Anle pursed her lips and couldn't help but remind him, "Grandpa, these medicinal herbs are not suitable for treating the plague."

For plague patients, these medicinal materials are only harmful and have no benefits. Using too much of them will only make the condition worse and exacerbate it.

"Of course I know it can't be used for treatment; it's just to relieve the patient's pain." After the old doctor finished speaking, he belatedly looked up at the counter.

His gaze lingered on An Mancang's face for a moment, then fell on An Le, who was about An Mancang's waist tall.

"Oh, it's you again, little one. What brings you two here—"

"Grandpa, my dad and I have something we'd like to discuss with you, it's about the prescription we got from you last time."

The old doctor paused, his gaze lingering on An Mancang and his daughter. Seeing their spirited appearance, it didn't seem like a family member had passed away or some kind of funeral had taken place. His expression finally froze.

Could it be—

Do you really think that prescription they came up with, which I've never even heard of, will work?

Then he thought of the medicinal herbs on those prescriptions, and his old face wrinkled.

That's impossible!

Those medicines are completely ineffective. The patient already had symptoms of chills due to the plague, yet they insisted on using medicines that were even more heat-clearing and blood-cooling.

This is a complete farce, a joke that goes against the grain; it's downright reckless.

It's obviously a trick concocted by someone who doesn't understand medicine or pharmacology.

The father and daughter were definitely deceived.

With a hint of doubt in his heart, the old doctor nodded, put down the packaged medicine in his hand, and instructed the young apprentice, "I'll be right back. You stay here and keep busy. This batch I prepared is missing a cinnamon ingredient. Please get it for me."

After saying that, he led An Mancang and his daughter to the innermost room.

An Mancang had been sizing up his little girl ever since she started speaking.

I feel that my little daughter is really different from before. I don't know when she learned about practicing medicine.

Once inside, An didn't hide anything and spoke directly.

"Grandpa, among the medicinal herbs you just gave them, I saw several, including Elsholtzia ciliata, Notopterygium incisum, Xanthium sibiricum, Aconitum carmichaelii, and Cinnamomum cassia. Are these for the patients to take a bath to dispel the cold?"

Using those medicinal herbs will only worsen the condition and exacerbate it.

The old doctor stood with his hands behind his back, his face darkening.

"Nonsense." The bath was indeed effective in dispelling the cold, but the idea that it would worsen the condition is absurd. The medicine he prescribed was exactly what was needed.

Although it still couldn't stop the condition from worsening.

Anle shook her head, not annoyed at all, and said with a smile.

“Grandpa, although I’m not in your line of work and don’t understand it, I do know a little about this plague.”

This plague itself is a disease caused by pathogenic heat. If you give them these cold-dispelling herbs, won't it make the situation even worse?

They should be given traditional Chinese medicine that clears heat, detoxifies, and removes dampness to regulate their bodies.

"These are clearly symptoms of dampness and cold, how could they be symptoms of pathogenic heat? You don't understand, kid, don't talk nonsense." The old doctor couldn't stand it anymore, and his old face visibly regained its color.

Anle didn't rush to refute, but instead found a chair and sat down.

"Grandpa, do you know why, even after a hundred years, no one has been able to cure this plague?"

The old doctor frowned as he looked at Anle, not understanding what she meant, but at this moment he no longer treated her like a child.

Although the child's words were somewhat nonsensical, he was quite articulate.

"It's because they got it wrong, like you, old man, mistakenly thinking that the plague was just a disease caused by dampness and cold."

Treating her as having a cold-dampness syndrome will naturally not resolve the problem and will not save her.

This is what it means to prescribe the right medicine for the illness.

To put it simply, if you believe your medication is effective, then why are these people's conditions continuing to worsen without any signs of improvement?

Even if there's no sign of improvement or a slowdown in the symptoms, it should actually be getting worse, right?

The old doctor: "..." This...

Seeing the old doctor pursing his lips, speechless, Anle grinned.

"Grandpa, I may not believe what I'm saying to you, but you have to believe the patients who have personally taken this medicinal soup and recovered thanks to this prescription, right?"

For example, my mother recovered because she received the correct diagnosis.

Of course, my mother's symptoms were a little different from those of ordinary patients. Her spleen and stomach were very weak, and she couldn't tolerate the medicine.

However, it is suitable for treatment in the general population.

However, you can try this prescription on people who are on the verge of death. They won't survive anyway, so you might as well try anything.

If this prescription works, I don't need to explain further; you would already believe it.

Seeing Anle's calm and confident demeanor, the old doctor hesitated for a moment.

"Where did you get this prescription? Who gave it to you?"

"Where it comes from is not important. What's important is that it can save lives. If this prescription can save everyone, then the whole town and the whole of Jincheng will be saved, and everyone will not be trapped and die from this plague."

After Anle finished speaking, he glanced at Anmancang.

"Dad, give the medicine to this old man."

An Mancang placed the cloth bag he had been clutching on the table.

Anle glanced at the cloth bag, then smiled and took out a small, neatly folded piece of paper, placing it on the table.

"Grandpa, this medicine is one of the ingredients in that prescription. You're missing this ingredient, which is called Forsythia. It needs to be added to the prescription."

I've written the prescription's proportions on this piece of paper, and I'm sending it to you along with the herbs.

Whether you're willing to try or not is up to you.

Of course, although I'm giving you this prescription, I hope you won't reveal it to me for the time being.

Otherwise, if the medicine merchants knew the value of this prescription and the value of these medicinal herbs, they would probably raise prices during this plague, and even those who could be saved would likely be unable to afford the medicine.

Anle stopped there, not forcing the old doctor to listen to her 21st-century theories about the symptoms of plague.

This old doctor is quite stubborn; there's no point in talking to him. It's better to let him try it himself and verify it for himself.

After An Mancang and his daughter left, the old doctor picked up the paper, opened it, held the prescription in his hand, and stared at it silently for a long time...

On the An family's side, An Mancang and his daughter returned. Before they even entered the door, An Ding came to greet them, looking anxious, as if she had been waiting at the door for a long time.