My brothers are all warriors capable of taking on ten thousand men; I'll roam freely in the Thr

After seeing off his brothers who were going north and the messengers who were heading south, Ji Xuanyuan tried his best to handle government affairs, but his physical decline followed him closely.

The cough became more frequent, and the blood-streaked sputum went from once every few days to almost every day.

The dull pain in his chest and lungs and the shortness of breath forced him to pause frequently to catch his breath while reviewing documents, and his forehead was often covered in cold sweat.

In the stillness of the night, an unprecedented sense of exhaustion and emptiness will quietly creep in.

He gazed at the flickering candlelight and began to calmly consider the worst-case scenario.

If I were to die suddenly, how would this fledgling enterprise continue?

What will become of our brothers? Will the dawn that the people of Zhuojun have just seen be extinguished again?

Once this thought arises, it becomes like a vine, clinging to you.

He was not cowardly, but simply driven by a sense of responsibility.

So, on a sleepless night after coughing up blood, he forced himself to lie down, spread out a plain silk cloth, and began to write some "contingency plans" that only he himself understood.

The content is not a direct command, but rather an analysis of possible future situations and suggestions for responses.

If he were to die, who could temporarily take charge of Zhuojun? How to balance the various forces? How to ensure that confidential industries such as salt and glass do not fall into the hands of outsiders? He even subtly mentioned how his brothers should deal with the situation if the court or powerful families took advantage of the situation. He wrote in great detail, listing all the potential dangers and countermeasures he could think of, as if he were completing the last necessary task.

He thought he had kept it a secret, but little did he know that Guo Jia, worried about his condition, had been quietly checking on him outside the study late at night late at night.

That night, Guo Jia arrived again. Seeing that the study light was still on, he gently knocked on the door. When he received no answer, he pushed the door open and saw Ji Xuanyuan writing furiously at his desk. The candlelight illuminated his pale face, and there were bright red spots on the handkerchief beside him.

"Senior brother, why aren't you resting at this hour?" Guo Jia frowned and stepped forward, his gaze naturally sweeping over the silk on the table.

At first, I thought it was just an ordinary official document, but the more I read it, the more alarmed I became.

This is hardly an official document.

It is clearly a hypothetical scenario involving personnel arrangements, power balance, and crisis response after the death of the ruler!

"Fengxiao? What brings you here..." Ji Xuanyuan looked up at the sound of the voice and saw that it was Guo Jia. He subconsciously tried to cover himself with the silk, but it was too late.

Guo Jia grabbed the silk handkerchief, his usual lazy and playful expression vanishing from his peach blossom eyes, replaced by shock and anger: "Senior brother, what...what are you writing?!"

Ji Xuanyuan coughed twice and forced a smile, "It's just... planning ahead and thinking about long-term arrangements. My health isn't good right now, so there are some things I need to consider in advance..."

"Prepare for a rainy day?" Guo Jia's voice suddenly rose, his fingers trembling as he pointed at the words.

"This is clearly making arrangements for his funeral! It's a will! Senior brother, how...how could you do this?!"

His chest heaved violently, and his eyes became bloodshot: "Do you know the shock this thought will cause to Zhuojun and the army if it is even slightly leaked? If Xiang Yu and Lü Bu knew that you were secretly planning your affairs after death, would they still be at ease going to the northern frontier? They would definitely stay by your side at all costs! Guan Yu, Zhang Fei, Zilong, and all the soldiers, officials, commoners, and scholars who follow you, their hearts will be scattered! The morale of the army will be in chaos!"

Guo Jia grew increasingly agitated as he spoke: "Yes, you don't care about your own life or death. You may think your life is worthless in this chaotic world, but we do! Your brothers care! The hundreds of thousands of people in Zhuojun who have just seen a glimmer of hope care! Do you know how many people see you as their pillar of support, as the only light in this cannibalistic world?"

He grabbed Ji Xuanyuan's cold wrist with such force that Ji Xuanyuan felt pain: "Senior brother, listen to me, focus on recovering. Stop writing these depressing things. Mr. Zhang is on his way. There are many other renowned doctors in the world, there's always a way. Even if... even if it really comes to that, it's not your place to write these things now!"

Guo Jia's voice finally choked with emotion. He took a deep breath, trying to calm himself down. Looking at Ji Xuanyuan's pale, weak but still calm face, he softened his tone and almost pleaded, "Senior brother, please take care of yourself."

"Perhaps you think that life and death are predestined and there's no need to force it, but think about the way your brothers looked at you when they left, think about the light in the eyes of those poor scholars in the recruitment hall when they talked about you, think about the general that the people in the fields talked about..."

"So many people want you to live, want you to be with us, safe and sound, watching this land gradually get better."

"Please, junior brother, take your medicine properly, rest quietly, and don't overthink things. We'll talk about everything when Mr. Zhang arrives."

"Listen to me, okay, senior brother?"

Ji Xuanyuan stared blankly at Guo Jia.

This junior brother, who was usually carefree and seemingly unconcerned about anything, now had genuine fear and earnestness in his eyes.

The gaze was so intense that it made his heart tremble slightly.

He suddenly realized how cruel a blow his "calm" foresight was to the people around him.

After a long silence, Ji Xuanyuan slowly withdrew his hand, rolled up the plain silk on the table, and threw it into the brazier beside him.

The flickering flames engulfed the cold, lifeless words.

"Never mind..." he sighed softly, his voice hoarse.

"It was my oversight that caused unrest; I will stop writing now."

Guo Jia stared intently as the silk turned to ashes before letting out a long sigh. He seemed completely exhausted, and after a moment, he regained some of his usual composure, though still lingering fear: "That's more like it! Senior Brother, you're destined for great things, how can you give up so easily? Take good care of yourself, and when Mr. Zhang arrives, a few doses of medicine might just make you as lively as ever again."

He personally brought over the warmed medicine, supervised Ji Xuanyuan as he took it, and then chattered on and on about the latest interesting things at the Academy of Natural Sciences and jokes about military training, until Ji Xuanyuan looked tired. Only then did he blow out the candle, close the door, and leave.

Standing under the corridor, Guo Jia gazed at the sparse stars in the night sky, his face devoid of any smile.

……

Half a month later, in Nieyang County, Nanyang.

In Zhang Zhongjing's residence, the former governor of Changsha, a man of about thirty-five years old with a thin face and calm eyes, was carefully reading a letter from Zhuojun and a thick stack of detailed accounts of Ji Xuanyuan's illness that were attached to the letter.

The letter was sincere and respectful, and included a large sum of money for travel and medical expenses.

But what truly moved Zhang Zhongjing was not the monetary gift, but Ji Xuanyuan's achievements: recruiting talented individuals regardless of their background, promoting new agricultural tools, establishing official schools, resettling displaced people, and suppressing bandits to maintain peace and stability...

And then there was the shocking illness: congenital weakness, childhood fatigue, years of coughing up blood, which had recently worsened, leaving all doctors helpless.

"Diligent in governing and loving the people, yet destroying himself... Is this truly a national hero?" Zhang Zhongjing put down the letter and pondered for a long time.

Because most of the people had died in the plague, he felt the importance of medicine, so he resigned from his official post and returned to his hometown to devote himself to the study of typhoid fever and epidemic diseases.

He felt a sense of respect and curiosity towards local officials who cared deeply for the people and had an outstanding reputation.

More importantly, the description of the illness in the letter is consistent with certain symptoms of consumptive cough and asthma in "typhoid fever" and miscellaneous diseases that he is studying, which is also the direction of his academic exploration.

"This disease is dangerous. If it persists for a long time, it will damage the lungs and internal organs, and severely deplete qi and blood..." Zhang Zhongjing stroked his beard and pondered.

"Ordinary prescriptions may not be able to achieve the full effect. However, we may try the method of supporting the body's resistance and eliminating pathogens, and nourishing the earth to generate metal, supplemented by acupuncture and guiding exercises... The specifics need to be determined through a face-to-face consultation."

He was not a reckless person, but he had the compassion of a doctor and the ambition to explore.

After much deliberation, he made a decision that astonished even Ji Xuanyuan's messenger: he personally went to Zhuojun.

"I wish to go and see for myself," Zhang Zhongjing said to the messenger.

"Firstly, such a serious illness cannot be diagnosed without a thorough face-to-face examination; secondly..." He looked north.

"I also want to see for myself whether Zhuojun under the jurisdiction of Prefect Ji is really as rumored."

Soon after, Zhang Zhongjing, traveling light and with only one or two disciples and the necessary medicine bags and equipment, embarked on his journey north with the messenger.

He did not use the generous travel funds provided by Ji Xuanyuan; all expenses were covered by his own pocket.

The journey was long, a thousand miles from Nanyang to Youzhou.

Zhang Zhongjing did not rush on his journey, but instead paid close attention to the lives of the people along the way.

The further north one goes, especially into the territories of Ji and You provinces, the more obvious the traces of war, famine, and displacement become, forming a stark contrast with the relatively peaceful hometown of Nanyang.

This weighed heavily on his mind, and he felt a growing curiosity and a vague admiration for the young governor who had achieved such political success in such a remote border region.

Upon entering Zhuojun, the scenery gradually changed.

Although the official road was not wide, it was much smoother, which reduced the bumps and jolting of the carriages and horses.

Along the roadside in the fields, farmers were using a curved plow they had never seen before. It was clearly more efficient, with neat rows of ridges and lush green rice seedlings.

Along the way, although the houses in the villages are still mostly simple, there are few completely dilapidated and abandoned houses. Smoke rises from the chimneys, and the sounds of chickens and dogs can be heard.

Passing through the market town, although the market was not bustling, it was orderly, the people's faces were relatively healthy, and there were even children chasing and playing.

Zhang Zhongjing once served as the governor of a prefecture and was well aware of the difficulties of governance.

Especially in a border region that had been ravaged by the Yellow Turban Rebellion, it was no easy feat to restore such vitality.

He couldn't help but stop the car several times to chat with farmers in the fields and vendors by the roadside.

"Old man, this plow seems different from the ones elsewhere?"

"Hey, sir, you must be from out of town? This is the 'curved plow' invented by our upright and just Magistrate Ji. It's really useful! It saves effort and plows deep!"

"Shopkeeper, how's business? Are the taxes heavy?"

"Thanks to General Ji, there are fewer bandits now, and more merchants are coming and going. As for taxes, General Ji has reduced many miscellaneous levies, so life is a bit better than before."

"I heard the prefecture has established an official school?"

"Yes! They take children to school, and the tuition is very low! My son went too, and he's learned a few characters!"

The people spoke simply, and the heartfelt gratitude and trust they showed when mentioning "General Ji" moved Zhang Zhongjing deeply.

He had despised officialdom since childhood and had seen too many officials who were either mediocre or greedy and cruel, and those who could win such a reputation among the people were extremely rare.

Upon seeing this, Ji Xuanyuan's trusted confidant took the initiative to introduce the measures taken by Zhuojun in recent years.

How to suppress bandits and pacify the people, distribute agricultural tools and seeds, build water conservancy projects, establish a talent recruitment hall and a science institute, and even recently send troops to the northern border for defense.

While there may be some praise involved, the actual situation along the way confirms that these claims are not unfounded.

Zhang Zhongjing listened silently, his opinion of the young, ailing prefect, whom he had never met, rose even higher.

"Governing with virtue is like the North Star, which remains in its place while all the other stars revolve around it."

This Ji Xuanyuan seems to be practicing this way, although his methods are somewhat "unorthodox".

Through his inquiries along the way, Zhang Zhongjing learned more about Ji Xuanyuan's condition.

The messenger relayed the details added by Guo Jia and others.

This gave him a deeper understanding of the complexity and stubbornness of the illness, and a clearer prediction of the difficulty in curing it.

"Sir." Seeing Zhang Zhongjing often frowning in thought, the messenger finally couldn't help but ask the question he had been holding back all the way.

"In your opinion, is my husband's illness... curable?"

Zhang Zhongjing snapped out of his reverie, looked out the carriage window at the approaching outline of the city walls of Zhuojun, slowly shook his head, and looked solemn.

"A doctor should not speak definitively, especially before seeing the patient." His voice was calm, yet carried a heavy weight.

"Based on what has been said, the prefect's illness is due to the depletion of his innate vital energy in his embryonic stage, and the devastation caused by overwork in his youth. It is a chronic and intractable disease that has penetrated deep into his internal organs, resulting in a deficiency of qi, blood, yin and yang, as well as phlegm and blood stasis. Such a disease is like a building about to collapse, with its foundation already rotten. It cannot be cured by ordinary medicines, much less by a day or two."

He paused, then continued, "My trip north this time may be able to alleviate his cough and wheezing, reduce his pain, strengthen his vital energy, and prolong his life. However, to cure him completely, to restore him to normal, and even to enable him to take on demanding government duties... it is difficult, very difficult. We need to find another way, treat him carefully, and the patient himself needs to rest and recuperate, and avoid any troubles. Perhaps there is a glimmer of hope."

Upon hearing this, the messenger's face turned pale.

Zhang Zhongjing's medical skills were renowned, and since he said so, I'm afraid...

"but."

Zhang Zhongjing changed the subject slightly, his gaze deep: "The creation of heaven and earth is infinitely mysterious, and the art of medicine is also without end. Before personally examining the pulse, observing the complexion and listening to the voice, and inquiring in detail about the daily life, it is still difficult to draw any conclusions. Perhaps, this Prefect Ji's constitution is different from ordinary people, and his will is particularly tenacious. There may be a turning point, who knows?"

He said no more, but stared at the approaching gates of Zhuojun, his eyes gleaming with the focused and inquisitive light characteristic of a physician.

The carriage rumbled and rolled into Zhuojun.