The Thousand Gold Hall outside the city was already overflowing, and people were dying continuously. This time, no matter how much the families resisted, the government ordered the bodies burned before burial was permitted.

Watching the people bustling back and forth—none of them evidently medical apprentices—Magistrate Tong stamped his foot in agitation.

“Where is Madam Qi? Where is she? Where are the others?” he demanded.

“Madam Qi has gone to trace the source of infection. Some disciples are preparing medicine, and others are handling epidemic prevention work,” Zhang Tong replied while managing the reception duties.

“At a time like this, why aren't the others seeing to the patients? Madam Qi’s healing is the priority,” the Magistrate said. “Why isn't she here now?”

This was precisely what everyone else wanted to say, but at this moment—no, perhaps at no time in the future—did they dare voice such words in front of the Thousand Gold Hall staff.

“Madam Qi said that prevention of this illness is more important than cure,” Zhang Tong explained again, acting as the spokesperson at this juncture.

Their supply of penicillin was simply insufficient for such a massive demand. The critically ill needed penicillin to survive, as low doses meant death, yet the mildly ill also required it because untreated cases would worsen until they became untreatable critical cases. But they had so little penicillin; who should receive it, and who should go without?

To put it bluntly, more than half of those currently afflicted were now relying on luck.

This was a cruel yet unavoidable truth.

They had already exerted every effort to treat the sick; now, the only focus was to stop generating more patients. As long as the source of infection persisted, more victims would continue to arise daily.

The Magistrate understood the implication, his expression shifting between shock and complexity.

It seemed a great number of people in Yongqing Prefecture were destined to die this time….

But for the woman herself, facing such a reality must be agonizing.

He uttered a low "Oh."

“You are right. That is exactly how it should be,” he conceded, asking nothing further.

The most crucial thing now was to secure a chance at life for more people.

“Then where did she go?” Huang Ziqiao, paying no heed to the unspoken meaning, cared only about this, asking the question.

Since the contagion was confirmed, the Prefect had not shown himself in public, but fortunately, his son had taken his place.

“She said she was tracing the source of infection, something about the pigs. She took people there yesterday,” Zhang Tong reported.

“Yesterday? She didn't return last night?” Huang Ziqiao’s voice rose, and he stepped forward one pace.

Zhang Tong, already somewhat numb from the constant shouting over the past day, paused at the sudden spike in volume and nodded dumbly.

“Is the source of infection very dangerous?” Huang Ziqiao inquired.

Naturally… it must be, to make so many people ill….

Zhang Tong nodded.

“Which direction did she go?” Huang Ziqiao pressed.

Zhang Tong pointed in a direction.

“There are pig farms that way…” he said.

Before the words were fully out, Huang Ziqiao had already bolted out the door, leaving Zhang Tong and the Magistrate exchanging bewildered glances.

“Madam Qi did not save his life in vain,” the Magistrate chuckled with a hint of emotion, raising a hand toward the yamen runner beside him. “Hurry and follow the young master; make sure nothing happens to him.”

As the runners prepared to leave, Zhang Tong stopped them, retrieving several sets of isolation suits.

“Runners, you have labored hard. Protect yourselves so you can save more people,” he instructed.

The runners looked at the isolation suits being offered, feeling a surge of emotion.

It was well known that the isolation suits from the Thousand Gold Hall were being scalped for exorbitant prices on the market, and they were extremely rare.

“Take them,” the Magistrate instructed.

Only then did the runners accept the suits. The group happily put them on, the anxiety that had marked their faces moments before replaced entirely by confidence.

How could they not be afraid? They watched as patients flooded in from all directions. Bound by duty, they could not hide at home; they still had to patrol everywhere, even going to the very locations where the sick lay.

Now, with the Thousand Gold Hall’s clothing, it felt as if they were encased in a layer of iron.

“All the doctors in the city have been mobilized for treatment. I have already reported to the Governor-General of Zhejiang and Zhili; more manpower will arrive soon,” the Magistrate announced. “Let them handle the epidemic screening and verification tasks.”

Zhang Tong let out a breath of relief.

As he spoke, there was a commotion outside, and Hu San entered.

“Master, you’ve finally returned! We couldn’t manage without you any longer,” Zhang Tong said, rushing over, a mixture of urgency, joy, and complaint in his voice.

Hu San’s face and clothes were slick with sweat.

“The lime and higher-purity alcohol have all arrived,” he gasped out. Behind him, the rumble of carts and horses announced the arrival of two or three dozen men pushing and guiding more than ten carts.

“Didn’t you say manpower was short? This quickly?” Zhang Tong exclaimed joyfully, stepping forward to receive them.

The men driving the carts, however, appeared flustered.

“Brother! Government men!” one man in a cloth coat couldn't help but whisper. “Let’s run…”

He was promptly kicked from behind.

“Shut up.”

Zhang Tong was already approaching.

“Are you all manual laborers?” he asked, observing that while their attire suggested common folk, their bearing seemed somewhat… formidable.

“Yes, yes.”

“No, no.”

The leading figures offered conflicting responses.

Zhang Tong looked taken aback. The Magistrate also slowly approached, though his gaze was fixed not on the men but on the cargo on the carts.

This proximity was enough to make the two or three dozen men behind them recoil in alarm.

“What’s wrong?” Hu San also arrived, noticing their extreme tension. He quickly clapped the arm of the man nearest him. “Come, let me introduce you. This is my senior apprentice brother.”

The man forced a slight smile.

“It was truly my good fortune. I was just worrying about how to move this lime, and then they showed up. Turns out they also needed lime. When they heard I’d bought it all, they were disappointed, and seeing I had no one to transport it, they offered to help move our goods to earn some money in the process…” Hu San said cheerfully. Recalling his earlier desperation, the sudden appearance of these burly men, complete with their own mules and carts, felt like a godsend. Leaning closer to Zhang Tong, he lowered his voice, “…and their labor rates are very cheap…”

That must have been the main reason for his delight. Zhang Tong glared at him briefly, then bowed and thanked the nervous-looking fellows.

The Magistrate, meanwhile, had finished inspecting the goods on the carts.

“The government should have handled these matters, yet you have done the work,” he stated, turning to face Zhang Tong and Hu San, patting a cart. “Since you provided the muscle, you should not have to bear the expense. The cost of your epidemic prevention efforts this time will all be covered by the government.”

At these words, Hu San was overjoyed.

“Thank you, Your Excellency, thank you, Your Excellency,” he said, bowing deeply.

Zhang Tong hadn't expected the Magistrate to offer such an assurance at this critical juncture and also offered his thanks.

“When the time comes, organize the expense reports and submit them…” the Magistrate began.

Before he could finish, Hu San happily fumbled in his clothes and presented a document with both hands.

“Your Excellency, here are all the expenses up to today…” he announced.

The Magistrate was momentarily taken aback.

Zhang Tong shot Hu San a look of awkward disapproval—a look that clearly conveyed, ‘How could you be so eager?’

The Magistrate laughed heartily and accepted the paper.

“Good. I will disburse these funds to you as quickly as possible,” he promised.

Hu San was ecstatic, and after much internal debate, he couldn't bring himself to say, ‘No rush.’

The officials were exceedingly busy during the great plague in Yongqing Prefecture. After his inspection, the Magistrate departed swiftly. Once the official was gone, both Zhang Tong and Hu San breathed sighs of relief, as did the men still standing by the carts.

“Oh my heavens, that scared me to death. That’s the closest I’ve ever stood to an official person,” one man couldn't help but exclaim excitedly. “I’m going back to boast about this…”

“Boast about your head,” another elbowed him. “Be quiet.”

Zhang Tong also playfully slapped Hu San’s arm.

“Was it that hard to say ‘no rush’?” he chided.

“It is urgent, though… Master’s money is almost gone… Do you know how much this period has cost? The penicillin alone is worth an entire Thousand Gold Hall!” Hu San argued.

Zhang Tong’s eyes widened.

In truth, they had no idea about the expenditures incurred by the Thousand Gold Hall.

“That much?” he stammered, asking, “Those rotten oranges, the melon wood frames, and such…”

Hu San snorted.

“The oranges and melons aren't expensive, but do you know how the culture media Master and the others use is extracted? Seaweed, do you know how much seaweed is needed? A cartload in, a cartload of waste out. Do you know what the test tubes Master needed are made of? White crystal! Such large pieces of white crystal only yield two small test tubes after grinding… And all those basins, jars, and wooden racks—how much money did I spend rushing their production? If one thing was slightly off, it was unusable and had to be remade… That money flowed away like water… and was wasted, too…” He spoke, becoming increasingly distraught as he went on, unable to stop himself from raising a sleeve to wipe his tears. “What does Master eat every day, what does she wear? What are women her age usually doing? And then look at her…”

Reaching this point, Hu San could hold back no longer and burst into loud sobs in the courtyard.

Everyone in the compound was startled and looked over.

To see a grown man standing in the yard, head tilted back, weeping loudly…

What was wrong?

Zhang Tong felt a mix of heartache and embarrassment. He couldn't bring himself to scold him. He looked at Hu San—dusty, covered in lime, with lingering bruises on his face from where he had been hit…

Hu San had been under immense pressure recently.

While they worried about the disease, Hu San worried about all the logistical support. They only needed to treat and save lives; they only needed to ask, and as long as they reached out, Hu San had to deliver, regardless of the quantity or urgency of the demand…

Finally, he sighed and reached out to pat Hu San’s shoulder.

“At least now there’s clarity; we know what the illness is. You, too, should get some proper rest,” he said gently.

Hu San’s mood improved significantly after crying. Wiping his tears, he shook his head.

“I’ll put the supplies into storage first…” he choked out, turning to call the men over. “Bring the carts to the back courtyard.”

The cart drivers stared blankly. Seeing the man talking to them like a little wife, sniffing between sobs, some couldn’t help but snicker, quickly muffling their laughter as they hurried the carts toward the rear.

The courtyard gradually returned to its normal state, resuming its busy, chaotic activity.

Liu Pucheng, standing outside the sick ward, sighed softly.

“Everyone is under immense pressure,” he murmured.

“Madam Qi’s pressure must be even greater,” Doctor Zhu whispered behind him.

After saying this, they both sighed again.

“Alright, grit your teeth; we’re almost through the worst of it,” Liu Pucheng stated.

Doctor Zhu nodded in agreement, and the two turned to go back inside to continue their work.

This chapter ends tomorrow. Forgive me for being too long-winded. RS