Chapter 203: One of the Three Great Sacred Books

It was still dark, and Zhu Rong was already awake.

It wasn't because of cold, nor because of the firecrackers outside; the warm hall in Wu Wang Fu was heated to a cozy temperature, and the soundproofing was good, so no movement could be heard.

He just couldn't fall asleep.

Last New Year's Eve, the family kept watch until the hour of the Rat, and Guanyin Nu took the two children to sleep first.

Zhu Huanhuan couldn't endure it any longer and had already been snoring in his mother's arms.

Zhu Qiongjiong, even younger, was swaddled and slept in utter darkness.

Zhu Rong dozed on the couch in the warm hall of the main courtyard for a while, and woke up before dawn.

He threw on a garment, sat up, and looked outside through the paper window; it was pitch black.

"Lord, the hour is still early!" Xiao Zhu, who was on night watch nearby, said softly upon hearing the movement.

"Can't sleep, you go rest; I'll stay for a while," Zhu Rong said.

Xiao Zhu hesitated a moment, then stepped out.

Zhu Rong leaned against the couch, staring blankly at the ceiling beam.

It was the tenth year of Hongwu.

Counting from Hongwu Second Year when he left Fengyang Mountain Village, this was already the eighth year.

He brushed his wrist—though invisible there, he knew that nine Nine-Turn Resurrection Pills lay quietly in the system backpack, along with some miscellaneous items.

Right, today is New Year's Day.

It's that time of the year again for signing in.

Zhu Rong closed his eyes, and his consciousness sank into that profoundly mysterious space.

Every New Year's Day, the reward refreshes punctually once.

The items signed for in previous years included Spinning Wheel Blueprint, sea‑salt drying method, Flintlock Gun Blueprint, plate armor stamping technique, steam engine schematic, high‑yield grain varieties…

Recalling each one, Zhu Rong himself found it somewhat unbelievable.

These things abruptly boosted Great Ming's national strength by a large margin.

What about this year?

What can be given?

His consciousness touched the depths of the system space, and a thought surfaced.

【Hongwu Tenth Year Sign‑In Reward Distribution】

【Obtained: Penicillin Extraction Method (including strain cultivation, purification process, usage instructions)】

【Obtained: Cowpox Cultivation Method (including vaccine preparation, inoculation tool blueprints, precautions)】

【Obtained: Alcohol Extraction Process (including fermentation, distillation, full set of filtration device blueprints)】

【Obtained: "Barefoot Doctor Handbook" (illustrated edition, covering diagnosis and treatment of common illnesses, trauma care, cesarean sections and other surgeries)】

【Note: The above items have been stored in the backpack and can be retrieved at any time】

Zhu Rong was stunned for a while.

Penicillin, cowpox, alcohol, Barefoot Doctor Handbook…

These four items, any one alone is a life‑saving marvel, and now they've been handed all four at once?

He slowly opened his eyes, and the corner of his mouth twitched.

"Is the system… afraid that Great Ming people die too slowly?"

Zhu Rong muttered softly.

He knew the value of these items.

Penicillin, an anti‑inflammatory miracle drug, placed in this era would make wound infections, pneumonia, dysentery—these deadly diseases—no longer terminal.

Cowpox, the scourge of smallpox.

In this era, smallpox was a death sentence; contracting it meant a one‑in‑nine chance of survival.

Historically, the imperial grandson Zhu Xiongying died early after contracting smallpox; with this, even without those nine pills, smallpox could be treated.

Now that there is an official method, it can be promoted nationwide.

Alcohol—what's most lacking on the battlefield is disinfection.

Before, with wound infections, three survivors out of ten was considered good; after being on the battlefield so long, he had seen many soldiers die from infected wounds.

Now with alcohol and penicillin, at least nine out of ten can survive.

As for the "Barefoot Doctor Handbook"…

Zhu Rong flipped through the book's contents in his mind.

It was richly illustrated, covering everything from colds and fevers to difficult childbirth and cesarean sections, from bandaging and hemostasis to fracture fixation.

Most crucially, it explained the most practical medicine in the simplest language; the literate could understand, and the illiterate could grasp the gist from the pictures.

This is something that can popularize medical practice to thousands of households.

Zhu Rong sat on the couch, watching the sky outside gradually turn pale, his mind racing.

He had to think carefully about how to bring these items out.

In the past, the signed items were either given directly to Zhu Yuanzhang, or to Zhu Biao, or to the Ministry of Works, with the excuse that they were "given by a deity in a dream."

That excuse had been used for seven or eight years; no one doubted it—who would dare? Those items were genuinely useful and indeed not something a person could devise.

This time is no different; the same excuse must be used.

But this time the items are a bit different.

Penicillin, cowpox, alcohol—these require testing and promotion; mere blueprints aren't enough, knowledgeable people must experiment.

The craftsmen of the Ministry of Works are adept at forging, shipbuilding, and machinery; asking them to delve into bacterial culture and vaccine preparation?

It would probably be too much.

The Imperial Hospital's court physicians, skilled at diagnosing and prescribing, should be sent to handle distillation purification and inoculation trials?

That should be enough of a hassle.

Zhu Yong thought for a moment and came up with an idea.

These things need to be separated.

The alcohol extraction process is the simplest; it can be handed to the Ministry of Works, letting them work together with the craftsmen over at the steam engine side.

The cowpox cultivation method requires someone versed in medicine to test and promote it, so we must find people from the Imperial Hospital.

Penicillin is the most troublesome—cultivating the strain and the purification process—no one in this era understands it.

But he can first bring out the method and the blueprint, have the Ministry of Works set up a Workshop on its own, and test it slowly.

As for the Barefoot Doctor Handbook…

Zhu Yong lightly tapped the edge of the couch.

This book can't be taken out all at once; it's too shocking.

We can first copy a portion—such as wound treatment and common disease diagnosis and treatment—let the Imperial Hospital staff learn it, and pass on the rest after they master it.

A major operation like caesarean section requires first cultivating a group of bold yet meticulous people, and training them gradually.

"Prince? It's dawn, time to get up," Xiao Zhu's voice came from outside the door.

"Hmm, come in!" Zhu Yong withdrew his thoughts.

Xiao Zhu pushed the door open, carrying hot water and a towel. Behind her followed Xiao Ying, holding a garment.

"Prince, today is the first day of the New Year; we need to go to the palace to pay New Year's respects to the Emperor and Empress," Xiao Zhu reminded.

"Understood." Zhu Yong took the hot towel and wiped his face.

After washing and changing, Zhu Yong left the main courtyard and headed to the back courtyard.

Guanyin Nu had already gotten up, feeding Zhu Qiong Jiong milk.

The little fellow, wrapped in swaddling clothes, was babbling happily while eating.

Zhu Huanhuan also woke up, perched beside her mother watching her brother; when she saw Zhu Yong come in, she shouted crisply, "Father!"

"Good girl, did you sleep well last night?" Zhu Yong patted her head and then said to Guanyin Nu.

"It's fine; Jiong'er woke up once during the night, was fed and fell asleep again. The Prince got up really early today," Guanyin Nu said, looking up at him.

"Can't fall asleep, thinking about something." Zhu Yong sat beside them, watching the mother and child, temporarily putting aside his scheming.

Later, before entering the palace, he must first confer with his elder brother.

These matters need to be arranged by his elder brother.

……

At the exact Chen Hour, a carriage from Wu Wang Fu set out from the gate, heading toward the imperial palace.

Today, on New Year's Day, the whole city exuded festivity.

Red lanterns hung from the street shops, children in new clothes ran about, and firecracker sounds rose and fell.

Zhu Yong rode his horse beside the carriage, with two Royal Guard Captains, Zhang Wuhe and Chen Heng, following behind.

"Prince, today the capital barracks also have a holiday; the brothers are all drinking wine in the camp," Zhang Wuhe laughed.

"Tell them to drink less, so it won't delay tomorrow's drills," Zhu Yong said.

"Yes, yes, I'll report back later," Zhang Wuhe replied.

Chen Heng sneered beside him, "You give orders; as long as you don't get completely drunk, that's fine enough."

"Go, go, go, when have I ever been completely drunk?" Zhang Wuhe glared.

The two bickered, and Zhu Yong paid them no mind, letting them make noise.