Chapter 73: The Thatched Cottage of Subtle Readings

Yuewei Thatched Cottage had officially opened for business.

The name was not chosen by Liaochen, but proposed by Mo Mo. When Liaochen first heard it, it felt vaguely familiar. Upon closer reflection, he realized it was the name of the backyard belonging to that famous master of cynical literature from later history. A chill ran down Liaochen’s spine, but driven by the petty desire to cause some existential annoyance to the esteemed Mr. Ji, he nodded in agreement. It was, in a sense, a preemptive strike to register the name two hundred years early.

The location of Yuewei Thatched Cottage was excellent, situated on what had once been the city's most bustling street. Now, however, the area was sparsely populated; the crowds had either fled or were hiding away in their homes. Liaochen cared little for this. He had not come here to conduct business in the traditional sense. In this world, there are two trades that should never be booming: medicine shops and coffin makers.

Liaochen currently sold only medicine for "ague." For any other ailments, he would merely point the patients toward other physicians. Once this plague had passed, he would have no further involvement with the shop. It would be handed over to those among his twenty disciples who wished to study medicine. Only then would Yuewei Thatched Cottage become a true pharmacy. The five Taoist arts—mountain, medicine, divination, astrology, and physiognomy—were all considered righteous paths. Saving lives and healing the wounded was the best way to benefit the common people and accumulate merit.

In truth, Liaochen’s "plague medicine" was no longer a well-kept secret. The news that Madam Mo had used a few doses to cure her own mother and brother had spread like celestial music to neighbors suffering from the illness or those terrified by the plague. Soon, the threshold of Mo Mo’s home was worn thin by people seeking the medicine. Unfortunately, Mo Mo could not make decisions regarding the supply, so he had to politely decline them one by one. It was fortunate that Yuewei Thatched Cottage opened just then, so the couple directed the crowd to Liaochen. Thus, the moment he opened his doors, he was met with a surge of people, mostly the neighbors and acquaintances of the Mo family. Liaochen could not be certain if they were all truly suffering from the "cold-fever disease," so he insisted that patients be brought to him in person. Giving the wrong medicine could be fatal, and he did not want a good deed to lead to a tragedy. Furthermore, he feared some might take advantage of the situation to hoard the powder and resell it at a high price, given that the medicinal herbs were limited and costly.

He was happy to treat those genuinely in need, but he had no patience for those with ulterior motives. Unless he saw the patient, he would not dispense medicine. For the entire morning, the cottage was a scene of clamor and constant movement. And this was only the result before his "artemisinin" had truly made a name for itself.

It must be said that in an era without "drug resistance," artemisinin was nothing short of a miracle drug. As long as it was the right diagnosis, effects could be seen that very day. By the next day, the fame of Yuewei Thatched Cottage had skyrocketed, and a long queue formed at the door. Liaochen could not handle the workload alone, but fortunately, Mo Mo and his wife volunteered to help until he could hire new staff.

Liaochen charged based on the patient’s means: a few copper coins for those in coarse linen, and tens of taels for those draped in gold and silver. A fat man, looking as round as a pig, once protested: "Why? For the same medicine, others pay a dozen coins, yet you charge my son ten taels? Do you think my money fell from the sky?" Liaochen narrowed his eyes and replied, "If you find it expensive, you don’t have to buy it. I charge a price of conscience. I charge the poor less and the rich more. If you want to pay a few coins, that’s fine too—donate your family estate to charity. Once you become a pauper, I won’t charge you a single cent. How about that?"

As soon as Liaochen spoke, a burst of laughter erupted in the shop. The fat man’s face flushed deep red, but he treasured his only son too much to leave empty-handed. Grudgingly, he tossed down a silver ingot, grabbed the medicine, and stormed off without looking back.

By the third day, there was no one in the city who had not heard of Yuewei Thatched Cottage. Before dawn, the entrance was already packed. Fortunately, Liaochen had anticipated this and hired several veteran physicians to handle diagnoses, while the Mo couple assisted with packaging the medicine.

However, as Yuewei Thatched Cottage became overcrowded, the other pharmacies in the city grew deserted. By afternoon, employees from these shops began loitering near the cottage. Liaochen paid them no mind; as long as they didn’t provoke him, it was fine. But if they dared to cause trouble, he had plenty of ways to make them regret it.

His supplies were running low, forcing Liaochen to return to Xuanguang Temple in the dead of night. To his surprise, he found Yunlingzi helping to sort the sweet wormwood that Wang Shouren had recently delivered, which warmed his heart. Yet, before he could offer praise, Yunlingzi spoke up, looking at her master: "Master, don’t you think it’s irresponsible to leave a cute little girl like me all alone at home?"

Liaochen broke into a cold sweat. She was a spirit decades old; which hill-dwelling creature would have the guts to provoke this "auntie"? He thought this, but dared not say it, lest she never let him hear the end of it. "I left you in charge precisely because you are reliable," he replied. "How could I have trusted Yunhua to guard the mountain gate?"

The little resentful spirit was instantly mollified. She pointed proudly at the piles of wormwood. "Every day, Wang Shouren sends people to drop these off at the gate. Since no one is here, they just leave them outside. I have to carry them in, sort them, chop them, soak them in wine, and then, before dawn, move the soaked herbs out to dry in the sun. It’s exhausting!" She looked up at him. "Master, don’t you think you owe your disciple a reward?"

Liaochen chuckled and gave the little spirit a playful tap on the head. "Keep up the good work, and once we’re through this, I’ll think of something."

Afterward, he quickly packed the artemisinin powder that Yunlingzi had worked so hard to prepare and prepared to leave. He was terrified that if he stayed, the little creature would start asking about his spirit stones—a topic that made him quite guilty.

On the fourth morning, just as Liaochen awoke from his meditation, he heard a commotion outside. A quick sweep with his spiritual sense made his expression turn grim. It had been over a thousand years—why were "medical disturbances" still following the same old script?

Outside Yuewei Thatched Cottage, a massive crowd had gathered. Customers and onlookers were packed together. Liaochen opened the door to find a corpse lying in the center of the crowd—someone who had only just stopped breathing. Surrounding the body was a group of "orphans and widows" along with extended relatives, all wailing and weeping with such dramatic, tear-filled performances that they could have put any modern actor to shame.