At noon, the scent of cooking drifted from the Qianjin Hall, but the heavy use of strong alcohol and lime for quarantine and disinfection mingled the aromas, rendering the food less appealing.
"Who else needs to go in and see? If you're going in, hurry up! We're running low on hazmat suits," a disciple shouted towards the main hall from the doorway.
Many physicians were seated in the hall, and the words struck them as somewhat jarring, akin to being in a bustling marketplace where merchants loudly hawk their wares.
A few physicians emerged, and the others rushed to meet them with a degree of urgency.
"He... he actually... is recovering..." one of them stammered.
The moment these words were spoken, everyone's expression shifted to one of profound surprise.
How was this possible? He was clearly beyond help this morning... How could he have taken a turn for the better in just half a day?
"... Those who need to see should hurry; only three hazmat suits remain!" the disciple called out at the opportune moment.
At these words, the physicians, who had previously disdained the Qianjin Hall's money-grubbing ways, scrambled forward.
"Give me..."
"... I must go..."
"... I don't have the money, I'll write an IOU..."
"... No IOUs..."
"Go, go! How do you run a business? No, how do you provide services? Of course, IOUs are acceptable, but an IOU will cost double the silver..."
"... Hu, even a black-market den isn't as unscrupulous as you are..."
The hall erupted into a noisy clamor, truly resembling a marketplace.
Wang Qingchun sat to one side, his face dark and unmoving, seemingly deaf to the commotion around him.
"Lord Wang, this one is specially reserved for you," a disciple approached and said.
Wang Qingchun responded with a cold sneer.
"It's free," the disciple interjected before Wang Qingchun could speak. "Our Master said you are an official; this service must be provided to you. Whether this patient lives or dies, such a critical matter, must be settled by your decree... Otherwise, even if the patient lives, without your word, they might still be counted as dead..."
Insolence!
Wang Qingchun trembled with rage, stood up, violently tore off the hazmat suit, and stormed out.
The other physicians paid him no mind; they were still fighting over the protective gear. Only two or three people followed Wang Qingchun out.
In the end, the last three suits were seized by three individuals through a combination of exorbitant prices and sheer physical force.
Watching these three rush into the backyard impatiently, the others looked on with envy.
"Forget it. Even if they see, they'll have to tell us, and they paid money for it. We benefit from their expense," someone muttered sourly.
But people knew that seeing it yourself was different from hearing about it. Especially for physicians like them; seeing even a little more might mean learning a new technique. Money was nothing; the significance was immense. It was rare that Madam Qi allowed open access, revealing all techniques, consultations, and even equipment without reservation...
This opportunity was truly precious!
Everyone stared longingly toward the backyard.
"Anyone want to eat?" A short, stout man, sweat pouring down his face and wearing an apron, rushed out from the backyard, brandishing a ladle and shouting excitedly. "Our canteen is serving braised pig's head, steamed dumplings, and scallion oil cakes today, exclusively for Qianjin Hall disciples and patients! A feast for the eyes, nose, and stomach..."
A collective shadow crossed the faces of everyone in the hall.
Was it free?
"... Seeing how hard everyone has worked, we're making an exception today for takeout! Place your orders quickly, or it'll be gone..." the cook yelled loudly.
The physicians present gritted their teeth.
Worked hard? And they aren't even giving it away for free!
The Qianjin Hall was truly shameless...
However, they had been up for nearly a day and a night, too afraid to leave for fear of missing a crucial moment, and now they were truly starving. What made it worse was that the cook wasn't just shouting with a ladle; he was followed by a helper carrying a tray.
That tray was peculiar: made of the most common fired clay, it was strangely elongated and segmented into several depressions of varying sizes, currently filled with glistening meat, vibrant green dumplings, and golden-brown flatbreads....
If they had only heard, they might have managed to resist, but seeing it...
"I..." the two men still standing nearby, waiting to collect medicine, couldn't help but raise a hand to speak.
But before the words could leave their mouths, the man next to them kicked him.
"What about you? Come on," he hissed quietly.
"We're leaving already? Is Madam Qi alright?" the first man hesitated, his gaze lingering on the laden food tray.
"She's fine," the second man pulled him along. "Hurry back; the boss is waiting for news."
The crowd of physicians in the hall couldn't help but start buying food. With the prices being argued over, the scene truly resembled a marketplace once more. No one noticed the two men who had been there since yesterday buying medicine leaving.
By the afternoon, all the physicians had to accept the reality: the Doctor Zhu, who was supposed to die, was indeed alive again.
"Madam Qi, is this the effect of this medicine?" everyone finally couldn't help but ask.
Qi Yue, having removed her isolation suit and changed back into ordinary physician's robes, looked utterly exhausted.
"Yes," she replied simply.
"What medicine is this?" someone blurted out.
In any other situation, or in front of any other physician, they would never have asked such a question. Asking a doctor about their prescription was asking for a dressing-down.
But here, at the Qianjin Hall, asking felt completely natural, as if it were expected.
Perhaps it was because the Qianjin Hall constantly disseminated small tips on treating external injuries and illnesses, or perhaps it was because they were allowed free entry to the patient's room just moments ago.
After the first physician asked, the others looked at Qi Yue with hopeful anticipation, waiting for her to elaborate, preferably writing it down and giving each of them a copy. Of course, they wouldn't mind if the bottom of the document still read: For emergencies, please find Qianjin Hall.
Qi Yue smiled faintly at the physician.
"Poison," she said.
The physicians were stunned, then instantly annoyed.
This woman! How could she treat people like this! It was too much!
"Madam Qi, why didn't you just speak plainly!" an older man said, a mix of shame and annoyance in his tone.
Qi Yue maintained her smile and turned her gaze to him.
"Because I found that when I speak plainly, you don't understand," she said.
Watching the physicians angrily flick their sleeves and depart, Hu San grinned and turned to A'Ru.
"Master always has the best way with words; one sharp retort is enough to infuriate them," he chuckled.
This time, A'Ru did not glare or scold him.
"Does it still hurt?" she asked.
Hu San froze, not immediately understanding.
A'Ru reached out and gently touched the injury on his face.
Hu San hissed in pain and turned his head. In the brawl yesterday, Hu San had clearly taken a beating; the family of Doctor Zhu had swollen his face. After a night, the swelling hadn't subsided—it had worsened. His once rather handsome face was now unrecognizable.
"Have someone brew some medicine for promoting blood circulation and dispelling stasis, and go take it," A'Ru said, withdrawing her hand.
Hu San grinned sheepishly and went happily.
Watching Hu San stop after only half a bowl, the disciple responsible for brewing the medicine frowned.
"Senior Brother, you're such a grown man, are you afraid of bitterness and not finishing it?" he asked.
"What do you know? Who's afraid of bitterness," Hu San retorted.
"Then if you don't finish it, the efficacy won't be enough, and it will take longer to heal," the disciple argued.
"Then let it heal slowly; what's the rush?" Hu San replied, standing up and meandering out.
Someone who enjoys having their injuries heal slowly... The disciple stared after his retreating back in bewilderment.
Truly, when the forest gets big, you see every kind of bird.
As night descended, Liu Pucheng, who had been released, stared at the patient on the bed with intense emotion.
"Little Qi, is this the medicine you mentioned that works wonders within one shichen (two hours)!" he said, his voice trembling as he looked at the small porcelain vial in Qi Yue's hand. He dared not reach out to take it, just to look, "How... how can there be something so potent..."
Qi Yue looked at the medicine in her hand, remembering the tension of last night and this morning. Recalling it now still made her heart pound.
When she had checked again and again, finding no medicinal effect, the already dwindling ten culture dishes had reduced to the last three, then two, and finally just one—the tension had almost made her faint.
By sheer luck, when she opened the final culture dish, the bacteria within showed a noticeable change.
No one was more excited than her, because no one knew better what this meant!
Penicillin! A drug that could completely change human history, and it had actually been purified under such rudimentary conditions!
Although the purity was low.
It was still miraculous...
"This is your accomplishment!" Liu Pucheng exclaimed emotionally.
"No, this is nature's accomplishment," Qi Yue murmured. "One thing conquers another; all things mutually restrain and generate each other... It already existed; I just found it."
So, I really could find it!
Meanwhile, Doctor Zhu regained consciousness and was visibly moved upon seeing Qi Yue and the others.
"I knew it, I knew it. I always believed Madam Qi could save me," he said, choking up. As a physician, he understood his own condition and knew he had snatched his life back from the clutches of the King of Hell.
"Doctor Zhu, your condition has improved, but you are not out of danger yet. I will continue injecting you with penicillin for about four or five days until you are completely well. You should be resting, but... I fear the situation is severe, so I must ask you a few things," Qi Yue said, then added apologetically, "I heard you had some understanding of this disease and had contact with the three who died. Can you tell me exactly what happened..."
Doctor Zhu nodded.
"Yes, Madam Qi, the situation is truly critical," he gasped. "This strain of illness is too ferocious; there was no time for treatment. If it weren't for Madam Qi's medicine and this..."
He glanced at the IV drip still attached to his arm.
Clearly, in the absence of the specific medicine, this unbelievable apparatus had sustained his life, buying him precious time.
Doctor Zhu meticulously recounted his observations of the three deceased patients.
"So, it seems these individuals were in close contact and ate together, meaning we cannot rule out infection... but we cannot confirm it either, as Wang Qingchun and the others are fine," Qi Yue summarized.
Doctor Zhu nodded.
"... But we can confirm this disease is extremely perilous," he stated. "If it's said they ate unclean food, then there must be others with the same symptoms. Madam Qi, saving lives is paramount..."
Qi Yue nodded and turned to Zhang Tong.
"Go immediately and print flyers to distribute. If anyone has acute abdominal pain, they must be brought to the Qianjin Hall. Be sure to state clearly that this illness is violent, and if there is any diarrhea, regardless of whether it's this specific type, bring them immediately for treatment to avoid delays," she instructed.
Zhang Tong acknowledged with a 'Yes' and ran out.
Soon, more than a dozen disciples rushed out, heading in different directions.
The next day, the entire Yongqing Prefecture knew: there seemed to be a sudden, deadly epidemic of stomach ailment in the city, and if one wanted to be cured, they must quickly go to the Qianjin Hall.
When the news arrived, the populace was in an uproar.
Is that true? Many people came to the entrance of the Qianjin Hall to inquire.
Besides asking about the illness, there was more questioning.
"Didn't the Qianjin Hall kill people? How dare they claim that if you don't come to the Qianjin Hall, you won't survive?"
"Are they saying that all other pharmacies are useless?"
"Exactly! On what grounds do they say that?"
The noisy crowd was interrupted when someone rushed in, carrying a person.
"...Hey, isn't that a physician from the Renhe Hall? Why is he sending a patient to the Qianjin Hall?" a recognizable townsman exclaimed in surprise.
Qi Yue, standing at the entrance, guided the group to use the specially opened quarantine channel to carry the person on the stretcher into the Qianjin Hall. Hearing the outcry, she turned and smiled.
"Because..." she looked at the man and said, "We are the Qianjin Hall."
The crowd fell into a moment of silence.
The previous catchphrase concerning the Qianjin Hall had become fodder for casual conversation, even being applied to matters entirely unrelated to medicine—for example, why they hadn't bought or eaten something: because we are not the Qianjin Hall...
Because we are not the Qianjin Hall...
This phrase, usually spoken lightly and sounding rather amusing in daily chatter, somehow didn't sound funny at all when spoken by the Qianjin Hall itself today.
Because you are not the Qianjin Hall! Therefore, you cannot cure this disease!
This wasn't funny; it was clearly the most straightforward, self-evident truth!