Soaking in the auxiliary soldiers’ camp for an entire afternoon, Chai Shao watched every emergency treatment measure with tireless enthusiasm. He liked the triangular bandaging method and personally conducted experiments. After binding someone up, he demanded that the soldier he’d wrapped like a zongzi run and jump around. Finally, he even shoved a horizontal blade at him, making him hack and slash a few times to see if his mummy-style bandaging would come loose. Very good, no problem—it didn’t come loose. That young soldier was even more pleased, saying it was warm and he wouldn’t fear even the coldest weather.
Chai Shao also liked using silk thread to suture wounds. A fellow who had been stabbed with a foot-long gash in his body—blood gurgling out, clearly not long for this world—then a cocky auxiliary soldier walked over, pulled out needle and thread, and with flying needle and threading on that fellow’s body, the work done meticulously. After stitching, applying medicine, and binding with cloth strips, the guy who was about to die moments ago picked up his blade again and continued hacking and killing. Although this scenario was only Chai Shao’s fantasy, it still couldn’t stop him from wanting to try his hand at it. With no wounded available, this was frustrating. Immediately some fool jumped out ready to take a blade to himself so the Grand Commander could satisfy his urge to stitch people up.
Reluctantly leaving the parade ground, Sun Simiao led the officers indoors. In a large room, water vapor swirled around large vats filled with hot water. Yun Ye had people keep the water temperature controlled at around forty-some degrees. In each vat soaked two people—all soldiers who had returned from patrolling outside the city. Although frostbite was common, in Yun Ye’s view, second-degree frostbite was already quite serious, with damage to the dermal layer. Several clearly had some hypothermia—they could only rely on warm water to slowly raise body temperature, then be wrapped in blankets and placed on heated kangs to slowly recover.
Seeing the procedures were complicated, someone immediately said this method was too troublesome and impractical. Where would one find hot water on the battlefield? He himself had a good method—simple and easy to implement, materials readily available anywhere. When it came to treating frostbite, it was incredibly effective.
This had to be properly sought after! They say experts are among the common people, right? Sun Simiao and Yun Ye immediately stepped forward to seek advice, using the utmost courtesy.
“Last year over ten men in my battalion had frostbite and were nearly dead, completely unconscious. Fortunately, I remembered an ancient formula and saved their lives.” This fellow spoke with great arrogance, completely regarding himself as Bian Que reborn or Hua Tuo returned to the world, making everyone present regard him with deep respect.
After promising countless benefits, including Yun Ye agreeing to personally cook him a good meal, he reluctantly revealed his exclusive secret remedy with a displeased face. One word: rub. Three words: rub with snow. Rub the whole body red and they’d survive. If not for the sake of Marquis Yun’s beef noodles today, he wouldn’t reveal this even if beaten to death.
After hearing the secret remedy, Yun Ye squatted on the ground holding his head while Sun Simiao’s whole body trembled.
“How many did you save last time using your ancestral secret remedy?” Yun Ye asked, suppressing the chill in his heart.
“Out of twelve men, I only saved three. The rest were frozen too severely and didn’t survive. Those three lads also had great fortune, encountering me—otherwise they’d all be finished. For this, we celebrated in the battalion for three days. Those little bastards got me drunk for three whole days.” This bastard still seemed immersed in last year’s glory.
“I’ll beat you to death, you bastard!” Sun Simiao finally exploded, kicking that bastard to the ground with one foot. Who would have thought Old Sun’s combat ability was quite high? The veteran warrior was nearly sent flying by his kick. Yun Ye didn’t care anymore either—rolling up his sleeves, he stepped forward and delivered a fierce pummeling. Not for anything else, but for those nine lost lives.
His heart turned cold. Killing people to the point of being thanked for it—such evil must be beaten to death whenever encountered. Otherwise, Shuofang’s fifty thousand lives wouldn’t be enough for him to ruin.
The other generals looked at each other in confusion. Someone had just told them a secret remedy, and now they wanted to silence him by murder? Just as they were about to step forward to stop it, Old Niu, with a wretched smile on his face, pulled them aside. Beside him, Chai Shao’s face was ashen, veins bulging on his forehead. These two understood first. In terms of medical skill, Sun Simiao was the number one person in the Great Tang. In terms of ingenuity, Yun Ye was the number one person in the Great Tang. Now, these two people losing composure together meant that bastard wasn’t saving people—he was damned well killing them.
After the beating, Old Sun didn’t even care about his disheveled hair. Long hair covering his face like an evil ghost, eyes red, he shouted loudly at the generals: “Which of you has any more of these murderous secret remedies? Hand them over! Who else?”
His voice dragged out long,威猛无俦. A renowned physician of his generation actually had the bearing of a mob boss.
All were veteran killers from the battlefield who understood the principle of advancing when the enemy retreated. They all stepped back in unison, avoiding Old Sun’s aggressive aura.
“Esteemed generals, medicine is a rigorous discipline. For the medical department of my Yushan Academy, we’ve racked our brains. The collection of various secret remedies from across the realm can be said to be wildly diverse, yet the vast majority are completely useless. For example, rubbing a frostbitten body with snow—not only has no effect whatsoever, it actually worsens the condition. If everyone understood this principle, situations of good intentions causing bad outcomes wouldn’t occur. Of twelve soldiers, only three survived—this is the most painful lesson. If they had been soaked in warm water, then wrapped tightly in blankets and placed in a warm location to sleep, all twelve would have survived. I beg all of you—don’t casually use unproven treatment methods. People will die.”
“Is everything you said true?” The fellow who’d been beaten until he looked neither human nor ghost asked.
“Absolutely true. You did a bad thing with good intentions. If you hadn’t rubbed those twelve soldiers with snow and had only rubbed their bodies with your hands in a warm place, I guarantee at least ten of your twelve soldiers would have survived. If I’m wrong, come beat me—I absolutely won’t fight back.”
Yun Ye originally wanted to say “if I’m wrong, come chop me,” but thinking about these fellows’ intelligence, he changed his words on the spot. What if some fool failed to save someone using the new method and came with a blade to chop people—should he dodge or not?
Ever since encountering someone like Xi Tong, Yun Ye would die before speaking in absolutes. Learn from one’s mistakes and gain wisdom—the ancients truly didn’t deceive me.
“Daoist Sun, Marquis Yun, it seems we must popularize this common knowledge throughout the great army. Otherwise, soldiers don’t die on the battlefield but die at the hands of their own people—too unjust. I’ll entrust this matter to you two.” Chai Shao was somewhat helpless, somewhat fortunate—in any case, he looked very complicated.
The beaten military officer lay on the ground calling out his brothers’ names, crying loudly, pounding the ground frozen hard as an iron plate with his fists. Yun Ye couldn’t bear to watch and planned to help him up, but was stopped by an officer nearby who quietly told Yun Ye that his own blood brother was among those nine dead.
Hearing the whole story, Yun Ye had nothing to say.
Yun Ye wrote brush characters very slowly, and they were ugly. Being scorned by Li Er’s whole family wasn’t just a day or two thing. Ever since Li Er commented that Yun Ye’s characters were “snow mud and wild goose traces,” he vowed never to write with a brush again. Too hurtful! I earnestly and carefully wrote characters and you said they’re like a wild chicken’s claw prints left in the snow. You don’t look at all that useful content and instead look at my characters—what for? In two lifetimes, I haven’t held a brush as much as you have in one month. If you’re so capable, compete with me on a keyboard!
Old Sun had no time—he needed to teach those auxiliary soldiers to practice battlefield rescue. Yun Ye set up many large boards, their surfaces empty. Grabbing the brush, he’d just written one character when Old Zhuang covered his face and ran outside—too embarrassing.
What’s embarrassing about it? In the later life, all the notices in the company were written by me, and fans even gathered around to watch, saying it was well written. What taste does Old Zhuang have? If you don’t understand, don’t look.
Just as he was writing enthusiastically, he suddenly heard teeth grinding behind him. Looking back, it turned out to be Xu Jingzong. His plump face was puckered like a chrysanthemum, sucking in cold air through his mouth, biting his back molars with a constipated expression. He still held several books in his arms—apparently he had questions he wanted to ask Yun Ye.
“Marquis, what are you doing? Taken an interest in writing large characters? These characters have distinctive features, comparable to the marquis’s breadth of mind.”
Rarely catching Yun Ye’s weakness, naturally he had to properly tease him. After getting along for so long, as a member of the human elite, he had long seen through Yun Ye completely. This Lantian Marquis who seemed magnanimous but was actually petty-minded simply wasn’t a good person. Not only did he take revenge for the smallest slight, but he also had a pampered temperament—couldn’t endure hardship, couldn’t bear fatigue, and most importantly, couldn’t tolerate grievances.
Apart from the Grand Emperor, the Emperor, the Empress, and a few old commanders who could make him bow his head—in his view, this was rare glory—this brat still had a face full of reluctance.
Yesterday’s military report said His Majesty had demoted forty-six nobles. He looked from beginning to end but didn’t discover the good news of Lantian Marquis being demoted to Lantian Earl. Though somewhat disappointed, he had no choice but to come seek advice from this marquis on several academic questions.
Last night he hadn’t slept, struggling all night. He’d finally managed to understand those simple introductory concepts, only to be stumped by those strange formulas. Unable to bear the itch in his heart, he abandoned his inner resentment and came to seek instruction. Who would have thought he’d see Yun Ye’s dog-scratch characters? His heart felt greatly satisfied.
“Old Xu, how could I forget you? Writing characters is your forte. Come look—how should these boards be written?”
If you can catch labor, catch it. Who cares who it is? As long as they’re useful, that’s good. This was Yun Ye’s consistent principle. The famous saying from the later Taizong must be physically practiced: entrust matters to professionals to handle. Who said that again?
Taking the brush, Xu Jingzong ripped off those extremely ugly characters Yun Ye had written, crumpled them into a ball, and threw them far away before he felt somewhat comfortable inside. Just now it was like swallowing a fly.
A line of vigorous, powerful large characters appeared on Yun Ye’s paper board, black and white distinct, looking very comfortable. Xu Jingzong glanced at Yun Ye with eyes slanted in contempt, then continued copying from the small booklet in his hand onto the paper boards.
“Old Xu, with your brush characters, I have no hope of catching up in this lifetime. So enviable!” Yun Ye constantly praised from behind. Xu Jingzong became increasingly energetic, his brush dancing like dragons and phoenixes. The characters became more and more beautiful, his back profile increasingly elegant.
“Old Xu, you continue. Finish writing all twenty boards. I’m going inside to lie down for a bit—didn’t sleep well last night.” Yun Ye muttered as he went into the house to sleep, leaving only a solitary Xu Jingzong standing in the cold wind writing characters.
His hands were already numb from the cold. The boards were too large to bring inside. A thin stream of snot dripped down from his nose. The fury in Xu Jingzong’s heart was like a volcano about to erupt. What do these damned medical notices have to do with me? If he writes ugly, let him be ugly. If it’s embarrassing, it’s his embarrassment. What’s it to me?
Oh no, that stroke just now wasn’t good. My hand is numb from cold—this downward stroke is too long. The whole character lost its charm. No good, must rewrite. Now, it’s not his face being lost, but mine. How can characters by me, Xu Jingzong, have flaws?
As evening approached, the old servant of the Xu family kept peering outside. Why hasn’t my master returned to dine yet?