The corpses on the streets were quickly removed, but the terror they left behind did not dissipate; instead, it grew fiercer.
Wang Qingchun hurried into the great hall, where more than a dozen physicians were already standing, murmuring in a chaotic buzz. Seeing him enter, they all rushed forward.
“My lord, this is terrible…”
“My lord, four have died since morning…”
“It wasn’t diarrhea…”
“There was some diarrhea though…”
Wang Qingchun only felt a pounding headache and couldn’t make out a single word.
“One at a time!” he roared.
The hall finally quieted down, and Wang Qingchun managed to learn precisely what had happened.
“Did they die of illness?” he couldn't help but ask.
As soon as the words left his mouth, he regretted them, seeing the barely concealed disdain on the faces of the assembled doctors. For a physician to ask such a question seemed ridiculous. Surely, they could distinguish between a natural death and foul play? If it wasn't a natural death, why would the case be reported to him, the Medical Judge?
“Was it all because of the diarrhea? Did they not get a chance to take the Danqu?” Wang Qingchun quickly changed his line of questioning.
Danqu was the name of the pill provided by that doctor for treating the diarrhea—it was remarkably effective. The three patients who hadn't gone with the Qianjin Hall were cured by it.
“No, one had bleeding spots all over their body, with necrosis of the skin…”
“Another had a terrible headache, vomiting, convulsions, and then just died like that…”
“...And another had severe generalized edema…”
At this point, the doctors in the hall began to murmur again, clearly shaken by this sudden outbreak of deaths.
Wang Qingchun stopped asking. Sweat beaded on his forehead. Could it truly be… a plague?
Impossible… impossible… It had been cured. This must be… this must be another illness… unrelated to the diarrhea!
“Doctors, doctors, the people begging for medical help are crowding outside! Please stop discussing and hurry to save them!” someone rushed in from outside shouting.
A heavy silence fell over the hall.
“Right, hurry and save them,” Wang Qingchun commanded.
“My lord, if it truly is…” one doctor stammered.
“You’ve already decided before even seeing them? Have you become an immortal physician too?” Wang Qingchun cut him off sternly and strode out first.
The doctor who spoke flushed with shame and dared not say another word.
As he left, the other physicians exchanged glances and followed him out.
The atmosphere on the street had clearly changed. Four sudden deaths in one morning, coupled with the words of Madam Qi from Qianjin Hall—although no one admitted it—the shadow of pestilence now loomed over everyone.
Almost every apothecary shop was packed. Wealthy families were sending for doctors; the poor were carrying their sick directly to the shops.
“…How could it suddenly get worse?” a family member wailed, grabbing a doctor. “He only caught a chill…”
On a door-plank, the man was rolling about, clutching his stomach, unable to cry out because he was vomiting incessantly.
“Quick, bring the Danqu!” the doctor shouted, sweating profusely, while trying to reassure the family member, “Don’t worry, this will fix him…”
The family member seized him.
“Damn you, have you forgotten? It was because he took this two days ago that he ended up like this! We were perfectly fine before!” she screamed.
“Impossible,” the doctor insisted, trying to pull free. “You’re mistaken!”
“How could I be mistaken! First, you lanced the abscess on Butcher Wang, and then you gave my man this medicine. The result? He died painfully last night after vomiting all night long…” The woman cried, clutching the doctor tightly. “What exactly did you give my husband to try and kill him!”
Just as she spoke, someone shouted from outside the door.
“Butcher Wang is going too!”
The words stunned everyone in the apothecary shop.
“Impossible, he was still selling meat at his stall yesterday,” a shop assistant cried out.
“Why would I lie? They are already causing a ruckus at his house over there, coming this way…” the idler outside yelled. “You people had better be quick and run if you’re smart…”
The doctor’s face turned ashen; sweat poured down his forehead.
“Impossible, impossible…” he repeated blankly.
“You damned wretch, what have you done?” the woman grabbing him shrieked, clearly driven mad by the news of Butcher Wang’s impending death, shaking the doctor violently.
“I didn’t do anything, I didn’t do anything!” the doctor cried out, his own expression terrified. He suddenly raised his voice, “The plague… it’s the plague… it’s the plague!”
His sudden high-pitched shout made the woman freeze and release her grip.
At that very moment, the man on the door-plank convulsed twice and fell still, his face turning grayish-blue. He was dead.
The people in the room finally let out a scream and rushed out.
The street instantly erupted into chaos, people scattering everywhere.
In another apothecary shop, a patient was violently vomiting everywhere, and those nearby could no longer hold back and retreated.
“Even when given medicine, he just throws it up… it’s not working at all…” a doctor whispered hoarsely.
Another stared blankly at the man, who vomited until blood appeared.
“Give me, give me masks…” he mumbled, then abruptly turned and fled the room. “Wrap the mouth, nose, head, and face—everything! Quickly…”
His voice echoed across the courtyard.
Wrapping the head, face, and body completely—they had only seen this done at Qianjin Hall…
This meant… this meant…
The remaining doctors in the room slowly backed away.
“Doctor, hurry and save him…” the patient’s family member pleaded.
Accompanied by this plea, the doctor not only failed to approach but turned and bolted out of the room instead.
“…Lime… yes, use lime… and strong liquor… quickly, quickly… and what else did they say? Right, burn all the used items…”
The courtyard instantly dissolved into pandemonium.
The chaos in the city naturally reached the households of the gentry.
“Quickly, increase the disinfection process twice today,” a man who appeared to be the master commanded in the courtyard.
The young servants responded in unison. The courtyard still held the lingering scent of disinfectant liquor and medicine, but at this moment, no one found it unpleasant; instead, it felt like the incense of salvation.
“Do we have enough rice, flour, and vegetables prepared?” the man asked, turning back.
The mistress stepped out, her face tense but her expression not panicked.
“Yes, we prepared everything early on. Enough for us to stay indoors for two months,” she replied.
“Oh, yes, and…” the man remembered something, pulled a piece of paper from his sleeve, looked at it carefully, and then spoke, “…The food must be cooked thoroughly… wash hands frequently and ventilate… wash hands… Right, do you still remember those water pipes from Qianjin Hall?”
The woman nodded.
“Draw water from our well and run it through that system. Have the children and servants wash their hands under running water,” the man read from the paper.
The woman quickly summoned the steward, who immediately mobilized the household staff.
“Father, Mother,” two small children ran out from the house, clinging to the woman with a hint of apprehension. “Have many people died in the city?”
The woman quickly reached out to comfort them.
“No, no, don’t be afraid. Stay here at home; we will all be fine,” she said softly.
“Yes, we have talismans that will keep the house safe,” the man added, walking over and showing the paper to the children.
It was one of the promotional flyers printed by Qianjin Hall.
The older child recognized some characters and curiously pointed at the paper.
“…Qian… Jin… Tang…” he read aloud.
“Then let’s stick it up quickly,” the younger child didn't care about the words but was happy to urge them on, as it looked different from the old protective charms—it had no pictures.
The man nodded.
“Stick this on the veranda. Everyone must see it and memorize what it says,” he instructed. “This is our charm for survival.”
The servants nearby took it obediently.
In the Prefect’s yamen, the Prefect’s wife was frantically overseeing servants packing crates.
“I told you to leave earlier, but you wouldn’t listen. Now look, we don’t even know if it’s safe outside the city,” she complained.
The Prefect stood nearby, sweating with anxiety.
“Just stop talking and pack quickly. You take Xiao Qiao and go first; I’ll have someone send the things later,” he stamped his foot.
“I’m not leaving,” Huang Ziqiao walked in from outside, sat down heavily in a chair, and declared loudly, “With Madam Qi here, I’m not going anywhere.”
The Prefect and his wife stared at him, momentarily unable to react.
“With Madam Qi here, everything will certainly be fine. I’m not such a coward that I’d be scared off,” Huang Ziqiao quickly added, coughing to cover the slight awkwardness in his voice.
“Oh, you silly child, don’t talk nonsense. Come with me quickly,” the Prefect’s wife urged.
“What nonsense? What kind of person is Madam Qi, and what is her standard? Haven’t you understood by now?” Huang Ziqiao spoke loudly, refusing to move from his seat.
What kind of person and what standard did Madam Qi possess?
She said that if they didn’t believe her, they would die. She said this must be the plague…
The Prefect and his wife couldn’t help but swallow hard.
In truth, they should have been the first to understand what kind of person and what standard this woman possessed…
So, if not believing her leads to death, does believing her lead to life?
The street, initially almost deserted, was now bustling again, but this time it was filled with people carrying loads, pushing carts, driving donkeys, dragging their families away toward the city gates.
“Are they going to stay with relatives?” a passerby asked.
“No, they are going to Qianjin Hall,” a pedestrian replied.
When large numbers of people surged toward Qianjin Hall, Qi Yue was nowhere to be found there.
“You must be tired; sit and rest,” Chang Yuncheng said, gently steadying her arm.
They had just descended from a farmhouse situated on high ground and had reached a large tree in the village.
Qi Yue leaned on his arm and used her sleeve to wipe the sweat from her brow.
Chang Yuncheng stood perfectly straight, allowing her to lean on him.
“It sounds like sepsis,” Qi Yue said, nodding. “Perhaps I was overthinking things. If one scrapes a leg while working in the summer, infection is common, especially with soil contamination. It’s very normal for it to lead to sepsis.”
She breathed a sigh of relief.
“The news transmitted by other disciples shows that the villagers here do not have that diarrhea either. It seems it’s not a plague,” she continued. “That’s wonderful. I told you, how could I be so unlucky as to coincide with the outbreak of an acute infectious disease? My character must actually be quite good.”
Although Chang Yuncheng didn't understand every word, he smiled nonetheless.
“Little lady,” someone called out.
They both turned to see an old man approaching, leaning on a cane.
“I heard you are physicians?” he asked. “You treat people for free?”
When making her rounds in the village, Qi Yue couldn't simply ask who had died and how, so she had announced her identity and offered free treatment.
“Yes, Elder. Where are you feeling unwell?” She withdrew her hand and stood upright.
The old man moved closer.
“Look here, this rash on my neck has turned into blisters. It looks terrifying, and I dare not poke it myself…” he explained, tilting his head to show Qi Yue his neck.
Chang Yuncheng, impatient with the old man’s slowness, stepped forward to offer support.
“Don’t move!” Qi Yue suddenly shouted.
At this command, Chang Yuncheng stopped, and the old man froze, both looking at her in confusion.
Seeing the woman’s smiling face moments ago replaced by one of utter shock.
My heavens, it really is that precise! How could her character be good! It’s terrible!