Chapter 754: Treatise on Warm Pestilence

A few days later, everything was arranged, and Old Hu also set out on the road. He told his wife that the escort agency had assigned another job, and this trip would take a bit longer.

His wife, Sun Huiniang, was not suspicious — after all, her husband had always been like this in the past, with escort trips of varying lengths. She only gave her usual reminder: "Husband, be careful on the road."

Old Hu said, "I know. I'm off."

He took a few steps, but couldn't help turning back to look. He saw his wife leaning against the door, watching with deep concern, one hand resting on her belly. Seeing him look back, she gave him a sweet smile.

Old Hu strode away with meteoric steps. He dared not look back again, afraid he couldn't hold back his tears — or that he might not dare to go at all. In his heart, he silently swore with fierce resolve: "I will come back alive. I will come back alive to see my wife, to see my son. I swear it!"

He strode to the Taixing Gate on the west side of the garrison town. The ministry had arranged everything: he would travel with Kong San and Huang Weijie on an escort agency cart, all the way to Zezhou in Shanxi. The place was bustling with noise — a clamor of shouting people and neighing horses — as numerous escort agencies gathered, preparing to head off in every direction.

Snowflakes drifted down. Old Hu's mind was still dazed, his wife's parting words and that look of tender concern echoing through him again and again... In the midst of his daze, he suddenly heard a slightly hesitant voice: "Are you... Old Hu?..."

Old Hu's heart jolted. He spun around sharply and saw several figures before him — so familiar. He rubbed his eyes and cried out in joyful surprise: "Black Hair, Old Bandit, is that you?"

Among the several men before him, one had a few black hairs at the corner of his mouth, and another had a knife scar across his face. Who else could it be but Black Hair and the others from the old squad?

Seeing Old Hu's face, they too cried out in joyful surprise: "It really is you!"

The brothers embraced warmly, laughing heartily, all saying: "So you didn't die after all!"

Reuniting with old friends was filled with joy. Black Hair said, "Old Hu, I got married. I'm with the Zhenwu Escort Agency now. Which agency are you with?"

Old Hu said, "I got married too. I'm with the Yangwei Escort Agency now. Right — where are you headed..."

Black Hair said excitedly, "To Mobei. Proprietor Lai hired us — we're planning something big, pushing the trade route all the way to the edge of Beijiaerhu..."

Old Hu said, "Beijiaerhu, huh..."

Just then, shouts rose from all around. The escort agencies were preparing to move out. Someone was calling from over there. Black Hair yelled, "Coming, coming, damn you!"

He said to Old Hu, "No time to say more. Here — this is my name card. When we're back, we brothers will meet up again. I still need to meet your wife."

He took Old Hu's name card, and then the few of them hurried off in that direction. As he ran, Black Hair waved at Old Hu, his mouth opening and closing as if saying: "...We definitely have to get together..."

Looking at the thick stack of name cards in his hand, Old Hu murmured, "Hope we can get together."

His palm closed, crumpling the name cards into a ball. Seeing Kong San waving from over there, Old Hu shouted: "Coming, coming, damn you..."

He ran over. A crumpled wad of paper was tossed to the ground.

After Sun Chuanting was appointed Viceroy of the Three Frontiers of Shaanxi, the court quickly followed up by also appointing Hou Xun as Grand Coordinator.

After the Ming army's defeat at Zhuxianzhen, Ding Qirui's imprisonment, and the deaths in battle of Wang Qiaonian and others, the situation in Henan had spiraled out of control. Tongguan was now held, but the main force of the Chuang bandits had already moved to Runing Prefecture in Henan. The court looked left and right and realized that Henan and other places still needed another Grand Coordinator.

They looked around further and found that if they wanted to relieve Runing Prefecture — or even if the Chuang bandits took Runing Prefecture and intended to push south into Huguang — only Zuo Liangyu at Xiangyang could hold them off. No matter how much they loathed that warlord Zuo Liangyu in their hearts, they had to hold their noses and win him over.

They considered that in his youth, Zuo Liangyu had been stripped of his rank for the crime of robbing military uniforms and had been reduced to the ranks of common soldiers. Later, he was spotted by Hou Xun and given military command, distinguishing himself in the Liaodong relief campaign, and from then on his rise was smooth, reaching the rank of grand general.

Given that history, he should harbor goodwill toward Hou Xun. So Emperor Chongzhen thought it over and issued a special decree releasing the imprisoned Hou Xun, giving him the title of Minister of War, and appointing him Grand Coordinator of military affairs in Henan, Baoding, Shandong, Hebei, and other regions, with command over the "Pacify the Bandits" and other garrison relief-and-punitive forces.

Hou Xun was a native of Guide Prefecture in Henan and had a fairly good grasp of the Henan situation. As soon as he was released from prison and took up his post, he immediately submitted a memorial to the court, proposing a comprehensive strategic plan for military operations.

In his memorial he stated: "The bandit scourge has accumulated over fifteen years and only now grown to this magnitude; it cannot be resolved in a single morning. From Shaanxi into Henan, first Fu Zonglong was defeated, then Wang Qiaonian was defeated, and now all the realm's elite soldiers and strong horses belong to the bandits... The bandit cavalry, tens of thousands in a single unit, sweep like wind and rain, bypassing strong cities and drawing sustenance from the troops. The government forces merely tail behind them, asking which way they went — and even if they catch up, their horses are spent and their soldiers famished. To the point that even with the authority of the imperial sword, one cannot make the county magistrate of a closed city come out for a single meeting, transport a single bundle of fodder, or send a single hu of rice. This is why they are so often thwarted and defeated."

"...Therefore, for the present strategy, if there is any clear insight, nothing is better than to cede Henan to them. Let the Baoding Provincial Governor Xu Biao and the Shandong Provincial Governor Wang Yongji guard the river to the north; let the Fengyang Provincial Governor Ma Shiying and the Huai-Xu Provincial Governor Shi Kefa block the bandits' thrust to the south; and let the Shaanxi Viceroy Sun Chuanting seal off Tongguan. I shall lead Zuo Liangyu to secure Jing-Xiang. All of this is to cut off their routes of flight and escape."

Hou Xun's memorial won the Emperor's praise. Right after Sun Chuanting, Hou Xun also received a platform audience, was granted a banquet and the imperial sword, and for a time Hou Xun enjoyed boundless prestige. He arrayed his full insignia and headed south brimming with confidence.

At the same time, the two Counts, Cao and Wang, in Kaifeng City again requested to return to their garrisons. Liu Chao, formerly the Regional Commander of Zunyi in Sichuan and now stripped of his post, had also been submitting repeated petitions, volunteering to lead troops to relieve Kaifeng, Runing, and other places. Moreover, because the Baoding Regional Commander Hu Dawei had died in battle, a Regional Commander post stood vacant.

Liu Chao's loyalty and courage were so commendable, and he was willing to go to Henan on his own initiative, so Emperor Chongzhen appointed him Baoding Regional Commander and ordered him to march to Henan, while granting permission for Cao and Wang to return.

In the tenth month of the fifteenth year of Chongzhen, Suzhou.

The impression of Jiangnan has always been that of an ink-wash scroll veiled in misty rain — small bridges, flowing streams, and cottages; misty rain, terraces, and apricot blossoms — like a succession of exquisitely rhythmic, ethereally imagistic poems.

Suzhou in particular: embankments, arch bridges, water lanes, neat yet narrow flagstone streets, long and deep winding alleys, fishing songs and cooking smoke, small awning boats shuttling back and forth — shrouded in misty rain, brimming with spirit, like the paradise beyond the world that many hold in their hearts.

Yet now, as Wu Youxing walked the streets of Gusu City, he could not help but feel sorrow and gloom. Everywhere were vagrant beggars, everywhere starving refugees and displaced people, gaunt and haggard, in tattered rags. Those selling their children were seen everywhere.

Even in the secluded corners of the streets, from time to time lay several corpses of those frozen or starved to death. The government office runners and militia merely collected them with numb indifference.

People say Gusu's populace is thriving and prosperous, its streets and lanes stretching endlessly, its produce abundant, its carts and people jostling. But year after year, where now was the prosperity and splendor of old? Where now was that earthly paradise where "above is Heaven, below are Suzhou and Hangzhou"?

As for the misty rain — not even a ghost's shadow could be seen anymore.

The north suffered drought after drought. Jiangnan was little better. In the spring and summer of the fourteenth year of Chongzhen, Suzhou Prefecture endured drought without rain, locusts swarmed everywhere, and the price of rice reached as high as four taels of silver per shi.

In the fifteenth year of Chongzhen, there was another great drought. Rice prices exceeded four taels per shi. At every temple, starving people gathered in ever greater numbers. At city gates and alley mouths, abandoned children were cast aside in groups of dozens or hundreds — some led away by others, some left to die stiff. On the rivers, floating corpses could be seen bobbing endlessly.

In his own home county of Wuxian, rice prices reached as high as four taels and five qian of silver per shi. The number of those starved to death — the old and young abandoned by the roadside, city and village houses half-empty and collapsed, the dead lying piled upon each other in the outskirts.

As terrible as famine was the plague. Whenever great disaster struck, plague always followed.

In recent years, the Northern and Southern Metropolitan Regions, Shandong, Zhejiang, and other places had often suffered great epidemics. Suzhou Prefecture was likewise severely affected. In last year's great epidemic alone, in one lane of over a Company Commander, only one household was spared; in one gate of several dozen people, only one survived.

As a physician, how could Wu Youxing not be heartbroken?

Faced with the plague, many physicians treated it using cold-damage methods, but to no effect whatsoever. Based on every epidemic he had personally experienced, Wu Youxing investigated the sources of disease, immersed himself in research, and boldly proposed the theory of "pestilential qi" as the cause of illness.

For years he had been painstakingly compiling a book, recording in detail many infectious diseases such as diphtheria, smallpox, leprosy, syphilis, pulmonary tuberculosis, and epidemic encephalitis.

It was divided into two volumes. The first volume gave meticulous descriptions of the pathogens; the second volume proposed his own treatment principles for the transmission characteristics of various epidemic diseases, such as seasonal epidemics, epidemic dysentery, women's seasonal epidemics, and children's seasonal epidemics.

Recently he had also supplemented it with an even richer array of plague types, such as mumps, big-head pestilence, toad pestilence, melon-pulp pestilence, lump pestilence (bubonic plague), as well as the characteristics and treatment methods for acute infectious diseases like malaria and dysentery.

After years of effort, it was about to be completed. But what weighed on Wu Youxing's mind was that he did not have enough silver to have it printed and published.

As it happened, he had just returned from the Medical Studies Office, but the officials and physicians there expressed that they were unable to help.

These medical officials, appointed and dispatched by the Imperial Academy of Medicine, had in recent years not only seen no promotion or wealth, but even their salaries were often in arrears. Many went without the next meal after finishing the last, forced to find their own means of survival. Where would they have spare money to help Wu Youxing?

They only gave Wu Youxing the advice to visit the homes of various gentry and wealthy households, especially some of the famous great houses in the city. Perhaps they might take a liking to his great work and be willing to fund its printing — who could say?

Wu Youxing could only smile bitterly. His "pestilential qi theory" was wildly at odds with conventional medical doctrine. Many gentry and physicians denounced it as absurd. It was precisely after hitting walls everywhere that he had come to the government offices seeking help. Who would be willing to pay to print and publish it for him?

With a heavy heart, he walked toward his dwelling. Wu Youxing was in his fifties, with a lean and clear-cut face, but from excessive worry and contemplation, he looked as if he were past sixty.

His dwelling was quite remote. Suzhou's prices grew ever more expensive, and the greater part of his medical earnings was converted into decoctions and medicines distributed to the masses, causing his residence to become ever more humble and cramped. He had moved again and again. Perhaps before long, he would have to move to an even more secluded corner, or even outside the city to live.

The lanes were narrow and winding. This area was full of peddlers and menial laborers. For a physician, gathering among such people was considered a disgrace to refinement, but Wu Youxing did not see it that way. The physician's heart is a parent's heart; in a physician's eyes, there should only be patients, no high or low.

Of course, to put oneself in another's shoes — perhaps some gentry and great physicians looked askance at Wu Youxing, but the common people of this area were deeply grateful to him.

From time to time people passed by and saluted him respectfully: "Mr. Youke."

"Mr. Youke has returned?"

Wu Youxing smiled and returned the salutes. It was already the tenth month, and a distinct chill hung inside and outside Suzhou city. People say: in the seventh month, gather lotus on the lotus pond; in the eighth month, pray for skill under the parasol tree’s shade; in the ninth month, admire the moon from the jade terrace; in the tenth month, in deep autumn, admire the chrysanthemums. But in this season when even Hainan Island would see snow in winter, admiring chrysanthemums might as well be replaced by admiring snow.

When he reached the entrance of his own small courtyard, Wu Youxing paused, slightly taken aback. It seemed his medicine boy was talking with someone in the courtyard: "What do you say we do? The lumps are so frightening."

He pushed the door and entered. Sure enough, there were four people in the courtyard. One was his own medicine boy; of the other three, one was dressed as a scholar, one was dressed as a physician, and one was dressed as a wealthy merchant.

Seeing him enter, the medicine boy jumped up: "Sir has returned."

The middle-aged man dressed as a wealthy merchant came over, his face full of smiles, and cupped his hands, saying: "May I ask, are you Mr. Wu Youke, Wu Mr.?"

His speech seemed to carry a slight northern accent.