(I)
Each autumn rain brought a deeper chill. Since autumn began, more and more people in town had fallen ill.
Shen Qingyu was the clinic's only physician, and she scarcely had time to breathe.
Everyone in Seven Bridges Town praised her as a gifted healer. Her medical skills were exceptional, and her heart was kind. If a patient's family couldn't afford food, she simply waived the medical fees.
Thus, despite years of practice, her clinic remained as modest as ever.
Her master had said that saving a life was worth more than building a seven-story pagoda. Besides, the townspeople were honest and kind and had never mistreated her. Naturally, she wanted to live harmoniously among them.
Rise, treat patients, gather herbs in the mountains: that was Shen Qingyu's daily routine. But lately, so many patients had come that she hadn't gone into the mountains for some time. The clinic's herbs were running low.
Everyone's symptoms were remarkably similar, and the number of cases doubled each day. She knew the illness was contagious.
She had yet to discover its source.
“Doctor Shen, please save my son!” a woman cried.
Shen Qingyu looked over. Sweat covered the forehead of the boy in her arms. His small face was scarlet with fever, and red spots dotted his exposed arms—the same symptoms as everyone else.
She hurriedly took out her medicine chest and began administering acupuncture to the boy where they stood.
The illness was strange. For now, she could only suppress it, not cure it.
After several needles, the boy's complexion improved considerably, but his mother remained anxious. “Doctor Shen, what's wrong with him? Everyone seems to have these symptoms lately. Some of our frailer elderly neighbors died within days. My son's so young. You must save him!”
Shen Qingyu answered honestly. “I haven't found the right medicine yet. But don't worry. Bring him for acupuncture at the same time every day, and he'll be all right. Once I find the medicine, I'll tell everyone.”
The woman trusted her completely.
She paid, took several packets of herbs, and hurried home with her child.
Looking at her dwindling supplies, Shen Qingyu sighed.
She needed to go into the mountains.
She picked up her gathering basket and prepared to leave.
Just outside the door, she met Zhou Yan.
He carried pastries. Clearly, he had come especially to see her.
“The weather's been bad lately. Why are you still going into the mountains?” he asked with concern.
Shen Qingyu sighed. “You've heard about the illness in town, haven't you? I'm at a loss too. If I don't find the right medicine soon, many more people may die.”
They were all people she knew. Every report of a death grieved her deeply.
Zhou Yan nodded, the worry in his eyes deepening. “What about you? Are you all right?”
Apparently not expecting his concern for her, Shen Qingyu paused.
“You see so many sick people every day and work yourself so hard,” he continued. “I'm worried about you.”
Young and in the bloom of life, Shen Qingyu couldn't help blushing at his frankness.
They had grown up together. Zhou Yan was determined to earn scholarly honors, after which he would ask for her hand.
But his mother disliked her. An orphan without either parent, seeing all sorts of people every day—she thought Shen Qingyu unworthy of her son.
When Shen Qingyu first learned of that disapproval, she grew distant toward Zhou Yan. She could understand his mother's thinking and did not want to hold him back.
But he kept coming, expressing his feelings over and over. Since she cared for him too, she eventually let him.
Whenever he visited, he brought either fashionable new cloth from the city or delicious pastries.
With him around, her life became much livelier and more interesting.
(II)
In the end, Shen Qingyu took Zhou Yan into the mountains with her. Nothing she said could put his mind at ease.
Fortunately, there was no danger on this trip. It was too cold; even the animals were beginning to stay in their dens and prepare for hibernation.
All along the way, Zhou Yan watched in every direction, alert to the slightest movement.
His earnest vigilance made Shen Qingyu laugh.
“You silly man. It's nearly winter. There won't be any wild beasts about.”
He remained on guard. “Even so, we should be careful. You're a defenseless woman. Don't come into the mountains alone again. Call me.”
“No, that's not right,” he corrected himself. “Once I earn my degree, I'll bring you to the city. Then you can buy whatever herbs you need. I won't let you do anything so dangerous again.”
Heaven and earth could bear witness to the young man's sincerity.
Shen Qingyu smiled faintly without speaking. In her heart, she quietly answered, Yes!
By the time they returned to the clinic, Zhou Yan was exhausted.
He had volunteered to carry her basket, declaring that no man should let the woman he loved shoulder a heavy load. He had forgotten that he was a scholar of only ordinary strength.
Shen Qingyu gave him several medicinal plasters and told him to apply them to the sore places regularly before sending him home.
After grinding several batches of herbs late into the night, she too was exhausted and soon fell into a deep sleep.
The next day, still more people sought treatment.
This time their symptoms were worse. Shen Qingyu's brow never relaxed all day.
She didn't know who started it, but some began questioning her skill. “Doctor Shen, I only came because we're neighbors. I've been here day after day and I'm still not better. Are you cheating us with fake medicine? My family's money is nearly gone. If you can't cure me, don't blame me when I come here and make trouble!”
“That's right, Doctor Shen. I still have so many red spots. Have you even been treating me properly?”
“I remember Granny Wang coming here too. She went home and died within two days. Can you really say there's nothing wrong with your medicine?”
As one spoke after another, the rest began looking doubtful too.
From the moment the first man challenged her, Shen Qingyu's mind went blank.
She remembered him: the town's notorious thug, once imprisoned for several years for molesting women.
Prison hadn't changed him. After his release, he had harassed her too. Had the other neighbors not protected her, he would have kept pursuing her.
Only days earlier, he had been barely breathing. She had put aside their past and pulled him back from death's door, charging only a few copper coins per visit. Who could have expected him to repay kindness with cruelty?
“If you doubt my abilities, find a better physician. I won't see you out!” Shen Qingyu looked at him coldly, disgust plain in her eyes.
But the thug sneered. “You've taken all my savings, and now you're telling me to go somewhere else? Do you think I'm a fool? If you don't cure me, you haven't heard the last of me. Try me!”
He kicked aside a chair blocking his path and left the clinic.
The others said no more, but Shen Qingyu could sense the suspicion in their looks.
She felt hurt and lost.
Perhaps her medical skills really were lacking. Otherwise, why had the illness lasted so long?
Sighing, she took up her brush, wrote a few words, and posted them at the clinic entrance.
“Gathering herbs in the mountains. Back in a few days.”
She had to find a cure, she thought. She owed everyone an answer.
(III)
Whether the notice worked or people really believed the thug and sought treatment elsewhere, she did not know.
For the next few days, almost no one came.
Shen Qingyu welcomed the quiet. Once she finished grinding herbs, she began reading a newly acquired medical book.
Finally, after three days of intense study, she found the medicine that would treat the illness.
Plague was a more fitting word for it than illness.
Scorch-Spot Miasma had last appeared thirty years earlier. A villager had accidentally eaten a red-patterned mushroom from the mountains. It had an umbrella-shaped cap, vivid coloring, and a peculiar fragrance, yet nothing seemed unusual about the soup made from it.
It had been a famine year. Once word spread, many people gathered the mushrooms for soup, and the plague spread with them.
With neither money nor food, many had died that year.
Shen Qingyu was relieved that conditions now were somewhat better than thirty years ago.
Resolving the plague was simple. It required just three herbs: bitter coix, indigo seed, and broom-cypress fruit.
Take bitter coix internally and apply indigo seed and broom-cypress fruit externally; recovery would follow in three days.
Shen Qingyu immediately shouldered her basket and went into the mountains. Zhou Yan was busy with his examinations, and she had told him that, with the plague spreading, he should wait until everyone recovered before visiting.
At first he had refused, especially after hearing that the thug had slandered her. He had even wanted to confront the man.
And speaking of those villagers who believed every rumor made him angrier still.
Shen Qingyu didn't care about empty reputation. With considerable persuasion, she talked him out of it.
Zhou Yan ached for her. He secretly vowed to pass with distinction this time. Once he made something of himself, he would see who dared look down on Shen Qingyu!
The three herbs were common, and she soon found them. Combined with the stock gathered in spring still at the clinic, today's harvest would be enough.
Once the plague was gone, she decided, she would close the clinic.
The previous incident had truly chilled her heart. Even without the clinic, she had capable hands and feet. She wasn't afraid she couldn't earn a living.
On her way back, she passed a lake. Thirsty, she cupped some water and drank.
As she wiped her mouth, a thought struck her. This was Seven Bridges Town's water source. If she ground the herbs and scattered them into the lake, wouldn't everyone be cured when they drank?
Bitter coix would steep even in cold water. As long as she added enough, it would give the lake water medicinal properties.
That night, with no one around, she scattered all the ground bitter coix into the lake.
Tomorrow, she would distribute the external medicines, and the plague would be resolved.
Thinking that everyone would soon be well again made her steps home lighter.
She never noticed someone watching her every move from hiding: the thug from that day. Beneath the moon, his expression was frenzied. He watched Shen Qingyu's retreating figure as though looking at a corpse.
Shen Qingyu awoke to shouting. When she opened the door, a thrown stone struck her squarely.
Clutching her head in pain, she looked toward its source. It was the little boy she had treated with acupuncture.
Before she could speak, everyone began attacking her.
“You monster! I trusted you and brought my whole family for treatment! Who knew you were so blackhearted, treating our lives like weeds just to make money!” an old woman shouted, then spat at her.
“Auntie Li, what are you talking about? When have I treated your lives like weeds?”
“Pah! Stop pretending! What did you put in our water last night?”
The thug again.
(IV)
Put in the water?
Shen Qingyu frowned. How did he know? Unless—
“You followed me?”
“Hah! If I hadn't been careful and watched you in secret, how would I have discovered what you were doing to hurt people?” He turned proudly to the crowd. “What did I tell you? She secretly drugs you to squeeze more money out of you, then hands out the antidote herself so no one will question her medical skills!”
“But justice caught up with her. I saw everything!”
“Shen Qingyu, what have you got to say now?”
“That bitch! She's the one who harmed us! My son was perfectly well. I wondered why his fever suddenly wouldn't break. It was her doing!” The boy's mother joined the denunciations.
As the voices rose ever louder, Shen Qingyu suddenly understood.
No wonder her master hadn't wanted her to inherit the clinic. No wonder he had discouraged her from doing too many good deeds while he was alive.
Nothing was colder than the human heart.
However well you treated people, one mistake would make them erase all your kindness and see you as evil.
She had no strength left to defend herself. Whatever she said, they would not believe it.
Once the seed of doubt was planted, endless speculation followed.
She closed her eyes briefly, chilled to the core.
“Then what do you want me to do?”
“Give our money back! Close this clinic and never open it again!” the thug answered for everyone.
Shen Qingyu laughed. So it was money they wanted.
Without hesitation, she returned all the money she had collected in recent days. As for closing, she had intended that already. It was merely happening sooner.
Thinking of everything she had done, working without sleep or rest for days, she could only find it laughable.
She said one last thing. “What I scattered into the lake was medicine to cure you. I found the treatment several days ago.”
Of course, no one believed her.
Zhou Yan did.
As soon as his examination ended, he rushed to the clinic and held Shen Qingyu, his heart aching for her.
Nothing mattered more to him than she did.
With no patients to worry about, her days became empty. Zhou Yan naturally refused to waste such an opportunity to deepen their affection.
One day they went to the city to hear a storyteller; the next, they watched a play. Life became delightfully carefree.
Just when happiness seemed close, heaven proved unwilling to let lovers find their happy ending.
While Shen Qingyu had administered acupuncture and medicine, the sick had at least been able to sleep at night.
After she closed, their health deteriorated daily. They couldn't sleep, their rashes worsened, and scratching until they bled brought no relief. The elderly suffered most; within days, several passed away.
Soon, weeping filled Seven Bridges Town. White funeral banners were everywhere.
The thug was sick too, but young enough to hold on.
Seeing Shen Qingyu thrive while he suffered was more than he could bear.
At his urging, the townspeople behaved as though possessed. They shouted that Shen Qingyu was a demoness, that her demonic aura had made them ill, and that only killing her would end the sickness.
At first she paid no attention. But as more and more people threw dead things at her door, she grew frightened.
Then Zhou Yan heard their plan to lock her in her house that very night and burn her alive. He rushed to the clinic and told her to pack. He would go home, gather his own belongings, and take her out of Seven Bridges Town at once.
But no matter how long she waited, Zhou Yan never came.
Instead came the townspeople with their twisted faces, pouring oil over her clinic and sealing her doors and windows.
She didn't want to die. She begged and begged. No one listened. No one pitied her.
All they thought was that once she died, the plague would end.
So they could not hear her cries or remember her former kindness. They wanted only her death.
Such were people: indifferent to right and wrong, selfish to the last.