsewhere, the people he could truly rely on were still too few. He didn’t want Zhao Kuo, whose depths he couldn’t fathom, to always be following him around like a ghost.

After a while, Zhao Kuo came over with Old Man Zhao and Zhao Wuji to pay respects—Old Man Zhao needed to hurry back to the estate.

Han Qian had Old Man Han take a bolt of cloth and two thousand coins from the storehouse for Old Man Zhao to bring back. He also had Fan Dahei go to Marquis Linjiang’s residence to see if the Marquis had returned from the palace.

Although last night at Wanhong Pavilion he’d heard Marquis Xinchang Li Pu say that Third Prince Yang Yuanpu would stay in the palace for three days before returning to the residence, Han Qian couldn’t appear to already know this. So he still needed to have Fan Dahei wait at Marquis Linjiang’s residence for official word before he could legitimately idle away three days at his own residence.

After practicing a round of Shigong Fist, Fan Dahei rushed back from Marquis Linjiang’s residence with definite notification that Third Prince Yang Yuanpu would stay in the palace three more days to recover from his fright before returning to the marquis’s residence.

Han Qian then had people summon Old Man Han, Zhao Kuo, and Fan Xicheng together, explaining the plan to select widows of clear background from outside the city—particularly finding widows with many children—to marry to the solitary household troops in the residence as wives.

Fan Xicheng and Zhao Kuo were both caught off guard, standing there looking at each other, neither agreeing nor disagreeing being quite right.

“My wife and daughter were only separated during the chaos of war—perhaps there’s still hope of finding them. Fan Dahei is getting on in years. The Young Master’s kindness in helping him find a wife will suffice,” Fan Xicheng said.

He was accustomed to being alone. Even though Fan Wucheng had died, he still had Fan Dahei attending to him. He really didn’t want, at nearly sixty years old, to have a strange woman added to his quarters, along with a bunch of snotty, slovenly brats calling him father.

Fan Dahei squatted to the side with a chuckle.

His energy was vigorous now. Walking down the street, his eyes uncontrollably stared at young ladies’ and young wives’ chests and bottoms. At this moment, he truly didn’t mind at all taking a wife to have children.

“If Fan Dahei wants to find a wife, I’ll help him pick one from a good family later—right now my father can’t bear to see the starving refugees outside the city dying everywhere. He thinks this action might save several dozen lives, and at the same time shows pity that you’re getting on in years with no one to care for you. Don’t think of it as a troublesome matter,” Han Qian said to Fan Dahei, not allowing Fan Xicheng to shrink back.

“Go prepare the horses and carriage. Today I need to take a ride outside the city with Father first. When you accompany us out, keep your eyes wide open and help your father and Zhao Kuo pick a docile and capable wife to bring back—”

At this point, Han Qian fixed his gaze on Zhao Kuo: “If you have any requirements, speak clearly now, to save us from finding you a blind wife later.”

“…” Zhao Kuo swallowed and finally gave up struggling, saying: “Just not blind or with rotten legs will do.”

After Fan Dahei prepared the horses and carriage, Han Qian went into the house to invite his father out to leave the city together.

Han Daoxun reluctantly agreed to this matter, but he truly had no interest in making the arrangements.

However, Han Qian’s most fundamental intention was still to use other matters to divert his father’s attention. After persuading him for quite a while, he finally half-dragged, half-pulled his father onto the horse’s back, and headed out of the city accompanied by Fan Xicheng, Zhao Kuo, Fan Dahei, Lin Haizheng, Zhao Wuji, Old Man Han and others.

……

……

Between the Jianghuai region, warfare had not ceased, and the plundering of the local areas remained fierce. Vast stretches of fields and cities lay abandoned, with countless starving people either fleeing into desolate mountains and old forests or escaping south to survive.

Jinling City strictly prohibited refugees from entering, with hundreds of thousands of starving people perpetually stranded outside the four city gates, struggling to survive either on ownerless riverbanks and wastelands or along the roadsides.

Fortunately, the fertile lands of Jiangnan, especially the fish, crabs, shrimp, and snails in the rivers, streams, lakes, and marshes, provided much that could satisfy hunger. Though massive numbers of refugees remained stranded, the vast majority could barely avoid starvation, though they were still sallow and emaciated, on the verge of death.

Many of the refugees on the riverbanks and stream valleys were so hungry they were skin and bones, yet had protruding swollen bellies, lying half-dead in crude shacks or directly exposed to the open air.

Han Qian had noticed this situation during his previous trips outside the city. Zhao Kuo and the others said this was a great plague. Han Qian had initially worried about infectious disease transmission, keeping his distance each time, until one day he suddenly remembered that in the dream world, this was a type of schistosomiasis commonly called the big belly disease!

Although the person Zhai Xinping from the dream hadn’t experienced a large-scale outbreak of schistosomiasis, when he was in elementary school, every spring the school would publicize this matter and organize students to collect and eliminate snails in rice paddies and ditches. The memory left behind was extremely vivid—snails were the only intermediate host for schistosome transmission. Collecting snails from easily infested ditches for concentrated elimination achieved the purpose of blocking the infection source and controlling the spread of the plague.

During Han Qian’s several trips outside the city, he saw that the infection rate of schistosomiasis among the refugees was extremely high, reaching a terrifying level of about twenty to thirty percent. The most critical reason was that the refugees received no relief and could only rely on fish, crabs, shrimp, and snails from the lakes and river channels for survival, constantly coming into contact with contaminated water. Most people could even only eat crabs and snails raw. How could the transmission of schistosomiasis not be fierce?

Even just relocating the refugees away from the riverbank areas where schistosome eggs bred and effectively controlling their contact with contaminated water could control the spread of the plague.

However, though this seemed simple, it required extremely strong government power to implement.

Han Qian previously wouldn’t have given himself a headache over matters beyond his capabilities, but today, using the pretext of selecting common women to marry household troops, he’d dragged his father out of the city specifically to use this matter to divert his father’s attention.

“These refugees are truly pitiful. I wonder what plague they’ve contracted to make them wither to skin and bones while their bellies swell up like this!” Han Qian reined his horse to a stop on a river embankment, gesturing with his riding crop toward the plague-stricken refugees on the riverbank and saying with emotion.

“The water parasite plague originated between the Jianghuai region and causes severe devastation. Even the court’s best physicians are helpless. The expedient measure is only to drive away the sick people and prevent them from entering the city,” Han Daoxun said, his expression even more sorrowful at the miserable scene before him, sighing deeply.

Han Daoxun’s knowledge was extremely broad. Though it was his rest day today and he was also helpless regarding the miserable condition of the common people before him, he still patiently explained to Han Qian everything he understood about the water parasite plague and contemporary physicians’ research into it.

During these past days, Han Qian had been perusing medical texts and already understood that contemporary physicians’ knowledge of schistosomiasis was merely limited to the level of “occurs near water, water harbors parasitic poison.” According to the memories of the person Zhai Xinping from the dream, the schistosome eggs that entered human and animal bodies through the sole intermediate host of snails were only as fine as a hair’s width. If contemporary physicians only observed with the naked eye, they truly had no possibility of observing the existence of the “water parasites”!

Furthermore, because infected patients would repeatedly contract the disease again upon contact with contaminated water even after being cured, this also created the erroneous perception in contemporary times that the water parasite plague had no cure.

“Since the parasitic poison is hidden in water, but water is divided into rivers, lakes, and streams, and beyond that there is also irrigation water, ditch and pond water, and well water—do all waters contain parasitic poison, or are there distinctions?”

Han Qian couldn’t directly speak of matters from the dream realm, but calmly raised some questions to prompt his father Han Daoxun to think in the correct direction.

“Your son went outside the city today and saw the great plague outside like facing a great flood defense, while inside the city is relatively peaceful. However, thinking carefully, besides drawing well water for drinking, city residents also use river water from Stone Pond River, Qiupu River and other streams, rivers and ponds that connect with the outer city waterways for washing clothes and vegetables and even for cattle, horses and livestock, yet we don’t see the plague greatly erupting. Could there be some mystery behind this that we haven’t yet figured out?”

“The Young Master keeps asking endlessly. If the Master knew this much, he should enter the Imperial Medical Bureau,” Old Man Han said with a smile from the side where he attended them.

“…” Han Daoxun showed no sign of impatience. Instead, his brows furrowed deeply, clearly indicating that Han Qian’s questions had indeed grasped the key points, drawing him into deep thought.

The reason Han Qian believed that continuing to guide and question in this way could divert his father’s attention was mainly that contemporary medicine wasn’t yet sufficiently complex or specialized. People like his father Han Daoxun who were familiar with classical texts and practical learning typically didn’t separate Confucianism from medicine.

Especially since his father had recently served as Junior Supervisor of the Secretariat, his main duties being to organize documents and compile previous dynasty archives—his research into medical principles, pharmacology, and even medical administration was definitely not inferior to the so-called “excellent physicians” of the contemporary era.

If his father pitied the miserable condition of the refugees and wanted to change it through his own power, Han Qian only needed to pry open a window and let in a ray of light that could solve the problem, and it might shift his father’s attention over.

“…” After a long while, Han Daoxun finally sighed softly and said: “Thinking it through carefully, there truly are great distinctions. This parasitic disease may be hidden within certain aquatic creatures, and these aquatic creatures are commonly seen in ditches and ponds outside the city but rarely seen in wells and rivers inside the city, which is why there are these differences between inside and outside the city—Qian’er can observe matters down to minute details. This shows that over the past half year of cultivating yourself and nourishing your character, you have truly gained something. If you continue to make progress in the future, you can become a minister who benefits the world!”

Han Qian’s changes during this period were evident to everyone, but Fan Xicheng and Old Man Han didn’t understand how the Young Master Han Qian’s seemingly casual questions today could make the Master hold such high expectations for him.

What they didn’t know was that the few questions Han Qian raised about the water parasite great plague were ones that Han Daoxun, and even those who had read through medical texts before him, had never carefully considered. Now that they had prompted Han Daoxun’s deep thinking and could possibly advance contemporary understanding of the water parasite great plague by a great stride forward, this wasn’t the cleverness and competence that ordinary aptitude could achieve.

Seeing that his father’s thoughts had been hooked, Han Qian feared going too far, so he didn’t continue questioning further.