A divine healer, a general, a young marquis! Who can rival them!

With the clinic expanding, they also secured a good plot of land for the medicinal herb garden.

Yang's reputation was firmly established in the east of the city.

The number of people seeking medical treatment is increasing day by day.

That morning, a farmer carrying a small baby stumbled into the house.

He was covered in sweat, but the baby in his arms was listless, slumped against his arm, and wouldn't even cry anymore.

"Dr. Yang, take a look at this little brat..." the man stammered. "He's had a lot of diarrhea, and he looks like he's about to die."

Aji, quick as a flash, stepped forward and pinched the boy's forehead to check his complexion. His expression froze instantly, and he immediately led them to the examination table.

The boy has become sensible; he knows that some illnesses cannot wait.

Yang Hu threw down the medicine in his hand and came over to take a look.

A boy, about eight or nine years old, had a sallow complexion, deeply sunken eyes, and chapped lips. He slumped limply against his father's shoulder, showing no inclination to cry.

"What's wrong?" Yang Hu asked.

"Diarrhea." The man's voice trembled. "He's had diarrhea for a while now. First, his stomach hurt, then he had diarrhea, and then... he started passing pus and blood. He could go to the outhouse more than a dozen times a day. In the last two days, his fever has gone up, and he won't eat or drink anything. He's practically on his last breath."

Have you seen a doctor?

"I've seen it!" The man wiped away his tears. "It was Dr. Jia from the south of the city who prescribed the medicine. He said that the dysentery had damaged his vital energy, and that it needed to be astringent and stop the bleeding before he would get better. He prescribed some Terminalia chebula, poppy shells, and red ochre... After drinking it for a day or three days, the dysentery didn't improve but worsened, and he became increasingly listless. Yesterday morning, he came to take a look and shook his head, saying that the dysentery had caused him to lose his shape, and that he probably... probably wouldn't make it. He told me to go back and make preparations."

The man's voice choked up after he finished speaking.

Looking at Yang Hu's small face, his eyes lit up for a moment, then he hesitated a little:

"Dr. Yang... even Dr. Jia said he couldn't cure this disease... look, you really can cure it?!"

Yang Hu did not rush to answer.

First, I looked at his eyelids, then I pried open his gums to look at his tongue coating—it was red, thick, and greasy.

When I took his pulse again, it was deep, slippery, and rapid.

"What does it look like when it comes out?" Yang Hu asked.

"It's red and white, sticky, and has a fishy, ​​foul smell..."

The man gestured: "It smells like something!"

Yang Hu had already made up his mind.

It's not a normal stomachache.

Instead, it's damp and hot toxins that are blocking the intestines.

That prescription from Jia Langzhong was terribly wrong.

Diarrhea is caused by the accumulation of waste and toxins in the intestines. These should be expelled, but Jia Langzhong insisted on astringing and constricting, forcibly sealing in the toxins—this is called "closing the door to keep the enemy inside." Once the door is closed, the toxins cannot be expelled and accumulate more and more, naturally making things worse. A perfectly healthy child was thus sent to the underworld.

"I can save him," Yang Hu stood up.

"The man's legs went weak and he almost knelt down."

"Is there one thing?" Yang Hu asked, looking at him. "The method I'm going to use next will definitely seem strange to you. I'll tell you right away."

"Tell me! Tell me!"

"Others treat dysentery by trying to stop it. My medicine, however, not only doesn't stop it after the first dose, but it also makes the patient have diarrhea again."

"Huh? He's already choked from diarrhea, and you still want to relieve it? You're just killing him!"

Several people in line nearby started whispering among themselves.

"He's already vomiting and he still needs laxatives? This young doctor must have never left the mountains before."

"For years, Dr. Jia has been saying that we should be astringent and prudent, but he's doing the opposite..."

Yang Hu ignored them.

He ground ink and wrote medicine. The medicine was meant to clear heat and relieve stagnation, to release the toxins from the intestines first, so that they could dissipate.

"This is the principle of 'opening the cause and using the effect'," Yang Hu said casually as he wrote. "It's like blocking out filth and toxins. 'Opening' means that the filth goes out, the toxins are gone, and the dysentery will get better. Simply astringing is like locking a thief in the house; the longer you lock him up, the worse it gets."

"By the way, Master. He's already had diarrhea, will you still give him laxatives?"

"Remember this." Yang Hu's hands didn't stop moving. "Dysentery isn't just ordinary diarrhea. The stuff inside is blocked with toxins, which is why it's so deadly. First, you need to expel the filth, then clear the heat, and the dysentery will stop. If you don't clear it when it should, and instead try to block it, you'll only harm the patient."

Aji was a little confused, but he remembered it firmly, and his hands became more and more steady as he grasped the medicine.

The medicine has been brewed.

Lu Yan then cooked a pot of rice porridge, added some salt and sugar, and he ate it spoonful by spoonful.

"After such a long time of diarrhea, the body is completely dehydrated. This soup is more important than medicine," he said.

After taking the first medicine, I had diarrhea again, as expected.

The man stayed with him the whole time, clutching his clothes, his face pale with fright.

But after he had diarrhea, something miraculous happened that evening: the amount of pus and blood in the child's diarrhea visibly decreased. He was also able to drink a bowl of rice porridge.

The next day, the fever had mostly subsided, and he opened his eyes, weakly calling out, "Father."

The man immediately knelt down in front of Yang Hu with a thud.

She started kowtowing to him, saying, "Miracle doctor, miracle doctor, you are the great living Buddha of my family!"

Yang Hu helped him up.

The story spread like wildfire throughout the streets within two days. The old doctor Jia from the south of the city, who had prescribed astringent medicine to stop diarrhea, had judged a child as beyond saving. But when the child came to Doctor Yang, he was given a laxative, and the child recovered in just a few days.

The physician Jia immediately lost face.

In the teahouse, someone was gossiping again: "That doctor Jia has been practicing medicine for decades, and he can't even tell the difference between clearing and astringing dysentery."

Someone chimed in, "That's right, Dr. Yang first purged the diarrhea and then cleared it up; he recovered in just a few days. That's real skill."

"That man" was an old man who frequented the south side of the city. He took a sip of tea and slapped his thigh: "I knew it! Old Man Sun from the south of the city had a chest ailment that worsened after three months of treatment by three famous doctors in the city. But Dr. Yang saved him with just a few needles. And there's another one! In the east of the city, there's a true miracle doctor!"

The words reached the ears of Jia Langzhong.

He spent half a day in his own pharmacy, staring at the few herbs with astringent properties, his face flushing red, then turning pale again. With decades of experience, he dared not utter another word: "hopeless."

Those were tenant farmers, and their families were poor. Yang Hu accepted the small amount of money for the medicine, waived the consultation fee, and even gave them two more doses of medicine to regulate their stomach and intestines.

"The child has lost his vitality," the family said. "These next few days, feed him rice porridge, nothing oily or greasy, and definitely not hot or cold." The family left, thanking the family profusely.

At night, they close the door to rest, and the family gathers around the table for dinner.

Lu Yan served soup, while Lu Rou held an account book and muttered about the day's income and expenses. Liu Ye placed the game she had hunted during the day on the table.

Qin Ying sat to the side, holding a knife to her lap, without moving.

"That child," she suddenly said, "all the other doctors said there was no hope."

"Other doctors call it dysentery." Yang Hu picked up a piece of his chopsticks. "I treat the little bit of dirt blocking the intestines. They're all dysentery, but the root causes are different, so the treatments are naturally different."

Qin Ying remained silent.

His hand, gripping the knife, relaxed slightly. Under the lamplight, his eyes were lowered, as if lost in thought.

"Your investigation," after a long pause, "is just like treating an illness."

Yang Hu looked up at her.

"Everyone thinks they're a bunch of bandits." Qin Ying's voice was low. "Actually, the root of the problem is much deeper. Just going around in circles on that rocky hill won't get you anywhere."

Yang Hu chuckled.

"Exactly." He put down his chopsticks. "We need to export it!"

His gaze turned somber as he spoke.

In the afternoon, Liu Ye went to see the fields north of the city again and said that the framework for the medicinal herb garden was almost finished.

Yang Hu nodded without saying anything.

Today's scene shows how a child's life was snatched away by Doctor Jia. Doctor Jia in the city had treated a child sentenced to death, but instead prescribed a strong laxative. The child recovered in a few days.

If something is meant to be open, it shouldn't be open; if something should be open but isn't, forcibly blocking it is harmful.

Just as with treating illness, many things in this city are entangled in the shadows, difficult to understand immediately. Things that are blocked up for too long will inevitably cause trouble. Someone will always gradually bring them to light.

But this can't be rushed.