Chapter 1541 - Real Questions

Jiao Gongli and the other "examinees" opened the exam syllabus and found themselves utterly bewildered. The regulations seemed endless. The list of "Reference Books" alone included several titles: some familiar, like the Compendium of Materia Medica; others completely unknown, such as the Imperial Song Ministry of Health TCM Practitioner and Pharmacist Qualification Education Standard Textbook (Trial Edition).

The problem was that even the Compendium of Materia Medica wasn't the version sold in ordinary markets. Song Shengying, having been in the medicine business, had read it before—but the syllabus specified a restriction: only the "Imperial Song Australian Temporary Court Authorized 'Revised Edition'" was acceptable.

The reason the Compendium was designated as a Yuan Elder Court publication was that the version used in the future and the one recently published in this era were not the same. For Traditional Chinese Medicine, the Compendium was the most essential reference, but the book itself contained numerous errors. Li Shizhen had corrected massive pharmacological mistakes when compiling his masterwork, yet modern scholarship had revised the Compendium significantly—the current edition differed vastly from earlier versions.

Both the syllabus and textbook had been compiled by Liu San. At first, the task had left him scratching his head. Unlike modern medicine, TCM embraced many theoretical schools, some with dramatically different approaches. The same illness might have several competing treatments. Traditional medicine relied on oral transmission and self-study of ancient texts; every practitioner's exposure to theory differed. It was essentially impossible to assess competence through simple question-and-answer formats.

In the original timeline, TCM practitioner exams had been governed by standard textbooks. Regardless of school or lineage, anyone seeking a practitioner's license had to be tested entirely within the scope of their syllabus. So Liu San's first task was compiling "Standard Textbooks" and "Reference Books" to unify examination content.

Both proved straightforward enough—the Grand Library had ample materials. Liu San aimed for "simple" and "practical," blending textbooks from various TCM colleges with training materials developed for 1960s barefoot doctors. Besides traditional TCM knowledge like the "Eighteen Incompatibilities" and "Nineteen Fears," basic herb properties, and acupuncture point locations, he had incorporated fundamental modern knowledge such as human anatomy.

This textbook served not only for TCM student instruction and health worker training but also as the official examination syllabus. In essence, TCM teaching, clinical practice, and professional management under the Yuan Elder Court were now entirely based on the books he had compiled.

Liu San was rather proud of himself: a mere TCM doctor, he had effectively founded his own school. Henceforth, TCM standards in this timeline would all derive from the "Liu School."

But for Jiao Gongli, Song Shengying, and the Meng brothers—men who possessed only fragmentary medical knowledge—the syllabus proved daunting. Huang Zhen rushed to purchase reference books, spending a considerable sum of circulation vouchers. After half a day of reading, Jiao Gongli could only shake his head blankly. His bone-setting skills relied on oral teaching and accumulated experience. He knew how to treat injuries and possessed prescriptions verified through years of practice. How was he supposed to understand this theoretical syllabus? The only portion that made sense to him was the human skeleton diagram.

Song Shengying and the Meng brothers fared even worse. Because they gathered or traded herbs for a living, they understood botanical properties and thus had a rudimentary grasp of medicine. Frankly speaking, they were no better than the average itinerant doctor who wandered from village to village ringing a bell. Thoroughly practical men with zero theoretical foundation.

After studying a few pages, they rendered their verdict: passing the TCM Practitioner License was absolutely impossible for them. The Meng brothers believed they might manage the Pharmacist License with considerable effort—they simply needed to update their knowledge base. As for Song Shengying, he declared himself too old to memorize the thick TCM Pharmacopoeia.

This meant the medicine shop plan was compromised. They could only open a pharmacy that didn't require a practicing physician. That wasn't necessarily critical—but without a doctor, the shop's scale would have to shrink. How would they justify housing so many people? Shops didn't keep idle workers; local officials spotting too many layabouts would grow suspicious.

Huang Zhen scratched his head in frustration. Sima Qiudao wasn't around to consult. He watched the shop's renovation progress daily, yet still had no doctor... This wasn't the Ming, where charlatans and unlicensed herbalists could practice openly. Without a license, it was "illegal practice of medicine," as the female director had explained—catch you, and it meant a hundred lashes with your trousers stripped, then off to dig sand in the labor camps. Their anti-Cropped-Hair cause would be finished before it started.

Just as he was reaching his wit's end, Zhou Zhongjun returned. Since coming down from the mountain to Lingao, she had been like a bird released from its cage. Despite Huang Zhen's repeated warnings against wandering about, she constantly found excuses to slip out.

Once out, trouble inevitably followed. Zhou Zhongjun instantly complained that her allowance was insufficient, presented Huang Zhen with a silver ingot, and demanded he exchange it for more circulation vouchers.

Huang Zhen couldn't refuse, exchanging another hundred vouchers for her. He couldn't afford to offend the Hengshan Sect—not because they were particularly powerful, but because this operation required female disciples for cover. Few sects had enough women to spare; only the all-female Hengshan Sect could provide them in numbers.

In other words, Hengshan had contributed the most personnel. Zhou Zhongjun was the disciple of a powerful figure; both master and apprentice were proud and willful. If provoked, she wouldn't care about the "greater interests of the martial arts world" or the "security of the realm"—she'd throw a tantrum and leave. He couldn't shoulder that responsibility.

With money in hand, Zhou Zhongjun had fallen headlong into Lingao's consumption trap: first came the fun but useless trinkets, then frenzied shopping sprees, and recently she had even switched to "Australian style" clothing. Seeing her in skirts that exposed her calves, Huang Zhen's eyes nearly popped from his skull. If Abbess Miejing saw this, she would cut him down where he stood.

Persuasion and prohibition proved equally ineffective on Zhou Zhongjun. Aside from her master and the sect leader, she listened to no one. The others were too weary to argue, so they simply let her be.

Today she had gone out "scouting for intelligence" again. Seeing her straw bag bulging to bursting, Huang Zhen knew she had visited the Nanbao Cooperative Branch yet again. The Cooperative was not only the largest and best-stocked store in Nanbao but also housed various services: an amusement arcade, a teahouse, restaurants—essentially a small shopping mall. Not just locals but Li people from the surrounding region often came to spend their money. Though Li people now enjoyed "fair trade" under the Yuan Elder Court and no longer suffered exploitation by black-hearted peddlers, they quickly found themselves ensnared in the net of "abundant material goods" they had never before encountered, spending every last coin.

Zhou Zhongjun was no exception. Today she wore the latest spring fashion recommended by Zhiyin magazine: a blue floral dress of Indian printed cotton with a cinched waist, a slightly flared skirt, and a round collar. The style was soft and elegant.

Though simple in design, it carried considerable prestige: designed and released by the Fashion Club under the Feiyun Society.

By future standards, the skirt was conservative—the hem had actually been lengthened for this market. But in the seventeenth century, exposing one's calves was shocking enough. It came in both short and long-sleeved versions; Zhou Zhongjun, possessing some residual modesty, had purchased the long sleeves. Without stockings, she wore leather strap sandals—martial arts women had natural feet requiring no concealment.

Years of training had given her a figure and carriage far more beautiful than ordinary native women. Her lithe, upright bearing was rare, and in this form-fitting dress, she was dazzling.

Huang Zhen pretended not to notice. She was useless for present purposes anyway. When the main group arrived, her master would discipline her.

Zhou Zhongjun leaned in and whispered, "Brother Huang, still fretting over the examination?"

Huang Zhen sighed and nodded. "These Cropped-Hair requirements are extraordinarily complex! Sect Leader Jiao says he can't even understand the material, let alone learn it."

"What about Villa Lord Song and the Meng uncles?"

"Villa Lord Song has given up hope. The Mengs might have a chance," Huang Zhen smiled bitterly. "They're in their room studying diligently as we speak. I truly owe them. If they can't pass, we won't be able to run this medicine shop—we'll have to start over from scratch."

"You should have said so earlier!" Zhou Zhongjun tilted her head with a mysterious smile. "I have something good." She fished a flat paper box from her straw bag and pressed it into his hands.

"What is this?"

"A treasure. With this, obtaining that license will be easy as flipping a hand!" Zhou Zhongjun laughed triumphantly.

Huang Zhen's heart skipped a beat. He knew every examination spawned cheating schemes; even metropolitan exam questions could be purchased with sufficient money and connections—specialized brokers in the capital handled exactly such transactions. Since the Cropped-Hairs conducted "exams," presumably someone ran a similar business here. He felt ashamed; as an old jianghu hand, he hadn't thought of this himself.

He opened the box. Inside lay a booklet bound in thin cotton paper, covered in tiny fly-head characters. Huang Zhen examined it—question after question with corresponding answers. He had studied the textbooks and guides carefully over the past days and researched the license examination thoroughly.

These questions looked exactly like the content in the Real Questions Collection. He rejoiced inwardly. But long experience made him pause for caution. "Where did you obtain this?"