Chapter 1552 - Judging by Appearance

Suddenly another commotion arose. Several men and women wearing armbands appeared, shoving and dragging along the slippery Bai Siwen. His scholar's cap was gone; his crimson shoes were covered in grimy footprints; his lake-blue silk robe had been torn in several places. He was bound up every which way, trussed tight as a dumpling—utterly pathetic.

The men and women berated him: "Harassing women and trying to run? Off to the station to explain yourself!"

Bai Siwen was still trying to protest: "I was only passing by, looking! I don't know these people!"

But they paid no heed to his excuses. Together with the fallen Bai family servants, they bundled everyone up and hauled them away. In the distance, Bai Siwen's voice could still be heard, growing fainter: "I was only expressing admiration for the young lady! Admiration! Do you even understand what that means? Not 'intimate relations'! I'm Bai Siwen! My ancestors shed blood at Yashan! My father did business with the Great Song! I've bought plenty of Australian goods—you can't treat me like this..."

Zhuo Yifan felt a twinge of worry. Then he recalled what Li Xiaoliu had said: the Shorthairs' police never used "guilt by association." As long as one answered questions carefully, it should be possible to muddle through.

As he was pondering this, he suddenly noticed the policewoman looked familiar. After a moment's thought, it came to him: wasn't this the very same female officer who had thrashed those arrogant servants at the inn entrance? Why was she in Nanbao too?

At the time, he had only noticed her fiery temper. Now, seeing her step forward without a moment's hesitation, there was something quite chivalrous about her. He felt a degree of goodwill he had not felt before.

Following the address in the letter, Zhuo Yifan made his way slowly. Fortunately, this place was like East Gate Market, with signposts and street markers everywhere. Following the signs, he quickly found the "Huang Family Medicine Shop."

This side street was relatively quiet, with few storefronts nearby. The Huang Family Medicine Shop's hanging sign was quite conspicuous. Zhuo Yifan strolled over. The shop interior was fitted out in the old style: a wooden counter just inside the door, behind it row upon row of medicine drawers. At the entrance hung a wooden placard reading: "Medical Facility Licensed by the Sanitation People's Council and the State Police Sanitation Police Bureau," with a line beneath: "Grade One, Class A."

Further in, a door curtain marked "Consultation Room." Below it hung three smaller signs bearing the names Jiao Gongli, Song Shiying, and Zhou Zhongjun—causing Zhuo Yifan a moment of surprise.

He knew all three, or at least had met them once. Yet seeing their names displayed as practicing physicians struck him as rather absurd. Especially Zhou Zhongjun—what ailments could she possibly treat? She was more likely to kill the patient!

The two attendants behind the counter were unfamiliar faces. Seeing him enter, one came to greet him:

"What can we get for you, sir?"

Zhuo Yifan stepped forward and asked, "Do you have schisandra berries?"

The attendant's expression shifted; his voice dropped to a murmur. "Yes, we do. What kind of schisandra does the gentleman require?"

Zhuo Yifan declared clearly, "With schisandra in the mouth, breath is soothed and spirit calmed. I need the kind for steeping in wine."

The attendant's face grew even more solemn. In a low voice he said, "We have no schisandra for wine at present. If sir truly requires it, please proceed to the back office to speak with the proprietor directly."

"Very well. Lead the way."

The back office was behind the counter, accessible through a small, inconspicuous door. Inside, Zhuo Yifan found Huang Zhen and Sima Qiudao already waiting. All three knew one another; there was no need for greetings or formalities. A brief nod, and they sat down.

Huang Zhen cleared his throat. "Now that Young Hero Zhuo has arrived..."

Before he could finish, Zhou Zhongjun's voice drifted in from outside: "You're hopeless! How many times have I told you—the needles must be rinsed clean first, then soaked in distilled spirits! How could you just soak them without washing? What if the Shorthairs find out?"

Huang Zhen and Sima Qiudao knew this was yet another scolding directed at Nan Wan'er. Ever since Zhou Zhongjun had gone and gotten herself a beginner's acupuncturist license, she had hung out her shingle and begun practicing medicine with impunity. Nan Wan'er not only had to cook and do laundry but now had a host of additional shop chores—"shop chores" being, in effect, assisting Zhou Zhongjun.

Zhuo Yifan frowned slightly. Huang Zhen said, "Pay it no mind. There are many rules in Shorthair territory—violations can be quite troublesome..."

Sima Qiudao said, "This is still a shop; after all, it's a public space. Shouting 'Shorthairs' out loud is hardly appropriate."

Huang Zhen smiled wryly. Clearly he too had his reservations about Zhou Zhongjun.

Zhuo Yifan was about to speak when there came a crash from outside—something had fallen. Then Zhou Zhongjun's voice again, berating: "Now you've really come a long way! You've learned to throw things!"

From the sounds outside, Nan Wan'er had burst into tears, sobbing: "I didn't throw it—if you hadn't shoved me, it wouldn't have fallen..."

Before anyone inside could react, the door curtain was flung aside. In walked a young Fake Shorthair woman: long hair tied back with a ribbon, a glittering jeweled flower pinned beside her temple. She wore an apple-green one-piece dress with a crisp white Peter Pan collar. Over the dress was a light-blue apron.

Zhuo Yifan started—how had the attendants been so careless as to let a Fake Shorthair barge right in? A closer look, and he realized this was Zhou Zhongjun herself.

Barely more than a month had passed since they had parted in Guangzhou. How had the disciple of Abbess Miejing transformed into this? She was dressed exactly like one of those shameless Fake Shorthair girls. If the Abbess saw her, she would be apoplectic.

Zhou Zhongjun did not greet anyone. She flopped down in a chair, cheeks flushed with anger. "I can't go on like this anymore. I'm going back!"

Then she launched into a litany of Nan Wan'er's failings—from "clumsy and fumbling" to "insubordinate" to "lazy, limp, and lacking ambition"—on and on for several minutes. From her manner, it seemed she was itching to give her senior martial sister a good dressing-down.

Just as she was reaching a crescendo, she noticed Zhuo Yifan was also present. Her words caught in her throat. "Young Master Zhuo, you're here too."

Zhuo Yifan nodded and smiled. "I've only just arrived." He looked her up and down.

Zhou Zhongjun's cheeks flushed slightly. She smiled demurely. "I lost my composure just now. Please forgive me, Young Master Zhuo."

Zhuo Yifan said, "Miss Zhou speaks bluntly—her words may lack gentleness, but they come from sincere good intentions. We all understand that." He shifted tone. "However, we are now deep in the dragon's lair. Everyone here has come with utmost sincerity—to repay the court's grace above, and to relieve the common people's suffering below. In our daily dealings, we ought to prioritize harmony. If there are any faults or shortcomings, they should be pointed out gently. As they say, haste makes waste—we must not damage our unity. And just now, Miss, you used the words 'Shorthair bandits' aloud. If someone had overheard, that would have been most unwise."

Sima Qiudao nodded to himself: This Young Master Zhuo has some backbone. A slippery veteran like Huang Zhen would have pretended deafness to this business about Hengshan's internal affairs. Zhuo Yifan's words, though gentle, pointed out Zhou Zhongjun's errors. He wrapped the greater principle around the smaller personal affront—chastising Zhou Zhongjun while shielding Nan Wan'er. It was quite fair, truly words of gold and jade.

Whether because of this speech or for some other reason, Zhou Zhongjun's vigor had deflated. She sat with head bowed, cheeks slightly flushed—the very picture of a bashful young maiden. In a low voice she said, "Young Master Zhuo is right. It was I who was too hasty."

Huang Zhen cursed inwardly: What 'words of gold and jade'—it's just about looks! He had said the same things himself, and all he had gotten was a roll of her eyes and a cold "Hmph."

Each of the four harbored their own thoughts. Zhuo Yifan said, "Now that Miss Zhou is here, let us discuss the next steps together."

Zhou Zhongjun hastily excused herself: "Today is my scheduled consultation day. If I'm not here and a patient asks for me, it won't look good. Let me go attend to patients first." With that, she rose and withdrew. Proud as she was, she knew her own limitations: the three men present were all leaders of the operation. How could she presume to sit in council? To do so would be a grave breach of Hengshan sect etiquette. She was not devoid of social graces—she simply saw no need to waste them on "servants" like Nan Wan'er.

Huang Zhen began by summarizing the recent situation. Ever since he had "flirted with the female manager," he had remained "steadfast and unyielding," never breaching "the final line of defense." Yet in daily life, he had been forced to play along with You Xiu—which inevitably involved some intimacy.

Under You Xiu's "close guidance," the Huang Family Medicine Shop had opened smoothly. The licensing examinations had gone well: Jiao Gongli and Song Shiying had obtained bone-setting and massage licenses; Zhou Zhongjun had passed the acupuncture examination. Zhou Zhongjun had performed so impressively that the examiner, knowing she was literate, had even suggested she pursue a Class B diploma, attend the New Lingao intensive course, and obtain a formal traditional Chinese medicine practitioner's license.

Thus the three of them now practiced openly here. Business, it had to be said, was quite good. They procured medicines from Runshi Hall—both prepared herbs and patent medicines. But patent medicines were hard to obtain—too popular. So they simply prepared some common medicines themselves. Jiao Gongli and Song Shiying had several proven formulas for treating bruises and fractures; they compounded several pills and plasters. To everyone's surprise, these sold out almost immediately after going on sale. The local economy was dominated by mining; heavy labor meant many injuries to muscles and bones. Their medicines were in such demand that even naturalized citizens and natives came to buy, as did the Li people. The Huang Family Medicine Shop quickly gained a reputation, and with it, the consultation business flourished.

After one month in operation, Huang Zhen tallied the accounts. After deducting daily expenses and taxes, the net profit shocked even him: at this rate, they would recoup their investment in less than half a year. Was there any easier money to be made in the world? Lingao was truly prosperous!

Medicine shops were famously profitable in the Great Ming. But that profit depended on having enough customers. Impoverished common folk, when ill, could only resign themselves to fate or drink a bit of incense ash. They would not spend money on doctors or medicine. Mount Hua Sect had medicine shops among its enterprises, but in recent years, with the people of Shanxi and Shaanxi growing ever poorer, those who could afford medicine—the middling and wealthy households—had either been killed, gone bankrupt, or fled to relatively safer larger cities. The medicine shop business had declined year after year; in some places, it could no longer be sustained.

(End of Chapter)