Ch. 9: Chapter 9: Hawthorn Aids Digestion

Huixiang hurried over. “Let me work it out for you.”

“It’s all right. I can do it myself!”

Zuo Shaoyang began calculating with the brush. Still uneasy, Huixiang took the counting rods from a drawer and started checking the figures herself. Before she had even finished arranging them, he announced the result.

“Ninety-six wen altogether!”

Naturally, no one trusted a sum he had worked out with a brush. They all turned to Huixiang and waited while she calculated with her rods. After a while, she looked up at him in astonishment.

“Ninety-six wen. That’s right.”

Everyone was stunned. There were several different medicinal ingredients, each with its own weight and price. Such a calculation was virtually impossible to do in one’s head; counting rods were needed. Yet Zuo Shaoyang had managed the whole complicated sum on paper.

Madam Zhao paid little attention to his arithmetic. She was too pleased with her own shrewdness. Tossing another hawthorn fruit into her mouth, she said, “What did I tell you? It never needed to cost that much! Never mind whether you can cure me—a dozen or more doses, and the whole lot comes to less than a hundred wen. Yet you wanted over four thousand! Aren’t you a greedy one?”

Zuo Shaoyang gave an embarrassed smile.

“I didn’t know any better, Auntie. I was talking nonsense earlier. Don’t be angry. All these packets will be awkward for you to carry. Let me take them home for you.”

“Now that’s more like it! Young Zuo, don’t take this the wrong way, but you used to be a block of wood. Didn’t know a damn thing, couldn’t say a word—all you did was grin at people. This is much better. You’re learning to use your wits! Good boy. Come along, and I’ll give you some preserved hawthorn fruit at my house. Wonderful for the appetite and digestion!”

“Thank you, Auntie!”

Zuo Shaoyang threaded the dozen or so medicine packets together and lifted the bundle. Turning to Zuo Gui, he said, “Um… I’ll take her medicine home for her.”

Although he now occupied the dead son’s body, and the old man with the goatee was therefore his father, he still could not quite accept it. The word “Father” simply would not come out.

Zuo Gui took no notice.

“Go on, then. Be quick. We’re waiting for you to eat.”

“All right!”

Carrying the medicine, Zuo Shaoyang followed Madam Zhao outside.

Huixiang hurried after him, still worried.

“I’ll go! You’ve been hurt. You ought to rest.”

“I’m fine, Sis. Go and get supper ready. I’ll be looking forward to something good when I come back. Oh—and some wine would make it even better.”

“Wine?” Huixiang smiled bitterly. “We can barely keep the cooking pot going. Where would we get money for wine?”

“Oh. Never mind, then. I’m off!”

Outside, it was already completely dark, though the night watches had not yet begun. In the Tang dynasty, curfew started at the second watch, roughly nine o’clock in modern terms. With little to entertain them after dark, people went to bed early; by that hour, most were asleep.

Even now, the streets were much quieter. He walked along the stone paving between heaps of snow that reflected a dull silver in the lamplight.

Zuo Shaoyang was not used to his lined jacket of coarse kudzu-and-hemp cloth. It was nowhere near as warm as a modern down jacket and woollen sweater. The wind kept slipping through his collar and cuffs, penetrating even the thick fabric, until the cold seemed to reach his bones.

Madam Zhao wore a jacket padded with silk floss. With her hands tucked into her sleeves, she seemed little troubled by the cold. As they walked, she went on about how dull and awkward Zuo Gui and his wife were, urging Zuo Shaoyang to be more quick-witted himself. She never mentioned the rent, as though she had decided his promise was merely a bluff to buy a few more days.

She had already made up her mind: on New Year’s Eve, she would take back the house, whatever happened.

Her own home was two streets away.

Along the way, Zuo Shaoyang obligingly said whatever she wanted to hear. First he admired her clothes. Then he praised her complexion—so soft and fresh that she might have been a girl of eighteen. Next he complimented her skill with money, assuring her that she would one day have a fortune. Then he told her she was so kind-hearted she would not bear to tread on an ant.

Madam Zhao was thoroughly pleased.

At her front door, she climbed the stone steps and knocked with the door ring. Then she turned to him.

“Just a few days since I last saw you, and you’ve grown so much sharper. You know how to talk now, too. And you recognised my symptoms straight away—that shows you have some ability. I don’t know whether your father’s prescription will work, but if it does, I honestly would hate to turn you out.

“Your parents are decent, honest people. I know that. That’s why, even with all the rent you owe, I’ve never had the heart to press you too hard. But I have to eat as well. I can’t be expected to suffer along with you, can I? Ah, if only your father were as sensible and well-spoken as you, I might give you a few more days.”

Zuo Shaoyang knew that if his plan worked, he would not even need the full five days to pay the rent. If it failed, another few months would probably do little good; nine thousand wen was not a sum they could raise in a hurry.

So he squared his shoulders and answered with confidence.

“Thank you, Auntie, but you’ve already given us plenty of time. This time, I’m determined to pay what we owe you—even if I have to sell everything we own!”

His bold declaration surprised Madam Zhao. She studied him for a moment.

“All right! I’ll trust you. On New Year’s Eve, I’ll come for the good news.”

“You can rest easy.” Zuo Shaoyang chuckled.

Just then, the door opened and a stooped old man came out. At the sight of Madam Zhao, he bowed, stepped aside, and clasped his hands in greeting.

“You’re home, Madam.”

She gave a grunt.

“Take those medicine packets from Master Zuo. Use your eyes!”

The old man hastily obeyed, coming down the steps to relieve Zuo Shaoyang of the bundle.

Zuo Shaoyang stepped closer to Madam Zhao.

“Auntie, there’s something I’m not sure I ought to say.”

“If you’ve something to say, say it!”

“It’s about your health, actually.”

“Is it? Then out with it.”

“Do you know what caused your stomach trouble?”

Madam Zhao shook her head.

Zuo Shaoyang pointed at the half-empty bag of hawthorn fruit in her hand.

“That’s what did it!”

“What? The hawthorn?”

“Yes. Hawthorn helps clear away food that’s sitting undigested in the stomach. It’s particularly good when meat is the problem. If you feel too full after a meal—especially a rich meal of fish and meat—a little hawthorn is just the thing to help you digest it. But if you keep eating it as a snack, whether you need it or not, you’re asking for trouble.”

“What trouble?”

“Think about it. Hawthorn is good at breaking down undigested food. Once it gets into your stomach, it works on whatever it finds. If there’s meat, it digests meat. If there’s rice, it digests rice. But if there’s nothing in there, what do you think it will digest?”

“What?”

She had a dim sense that something was wrong. A chill ran through her.

“Flesh!” Zuo Shaoyang lowered his voice. “You eat it on an empty stomach, and you’ve been snacking on it like that for years. Its job is to break down meat, but when your stomach’s empty, there’s no meat for it to work on.

“The hawthorn doesn’t know you’re eating it to satisfy a craving rather than help your digestion! With no meat to digest, it can only start on your stomach itself. Day after day, it eats away at it, until it’s full of sores and holes. We call that a stomach ulcer. You’ve damaged your stomach by eating hawthorn as a snack. The stomach pain, the loss of appetite, the sour fluid coming back up—all of those are the result!”

Madam Zhao stared at him in alarm.

“Oh! Don’t frighten me like that!”

“If you don’t believe me, you can ignore what I say and carry on eating it. These symptoms are only the beginning. Before long, your stomach won’t work at all. And then…” He gave a low chuckle. “Auntie, I’m not trying to frighten you, but by then, there’ll be no saving it.”

Uncertainty flickered across Madam Zhao’s face as she watched him. He did not seem to be deceiving her. The more she thought about his explanation, the more sense it appeared to make.

“Then what should I do?”

“That’s simple. If you want to get well, the first and most important thing is to stop eating hawthorn as a snack. At the very least, you mustn’t have any until you’ve recovered. Even afterwards, you can’t go back to snacking on it—especially before meals, on an empty stomach.

“And keep taking the medicine we’ve prescribed. Before long, you’ll be completely well!”