Chapter 609: Asking the Plague God Whither He Goes

The camp for the sick was concentrated mainly in the western encampment of Xiapi. Ever since Geng Yan had taken charge, patients had been sent there for isolation. Diwu Lun had arranged for army physicians and enforced patient isolation measures years ago, but at the time everyone's energy was focused on the looming great battle. They assumed it was merely a common winter respiratory ailment. Who could have foreseen that as the winter cold deepened, the number of patients would steadily mount? A soldier still hale and strong yesterday would collapse today, too weak to rise.

The soldiers of the Wei army were all conscripted by place of origin. Every man's comrades were, in truth, his fellow villagers and neighbors. When one man fell ill, his kin and fellow townsmen naturally wanted to help care for him. Thus some concealed their sickness rather than report it, and even after entering the isolation camp, others used connections to send in clothes and food. The management was utterly chaotic.

Not until Diwu Lun personally issued strict orders did the camp's discipline change. But paper cannot wrap fire, and many had learned that what raged in Xiapi was the vicious typhoid fever. Having heard more or less of typhoid's horrors, panic swept through the ranks. Those still healthy wished to flee this place, but Diwu Lun had already deployed the forty thousand men he had brought from Pengcheng around Xiapi, watching the You-Ji Corps with the posture of facing an enemy.

Since direct desertion proved fruitless, those officers with connections ran to plead with acquaintances who held real authority, hoping to be reassigned elsewhere.

Those stricken with typhoid were even more frantic. Trapped in their sealed environment and at a complete loss, they saw that the fellow villagers who had occasionally entered the camp had not come for days. A tremendous terror erupted, and even rumors bred: "They mean for us to die in this place!"

Quelling rumors and soothing hearts was, in one sense, difficult — after all, the threat of typhoid loomed plain; whose family had not suffered a harrowing experience? Yet in another sense it was simple enough: one only needed to tell everyone a single fact: "His Majesty remains in Xiapi!"

And Diwu Lun, at the right moment, appeared on the watchtower outside the isolation camp. Holding a crude bronze megaphone, he addressed them all.

They were the same tried-and-true declarations: invoking his late imperial father and mother, who had perished from typhoid, to stir empathy, and then resolutely declaring: "I do not fear typhoid. I am willing to live or die together with all the soldiers!"

Seeing the Emperor thus, the soldiers' hearts were somewhat steadied. By their experience, whenever a great plague struck a commandery or county, the Governor or County Magistrate was always the first to flee on the pretext of "submitting the annual report." Now that the Emperor chose to stay, what did that signify?

"This bout of typhoid must not be fatal," the multitude of soldiers concluded — a conclusion that would make Diwu Lun not know whether to laugh or cry.

Diwu Lun further announced that the Grand General of Chariots and Cavalry, Geng Bozhao, who had once fallen ill, was now nearly recovered. He would use the "same" medicine that had treated Geng Yan to treat everyone!

Diwu Lun had not said it was exactly the same, only "partially identical." Presumably, swapping Sichuan peppercorns for Huaibei peppercorns would not make the active ingredients much worse.

But problems followed one after another. Diwu Lun was indeed willing to use military supplies to care for these sick soldiers. Yet the remaining twenty thousand-plus men of the You-Ji Corps who had been in contact with the patients had also been relocated to the south of the city, divided into countless small camps for "observation," and forbidden contact with the other divisions. These men could still manage themselves. But in the western camp, who was to tend to the daily needs of the sick soldiers? It must be known that some among them were already critically ill and unable to care for themselves.

Diwu Lun ordered the officers to assemble those who had fallen ill the previous month but recovered early — over a thousand in all. Diwu Lun put forward a notion the physicians had never heard before: these who had healed themselves had achieved "immunity" and would not contract typhoid again for a long while.

"In my youth, when a great plague struck Guanzhong and typhoid raged, many in my family perished. Yet those who caught the disease and recovered were able to protect themselves amid the epidemic and care for the rest of the clan."

Diwu Lun did not explain much more. He merely guaranteed these recruited men that, so long as they were willing to enter the western camp and tend the sick, those without military rank would be paid according to the standard for those with rank. The soldiers of Wei were all conscripted by obligation — they were fed, given two sets of clothes a year, and had to provide for everything else themselves. Without outstanding merit, it was absolutely a losing bargain. But once a man earned merit and gained the military rank of "Junior Corporal," he had the chance to become a professional soldier, serving as a Sergeant or Corporal and drawing a soldier's pay.

For those who already held military rank, Diwu Lun promised to increase their "accumulated days of service."

By the institutions of Wei, the merits of subjects were divided into five grades: establishing ancestral temples and securing the altars of state by virtue was called "distinguished service"; by strength was called "achievement"; by counsel was called "labor"; clarifying rank was called "merit assessment"; accumulating days was called "service record." This so-called "accumulated days of service," in later parlance, was… seniority. A Junior Corporal in the army, even without outstanding achievements, could, when his seniority was sufficient, still be promoted to Middle Corporal and qualify as a platoon-level officer.

Only then could the enthusiasm of the recovered men be roused, and they willingly entered the western camp to care for the sick.

Other measures — such as ordering the forty thousand uninfected central-army troops to chop firewood in great quantities within a hundred li around Xiapi, to sustain an unending supply of hot water in the camps, or requisitioning dried soap-pods from all regions and requiring the healthy to wash their hands before meals — all seemed trifling matters, yet Diwu Lun paid them great heed and personally supervised.

He even took the lead in wearing a simple mask as a demonstration — he could not rest easy without one; his wretched life mattered! Staying in Xiapi this time was indeed a gamble. Even if Diwu Lun's body had once contracted typhoid in his early years and miraculously recovered, the antibodies had long since vanished. This mask of fine hemp cloth could not compare to those of later ages, of course; it was better than nothing at best.

Relying on all these efforts, as time slowly crept forward, from early in the first month when warmth first stirred but cold still lingered, into the latter part of the month when the hard ice gradually melted, the corpses carried out of the western camp each day grew fewer and fewer.

And the newly infected in the main camp of the You-Ji Corps dropped from several hundred a day to several dozen. By the end of the first month, on a morning of brilliant sunshine, Diwu Lun had just risen from his bed when he received a report from Geng Shu.

"Your Majesty, yesterday in the western camp, no one died of illness. And in the southern camp, no one fell ill anew!"

The first part Diwu Lun believed — concealing deaths was not easy. The latter part he was less optimistic about.

But the assembled ministers were already boiling over. Whether Feng Yan, Fu Long, or Zhang Yu, when they had learned of the great typhoid plague, every one of them had wished to flee at once. Only because Diwu Lun insisted on staying could they do nothing but stiffen their scalps and remain with him, passing more than ten days in terror and trepidation. Because they feared death, they had, to their credit, strictly carried out Diwu Lun's requirements.

Now that they could finally breathe a sigh of relief, the ministers all came to congratulate Diwu Lun.

Fu Long was the first to speak: "Thanks to Your Majesty's heavenly virtue sheltering us, the great plague has vanished in a mere ten days. Truly a wondrous event!"

Fu Long was an honest man, truly not cut out for this; his flattery had again missed the mark. Diwu Lun said solemnly: "This was the joint effort of myself, the ministers, and all the officers and soldiers. Some kept to the camp rules without overstepping a step; some answered the call and entered the camp to tend their comrades; added to that the physicians' utmost exertions and the timely transport of medicinal materials from all regions — it is the fruit of many minds and many strengths. How can it all be ascribed to 'heavenly virtue' or 'heaven's will'?"

Fu Long was left speechless. Feng Yan, standing to the side, laughed inwardly. Fu Long was still too young. Years ago, whenever a matter arose, Feng Yan had always liked to speak first. After discovering that he could never align with the Emperor's train of thought, he had simply chosen to step back and let others go first — then there would be no mistake.

So Feng Yan, along with two other clever men, Zhang Yu and Geng Shu, together with the Grand General of Chariots and Cavalry Geng Yan, once more offered their congratulations to the Emperor: "Be that as it may, had it not been for Your Majesty, the soldiers of You and Ji in this campaign would surely have suffered grievous casualties, losing half their number. It is thanks to Your Majesty's brilliant direction that we have vanquished the 'Plague God' and won this battle!"

"Won?" Diwu Lun was not as elated as the others. He looked out at the bright, sunny sky and knew in his heart that he had merely been too fortunate. What had truly made the typhoid disappear was the sudden turn of warm weather.

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He did not wish to dampen their spirits. Only when Huan Tan came to see him did Diwu Lun speak his true thoughts: "We have won, and yet we have not fully won."

Though over a thousand had still died, they had at least, by a stroke of luck, preserved the majority from the typhoid Plague God. To survive was victory.

But Diwu Lun knew even more clearly that their war with typhoid would also be a long one.

"Typhoid has only vanished for a time."

"At any moment it may roll up its armor and return, with even greater force."

"Perhaps this year, perhaps the next."

Typhoid often erupted in intermittent waves, with long gaps in between. Yet once a new great plague reappeared, humanity, having nearly forgotten the harrowing experience, would at last recall the terror of once being dominated by it.

Huan Tan was accustomed to seeing Diwu Lun in high spirits, as if he knew everything, and when facing a powerful foe like Liu Xiu, he was always eager to test himself, longing to reshape heaven and earth. He had never seen Diwu Lun in such a pessimistic moment — though Diwu Lun did not voice it, that pent-up gloom was not concealed.

Huan Tan knew this was another fine chance to draw Diwu Lun out. Ever since Diwu Lun had ceased pretending to be a "village scholar," conversing with him had always yielded dazzling new knowledge. Huan Tan had grown used to it. So he ventured to ask: "Your Majesty says the war against typhoid and other plagues will be extremely long. How long?"

Diwu Lun raised his hand, then let it fall limply.

"Longer than my lifespan, longer than the span of Wei's state."

This was, from the very birth of humankind, a slaughter that had never ceased. In the cross-species war against germs and viruses, the fallen outnumbered, tenfold or a hundredfold, the battlefield dead of humanity's civil wars for power and profit. They were the greatest enemy of all time. And this war, so long as humankind existed for a single day, would go on. And as the Dao rose one foot, the demon rose ten — the arms race for survival between the two sides, one relying on science, the other on mutation, would escalate without end.

Diwu Lun even felt that if, hundreds of thousands or millions of years hence, human civilization were tragically extinguished for whatever reason, microorganisms would still endure immortal upon the earth. Compared to their history of billions of years, the time that bacteria and viruses had spent with humankind — this young junior — in coexistence and mutual slaughter, in love and hate, was but the snap of a finger.

They were not even insects, yet they were more prolific and powerful than insects.

Diwu Lun gradually roused himself from his pessimism. Having passed through one great plague after another and seen clearly the true "enemy," he began to feel that, compared to changing dynasties and the rise and fall of a single house or surname, perhaps winning a little time and preparation for humankind in this endless war was the greatest responsibility of a transmigrator.

"Of typhoid, and even of miasma, consumptive disease, leprosy, and barbarian pox — the most lethal of vicious maladies — our understanding is far too scant. When a great plague strikes, every physician clings to his own opinion; all are like blind men feeling an elephant."

Typhoid, miasma, consumptive disease, leprosy, and barbarian pox — these were the five great epidemics of antiquity as spoken of by the common people. Miasma was likely malaria and other subtropical diseases; consumptive disease was tuberculosis; leprosy was leprosy; barbarian pox was smallpox. Apart from typhoid's intermittent outbreaks and miasma's strong regionality that made it rare in the north, the remaining three clung to the common people like bone-gnawing maggots, causing pain and death every month, every year. Yet from the Spring and Autumn period onward, though famed physicians like Bian Que and Chunyu Yi had made empirical summaries of these illnesses, when it came to their causes and how to treat them, understanding remained a complete mess.

"We must not only know that it is so, but also know why it is so."

Diwu Lun looked at Huan Tan and spoke of his plans with the only "wise man" of the age whom he felt could discuss this matter.

Huan Tan said: "Know the enemy's true state, and you can fight a hundred battles without peril. Your Majesty's concern is most apt. But how is one to know?"

Since Yang Xiong and Liu Xin had passed away one after the other, Huan Tan was now the most erudite man of the age. He was a great authority in astronomy and also had an interest in flora and fauna, yet diseases alone left him helpless. Take typhoid: physicians all said it was caused by "wind evil," but this wind evil could not be seen, could not be touched — how was one to understand it?

Diwu Lun, however, first brought up a matter: "Does Junshan still recall how, in the Tianfeng years of Wang Mang, he ordered the imperial physician, the imperial pharmacy, and a skilled butcher to jointly dissect a rebel?"

Of course — that was a great affair that had shaken Chang'an! Huan Tan remembered that year: Wang Sunqing, who had taken part in the uprising of Zhai Yi, Governor of Dong Commandery in Henan, was at last captured by the imperial forces after nine years on the run. Wang Mang ordered the imperial physician, the officers of the imperial pharmacy, and a butcher of skilled craft to jointly cut open Wang Sunqing alive, disembowel him, extract his five viscera, probe their positions, observe their functions, and thrust sharpened bamboo slips into his blood vessels to trace the beginnings and ends of the meridians.

When the assembled ministers were shaken by such appalling, unheard-of cruelty, and Huan Tan also sought an opportunity to ask Wang Mang why he had done this, Wang Mang uttered a baffling sentence.

"Mang said, 'In this way, illnesses can be cured…'"

Of course, old Wang Mang had spoken plenty of mad words; no one believed him. Confucian scholars would rather regard this as a cruel punishment on par with King Zhou of Shang roasting his ministers and cutting out Bi Gan's heart.

Yet Diwu Lun decided to vindicate Wang Mang's name, just this once.

"A wise man, even after a thousand thoughts, will still have one mistake. Junshan, Wang Mang may be mad and perverse, but on this matter he was not shooting at random."

Diwu Lun said, "We must find a way to gather together again the imperial physicians, the Shangfang craftsmen, and the skilled butchers who once took part in this affair."

"From this day forward, resume the 'dissection' work of Wang Mang's time. Any condemned criminal guilty of heinous crimes, any corpse dead of foul disease and left unclaimed — all may be requisitioned by the state for dissection!"

Diwu Lun laughed.

"You asked me, sir, how to know the enemy's true state? Very simple — begin by knowing yourself!"