Dr. Xu: A Chinese Medicine Novel

Evan finishes a post about Chinese medicine. Before the day is over, Clara has a favor to ask.

It was almost closing time. After a long stretch of editing, Evan finally posted on Weibo.

DrXuChineseMedicine:

Many people think Chinese medicine works slowly. It doesn’t. We aim for a response as prompt as a drum answering a strike. A minor illness can be cured in three to five batches of herbs; even with serious illnesses or longstanding conditions, five doses will generally produce some effect.[1]

When the results are poor, there are usually three reasons.

One: the medicine doesn’t match the pattern. If you identify the pattern incorrectly, of course the treatment won’t work. Often, it will actually make things worse.

Two: the dosage is wrong. Sometimes the medicine is right, but the results are still poor. That means there’s a problem with the dosage. Chinese medicine calls for a prescription tailored to the illness. Every patient is different. Even the same illness and pattern will vary from person to person, so the dosage has to be adjusted.

At this stage, as long as the pattern is correctly identified and the right medicines are chosen, an inaccurate dosage won’t take you down the wrong path, even if the response isn’t as prompt as a drum answering a strike.

Three: the medicinal ingredients. Sometimes the pattern is correctly identified, the medicines are appropriate, and the dosage is precise, yet the results are still poor. Then the problem is the quality of the ingredients. The people most afraid of Chinese herbs aren’t outsiders. They’re Chinese-medicine doctors themselves.

Evan put down his phone and nodded in satisfaction. He was getting rather good at this health-education blogging business.

He took out a blank sheet of paper, recalled the two patients he’d seen and the prescriptions he’d written, and set everything down. He went over it carefully once more and nodded only when he was satisfied that nothing was wrong.

Dr. Qian had required this of him. During that year in the past, Evan had made it a habit: after work every day, he reviewed the day’s cases, looking for omissions and anything he hadn’t considered thoroughly enough.

He set the paper aside and opened a medical book. That was another habit. Whenever he had a spare moment, he read.

It was what a real Chinese-medicine doctor did: half the day treating patients, half the day reading. Once consultations were over, you read. You reviewed the day’s work and kept learning. That was how your skills improved.

Even a towering figure like Dr. Qian, already in his eighties, opened a medical book whenever he had a little time. Chinese medical knowledge was vast enough to spend a lifetime exploring.

Someone like Ben, who spent every spare moment playing Dou Dizhu on his phone, would never get anywhere. He could only get by on bluffing. He’d never make a good doctor!

But even the great Mr. Song wasn’t enjoying his card game today. He hadn’t expected Evan’s schemes to run so deep—or Clara to believe the King of Siwu Tang.

Clara, after thinking it over, was still puzzled herself. She came over. “Hey, how did you suddenly get so good?”

“Maybe I’ve figured a few things out,” Evan said.

She stared. “You can have a eureka moment in medicine too?”

Evan smiled, but said no more about it. “What I wanted to tell you earlier was that if the clinic really is in trouble, I’d be happy to do my part.

“I don’t have any other skills. All I can do now is treat a few illnesses. Women’s conditions, especially—I do have some confidence with those.”

He paused, lowering his eyes a little. “You don’t have to carry everything yourself. We’re… we’re clinic employees too.”

Clara rubbed her nose as it began to sting. Her eyes stung too. “Anything?”

“If I can help, I won’t say no.”

“All right,” she said.

Evan rubbed his bloated stomach. “But first, you’ll have to get me a box of Xiaoyao Wan. This condition of mine… it’s time I treated it…” He smiled faintly.[2]

Seeing him finally smile, Clara just stared…

Evening.

After an afternoon of irritation, Ben announced, “Time to go! We’re done!”

Evan started packing his things too.

Clara finally made up her mind. “Evan, wait. Let me take your picture.”

He looked startled. “My picture?”

She nodded. “Yes. For publicity about who’s on duty at the clinic.”

“Oh. Go ahead.”

Clara took out her phone and had him try a few flattering poses, emphasizing his melancholy good looks. She took several pictures before she let him go.

Evan picked up his things and left.

Ben was still waiting.

“What?” Clara asked.

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He looked confused. “What about me? You haven’t taken mine.”

“Oh, fine. Stand there. Done.”

“That fast?” Ben said in surprise.

“Yes.”

He came closer. “Let me see if it’s any good.”

“It’s fine,” she said impatiently.

“That wasn’t how you did it just now.”

Clara pushed him out. “You’re a grown man. Why so fussy? Go home.”

Ben felt deeply wronged. He was beginning to think he needed Xiaoyao Wan too.

Clara turned back and deleted his picture. Then she immediately went into the Recently Deleted album and erased it for good. She slowly breathed out. A girl had to maintain her standards. There was no room for anything that unsightly.

At home, Evan checked Weibo again.

Why hadn’t anyone liked or commented? And why did it only have twenty views? Had those people actually read it, or just scrolled past?

Every few minutes, the system sent him another speed-up pack.

One-second speed-up!

One-second speed-up.

After an entire hour, he’d gained a whole ten-odd seconds.

Wow. Evan was so touched he took two packets of Xiaoyao Wan!

Clara went home, cooked, and fed her father. Afterward, Adam Zhang sat in his wheelchair in the living room, his mouth and eyes askew, his hands beyond his control—one forming the Chinese sign for six, the other for seven.[3] He was watching the TV drama The Legend of Zhen Huan.

Clara paced back and forth on the balcony, torn. Her conscience was protesting.

“Ugh.” She knocked a hand against her aching head and turned to look at her father. Just then, she heard the lines from the television.

“Huanhuan, call me baby again, the way you used to. Please?”

“The old Zhen Huan is dead. I’m Niohuru Zhen Huan now.”[4]

…

Clara had already seen the show. She knew this was where Zhen Huan went completely over to the dark side.

She looked at her father, left paralyzed on one side by his stroke. She couldn’t wait any longer. Gritting her teeth, she stamped her foot. “Damn it. I’m going over to the dark side too! You said you’d do anything!”

She opened her phone, downloaded the dating app Tan Tan, and registered an account. Male. Display name: Lonely Dr. Xu. Then she ran all the pictures she’d taken of Evan that day through a beauty filter and uploaded them.

For his profile line, she wrote: “Through the ages, beauties, like great generals, have never been allowed to go gray!”[5]

With that done, she opened the matching page and swiped right for all she was worth, almost striking sparks off the screen. Soon she’d hit the daily limit.

Clara barely hesitated. Of course she knew that publicity cost money.

She immediately spent 9.9 yuan on a membership with unlimited right swipes, then paid for a visibility boost. She kept swiping furiously, sparks practically flying from the screen.

Evan had looks to spare. A handsome young man with an air of melancholy still had plenty of appeal among young women.

Before long, match notifications kept coming in.

Little Octopus: Evening, handsome. You’re so cute! You really look like your photos, right?

Lonely Dr. Xu: Of course I do. If you don’t believe me, come and see for yourself. I work at Mingxin Clinic.

Little Octopus: Mingxin? The one downstairs at Sunshine New Town?

Lonely Dr. Xu: That’s right.

Little Octopus: That’s so impressive! (ง•_•)ง

Lonely Dr. Xu: Remember to come and see me. I’ll treat you.

…

Little Deer: Beep beep! Hey, you look so melancholy. What’s making you unhappy?

Lonely Dr. Xu: Only that I didn’t meet you sooner…

Little Deer: You’re terrible! ⁄(⁄⁄•⁄ω⁄•⁄⁄)⁄

Lonely Dr. Xu: Could you grant me one little wish?

Little Deer: Isn’t this a bit fast…?

…

Little Octopus: Where did you go? Why aren’t you answering? Is there another girl?

Lonely Dr. Xu: How could there be? You’re the only one in my heart. If you don’t believe me, come tomorrow and cut it open to see.

Little Octopus: Hmph! I couldn’t bear to!

…

Little Deer: Hey, why aren’t you saying anything? How many people have you added? Can’t keep up?

Lonely Dr. Xu: Only you, of course. May lightning strike me if I’m lying.

Little Deer: Hmph!

Lonely Dr. Xu: If you don’t believe me, come and see for yourself.

…

Curled into a Flower: Wow, are you a doctor?

No Heat, No Sichuan: Hey, handsome, your profile line is so funny.

“Hey, cutie.”

“Good evening, Dr. Xu.”

“Hi, handsome doctor.”

Reader Notes

↩︎ Patterns and treatment response. In Chinese medicine, a pattern is an assessment assembled from symptoms and examination findings. Treatment is selected according to that pattern, so the same named illness need not call for the same prescription in every patient. This continues the previous chapters’ distinction between a disease and a pattern. The drum metaphor expresses Evan’s demand for a prompt response. His recovery times and treatment assurances are claims in his post; the terminology standard defines an approach, rather than establishing those outcomes. “Batches” refers to sets of herbs; this passage supplies no preparation or daily schedule. Source: WHO — Chinese medicine terminology, entry 552, printed p. 50.↩︎ Xiaoyao Wan. This is the pill form of the formula known as Xiaoyao San. Wan denotes pills; the box and packets are packaging, rather than a stated medical dose. Traditional descriptions associate the formula with soothing Liver constraint, supporting the Spleen, and nourishing blood. That vocabulary connects Evan’s bloating and melancholy with his earlier self-assessment and makes the medicine a recurring frustration joke here. It does not make every unhappy mood a diagnosis of Liver constraint. The chapter supplies neither packet weights nor a clinical assessment of Ben. Source: Luohu District Market Regulation Bureau — Xiaoyao Wan: description and traditional functions (in Chinese).↩︎ The shapes of six and seven. As in Chapter 6, these are comparisons with Chinese number gestures: six commonly extends the thumb and little finger, while seven brings the fingertips together. Adam’s hands take these shapes involuntarily; he is not signaling numbers. Source: The Open University — Basic numbers, Figure 6 and its description.↩︎ A palace drama, remixed.The Legend of Zhen Huan is a Chinese drama about a woman navigating the imperial court. The novel gives the television dialogue a deliberately modern, comic remix: “baby,” an English-sounding slang expression meaning “dead,” and “IM,” used as “I’m.” The added Niohuru family name signals a changed identity, while Clara reads the scene as the heroine abandoning her former innocence. This wording is translated from the novel, rather than presented as verified subtitles. The broadcaster’s page supplies background on the drama, not authentication of these jokes. Source: CCTV — Zhen Huan drama and episode guide (in Chinese).↩︎ Beauties and generals. This couplet is recorded in volume four of Suiyuan Shihua, Yuan Mei’s Qing-era notes on poetry. It places beautiful women and celebrated generals side by side as figures whose glory seems incompatible with growing old. “Go gray” preserves the Chinese image of white hair. The novel slightly rearranges the first line; this translation follows its wording. On a dating profile, the grand literary lament sits comically beside a young man’s flattering photographs. The line is not an established fact about Evan’s health or future. Source: Suiyuan Shihua — volume four, the passage quoting “Beauties, since ancient times…” (in Chinese).