The house was dark and gloomy, and the courtyard was densely packed with people.
In the past, Wen Zhiyun would always timidly tug at her older and younger brothers' sleeves, not daring to step forward.
But now, he only glanced in the direction of Fengjing before stepping in without hesitation.
The governor of Danyang was probably really seriously ill; he lay on his bed, emaciated and lifeless.
Even when Wen Zhiyun sat on the edge of the bed, he did not react, letting his arm be pulled out and his pulse be checked.
"How was it? How was it?" Jiang San asked impatiently.
Wen Zhiyun shook his head, then pried open the eyelids of the Prefect of Danyang, gently touched the crown of his head, and then stroked his wrist. “The floating and slow pulse is caused by the invasion of cold evil, which obstructs the Wei Yang. The Yang Qi cannot be released and becomes stagnant. The stagnant Yang Qi gradually turns into heat. The tight pulse caused by the cold evil gradually becomes floating and slow. It is definitely the pulse of typhoid fever.”
However, the appearance of the prefect of Danyang and the gatekeeper was different from that of ordinary typhoid fever patients, which made people really puzzled.
The path of a doctor is arduous, but he has many mentors to guide him.
Wen Zhiyun's path in medicine originated from ancient books and historical records. Even after joining the Imperial Medical Academy, he continued to review the old and explore the past.
Unable to find a definitive conclusion, he resolutely entered the study of the prefectural governor's mansion, immersing himself in ancient books and becoming engrossed in the world of medicine.
After an unknown amount of time, he found the answer in the Treatise on Febrile Diseases, written a thousand years ago.
“Now, all febrile diseases are of the category of typhoid fever.”
There are five types of typhoid fever: stroke, typhoid fever, damp-heat disease, febrile disease, and warm disease.
"Although we cannot determine whether the Prefect has damp-heat or febrile disease, as long as we try patiently and again, we will eventually find the answer."
So Jiang San saw the gentle and refined Doctor Wen, after spinning around in place and slapping his thigh wildly, rush to the gatehouse and earnestly say, "The Prefect is frail and cannot withstand any more hardship. I need a relatively healthy patient to test the medicine. Would you be willing?"
The doorman stammered, unable to speak.
That makes sense; they're just here to work at the prefectural governor's office, not to risk their lives.
Unwillingness is the norm in human life.
As the light in Wen Zhiyun's eyes faded, a girl's firm and clear voice came from the backyard, "I do."
She was dressed in a rich yet elegant style, her blue dress brightening up the otherwise gloomy mansion. Her dignified and resolute face bore a striking resemblance to the Prefect of Danyang, suggesting she was the noble daughter of the Prefect.
“I fell ill later than my father, and I am in good health now, making me the best candidate for the medicine trial.” The young girl paused gracefully. “Please, young doctor, do not hesitate to administer the medicine.”
Early diagnosis and treatment are key to a faster recovery.
Wen Zhiyun stared intently at the scene, then nodded after a long while.
Typhoid fever is less contagious than plague, cholera, and tuberculosis. Like malaria, it can be prevented by maintaining cleanliness and avoiding untreated water.
Unfortunately, the people themselves don't like to wash their hands, and they drink raw water. When they get seriously ill, they close their doors and windows tightly, which adds fuel to the fire of typhoid fever.
The governor of Danyang reacted relatively quickly, ordering the governor's mansion to be closed and prohibiting patients from contacting the people. However, this could not stop the spread of the infection, leaving the once prosperous Danyang prefecture desolate.
"From this day forward, everyone in the prefectural governor's mansion shall no longer drink unboiled water, cover their mouths and noses when they meet, open doors and windows for ventilation, and wash their hands before and after meals," Wen Zhiyun specifically instructed.
Next came the medication, again and again, bowl after bowl.
The addition or removal of different medicinal materials, as well as the amount added, will affect the efficacy of the medicine.
The prefect's eldest daughter was in charge of drinking the medicine, while Wen Zhiyun was in charge of taking her pulse. Based on the pulse's reaction, the proportions of the medicinal herbs were adjusted, and finally, a detoxification prescription with Coptis chinensis as the main ingredient was determined.
"There are two prescriptions in total. The other one tastes better. Why choose the one with Coptis chinensis?" Jiang San asked, puzzled.
Wen Zhiyun remained silent, watching as the prefect's eldest daughter fed the medicine into the mouth of the prefect of Danyang, and then reached out to take his pulse again.
The weak and feeble pulse gradually strengthened after each dose of herbal medicine.
After being in a coma for several days, the prefect of Danyang opened his eyes and responded in a hoarse voice, "Because... Coptis chinensis is cheap, and the people can afford it."
A good doctor should put the people first.
The efficacy of the medicine is important, but affordability for ordinary people is even more important.
This case of typhoid fever could have been handled by the instructors of the Imperial Medical Academy, but it would have taken them more than ten days to arrive. Wen Zhiyun, who lived closer, came without hesitation.
"The Prefect has finally woken up." He smiled. "I have copied the prescription. Quickly distribute it to the pharmacies in the city so that the people can get the medicine."
Just a few days earlier could have saved countless lives.
The prefect of Danyang stared intently back at the young doctor, his aged and cloudy eyes twitching slightly, as if he could see the distorted and trembling reality around him.
That was a shared love for the world that they both possessed.
One measure was to close the prefectural government office to control the spread of the disease.
One bravely ventured into the prefect's mansion, painstakingly studying the prescription.
"Good, good, good!" he shouted three times. "The Great Yu Dynasty is fortunate to have someone like Doctor Wen. I will report this to the court truthfully and erect a monument for you so that all the people of Jiangnan can thank you."
His gaze even fell on the eldest daughter, "Once the city is free of typhoid, if you wish, you can even..."
"I can't wait any longer, my lord." Wen Zhiyun stood up and shook his head tactfully. "The people from the Imperial Hospital should be arriving soon, and people from Fengjing will also be coming to handle related matters, so I won't stay any longer."
He bowed slightly, then turned to leave.
The governor of Danyang stared wide-eyed, puzzled and confused. "Doctor Wen, wait a minute. Where are you going?"
“Of course I’m going to… Fengjing.” Wen Zhiyun pursed her lips. “My family is waiting for me there. I haven’t had a chance to congratulate my younger brother yet.”
"I'll leave the matter of Danyang County to the Prefect. Whether the typhoid fever was an accident or a conspiracy, I believe the investigation will yield results."
He is a doctor, always doing what he is supposed to do.
He loved Dayu, and he loved the people who lived in the Dayu Dynasty even more.
The neat and elegant prescription lay on the table, shifting slightly in the breeze.
The boy, carrying a medicine chest, boarded a carriage and traveled further and further away.
They grew closer and closer.
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