Read Novel Full CHAPTER 57 PART1
CHAPTER 57 PART1
Facing Xiao Yanfei’s question, Imperial Physician Wang stroked his beard again but only smiled without answering.
Imperial physicians, who came and went in the palace, were accustomed to treating nobles and royals. They saw countless private matters, and long ago learned the art of hearing nothing, saying nothing, asking nothing—and certainly never digging too deep, lest they invite disaster.
A physician’s duty was simply to treat illness. The less said, the fewer mistakes made.
From his evasive look, Xiao Yanfei immediately understood.
After a moment’s thought, she carefully said, “When my grandfather first collapsed, it was sudden. He fainted, his jaws clenched, phlegm rattling in his throat. The pulse record described his condition as wiry and slippery, requiring treatment to unblock the orifices.”
“Indeed, a case of yang bi zhèng.” Physician Wang nodded.
There were many causes of stroke; Old Master Yin’s belonged to the internal obstruction type.
From the pulse he had taken, the old man’s condition had clearly been caused by stagnant blood blocking the organs, qi and blood unable to circulate—one of the most critical, life-threatening strokes. In his decades of practice, nine out of ten such cases never woke again once they fell into coma.
Yet here was Old Master Yin, conscious and clear-minded, speaking with precision. Even Physician Wang had to admit—this man’s luck was extraordinary.
Xiao Yanfei drew a small green porcelain vial from her sleeve and offered it to him. “This medicine is called Āngōng Niúhuang Wan. It clears heat, detoxifies, calms convulsions, and opens the orifices—specifically for yang bi stroke. After my grandfather swallowed the first pill, he regained consciousness within an hour. After the second, he was able to sit up…”
As he listened, astonishment slowly spread across Physician Wang’s face. With some lingering doubt, he carefully accepted the vial.
His family had practiced medicine for generations, serving as imperial physicians since the previous dynasty. They possessed many secret remedies for strokes and warm diseases—yet he had never once heard of a pill with such miraculous effect.
“Haitang,” Xiao Yanfei instructed, “bring my grandfather’s pulse records for Physician Wang to see.”
The maid answered promptly and soon returned with several sheets, presenting them with both hands.
Physician Wang examined them intently, his expression growing more solemn with every line.
To the untrained, they were only a few notes; but to an expert eye, they revealed just how perilous Old Master Yin’s condition had been—he had indeed walked a step through the gates of Hell.
It was nothing short of a one-in-ten-thousand chance survival.
Setting aside the records, Physician Wang all but snatched open the vial Xiao Yanfei had given him.
If Old Master Yin had truly recovered because of this so-called Āngōng Niúhuang Wan, then the medicine was nothing less than divine.
He lifted the vial to his nose, sniffing carefully to judge its contents.
From the fragrance, there was certainly bezoar, realgar, gardenia…
As he focused, Xiao Yanfei said lightly, almost offhand, “You may keep this one.”
The first batch of these pills had been rushed from Wancaotang to Lingqing City in sets of three, to save her grandfather. Later, once aged rhinoceros horn had been procured, more were prepared.
At present, she still had ten in hand.
“Truly?” The word almost burst from Physician Wang’s lips. But he caught himself just in time, pressing his lips shut and forcing the composure of a venerable court physician. Still, his fingers clenched the vial as if it were life itself, eyes gleaming—he would not let it go.
He narrowed his eyes, silent for a long while before asking gravely, “Before the stroke, did Old Master Yin eat anything unusual?”
Xiao Yanfei frowned slightly. “I would ask you to explain.”
The physician glanced toward the adjoining chamber where the old man rested, then smoothed his sleeve and spoke slowly: “From the pulse, phlegm and blood stasis blocked the channels, causing imbalance of qi and blood, obstructing the meridians. Acute stroke often arises when qi moves chaotically, the nutritive and defensive energies fall out of harmony, or when the vital qi is deficient, the organs failing in their transformations. It may be that the old master ate something that triggered this reversal, bringing on the stroke.”
His words were steeped in technical terms, but Xiao Yanfei caught the meaning well enough.
In traditional medicine, food and medicine were of one origin.
If Old Master Yin had eaten the wrong thing, it might indeed have upset the balance of qi and blood, weakened his vital energy, produced phlegm and stasis—and ultimately led to the stroke.
Xiao Yanfei’s heart gave a tremor. Steadying herself, she asked, “Strokes often recur. Is there anything he must strictly avoid in his diet from now on?”
“Old Master Yin is doing quite well at present,” Physician Wang answered with a faint smile, offering no further detail.
After all, more than twenty days had passed since the attack. Judging from his current pulse, not even Hua Tuó reborn could trace what had caused it.
Perhaps he had eaten something improper. Or perhaps…
Whatever the cause, and whatever he had consumed, after so long not a trace remained.
Xiao Yanfei understood too. The body metabolized most substances within a week or two—unless one, like the emperor, consumed alchemical elixirs constantly, leading to chronic poisoning.
“Thank you for your guidance, Physician Wang.” She smiled again.
The meaning was clear: the Āngōng Niúhuang Wan was now his.
“Not at all, not at all!” Physician Wang received it as though it were treasure, his eyes nearly vanishing in delight.
What magnanimity this Second Miss Xiao possessed!
He had thought he was merely paying a courtesy call for the Duke of Wei’s sake. Never had he imagined such a reward. Ecstatic yet a little guilty, he felt as if he had taken unfair advantage.
After a moment’s thought, he picked up the wolf-hair brush resting on the jade-green stand, dipped it in ink, and said cheerfully, “Miss Xiao, allow this old man to write you a medicinal diet prescription as well.”
His brush danced across the paper, strokes vigorous and flowing, betraying his buoyant mood.
Laying it down, he added warmly, “Miss Xiao, be at ease. The old master is recovering well. With continued care and proper rest, he will be fine.”
“Slow and steady recuperation—Old Master Yin should regain most of his strength.”
Even with Physician Wang’s reassurance, Xiao Yanfei still felt a weight pressing on her chest, her breath slightly tight.
This time, her grandfather had suffered needlessly, nearly losing his life.
Though he had recovered well enough, the truth was plain: he still could not walk properly, his hand trembled even when holding a teacup, and writing was out of the question. Everyone knew he would never return fully to his condition before the stroke.
Only his cheerful disposition kept the gloom at bay. He never let a trace of discouragement show before his family.
In her past life, Xiao Yanfei had seen too many stroke patients in hospitals. Many were left half-paralyzed, their tempers warped by frustration, often lashing out at family members.
“Thank you, Physician Wang.” Xiao Yanfei offered him another smile. “Allow me to see you out.”
He gave instructions to his apprentice to gather their things, then followed her outside.
“Second Miss Xiao,” he said as he stepped over the threshold, “I shall return in five days to take Old Master Yin’s pulse again.”
Xiao Yanfei was about to agree when her gaze fell on the physician’s right sleeve. The fabric was stained, soiled by a coin-sized blotch of yellow pus tinged with blood.
“Haitang,” she said evenly, pointing, “wipe Physician Wang’s sleeve.”
She had noticed earlier a faint smell of rot about him. Now, in the brighter light outside, she saw the source.
Accepting the handkerchief, Physician Wang dabbed at his sleeve, then casually remarked, “Ah, I just came from General Ming’s residence.”
General Ming’s residence? Xiao Yanfei froze for an instant. Could it be that Ming family?
Princess Ningshu had once told her: General Ming and his son had both perished on the northern frontier at Lanshan City. To display imperial favor, the emperor had granted Ming Yi a ceremonial post in the Imperial Guard. Strictly speaking, the family no longer had any generals, and the title plaque of “General’s Manor” should have been removed. Yet thanks to Duke Cheng’en’s intercession, the emperor had allowed them to keep it.
At once, Ming Yi’s somber, shadowed face surfaced in her mind—along with Zhiqiu’s words from that day: that he carried with him the stench of decay.
Physician Wang, however, had only spoken in passing and gave no further detail. It was not her place to press, so Xiao Yanfei kept her composure, smiling warmly as she saw him off before returning to the main quarters.
Crossing the courtyard, she noticed Nanny Liao standing beneath the veranda and beckoned her over.
“Nanny, do you still have a record of the meals we ate during the journey to the capital? Later I’d like to find someone to draft a few medicinal diet recipes.”
Nanny Liao blinked, startled.
At her expression, Xiao Yanfei understood at once. Clearly, no such list existed.
She had assumed all prominent households kept such records. In the Marquis’s manor, each courtyard had its own menu, while Old Madam Xiao even kept a bound register. The kitchens based her meals each season on that ledger. Xiao Yanfei had thought this was common practice in great houses of the time.
Apparently not.
“Yan’er.” Her mother’s gentle voice drifted from the inner room.
Xiao Yanfei smiled at Nanny Liao. “Go on with your work.”
Then she lifted the curtain and stepped inside, greeted by three kindly smiles.
“Grandfather, Grandmother, Mother,” she said brightly, “Physician Wang prescribed both a medicinal decoction and a diet plan. I’ve looked them over—the Imperial Infirmary truly deserves its reputation. His prescriptions are precise, his methods extraordinary.”
“He also said Grandfather is recovering well, and must simply continue resting and nourishing himself.”
As she spoke, she deliberately shot her grandfather a playful look, reminding him that her constant nagging about rest and plain meals was, indeed, for his own good.
She smiled, but her chest still tightened faintly. In her ears, Physician Wang’s earlier words replayed over and over.
The old man only chuckled warmly at his granddaughter.
Madam Yin let out a long breath of relief, her face glowing. “All thanks to the Āngōng Niúhuang Wan that the heir brought.”
“That child was so thoughtful—he even went himself to Lingqing City to fetch it.”
“And the Duke of Wei was just as considerate, sending an imperial physician here especially.”
The more she spoke, the more animated she became, her joy spilling from every expression.
Xiao Yanfei thought to herself that her mother’s satisfaction was about to burst through the roof.
Sitting down beside her, she said casually, “Mother, just now Physician Wang mentioned that Grandfather must take special care with his diet—nothing too greasy, yet it must still provide proper nourishment.”
“I was thinking… perhaps I should prepare a proper dietary register for him.”
Madam Yin agreed at once, impressed by her daughter’s attentiveness. She was about to reply when a maid’s voice came from outside: “Eldest Madam.”
The embroidered curtain—depicting cranes frolicking in water—was lifted, and in stepped a plump figure carrying a red-lacquered tray.
“Father, Mother, Elder Sister,” Madam She entered with a wide smile, “I had the kitchen stew a few bowls of bird’s nest—finest blood swallow—for everyone to taste.”
She set the bowls on the table herself, her manner easy and sociable, as if the unpleasant quarrel three days earlier had never happened.
At the sight of her, Madam Yin’s expression turned cold. “What are you doing here?” she said faintly.
Since that dispute, Madam Yin had treated her with frosty indifference, not even bothering with the courtesy of polite words.
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