Dr. Xu: A Chinese Medicine Novel

After work, Ben opens a medical book, Little Octopus faces questions at home, and Evan checks his posts.

After dinner, Ben Song did something unusual: he picked up a commentary on the Shanghan Lun. It had been years since he’d opened a medical book. He turned to the section on shaoyang patterns, and understanding dawned on his face.[1]

He had, after all, practiced Chinese medicine for nearly ten years and attended a university of Chinese medicine. The foundations were still there. Once he’d read the section, he understood. So that was how you identified a shaoyang pattern and chose the medicine!

“Ah!” He thumped his leg in regret. Why hadn’t he read this sooner? Then he could have been the one showing off today. That little brat Evan wouldn’t have had a chance.

Ben beat his chest and stamped his feet in frustration. He really felt his position as Mingxin Clinic’s top doctor was under threat now.

“I need to study more. How long has it been since I last opened a book? I had dreams once too. I wanted to be a good doctor of Chinese medicine, to help people…”

He looked a little lost, a bitter expression crossing his face.

Just then, a voice came from the computer beside him.

“Hurry up! I’ve been waiting so long the flowers have wilted!”

Ben looked over. The other players were getting impatient. Regret and irritation rose in him again. He slapped his thigh.

“I’m such an idiot. Getting distracted in the middle of a game!”

He tossed the book aside and went back to playing Dou Dizhu in earnest.[2]

Little Octopus went home, took her medicine, and curled up on the sofa with her phone, giggling to herself.

Her mother came over with a plate of fruit. Seeing her daughter like that, Her Majesty raised an eyebrow.

“Well, what’s all this?”

Little Octopus quickly turned her phone facedown. “Hehe. Nothing.”

“Look at you, all lovesick! Have you got a boyfriend?”

“Of course not.”

Her mother didn’t believe a word of it. “Who are you trying to fool? Let me see your phone!”

Little Octopus hid it behind her back. “What are you doing?”

Her mother put down the fruit. “You’ve kept him well hidden, haven’t you? Who is he? Someone from your class?”

“No! He graduated ages ago.”

“Oh!”

Little Octopus clapped a hand over her mouth. She’d given herself away.

Her mother gave two knowing little chuckles. “Where’s he from? What does he do?”

Little Octopus squirmed, unwilling to answer.

“If you don’t tell me, I’ll announce in the Our Loving Family group chat that you’ve got a boyfriend. Then your eldest, second, and third aunts, your older cousin, your eldest cousin’s wife, and your second sister will all come to interrogate you.”

Little Octopus’s face fell. “Mom! That’s just cruel!”

Her mother smiled sweetly. “Well? Are you going to tell me?”

“Fine,” Little Octopus said miserably. “He’s a doctor of Chinese medicine. He’s from our county.”

“Chinese medicine?” Her mother paused. “Where does he work?”

“Here in the county.”

“The county Chinese medicine hospital? Or the county’s Number One Hospital?”

“Neither.”

Her mother was taken aback. “Do community hospitals have Chinese medicine doctors now?”

“He works at a clinic. Mingxin Clinic, in Sunshine Residential Community.”

“What? He doesn’t even have an established public-sector post?[3] Is he the owner, then? Did he open it with a partner?”

“Why do you need to know all that? What is this, a background check? You’re so annoying. I’m going. And don’t tell anyone about this!”

With that, Little Octopus ran back to her room.

Her mother sat down on the sofa, looking worried. She took out her phone and opened WeChat.

WeChat — to her eldest sister:

Mom: Big Sis, our Em’s got a boyfriend.[4]

Big Sis: Oh! Really?

Mom: Really. But he’s a doctor of Chinese medicine without a public-sector post. I’m a little worried. I’ll have to go and have a look. Don’t tell anyone, all right? You’re the only person I’ve told.

Big Sis: Don’t worry, don’t worry.

…

The eldest aunt closed that chat and immediately opened a smaller group.

Second Sis, Third Sis! Oh, Em’s got a boyfriend! A doctor of Chinese medicine…

Once the eldest aunt knew, the whole world knew. In less than two hours, the entire Octopus clan knew Little Octopus had a boyfriend.

Evan went home. As usual, he first reviewed the cases he’d treated that day and thought them through again. Only after making sure he hadn’t made any mistakes did he have dinner.

The narrative has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

It was a simple meal, a takeout box from the fast-food place downstairs. His Liver qi stagnation had eased considerably, and the bloating from his Spleen deficiency had improved too. He could eat again.[5]

As he ate, he activated the speed-up packs the system’s bug had given him.

System: Congratulations! Five-day speed-up.

System: Congratulations! Three-day speed-up.

System: Congratulations! Ten-day speed-up.

…

Evan couldn’t help smiling. This system really wasn’t very bright. Couldn’t it fix that bug?

He took out his phone and opened Weibo. The trouble was, his posts were getting so few views.[6]

“Huh?”

There was a reply under the health-information post he’d put up yesterday. He quickly tapped it open and was furious at what he read.

MaxMaxMax:

The witch doctors are spreading their nonsense again. All your so-called acupuncture points and channels, this qi and that qi—none of it has any anatomical basis. Modern science can’t find your yin and yang or your five phases. It’s all made up, and you still have the nerve to promote it?[7]

Evan was speechless. He hadn’t even got started and he was already sunk. Fewer than a hundred views altogether, and a Chinese medicine basher had arrived first.

He frowned. Should he reply or not…?

While he was hesitating, the system suddenly sent a message.

System: Inheritor: respond forcefully to an online challenge to receive double speed-up rewards.

Evan’s eyes lit up. He immediately picked up his phone, gave an angry huff, and delivered a forceful reply.

“You’re talking nonsense!”

He let out a long breath. Job done.

System: Response successful. Speed-up pack awarded.

He quickly activated it.

System: Congratulations! One-second speed-up.

Evan stared. One second? What the hell was he supposed to do with that?

Had his reply not been forceful enough?

He thought for a moment, then added another reply.

“You’re talking fucking nonsense.”

System: Response successful. Special speed-up pack awarded.

Evan relaxed. So the first one really hadn’t been forceful enough. There it was! That was more like it.

He activated the pack.

System: Congratulations! One-second speed-up.

His vision went black. He nearly passed out.

Still not forceful enough, then?

Evan felt rather dispirited. How was he supposed to answer? Present case records? The man would just say he’d made them up, or that he’d happened to get lucky.

Quote the classical texts? The man had already called them the inventions of Chinese medicine itself. No matter how much Evan said, he wouldn’t listen.

“Ugh…” His head was beginning to hurt. Bashers like this were a headache for any doctor of Chinese medicine. Lay out all the facts and reasoning you liked; they still wouldn’t believe you. All they had to say was that modern science couldn’t find it or prove it, and you were left with nothing to say.

He thought for a while without coming up with a forceful comeback. But he couldn’t quite bear to let that special speed-up pack go.

“Maybe I should ask Clara?”

She did have a talent for tearing into people online.

He quickly sent her a text.

Clara was busy flirting with women on Evan’s behalf. When his text arrived, she gave a guilty start.

Evan the Blockhead:

Clara, a question. If someone says modern science can’t find the channels and acupuncture points Chinese medicine talks about, how do we answer forcefully? The kind of comeback that finishes him in one sentence.

Clara relaxed. She’d thought she’d been found out. So that was all he wanted.

She picked up her phone and replied at once.

Evan read her message, and his eyes lit up. Brilliant!

Clara really was a goddess of online insults. She was in a completely different league.

He quickly deleted his two earlier “forceful” replies. They were pathetic.

Then he forcefully typed out the reply Clara had taught him.

DrXuChineseMedicine, replying to MaxMaxMax:

Modern science can’t find the theories of Chinese medicine? Then tell modern science to try harder! Come on, you can do it! Keep trying!

System: Response successful. Speed-up pack awarded.

Evan quickly activated it.

System: Congratulations! Forceful response successful. One-and-a-half-year speed-up awarded!

“Holy shit!” Evan exclaimed.

At the other end of the internet, MaxMaxMax was so furious he could barely think.

Reader Notes

↩︎ Shaoyang. This traditional pattern category recalls the consultation in Chapters 18–20. Ben is reading a commentary on the Shanghan Lun (Treatise on Cold Damage); no author or edition is specified. Identifying a pattern and selecting medicine are linked steps in this diagnostic framework. Source: WHO — Chinese medicine terminology, entry 1405, “Shaoyang pattern”.↩︎ Dou Dizhu. A Chinese card game, commonly played by three people, with one “landlord” against the other two. Ben is playing on a computer; the impatient voice comes from the game. The scene does not establish any cash stakes. Source: JJ Games — Dou Dizhu, basic rules (in Chinese).↩︎ An established public-sector post. The Chinese word is bianzhi, an authorized staffing position in a public institution. It is distinct from a medical qualification or simply having a job. Public-institution employment has formal arrangements for recruitment, contracts, pay, and benefits. Her mother’s questions move from hospitals to clinic ownership because she is concerned about the young man’s position and prospects. The dialogue supplies no actual income, benefits, or ownership details for Evan. Sources: National Health Commission — County public hospital reform examples, p. 175 (in Chinese); Ministry of Justice — Public-institution personnel regulations, chapters II–IV and VII (in Chinese).↩︎ Em and Her Majesty. “Em” renders the family’s affectionate Xiaoyu, a familiar form of the name revealed as Emily Zhang in Chapter 16; Little Octopus remains her online nickname. Her mother is jokingly styled an “empress dowager” in the Chinese, shortened here to “Her Majesty.” The numbered aunts and sisters retain the family’s forms of address. These are teasing or familiar labels within this scene, rather than royal titles or an expanded family tree.↩︎ Liver qi stagnation and Spleen deficiency. These recall Evan’s earlier traditional pattern descriptions. The capitalized Liver and Spleen refer to functional systems in Chinese medicine. The Spleen’s functions include processing food and distributing nourishment. His improved appetite and reduced bloating are developments reported by the novel. Sources: WHO — Chinese medicine terminology, entry 1240; Chinese Medicine Hospital of Hong Kong — Zang-xiang, Spleen and Stomach paragraph.↩︎ Weibo. A Chinese social-media platform for public posts, comments, and reposts. The displayed handles identify participants in a public exchange; this is a comment under a post, rather than a private text conversation. The low view count measures readership of the posts, rather than how many patients Evan has treated. Source: Weibo Corporation — Business Overview, opening paragraph.↩︎ The terms in the argument. Channels, also called meridians, belong to a traditional network through which qi and blood are described as circulating; acupuncture points are designated sites used in treatment. Qi is a functional concept, while yin and yang describe related, opposing qualities. The five phases are wood, fire, earth, metal, and water, used as categories of relationships and change. These definitions explain the comment’s vocabulary. They do not settle the dispute about anatomical evidence. The accusation belongs to the commenter. Source: WHO — Chinese medicine terminology, entries 3, 28, 224, 230–231, 2908, and 2964.