The weeping shattered the stillness of the street in the remote western quarter; amidst the drizzling rain, the funeral procession appeared exceptionally desolate.

“I heard he was barely over twenty, with two small children at home who can’t even walk yet.”

“...His wife tried hanging herself twice already. After we finally managed to save her, she just lies there, insisting she wants to die…”

“How pitiful…”

The townsfolk pointed and murmured. Two young men in dusty grey robes rushed forward and blocked the path.

Their clothes were soaked from the rain, and they seemed slightly breathless from running so fast.

“...We are from the Thousand Gold Hall. Excuse me, but did this deceased pass away due to diarrhea?” one of them inquired.

Suddenly intercepted, the mourners froze. Upon hearing the question, they were even more astonished.

“There’s a rampant acute abdominal ailment circulating in the city lately—it strikes fiercely. We need to conduct an investigation to gauge the density of the outbreak and better determine the severity of this crisis,” the disciple explained, pulling out a sheet of paper.

On it were listed the symptoms of acute abdominal illness and suggested remedies.

This family had clearly heard the rumors. Though slightly displeased at being stopped, they answered nonetheless.

“It wasn’t loose bowels,” an elder stated mournfully.

The two disciples exchanged a glance and did not move away.

“Then what was the cause?” they pressed.

“Go away!” someone in the procession snapped impatiently. “Do you not see the gravity of the occasion! What kind of questions are these! Are you here to gawk? To make sport of us?”

Startled, the two disciples quickly bowed and offered explanations.

“No, no, we are just taking statistics, we need to tally up the occurrences in this area…” they hurried to say.

“Statistics? What good are your statistics? Can you bring the dead back to life with your tally sheets?” they shouted back.

Of course, that was impossible...

“This is for the sake of the living...” the disciples tried to reason.

But the family members surged forward and shoved them aside.

“Get lost, or we’ll break your legs!”

Watching the funeral procession disappear into the distance, the two disciples stood helpless in the rain.

“What do we do now?” one asked.

“Master said, investigate only while ensuring our own safety. If the family refuses to cooperate, we must not force it,” the other replied. “Let’s head back. At least we got an answer about the cause of death; it wasn't a wasted trip entirely.”

The first disciple nodded, but they didn't immediately leave. Instead, they pulled out a stack of papers from their satchels and began distributing them to the surrounding onlookers who hadn't yet dispersed.

“Please read these. Pay attention to hygiene and disease prevention. If you notice any symptoms, seek medical attention immediately.”

The surrounding people took the papers, but most were illiterate, gathering in groups to discuss the text.

After the two disciples gave brief explanations, they hurried quickly down the street.

Inside the Thousand Gold Hall, an unprecedented hustle was underway.

“This won’t do; there are far too many people,” Qi Yue said, pulling off her mask to reveal a face etched with anxiety and exhaustion.

“Indeed. We’ve received eight patients in these short three days,” Liu Pucheng replied, equally weary.

“Although, so far, there’s no indication these patients are transmitting it to each other—they are all strangers—such a concentrated outbreak is terrifying,” Qi Yue remarked.

“I’ll go find Wang Qingchun again…” Liu Pucheng turned to leave.

Qi Yue quickly stopped him.

“What good will finding that wastrel do? He can only stir up trouble. Go directly to the magistrates,” she insisted. “We’ll handle the rest ourselves. Mobilize all the medical halls in the city to assist.”

Liu Pucheng nodded.

“Then let’s try that. This involves human lives, after all; I am a healer, I can’t just stand by indifferently,” he asserted. “I’ll take care of this. I’ll report to the government office first, and then I’ll contact the other medical establishments.”

Qi Yue agreed.

“Also, we must find a location outside the city as soon as possible. Although we haven't found any signs of person-to-person transmission yet, we must guard against it—what if the pathogen mutates and jumps between people…” She glanced out through the hall toward the bustling market. “This concentration of people is just too dangerous.”

“Let Hu San handle that,” Liu Pucheng suggested.

Speaking of Hu San, he happened to rush in at that moment.

“Master, the syringe barrels are fired and ready. Do you think this quality will work?” he asked, carrying in a box.

Qi Yue quickly opened it. It contained items of white porcelain, resembling those laboratory tubes.

“Heavens, they are exquisite!” she exclaimed in surprise.

This was practically an artistic rendition of a syringe!

“It’s just that we can’t make the needle tips as fine as you required, Master,” Hu San said regretfully.

“That’s fine, that’s more than good enough,” Qi Yue praised him, nodding.

Liu Pucheng took one to examine and also offered praise.

“Now we’ll have enough syringes to administer the penicillin,” he noted.

No longer having to wait to sterilize a single needle after each injection. For these acute abdominal patients, every moment of waiting meant increased danger.

“The craftsmen are working overtime; they estimate three more can be forged by tomorrow,” Hu San said, wiping his face with his sleeve, where rain and sweat were indistinguishable.

Qi Yue frowned again.

“We have the syringes, but we might run out of penicillin supply…” she murmured.

“Can’t penicillin be extracted?” Liu Pucheng asked, puzzled.

“It’s unstable, and out of the fifty batches we processed previously, only two were effective,” Qi Yue explained.

Good heavens, such a low rate.

“But the patients keep increasing,” Liu Pucheng frowned deeply.

Qi Yue let out a breath.

There was nothing more to say now; they had to pour all their efforts into extracting more effective batches.

“My Lord, we cannot ignore the Thousand Gold Hall any longer!”

Wang Qingchun declared loudly.

The Prefect, who had been reviewing documents behind his desk, was startled.

Wang Qingchun was merely a minor judicial official, yet he dared to shout at him—it was only because he had connections somewhere above...

Thinking of this, the Prefect offered a polite smile.

“Official Wang, there’s no need to let a young woman get under your skin so,” he chuckled. “Come, sit down quickly, calm your anger.”

Wang Qingchun was in no mood to sit.

“Do you know what that woman is doing in the city right now?” he demanded, glaring. “She is…”

He didn't finish his sentence before footsteps sounded from outside, and a young master burst in.

“Father, I need my seal press,” Huang Ziqiao announced.

Seeing people in the room, his steps paused momentarily, but upon recognizing Wang Qingchun, he lifted his chin, snorted, and didn't spare the official a single glance.

The Prefect coughed artificially, feigning seriousness, but said nothing and produced the seal press.

“What do you need this for?” he asked casually, merely maintaining appearances for those present, having no genuine expectation of an answer.

Huang Ziqiao took it and started to leave.

“...There are several merchants whose families have sick people but they refuse isolation. I’m going to seal their shops!” he said briefly.

The Prefect hummed an acknowledgement, seemingly indifferent whether he heard or not. To him, whatever his son did was right.

It was fortunate that Wang Qingchun was quick-witted and sharp; he grabbed Huang Ziqiao’s arm.

“Young Master, where are you rushing off to?” he asked loudly.

Huang Ziqiao had been looking for an opportunity, and seeing the old man leap at him, he immediately raised his foot to kick.

“Go to hell! It’s not your place to manage me, you thing!” he cursed.

Wang Qingchun was kicked away but still held tightly to Huang Ziqiao’s arm.

“Hey, hey, children say things without thinking. Official Wang, please don’t take offense,” the Prefect quickly rushed over, shouting.

Wang Qingchun was so enraged his vision darkened.

This is called being thoughtless? Your son struck first, yet your gaze focuses only on the arm he grabbed! As if I used too much force! Your son nearly kicked me to death! Are you blind, man!

Truly, the rot starts at the top—the branch mirrors the root!

“My Lord, do you know what the young master intends to do?” he demanded fiercely, startling the Prefect.

The Prefect was also slightly displeased. It was just a light kick from his son; was it worth all this fuss? Besides, if Wang hadn't lunged out first, where would his Ziqiao be now? Perhaps Ziqiao’s arm was hurt from being grabbed so roughly... Ziqiao’s constitution had suffered major damage before!

“Ziqiao, are you alright?” He immediately gripped his son’s arm while forcefully shaking off Wang Qingchun’s hand. So what if he had connections above? In these times, everyone had someone backing them.

“My Lord!” Wang Qingchun stamped his foot in anger. “It is that Madam Qi who is causing trouble, inciting the young master to seal shops!”

What?

The Prefect was startled and looked at Huang Ziqiao.

“If you hadn’t been a fool and deliberately gotten in the way, would Madam Qi have caused this much trouble?” Huang Ziqiao said coldly, throwing the scroll aside and striding toward the door.

This time, the Prefect hurried to stop his son.

“What exactly is going on?” he asked. If his son was acting, he surely wasn't mistaken; and his son certainly wasn’t foolish enough to be used as a pawn. But if it involved that woman...

“Madam Qi is spreading rumors of a plague sweeping the city, relying on her miraculous medicine, demanding household reports of anyone with diarrhea, insisting all the sick must be confined to a manor outside the city…” Wang Qingchun stated coldly. “She doesn’t just investigate the living; she won’t even let the dead rest! Chasing after families to ask how people died—if the relatives hadn't stopped her, she’d have demanded autopsies!”

The Prefect listened, dumbfounded.

A plague...

A plague!

“There’s a plague!” he cried out, grabbing Huang Ziqiao’s hand. “You, take your mother back to the capital now! Leave immediately!”

“My Lord!” Wang Qingchun was about to explode, grabbing the Prefect’s arm. “You hear the reports and you react like this! Think about the panic among the populace! Several wealthy families are already preparing to move out!”

“Yes, yes, move out, move out,” the Prefect nodded, a note of panic creeping in. “Heavens, a plague. I still remember the great epidemic in Qingde Prefecture years ago—it was truly... it truly became an empty city overnight...”

“My Lord, this is not a plague!” Wang Qingchun stamped his foot.

“Ah? Not a plague?” The Prefect looked at him, tinged with suspicion. “Why not? Didn't Madam Qi say it was?”

It was that woman’s word again! Why must everyone believe whatever that woman says!

“This is not a plague; this is poisoning! The proprietor of the Clear Breeze Pavilion bought contaminated meat and vegetables, causing those who ate there to vomit and suffer diarrhea. I have followed the proprietor’s confession and tracked down several vegetable and meat vendors. Those people who later suffered the same symptoms confirmed they purchased goods from these same vendors,” Wang Qingchun stated rapidly. “This is such a simple matter! It is such a simple matter! I have repeatedly announced this to the public! Why must that woman insist on causing a scene! Must she cause mass panic and flight, alerting the imperial court, and making Yongqing Prefecture a laughingstock of the empire?”

Indeed, the Prefect had finally cleared his mind of the concerns about his son being bullied, Wang Qingchun being too petty, and the impending plague.

Casually spreading rumors of a plague was undoubtedly a crime equivalent to inciting civil unrest!