Zhang Yang pulled open the door and slid directly into the front passenger seat. Sitting there made it easier to memorize the route, allowing him to drive himself later if necessary.

“Master, take me to the largest pharmacy nearby, the one with the most complete selection of Chinese medicine!”

Once inside, Zhang Yang spoke immediately. He knew that local taxi drivers were the most familiar with the area, which was why he hadn't driven his own car. Driving himself would mean getting lost and constantly asking for directions—too much hassle.

“Got it, Boss. Are you looking to buy some traditional Chinese medicine?”

The taxi steered itself, the driver turning back with a smile to ask Zhang Yang. The driver looked to be around forty, a seemingly honest and dependable man.

Zhang Yang smiled slightly. “Yes, I need to buy a lot of Chinese medicine, and it must be high-quality!”

The driver replied, “If you need good quality and a large quantity, there’s no need to go to a standard pharmacy. Boss, let me tell you about a place. Their Chinese medicinal materials are definitely much more comprehensive and of much higher quality than any pharmacy!”

“Is it a specialized TCM (Traditional Chinese Medicine) shop?”

Zhang Yang asked with a smile. He had initially intended to visit a professional TCM establishment, but he wasn’t sure if such a place existed in Shanghai. Nowadays, people trusted Western medicine more, and even larger pharmacies tended to feature or focus on Western drugs.

“It is, but it’s not just a TCM shop; they also treat illnesses there. It functions as a TCM clinic!”

The driver paused, then continued, “Don’t be fooled by the ‘clinic’ designation; the place is huge and very well-known. Many people go there for treatment daily, and they are prescribed Chinese medicine. I’ve been there a few times myself, and I’ve even taken relatives. Their medical skills are superb. Furthermore, their dispensary is massive, and the selection of materials is incredibly complete!”

“What is the name of the place you mentioned?”

The driver’s words piqued Zhang Yang’s interest. There were many TCM clinics; Jiao Yi had one run by Ji Hongguang, and in his previous life, he had friends who specialized in this field.

Generally, TCM clinics were not large, mainly due to spatial constraints. Unlike Western medicine, which could often offer near-instant relief with an injection, many people with minor ailments would simply go to a hospital for shots or quick medication. For serious illnesses, they were even less likely to trust traditional methods, preferring the TCM departments of major hospitals. This made it very difficult for regular TCM clinics to thrive.

Aside from the few clinics led by famous physicians with established prestige, most others struggled to survive, often barely functioning or converting entirely to Western medical practices. Even those prestigious clinics weren't particularly large, certainly not boasting expansive, specialized dispensaries.

“That place is called Huatuo Ju. It’s not too far from here. If you want to go, I can take you there right now!” the taxi driver said, turning his head.

Huatuo Ju. It was an unfamiliar name to Zhang Yang. At least, he had never heard of it in his past life. If he didn't know it then, it suggested the place wasn't widely renowned.

After a moment’s thought, Zhang Yang said softly, “How about this: I’ll charter your car for the rest of the day. Let’s go check that place out first!”

“Wonderful, Boss! Heading there right away!”

Hearing that Zhang Yang wanted to charter the car, the driver’s smile widened. Chartering was easy, and it paid better than picking up individual fares. Since Zhang Yang had come from a five-star hotel, he was sure to be generous with payment.

Huatuo Ju was, in fact, not very far. It only took about ten minutes to arrive. In Shanghai, a ten-minute drive was certainly not long.

This place was unlike what Zhang Yang had imagined. TCM clinics usually possessed an antique, scholarly appearance. This establishment, however, had a grand entrance gate and a large signboard displaying a red cross. Entering the gate revealed a courtyard, with a statue of Hua Tuo erected in the center.

“This is it, Boss. If you need treatment, you’ll have to register first. For purchasing medicine, it’s simpler—just go straight to the dispensary!”

Having parked, the driver naturally slipped into the role of a guide. Zhang Yang had already paid him a thousand yuan for the charter, an amount that would usually cover far more than half a day’s work. With such a hefty payment, the driver felt obliged to offer maximum service and avoid wasting the boss’s time.

“Let’s go straight to the dispensary!”

Zhang Yang stared at the establishment before him, momentarily stunned. Strictly speaking, this was no longer just a clinic; it looked like an entire hospital. Behind the statue of Hua Tuo stood a four-story building with a main entrance right in the center—its layout was almost identical to a hospital.

“Right this way, Boss!”

The driver immediately nodded. Today, he was handling both driving and guiding. The one thousand yuan charter fee had certainly been well spent.

There were quite a few people in the courtyard, and the main hall was even more crowded, with several lines forming for registration. From the outside alone, Zhang Yang fully believed this was a hospital, perhaps a small, comprehensive one.

“Boss, the dispensary is up ahead!” the driver said, pointing down an adjacent corridor with a smile. Zhang Yang took a quick look around before following him toward the back.

Walking through the passageway led to another courtyard, though this one was significantly smaller than the first. This inner courtyard had only one entrance, marked by a large, antique-style wooden door, which stood open, with many people coming and going.

As Zhang Yang followed the driver inside, his eyes immediately lit up. It was a substantial hall, decorated in a very rustic, ancient style. Three sides were lined with service counters, behind which stood countless small medicine cabinets. Dozens of attendants bustled behind the counters, either preparing or weighing herbs. Many patrons, after collecting their bagged Chinese medicines, proceeded to the decoction room nearby.

“Well, Boss, what do you think? It’s quite large, isn’t it!” the driver seemed rather proud. The dispensary was enormous, easily several hundred square meters. Zhang Yang estimated there must be thousands of small and large cabinets lining the walls behind the counters.

A Chinese medicine hall of this magnitude was rare, even for Zhang Yang. In his previous life, he had only seen one each in Beijing and Guangdong, and he hadn't expected Shanghai to hide another. The one in Shanghai appeared even larger than the ones in Beijing and Guangdong province.

“It’s certainly big. This is the first time I’ve seen one this large!” Zhang Yang nodded, a flicker of confusion in his mind. Logically, he should have known about a specialized TCM dispensary of this scale in Shanghai, especially one attached to such a large clinic.

“This is the biggest in Shanghai. Many people say it’s the largest TCM clinic in the whole country!” the driver stated, a note of local pride in his voice. It truly was an achievement for a TCM clinic to grow this large.

“Boss, if you have a prescription, just hand it over. If not, you can tell them what you need. As long as it’s not a prohibited substance, they will prepare it for you. However, it’s best if you bring a written formula; it’s much more convenient. If you just name the herbs, they might not have time to listen while they're busy weighing everything out!” the driver advised. Restrictions on dispensing medicine here were minimal; outsiders could purchase herbs, usually just needing a formula.

“All right, I’ll write one now!” Zhang Yang agreed. He took paper and a pen from his canvas bag and casually sat down on a nearby resting chair to begin writing.

The driver paused slightly, glancing at Zhang Yang with some surprise, then shook his head to himself. This boss was writing his own prescription? Could he possibly be a doctor, perhaps a TCM practitioner? The driver found this hard to believe. In his experience, TCM doctors were usually older, or at least middle-aged, perhaps thirty or forty. A young man like Zhang Yang, who looked barely twenty, could hardly be a physician. He assumed Zhang Yang was simply writing down a list of herbs he had memorized before buying them.

Soon, Zhang Yang filled a whole sheet of paper. Clutching the formula, he walked directly to the counter.

“Prescription!” A clerk standing there, having just finished serving another customer, immediately held out his hand upon seeing Zhang Yang approach.

Zhang Yang handed over the freshly written formula. The clerk turned around and only looked down at the paper once he was standing beneath the medicine cabinet. After a single glance, the clerk’s eyes widened. He stared longer, his eyes growing even wider, yet he made no move to start weighing any herbs.

“Are you deliberately causing trouble here?” The clerk suddenly spun around, walking back and slamming the prescription onto the counter, glaring fiercely at Zhang Yang. His commotion drew the attention of others, and an older attendant quickly hurried over.

“I’m here to buy medicine, not to cause trouble. Look closely. If you have some herbs, start preparing those first. If you lack others, I’ve noted acceptable substitutes, and I wrote down alternatives for anything unavailable. Just skip those if you truly don’t have them,” Zhang Yang said with a slight smile. He was not surprised by the clerk’s reaction. The formula he had written was indeed unusual; it would have been abnormal if the clerk had simply started preparing everything immediately.

The attendant who had rushed over also noticed the formula on the counter. He picked it up, read it, and his eyes immediately widened just as much as the first clerk’s.

“Hundred-year-old He Shou Wu (Polygoni Multiflori); if unavailable, a wild He Shou Wu over thirty years old can substitute. Hundred-year-old Lingzhi; if unavailable, a wild Lingzhi over fifty years old or Lingzhi powder will suffice…” The attendant read softly, growing more astonished with every line.

It wasn’t just the clerks; the taxi driver who had brought Zhang Yang was also staring with wide eyes. The driver knew little about medicine or pharmacology, but he recognized He Shou Wu and Lingzhi as relatively precious materials, especially wild specimens. Such high-quality herbs were already rare, and a ‘hundred-year-old’ classification implied they were true rarities, possessing characteristics associated with longevity. It was understandable why both clerks reacted so strongly.

“Sir, are you truly asking for these specific items?” The older attendant, having finished reading, put the formula down and asked Zhang Yang in a low voice. The first clerk, who had been ready to confront Zhang Yang, stared at his colleague in confusion, expecting a similar accusation, not this cautious inquiry.

……………………

There is a gathering tonight, a reunion with friends. We couldn't meet before the Mid-Autumn Festival, so we gathered everyone during the holiday break. Xiao Yu absolutely has to attend these gatherings; I can’t cut off all my social ties just for writing. I only got back after nine, and I’m writing now to finally complete a chapter. My monthly votes haven’t reached two hundred, but since the update was late today, I will deliver six chapters as compensation. If any friends still have monthly votes and are willing to support me, please cast one; the competition is fiercest at the beginning of the month as votes can slip backward. The next chapter is expected around 1:30 AM. Those who sleep early can read it tomorrow!