Shengui Changsheng: Start from Zhenwuwei and add some points to cultivate immortality

One afternoon, he saw his neighbor Gouwa and several teenagers playing on the ground with twigs, so he went over to them.

"Doggy, what are you guys drawing?"

Gouwa looked up and grinned sheepishly, "Pingwa, we're drawing houses and mountains."

Fu Shaoping looked at the crooked, shapeless lines on the ground and an idea struck him. He picked up a twig and drew a square "田" (field) character on the open ground next to him, then added a few dots inside it.

“Look, this is our land, and these dots are corn.” His voice was calm, yet it carried a strange allure.

The children gathered around curiously.

"Pingwa, you drew it so realistically!"

Is this called 'drawing characters'?

Fu Shaoping smiled but didn't answer directly. Instead, he drew several simple pictographic patterns, such as "mountain," "water," "sun," and "moon," and told the children what these patterns represented. The children found it interesting and eagerly followed suit, learning to draw as well.

From that day on, Fu Shaoping would occasionally teach these village children to recognize a few simple "pictures" (he called them pictures to avoid the sensitive word "characters"). He didn't teach them classical Chinese, but only characters closely related to daily life, such as "rice," "bean," "pig," "chicken," "father," "mother," and simple numbers. He used twigs to draw on the ground and compared them with real objects, making the method intuitive and interesting.

At first, it was just a few close children like Gouwa, but gradually other children joined in. Fu Shaoping welcomed all of them, but only taught a few casually during their playtime. He never gave formal lessons and strictly forbade them to say that they were "reading and recognizing characters" or "learning to draw and play games."

The children, in their ignorance, only felt that "Pingwa" knew a lot and that playing with him was fun. But this little bit of enlightenment was like a pebble thrown into a still lake, creating ripples in the hearts of several perceptive children.

Somehow, this matter reached the ears of the clan chief, Fu Laoshuan. He secretly observed several times and was deeply shocked to see Fu Shaoping guiding the children in "drawing pictures" in that peculiar way. Having lived most of his life, he knew the importance of literacy; it was the first step to escaping rural life and changing one's destiny! And this young man from the Fu family was doing just that quietly!
Fu Laoshuan neither made a fuss nor stopped it. He found Fu Tieshan and said meaningfully, "Tieshan, your son Pingwa is no ordinary person. Treat him well, and he may bring glory to our Fu family in the future."

Although Fu Tieshan didn't fully understand, he vaguely sensed that his son was doing something remarkable, and he felt both proud and apprehensive.

Besides enlightening children, Fu Shaoping also became more proficient in using herbs. He no longer limited himself to the excuse of "divine guidance from the mountain god," but began guiding his parents to observe the growing environment of herbs, the harvesting season, and processing methods. He even experimented with combining several herbs to make simple ointments or powders, which proved more effective than single-herb remedies. When villagers had headaches, fevers, or injuries, their first thought was to consult the Fu family. The Fu family had become an informal yet highly trusted "herbal shop" in the village. Although they still didn't charge a penny, the gifts they received made their lives much more comfortable.

That autumn, Fu Shaoping's experimental field yielded a small but bountiful harvest of wild ginger. He shared the ginger pieces with his parents and a few other families he knew, and their warming and flavorful effects were well-received. This laid the foundation for him to expand cultivation the following year and even use it as a commodity for trade.

Eight-year-old Fu Shaoping was still slightly thinner than his peers, but his eyes had become increasingly deep and bright. He no longer focused solely on improving his own family's life, but began to examine this land and its people from a more macro perspective. Like a patient craftsman, he meticulously sculpted this rough gem called "Wangshan Village," his progress slow but each stroke solid and powerful.

He knew he couldn't stay here forever. Through countless reincarnations, he was always just a passerby. But he hoped that before leaving, he could leave something that could endure for this land and these simple people—perhaps better farming practices, perhaps some practical knowledge of herbs, or perhaps the spark of thirst for knowledge quietly planted in the hearts of those children.

In the depths of winter, the Fu family's cottage was warm and cozy. Fu Shaoping sat under the oil lamp (this year the family had a slightly better oil lamp), practicing more complex "drawings" (actually writing) on ​​a wooden board with a charcoal pencil. Yang was mending clothes nearby, while Fu Tieshan was polishing his hunting bow, occasionally glancing up at his son with eyes full of love and an indescribable expectation.

Outside the window, all was silent except for the howling of the cold wind sweeping across the mountains. But beneath this silence, the seeds of change had already been sown, waiting only for the thunder of spring to break through the soil and sprout. Fu Shaoping's life was quietly influencing the fate of this small mountain village in a way he had never anticipated.

The peaceful days flowed by like a stream, and in the blink of an eye, Fu Shaoping had spent three winters and summers in Wangshan Village. At nine years old, he had grown a bit taller, and although he was still thin, the calm demeanor between his brows was becoming more and more obvious. Standing among a group of playful village children, he was like a crane standing among chickens.

The "experimental field" behind his house had become a small herb garden. Wild ginger grew lush and green, purslane thrived, and several commonly used herbs such as perilla, dandelion, and elderberry were transplanted and domesticated by him, growing well. He even successfully cultivated a small patch of indigo plants that could be used for dyeing, and experimented with different mordants to obtain varying shades of blue, which greatly surprised Yang and several skillful women in the village.

Teaching the village children to "draw" had become a semi-open secret, with the tacit approval of the clan chief, Fu Laoshuan, and the approval of some villagers. Now, those gathered around Fu Shaoping were no longer just a few playmates like Gouwa, but seven or eight older, more sensible children. Fu Shaoping remained unhurried, teaching only three to five characters each day, supplemented with simple arithmetic, but mostly guiding them to observe nature and contemplate the connections between all things. The "characters" he taught were also beginning to transition from pictographs to more abstract ideographs and compound characters.

These children may not yet understand the true value of this knowledge, but the novelty of encountering the unknown world, and Fu Shaoping's calm and erudite demeanor, have left a deep impression on them. Gouwa can even use the simple words and numbers he has learned to help keep some odd accounts for the family, which makes Gouwa's parents extremely grateful to Fu Shaoping.

On this clear autumn day, Fu Tieshan was invited to a neighboring village to help check on the crops, while Yang went to the river to wash clothes. Fu Shaoping was home alone, tidying up the herbs that were drying in the sun.

Suddenly, an unusual commotion arose at the village entrance, mixed with the sound of horses' hooves and unfamiliar shouts. Soon, several riders escorted a blue-canopied carriage, which arrived directly outside the Fu family's courtyard.

Leading the group was a middle-aged steward dressed in silk robes with an arrogant expression. He reined in his horse and looked down at the Fu family's courtyard, which, though neat, remained simple, with a slight frown. A corner of the carriage curtain was lifted, revealing the face of a young girl who looked slightly sickly but whose delicate features were still undeniable, and she peered out curiously.

"Hey kid, is this Fu Tieshan's house?" The steward shouted at Fu Shaoping, brandishing his riding whip, his tone quite rude.

Fu Shaoping put down the herbs in his hand, dusted himself off, and stepped forward with neither arrogance nor servility, offering a simple cupped-hand salute: "Indeed. May I ask where you distinguished guests have come from, and what business do you have with my father?" His voice was clear and his demeanor composed, showing none of the timidity that a typical village child would show when meeting unfamiliar dignitaries.

The steward, seeing his distinguished bearing, paused slightly, then softened his tone: "We are from the Lin family of Qingtian Town. My young lady went to a temple outside the city to offer incense the other day, and caught a cold on her return. We heard that the Fu family of Wangshan Village knows some herbal remedies, so we have come to find some appropriate medicine." The Lin family of Qingtian Town was a well-known local gentry family within a hundred miles, and quite wealthy. At this moment, the girl in the carriage coughed a few times softly, her voice weak. A maidservant beside her said anxiously, "Steward, the young lady is coughing badly, please find some medicine quickly."

The steward looked at Fu Shaoping and said, "Where is your master? Call him out and give me an answer."

Fu Shaoping remained calm and said, "My father is away, and my mother is also not here. Could you please describe your young lady's symptoms in detail? For example, is it chills or fever? Does she have phlegm in her cough, and what is the color of the phlegm?"

The steward was surprised to see that he asked the questions so well, so he repeated the symptoms described by the maid: chills, low-grade fever, cough with little sticky phlegm, and a slight sore throat.

After listening, Fu Shaoping pondered for a moment and said, "This is the initial stage of wind-heat invading the lungs, and it is not suitable to use pungent and warm dispersing medicines." He turned and went into the house, and after a moment he took out several packets of herbs wrapped in clean mulberry paper and handed them to the steward: "This is a combination of honeysuckle, forsythia, mint, and burdock seeds. Please decoct it in water, one dose per day, divided into two warm doses. During the period of taking the medicine, the diet should be light, and spicy and greasy foods should be avoided. If the symptoms do not improve after two days, or even worsen, you should consult a doctor immediately."

He spoke clearly and logically, explaining the properties of medicines and the causes of illnesses in great detail. He was nothing like a nine-year-old child; even the town's resident doctor was no better.

The steward took the medicine packet, his expression skeptical. The girl in the carriage spoke softly, her voice low but tinged with curiosity: "Little brother, do you know medicine?"

Fu Shaoping looked at the carriage and calmly replied, "I dare not claim to be a doctor. I have only learned a little about identifying herbs while following the mountain school and have a basic understanding of their properties."

Seeing that his eyes were clear and his demeanor composed, and that he did not seem to be speaking nonsense, the young girl said to the steward, "Steward Chen, let's try what this young man said."

Seeing that the young lady had spoken, Manager Chen said no more. He took out a small piece of silver from his pocket, weighing about two qian (approximately 6.5 grams), and handed it to Fu Shaoping: "This is for the medicine."

Fu Shaoping shook his head: "These are just some wild herbs, not worth much. Since Miss Lin trusts you, take them and use them. If they work, it's fate; if they don't, don't blame me."

He actually refused to accept the money!
This surprised even the steward, Mr. Chen, and the young lady from the Lin family in the carriage. Villagers from the mountains, how could they not be tempted by money? How could this child be so indifferent?

Manager Chen gave Fu Shaoping a deep look, put away the silver, clasped his hands and said, "Young brother, you are very generous. I will remember this. If the medicine is effective, I will repay you handsomely in the future." After saying that, he turned his horse around and escorted the carriage away.

Fu Shaoping stood in the courtyard, watching the dust settle in the distance, his expression calm. It wasn't that he didn't love money, but he knew that some things were more important than immediate wealth. Sowing good seeds today might yield good fruit tomorrow. More importantly, he used this opportunity to subtly display some of his abilities, yet kept them within the reasonable bounds of "learning skills in the mountains," thus laying the groundwork for potential future changes.

The news quickly spread throughout the village, and the reputation of the Fu family's "young master" became even more renowned. Even the Lin family from Qingtian Town came to ask for medicine, and the story was told in a very mysterious way.

Fu Shaoping, however, remained unchanged, tending his "Hundred Herbs Garden" daily and teaching the village children, as if nothing had happened. But he knew that after this incident, his "rough jade" was no longer merely hidden deep in the mountains, unknown to the world. A dragon lurking in the abyss, occasionally revealing its scales and claws, has already astonished the world.

His second life seems to be quietly gliding towards a broader, and inevitably more turbulent, direction. The gears of fate have begun to turn slowly.

Just as Fu Shaoping's reputation was rising and Wangshan Village was filled with hope because of the potential establishment of a primary school, a sudden crisis loomed over the entire village like a dark cloud.

First, the three-year-old child of Wang Laowu's family at the east end of the village suddenly developed a high fever, vomiting and diarrhea, and developed a rash. Then, several neighboring households also developed similar symptoms, especially the children, and the illness came on quickly and severely. At first, the villagers thought it was just a common epidemic and didn't pay much attention, until more and more families fell ill, the symptoms became more and more severe, and even a frail elderly person did not survive, and people began to panic.

"It's a plague! It's a plague!"

Panic spread through the village like wildfire. Every household shut their doors, everyone lived in fear, and even the usually bustling area under the big tree at the village entrance was deserted. The air was thick with the bitter smell of burning herbs and a desperate dread.

The clan chief, Fu Laoshuan, was so anxious that blisters appeared on his lips. He hurriedly sent someone to town to fetch a doctor. However, the man returned dejectedly with even more despairing news: a similar epidemic had broken out in town, and the doctors were too busy to help themselves. The medicines in the pharmacies had been completely sold out, and there was no way to find anyone or buy any medicine.

"Heaven has forsaken my Wangshan Village!" Old Fu lamented, beating his chest and stamping his feet, tears streaming down his face. The villagers were plunged into immense panic and helplessness.

Just when everyone was filled with fear and despair, Fu Shaoping steadily pushed open the ever-open gate of the Fu family's courtyard from the inside.

He wore a coarse cloth robe that had been washed until it was faded, and his face was covered with a clean piece of hemp cloth, revealing only a pair of calm, watery eyes. He carried a medicine basket in his hand, and behind him followed Fu Tieshan and Yang Shi, who also had their mouths and noses covered with cloth and their eyes were firm.

"Pingwa, what... what are you doing?" a neighbor asked in a trembling voice as he peeked through the crack in the door.

Fu Shaoping's gaze swept over the eyes filled with fear and hope, his voice clear and steady echoing through the deathly silent village: "Uncles, aunts, this is not the time to sit and wait for death. Although this plague is fierce, it is not incurable. My family has some knowledge of herbal medicine and is willing to try our best." (End of Chapter)