Ch. 7: Chapter 7: The Cinnamon Twig Physician

Madam Zhao stopped and turned to look at him, still popping food into her mouth.

“Well, young Zuo? Have you got the money for my rent?”

She had used the customary address for the eldest son of the Zuo family.

The eldest Zuo son? Why did that make him sound like Wu the Elder, the flatbread seller? Zuo Shaoyang grumbled to himself.

During the Tang and Song dynasties, men were commonly addressed by their surname followed by their birth order and the word lang, a term for a young man. The Yang family’s “Seven Sons and Eight Tigers” and Wu Song’s other form of address, “Wu the Second,” in Water Margin were examples of the same custom.

Sons and daughters were counted separately. Although Zuo Shaoyang had an elder sister, Huixiang, he ranked first among the sons. Even an only son had a place in the order, so that was how the landlady addressed him.

Huixiang had already explained this to him on the way home, but hearing himself addressed that way still felt strange.

He stepped closer, glanced at the food in her hand, and smiled.

“Third Aunt, is that hawthorn fruit—shan zha—you’re eating?”

“Yes. Would you like some?”

“Oh, no, thank you. You seem very fond of it. Do you eat it often?”

“Yes.” Madam Zhao was quite kindly towards him and readily answered his questions. “I love that sweet-and-sour taste. I don’t usually feel much like eating. My appetite’s poor, but hawthorn helps.”

“Mm. Third Aunt, besides having a poor appetite, you often get pain in your stomach and sour fluid coming up into your mouth. Is that right?”

She stared at him.

“Yes. How did you know? I’ve never come to your shop for treatment.”

“And you’ve taken plenty of medicine for it, haven’t you, Auntie? Without much effect?”

“That’s right! Do you mean you can cure it?”

His smile faded.

“Auntie, I’m not trying to frighten you, but you ought to have it treated soon. Otherwise it’ll get worse, and then it may be beyond help.”

“Oh, spare me! Your father’s skills are nothing to boast of. Are you better than he is? Still, since you’ve managed to tell me what’s wrong, I’ll trust you this once. Go on, then. How much do you want to cure it?”

“Well, how about this? I cure you, and you waive half the rent we owe…”

“Pah!”

Madam Zhao turned her head and spat on the floor.

“Young Zuo, you’ve got a nerve! Your family rents these three spacious rooms with a tiled roof to run your shop, and I charge the lowest rent on the street. You know that perfectly well!

“How many years has it been? When you fell behind before, did I ever turn nasty? Of course, you kept owing me money year after year—a few hundred wen one year, a few hundred the next. When the New Year came round, I did get anxious and say a few sharp words to make you pay. But that’s only customary. Did I ever really make things difficult for you?

“And now, after all these years, the rent you owe has piled up to nine thousand wen! Half of that is more than four thousand! Do you know how much four thousand wen is? How much rice it could buy? How many plough oxen? How many families it could keep from starving?”

She spoke so vehemently that spittle flew, thumping her chest with one hand.

“A person ought to have a conscience, young Zuo! You know how I’ve treated your family. And now you want more than four thousand wen just to treat a stomachache and a bit of sour fluid? Aren’t you ashamed?”

Having only just arrived in this world, Zuo Shaoyang knew none of that history and had little sense of what copper cash was worth. Her outburst made him realise it must be a considerable sum.

Thinking it over, she had a point. Four thousand wen was worth four thousand yuan. Even in modern times, four thousand yuan to treat an ordinary stomach complaint would be an outrageous price.

He hastily put on an apologetic smile.

“All right, all right. I was wrong. How much would you be willing to pay?”

“Enough, young Zuo. Don’t try to be clever. If you’re going to treat me, charge your father’s usual rate. I know how these things work. He charges two wen for a consultation and prescription, with the medicine charged separately. Isn’t that right? We’ll do it that way. Whatever the total comes to, that’s what I’ll pay.”

Zuo Shaoyang thought for a moment.

“Then how about this? I’ll treat you for nothing, and you give us a little longer to pay the rent.”

“Now you’re talking sense!”

She popped another piece of hawthorn into her mouth and chewed, fixing him with a stern look.

“Your Third Aunt isn’t one to take advantage of people. Of course I’ll pay you for treating me. You needn’t do it for nothing. If you cure me, I’ll even give you a few extra wen.

“But the rent cannot wait. You’ve put it off for years already. You don’t have to treat me at all. This stomachache won’t kill me overnight, and if you can’t cure it, I refuse to believe nobody else can. But without the rent, my children and I will starve!

“So it’s still the same: pay tonight, and you can stay. If you can’t, out you go. There’s nothing to discuss!”

“Oh, Auntie, couldn’t you give us just a few more days?”

“No! —What? A few days? You can raise nine thousand wen in a few days?”

“Yes! I certainly can!”

Zuo Gui, Madam Liang, and Huixiang all stared at him, startled. None of them knew what made him so sure.

Madam Zhao looked him up and down.

“Can you really find the money?”

“Well, there’s always a way if you put your mind to it. Unless something goes wrong, I should be able to. But you’ll have to give us a few more days. Nine thousand wen isn’t a small sum, after all.”

“No. I can’t wait too long.”

“Please, Aunt. I’m begging you!”

Zuo Shaoyang had decided that, for all her sharp words, Madam Zhao had a soft heart. He shamelessly wheedled and pleaded.

She rolled her eyes at him, then sighed.

“All right! You win. I’ll trust you once more, but this is the last time. I’ll come back at noon on New Year’s Eve. That gives you five days.

“Listen carefully, all of you. If I don’t get my money by noon that day, I don’t want an ugly scene. You’ll leave of your own accord, and the herbs stay here. Agreed?”

“No problem!”

Zuo Shaoyang touched the musk pod inside his clothes and answered with complete confidence.

Madam Zhao turned to Madam Liang and Zuo Gui. Husband and wife exchanged a glance. There was nothing else they could do. Looking weary and defeated, they nodded.

“Good. That’s settled.”

She returned to the long table, sat down, and laid her hand on it.

“Here, then. Have a look at me.”

Zuo Shaoyang went over and was about to sit when Zuo Gui spoke in a low, stern voice.

“Zhong, what are you doing?”

“Examining Aunt Zhao.”

“What have I told you? Until you’ve completed your training, you are not to examine patients or prescribe medicine. Stand aside!”

Zuo Shaoyang was about to protest, but Madam Liang caught his arm and pulled him to her side.

“Don’t be foolish, Zhong,” she whispered. “Let your father examine Aunt Zhao.”

“But…”

“Do as you’re told. Don’t anger your father.”

Huixiang came over too.

“Don’t make trouble, little brother. Treating patients is no game. You’ve done well enough getting us these few days. Let Father handle this.”

“Oh…”

He understood. All three thought he had bluffed in desperation when the landlady was about to throw them out. When it came to actually treating someone, they did not believe he was qualified.

Huixiang had told him on the way home that Zuo Zhong’s work had consisted of picking out herbs in the shop and preparing patients’ decoctions free of charge. Although he had studied medicine under his father since childhood, he had never completed his training and begun seeing patients himself.

Apparently, his skills had not yet satisfied his father.

Zuo Gui lifted his robe and sat behind the long table. Composing himself, he rested three bony fingers lightly on Madam Zhao’s wrist.

After a while, he frowned.

“Your other hand, please.”

She transferred the bag of hawthorn to her other hand and laid the first on the table. Zuo Gui changed hands too and took the pulse at her other wrist.

At last he let go. After a moment’s thought, he picked up his brush, held his wrist above the paper, and began the prescription.

Sure enough, the first ingredient was cinnamon twig—gui zhi.

People had asked him before why he always began a prescription with cinnamon twig. He would smile without answering. When pressed, he would admit, rather sheepishly, that his teacher—his own father—had taught him to do so and had been equally fond of using it.

His father had said it had many benefits. What those benefits actually were, Zuo Gui privately admitted he did not know. He simply knew it was a good herb to use.

In fact, cinnamon twig did have a remarkably wide range of applications. Of the 112 formulas in the Treatise on Cold Damage, forty-three contained it—well over a third.

It could harmonise nutritive qi, free the flow of yang, promote urination, direct qi downwards, dispel blood stasis, and strengthen the middle burner. Above all, it could bring nutritive and defensive qi into harmony.

As the saying went, “When nutritive qi is out of harmony, all the channels fall ill.” Adding cinnamon twig to many prescriptions could therefore do good without harm.

Acrid and sweet in flavour and warming in nature, it could induce sweating, release the muscle layer, warm and unblock the channels, and disperse external wind and cold. For wind-cold illnesses, it could be used whether there was exterior excess without sweating, exterior deficiency with sweating, or yang deficiency exposed to cold. It was a leading herb for treating illnesses caused by external influences.

And of all illnesses, none demanded more urgent attention than cold damage. That held true in every age and country. Even the healthiest person must have suffered, at one time or another, from an externally contracted illness—a cold, fever, or cough.

Whether in a modern hospital or an ancient medicine shop, the largest number of patients would surely be those seeking treatment for colds and the illnesses that followed them.

So, although his new father could not explain the reasoning behind his habit of prescribing cinnamon twig, closer examination showed that it was not entirely without foundation. It was also a reflection of the medicine practised by village physicians of old, built on accumulated experience.