When Lu Tong and Du Changqing arrived at the Yazhai Book Store, the shop owner Luo Dazui was eating at the entrance.

Seeing Du Changqing approaching with an unfriendly expression, he thought the man was coming to fight. Only after hearing what the two wanted did Luo Dazui lower his rolled-up sleeves.

Lu Tong asked, “Boss Luo, do you know who that book writer is? When will he come to the bookstore again to deliver books?”

Facing such a young and beautiful young lady as Lu Tong, Luo Dazui’s attitude was much better than when dealing with Du Changqing. He said amiably, “That person has bad legs and doesn’t come to my bookstore often. He used to write some medical examination booklets—look, those waste papers over there. Miss, you know that West Street is all small businesses. Those waste papers couldn’t be sold, so I stopped accepting them, and he left.”

“Does Boss Luo know where he lives? Where can we find him?”

Luo Dazui thought for a moment: “I heard his family is poor, but his handwriting is decent. Later he made some money copying books for others. He used to live in that room next to the rice shop in Rouge Alley on West Street. I don’t know if he’s moved away now. Miss, you might as well try your luck there.”

Lu Tong nodded, thanked Luo Dazui, and was about to leave with Du Changqing.

But Luo Dazui, after thinking it over, grabbed Du Changqing and asked in a low voice, “Old Du, what’s that person’s background? Why are they specifically looking for him?”

Du Changqing gave him a sideways glance: “Didn’t they write it on top? An anonymous master! Only someone like you wouldn’t recognize quality.”

With that, he brushed off his sleeves and walked out the door with Lu Tong.

It was still early, and the medical clinic had few patients these past few days, so Lu Tong decided to go with Du Changqing to the place Luo Dazui mentioned to look for that person. Fortunately, the rouge shop wasn’t far from the Yazhai Book Store. After walking for about the time it takes to burn a stick of incense, the two could already see the rice shop Luo Dazui had mentioned.

It was noon, with the sun beating down on people’s heads, casting warm colors over Shengjing’s winter landscape. The rice shop wasn’t large. The shopkeeper had opened a small square window in the wall, with a blue banner bearing yellow characters inserted above it, particularly eye-catching.

Du Changqing stopped and looked at a spot more than ten paces away from the rice shop, murmuring, “This is too run-down…”

Lu Tong followed his gaze.

Just more than ten paces away from the rice shop, on an empty lot, stood a dilapidated thatched hut quite conspicuously. Though West Street was mostly common folk and small vendors, hardly wealthy or luxurious, every shop and residence, regardless of size, was kept clean and tidy. The grass hut where Wu Youcai lived at the temple entrance was also run-down, but at least the small courtyard and chicken coop in front were neatly organized, and the fence was properly maintained.

But the grass hut before them was excessively dilapidated.

There was no small courtyard, no fence. Wild grass grew luxuriantly at the entrance, about half a person’s height, almost burying the wooden door that was half broken. Today was sunny with good weather, yet even so, when the sunlight reached the entrance it stopped abruptly at a small section, leaving only a dark, gloomy room casting shadows on the ground. The eaves cast long shadows that fell on the ground in a lonely, abrupt old silhouette, as if one could smell the musty air coming from inside through the door.

Du Changqing showed some disgust: “It doesn’t look like anyone lives here. Maybe they moved away long ago.”

Lu Tong glanced at the messy weeds at the entrance, said nothing, and walked forward.

Du Changqing had no choice but to follow.

When they reached the entrance, Lu Tong knocked twice on the door with her knuckles. No one answered from inside, but the dilapidated wooden door couldn’t withstand the light knocking. It made an old, muffled sound and slowly opened a crack.

The door opened by itself.

“Is anyone there?” Du Changqing called out twice.

No one answered.

After a pause, Lu Tong pushed with her hand and walked in on her own.

Inside the room was very dark. It was unclear whether there were windows, with only a sliver of sunlight from outside illuminating half the floor. Upon entering, a heavy smell of alcohol hit them head-on.

Du Changqing followed in and immediately couldn’t help covering his nose.

Lu Tong had barely taken a step when her foot was tripped by something. Looking down, she discovered several empty wine jars.

Looking up, borrowing that bit of weak light, she could see many empty wine jars scattered about on the table and floor inside the room, some spilled on the ground. The alcohol smell mixed with the musty, stale air in the room was nauseating.

This looked like a drunkard’s dwelling.

Just as Lu Tong was looking toward the tightly closed small window, a hoarse voice suddenly rang out from within the room: “Who?”

This voice appeared so suddenly it startled Du Changqing.

Immediately after, rustling sounds arose. In the depths of the room on the bed, a figure vaguely sat up. The figure moved, seeming to turn their head toward Lu Tong and the other, asking again: “Who is it?”

The voice was as hoarse as a broken gong.

Du Changqing moved to the window and forcefully opened it. More light poured in, half of it spilling onto the bed in the room, illuminating the person on the bed more clearly.

The bed was very old, padded underneath with dry straw, with several dirty quilts piled haphazardly on top. A middle-aged man in tattered single clothes sat on the bed clutching the bedding. This person was about forty or fifty years old, his hair mixed with gray and white, messily piled on his head. It looked like he hadn’t washed his face for several days, with stubble on his chin. Hearing the commotion, the man lifted his eyelids, revealing two slightly reddened eyes. He wasn’t angry, just spoke drowsily: “Looking for whom?”

He looked like he hadn’t sobered up yet.

Lu Tong walked forward two steps and spoke: “Excuse me, are you Master Miao?”

Luo Dazui from the Yazhai Book Store had said this person usually kept to himself, was addicted to alcohol, and others weren’t familiar with him—they only knew his surname was Miao.

Hearing the words “Master Miao,” the man’s gaze became a few degrees clearer. He stared at Lu Tong for a long while before saying: “What do you want with me?”

Du Changqing’s expression didn’t look good.

This person appeared destitute and desperate, with wine jars everywhere in the room. He looked like those drunkards and gamblers who loitered around the markets. Even in broad daylight he reeked of alcohol, and judging by his manner of speaking, he didn’t seem like any decent person.

But Lu Tong seemed oblivious to this, only taking out several booklets from her sleeve: “I inadvertently bought several booklets from the Yazhai Book Store. The shop owner said they were written by you, sir.”

She unfolded those thin paper booklets, with the words “Shengjing Imperial Medical Bureau Spring Examination Historical Questions and Detailed Explanations” particularly prominent on the covers.

The man looked at the booklets, then at Lu Tong, seemingly not understanding what Lu Tong meant by this gesture.

“I’d like to buy more of your written works, sir,” Lu Tong said.

As soon as the words fell, the man was stunned.

In those eyes under that messy, dirty hair, some expression seemed to flash by quickly, but soon he laughed with a sneer, scratching his hair and saying: “What kind of joke is this? I copied these from other people’s work.” He spread both hands and pursed his lips: “Just these few sheets, nothing more.”

Du Changqing coughed lightly twice, using his eyes to hint that Lu Tong could leave.

Though he didn’t understand why Lu Tong insisted on finding this person, this man indeed didn’t seem like someone who understood medical principles and theory. What doctor would get himself drunk in broad daylight, not even knowing to wash blankets when they were torn and dirty?

Lu Tong stood in the room, watching the man on the bed throw down the bedding he’d been clutching and lower his head to look for shoes under the bed. After a moment of silence, she said: “I’d like to ask you to teach me medical theory, sir, to pass next year’s Imperial Medical Bureau spring examination.”

As soon as these words were spoken, the room suddenly fell silent.

The man’s motion of looking for shoes froze. After a long while, he slowly raised his head to look at Lu Tong.

Lu Tong quietly gazed at him.

A bit of sunlight came in from outside, illuminating the floor by the window. That rough face with fine wrinkles, like the floor in the room, was covered with a cold, damp grime—the face of a middle-aged man who appeared dejected, slovenly, ordinary to the point of being greasy, with despondency and haggardness written all over it.

For a moment, Lu Tong felt those drunken eyes brighten.

But quickly, that glimmer of light was extinguished.

The man bent down, found two shoes that had been kicked aside and put them on, then supported himself on the bed and jumped down. One of his legs was lame, so he walked with a limp. He walked to the table in the room, pulled out a broken iron pot, scooped out half a bowl of rice from a cloth bag on the other side and poured it in, then scooped a ladle of water from the water bucket and began making fire to cook porridge in the room.

He spoke: “Miss, you’ve found the wrong person. I’m not a doctor and can’t help you.”

Lu Tong said: “I noticed you’ve planted quite a few medicinal herbs in front of your door, sir. Without proper care, they couldn’t grow like that. You must understand medical principles.”

Du Changqing looked surprised.

Those weeds in front of the broken hut that nearly buried the door were medicinal herbs?

Though he couldn’t treat illnesses, after years of exposure in the medical clinic, he could still identify common medicinal materials. He hadn’t expected to miss the signs.

The man’s motion of stirring porridge with an iron spoon paused slightly, then he changed the subject: “Who are you people?”

Du Changqing’s eyes lit up. Before Lu Tong could speak, he cleared his throat and introduced himself first: “I’m Du Changqing, owner of the Renxin Medical Clinic. This Doctor Lu is the resident physician at our clinic. Renxin Medical Clinic has been open on West Street for so many years—you can go ask around, we absolutely have a good reputation. If you agree to teach medical principles to our resident physician, we’ll pay you compensation. Just name your conditions…”

The man looked up and interrupted him: “Renxin Medical Clinic?”

Du Changqing was delighted and was about to continue boasting when he heard the man in front of him speak with complete indifference: “Oh, I heard about it. A few days ago people from the Grand Secretary’s residence went to make trouble for the female resident physician.”

He glanced at Lu Tong, then said slowly: “A female physician who wants to use the Hanlin Medical Officer position to climb up the social ladder.” Then he glanced at Du Changqing, grinned, his smile carrying some mockery: “A wastrel who spent half his life fooling around and suddenly turned over a new leaf.” Finally he shook his head and delivered his judgment: “No future prospects. Stop making futile efforts.”

Du Changqing felt he’d been quite polite to this man, but unexpectedly his warm face met a cold reception and he was even mocked. He immediately flew into a rage: “What nonsense are you spouting…” Lu Tong grabbed and stopped him.

Lu Tong looked at the other party. The man sat on the ground, concentrating intently on the porridge in the pot. The rice porridge had more than half a pot of water with only a small handful of rice, so thin you could see the bottom at a glance. He stared at it fixedly, as if staring at some delicacy, his gaze even worthy of being called covetous.

“So you won’t agree to our request today, sir?” she asked.

The man waved his hand dismissively like shooing flies, too lazy to even speak with her.

Lu Tong nodded: “I understand. Farewell.”

She bowed and withdrew from the room. Du Changqing followed her out, ranting angrily behind her: “That’s it? Is this person mentally ill? Did you see clearly—are those really not weeds planted in front of his door? If he understood medical principles, how could he end up looking like this, with even a broken pot! Even beggars are more respectable than him!”

Lu Tong stopped walking and turned back to look.

Sunlight lingered in front of the hut. Under the door, weeds grew lush and thick like a mass of dark tangled thread, threatening to swallow up that broken, greasy, filthy room entirely.

That window they’d opened when entering had somehow been quietly closed again. The dark room and the dark person inside slowly rotted and molded in the sunlight, like the dark moss growing everywhere in this room—damp and never seeing daylight.

Du Changqing was still fuming: “Like a mole, burrowing in holes and not coming out. Dark and gloomy—isn’t he creeped out?”

Lu Tong looked for a while, then withdrew her gaze: “He doesn’t want to leave this place.”

“That goes without saying!”

“Then we’ll force him out,” she said.

…

Two more days passed. After several consecutive sunny days, some of the snow on West Street had melted.

The thatched hut next to the rice shop was being baked by the sun. The ice at the corners by the door had melted into dirty snow water, flowing into the large patches of weeds, making it appear even more damp and cold.

Inside the room, the man turned over and sat up, scratching his bird’s nest-like messy hair and squinting at his surroundings.

The room was very dark, with empty wine jars everywhere. The yellow wine left on the table last night still had half a bowl remaining. Miao Liangfang picked up the bowl and tilted his head back to drink the remaining wine clean, then slowly got out of bed and walked to the low table while supporting himself against the wall.

The rice bag sat on the low table. Miao Liangfang stood still and picked up the cloth bag, shaking it outward. Only a few broken rice grains fell out. He sighed, felt around in his chest for a long time, pulled out a few copper coins, then grabbed the walking stick leaning against the wall and limped out the door.

It was noon with the sun shining brightly.

Having stayed in darkness for so long, the suddenly bright sunlight made him squint slightly upon leaving the house.

Miao Liangfang hobbled along West Street’s back alley with his wooden stick.

The rice shop wasn’t open today. After a month of thin porridge, he planned to properly reward his stomach today, so he decided to go to the small stall at the front alley entrance for a bowl of soup noodles.

West Street had many passersby. Miao Liangfang supported himself against the wall, careful not to be knocked down by pedestrians. He walked slowly—a journey that took others half the time to burn a stick of incense took him a full stick of incense and more.

Because his clothes were ragged—even temple beggars dressed better than him—the small vendors on West Street usually avoided him when they saw him, afraid of dirtying their goods. Today, whether it was Miao Liangfang’s imagination or not, there seemed to be more eyes examining him, and those gazes were somewhat different from the usual disgust.

Miao Liangfang was somewhat puzzled, but when he looked back, those people had averted their gazes, as if it had just been his imagination.

After walking for a while, the end of the alley gradually came into view—it was a noodle shop.

The noodle shop was narrow. With just two or three tables inside, there was no room for more. The shopkeeper had placed the remaining tables and chairs outside, setting up a grass shed to shelter from rain and snow. Miao Liangfang walked over and carefully examined the menu board hanging at the entrance.

Besides noodles, the noodle shop also sold flatbread, meat noodles, and various cooked dishes. Miao Liangfang stared for a long time before pointing to the cheapest noodles on the board: “One bowl of salt water noodles!”

The shopkeeper responded, and Miao Liangfang found an empty table to sit at. It was noon, and workers from near and far were eating here, making it quite lively. As soon as Miao Liangfang sat down, he noticed someone at the opposite table looking at him. When he looked back, the other person quickly averted their gaze.

Just as he was feeling puzzled, a waiter came over calling “Noodles here!” and placed the bowl in front of him.

His tone was enthusiastic to the point of intimacy.

Miao Liangfang was stunned.

He’d occasionally eaten here before, but because of his unkempt appearance, he often received cold stares. This was the first time he’d been treated so kindly.

Feeling puzzled, Miao Liangfang was about to speak when the young waiter had already rushed into the shop with his empty tray.

He sat dazed for a moment, could only pick up his chopsticks, and temporarily suppress his full belly of doubts.

This meal was eaten without really tasting the food. After finishing the soup, Miao Liangfang placed the empty bowl on the table, hobbled with his wooden stick to the shop owner who was cutting noodles at the entrance, and pulled out two shiny copper coins from his chest.

The shop owner smiled: “Someone already paid for you, no need to pay, Divine Doctor Miao!”

“There’s such good fortune…” Miao Liangfang was about to smile happily when his smile suddenly froze: “What did you call me?!”

“Divine Doctor Miao!” The shop owner patted his shoulder and moved close to him: “Doctor Lu spread the word on our street these past two days, saying that from now on your meals should all be charged to Renxin Medical Clinic’s account, and we can just go to Renxin Medical Clinic to collect the money!”

“Doctor Lu?”

“The Doctor Lu from Renxin Medical Clinic! Doctor Lu said you’re a divine doctor, with medical skills far superior to hers. We were blind before, Old Miao, don’t take it to heart, don’t take it to heart.”

Someone nearby spoke, half jokingly, half skeptically: “Old Miao, you really know medical skills?”

Another person replied: “That’s what Doctor Lu said, how could it be false! Doctor Lu can make ‘Spring Water Born’ and ‘Xianxian,’ even Princess Wen’s consort sent people to thank her personally. Why would she lie to you!”

Others said something more, but Miao Liangfang couldn’t hear clearly anymore. He only felt the sunlight beating down on his head was unusually scalding, as if overnight it wanted to drag moss that had grown in dark places into the sun, making his whole body ache from the exposure.

No wonder when he went out today, he always felt the gazes of people around him were strange. Those mocking, disgusted looks would make him comfortable, but these flattering, respectful gazes made him extremely uncomfortable!

That surname Lu female physician… Renxin Medical Clinic!

The shop owner patted his shoulder: “Old Miao, what’s wrong? Why do you look so awful?”

Miao Liangfang came back to his senses, said nothing, and walked away with a sullen expression, hobbling with his wooden stick.

After taking two steps, he suddenly whirled around, startling the shop owner.

He slammed the two copper coins heavily on the chopping board.

“I’ll pay for myself!”

…

At Renxin Medical Clinic, A’Cheng was taking that red-bottomed woven carpet out to dry in the sun.

This carpet didn’t know what material it was woven from. After washing it several times, the color didn’t fade at all—it even became more vivid with each cleaning. Under the sunlight, the line “Benevolent physicians heal with compassion, divine skills cure silently” shone brightly.

A’Cheng had just spread out the carpet when he looked up to see a middle-aged man storming in from outside.

This man wore a deep gray torn jacket, with yellowish cotton showing through the thin coat. His hair was messily tied together, and his face looked unwashed, worse than the beggars at the temple entrance. Though he was using a walking stick, he still managed to stride with an imposing momentum.

A’Cheng said: “Customer…”

The man didn’t even look at him and went straight into the inner room.

Du Changqing and Yin Zheng were drying herbs in the back courtyard. Lu Tong sat at the table by the cabinet reading a book. Hearing the commotion, she raised her head and met Miao Liangfang’s furious face.

“What exactly do you want to do?” Miao Liangfang threw down his wooden stick, slammed both hands on the table, and looked at Lu Tong as if he wanted to devour her alive. “I told you I don’t understand medical principles and won’t teach anyone! Give up this idea early—you won’t pass the spring examination, and you won’t get into the Hanlin Medical Officer Academy!”

Lu Tong closed her book and looked at him calmly.

“Why do you say that? Is it because you’re very familiar with the Imperial Medical Bureau spring examination, Medical Officer Miao?”

Miao Liangfang’s expression changed: “What did you call me?”

Lu Tong smiled slightly.

“It seems I was right.”