Dr. Xu: A Chinese Medicine Novel

A reunion brings back more than Evan wants to discuss.

Evan wasn’t putting on airs as a senior physician. He’d simply traveled so far back in time.

He had gone back to 1978. A full forty years had passed since then.

The youngsters of those days were all leading specialists now. Hadn’t Oliver Liu been a young man who never took anything seriously? Now he was one of the most eminent physicians in the country, famous far and wide.

Forty years in medicine. That was enough to change most people’s lives.

Those young men were now in their sixties. Their senior fellow disciples, a little older to begin with, were now veteran doctors of Chinese medicine in their seventies and eighties.

And Evan hadn’t known only the doctors at Xiyuan Hospital. He’d spent more than eight years there and had become a well-known specialist in gynecology himself.

Doctors of Chinese medicine had their own circles, as did specialists. Evan had been absorbed in his studies, but exchanging ideas with colleagues was an excellent way to learn, too. The system restricted his movements, but anything related to learning was allowed.

So he really had known most of the doctors of Chinese medicine in Beijing in the early eighties. Many were leading specialists now. Some had even become physicians of national renown.

Take Wang. When he first joined the hospital, he’d been endlessly curious. Why this? Why that? He had to question absolutely everything, as though he were arguing for the sake of it.

The teachers supervising him all found him exasperating. Evan had more patience. He’d supervised Wang for a few months and spent those months arguing with him.

The fellow had a spirit of inquiry, too. Not long after joining the hospital, he decided the canteen’s stewed meat wasn’t very good. He insisted on going into the kitchen to discuss the spices with the head cook: how they should be added, in what doses, at what stage, and how they ought to be processed beforehand.[1]

The spices in the stew were all medicinal ingredients, after all. The cook said Wang knew nothing about cooking. Wang actually told the cook he knew nothing about Chinese medicine.

If that wasn’t arguing for the sake of it.

Later, while the cook was making a stew, Wang secretly tipped a large packet of his own herbal mixture into the pot. And then… well, the whole pot of meat was inedible. That taste… Evan could still remember it vividly.

The furious cook chased the idiot through several streets, brandishing a cooking ladle. What a stir that had caused at the hospital…

Who would have thought that little contrarian would become a leading specialist—and his classmate’s teacher’s teacher?

Evan smiled at the memories. Then the smile faded. None of them would remember him. All those precious memories, and he was the only one left to turn them over, alone.

“Evan. Evan…” Ethan shook him out of his recollections.

“What is it?” Evan asked.

“What are you thinking about?”

Evan shook his head. “Nothing.”

“Hey, where have you been lately? Which hospital are you at now?”

“I’m not at a hospital.”

“Then where are you?”

“I… work at a small private clinic.”

“Huh?” Ethan was taken aback. After a pause, he asked, “Have you become anyone’s disciple, then?”

Evan shook his head with a faint smile.

Ethan gave a little sigh and looked at him with sympathy. Evan had been the brightest student in their school.

One mistake, and he’d lost his job and ended up like this. Had he ruined his whole future?

He didn’t even have a master now. What could he possibly learn in some little clinic?

He’d been hailed as a miracle doctor just for treating heat entering the blood chamber. He would probably spend the rest of his days getting by in a small county town like this.

The great Evan Xu… Even Ethan, who’d been such a poor student, probably had better clinical skills than him now. Ethan shook his head, filled with regret.

Evan turned to look at him. “Don’t tell anyone you’ve seen me.”

Ethan was startled. Then he shook his head and sighed again. Nobody wanted to be seen when they’d fallen on hard times, especially someone as proud as Evan had once been.

“All right. I won’t.”

“Thanks.”

Ethan hesitated, then said, “Actually, Boss Yao’s been looking for you ever since that happened. Professor He spent a long time looking for you, too.”

Evan’s nose stung. He lowered his head so Ethan wouldn’t see his expression. “Don’t tell them. I’ll… go and see them. But not yet. I need a little more time.”

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“All right.” Ethan could only agree.

Evan wasn’t ready to face the people from his past yet. That was why he always wore a mask when promoting the clinic and had never revealed his real name on a public platform.

While they were talking, the patient arrived.

The housekeeper helped her settle onto the sofa. Her brow was tightly furrowed, and she looked irritable and restless.

Mr. Xie smiled at Dr. Liu. “This is my wife, Doctor. Thank you for coming to see her.”

“Not at all, Mr. Xie,” Dr. Liu said with a nod.

Leo chimed in with a little flattery. “Mr. Xie, Dr. Raymond Liu is a renowned specialist in treating anorectal disorders with Chinese medicine. Even the doctors at the provincial level may not be as good as he is.”

Dr. Liu waved a hand. “Too kind. Far too kind.” But he was smiling; the praise clearly pleased him.

Mr. Xie chuckled. “Then please begin, Dr. Liu.”

“Of course.” Dr. Liu set down his teacup, got up, and sat beside Mrs. Xie.

She looked thoroughly irritated and kept shooting her husband glares.

Evan and the others had been completely forgotten. Even Iris and her husband sat awkwardly off to one side. They couldn’t understand it. They’d only been trying to help. How had they ended up feeling so uncomfortable?

Iris kept shifting on the sofa, as though she were sitting on pins and needles.

“Ethan,” Dr. Liu called again.

Ethan took out paper and a pen, quickly got up, and went over to observe his teacher and copy his prescriptions. After only a couple of steps, he turned back to Evan, who was still seated. “Come over too, Evan. You haven’t got a master at the moment. Learning a bit more will do you good.”

He enthusiastically pulled Evan along.

Evan could only follow.

Dr. Liu glanced at Evan as he came over, said nothing more, and began asking the patient about her condition.

Mr. Xie’s brow creased slightly, but he showed no obvious displeasure.

Leo looked thoroughly fed up at the sight of Evan coming over.

As Dr. Liu took the history, Ethan recorded the case beside him. This was what learning under a master and copying prescriptions meant: while the master examined and treated a patient, the disciple made a complete, detailed case record.

Later, the disciple would study how the pattern had been identified, why the master had chosen those medicines, and what each choice was intended to achieve. Anything he didn’t understand, he could ask about the next day. This was the path every young doctor of Chinese medicine had to take.[2]

Dr. Liu went through his questions one by one.

Ethan carefully recorded each answer.

Mrs. Xie had struggled to adjust to the local conditions and food on a trip abroad over Lunar New Year. After returning home, she’d developed diarrhea. It had continued for more than six months.[3]

She had lost nearly fifteen kilograms. A recent stay in hospital had helped her recover enough to go home, but then the diarrhea had returned.

“Do you feel weak all over?” Dr. Liu asked.

“Yes.”

“When does the diarrhea usually start? Is there a particular time? At dawn, perhaps, or after meals? What does it feel like?”

Mrs. Xie frowned. “Every morning, just as it’s getting light, my stomach starts hurting. It rumbles and gurgles, and then I have to go. Once I’ve been, it doesn’t hurt anymore.”

Dr. Liu nodded. He understood.

“Dawn diarrhea?” Ethan murmured.[4]

Leo was surprised, too. Was it really that simple?

Dr. Liu was immediately sure of himself. He’d thought this would be some difficult, unusual case. Of course, conventional doctors had trouble finding the cause of dawn diarrhea: they didn’t recognize what Chinese medicine regarded as its cause. For a doctor of Chinese medicine, though, treating it was simple.

The difference lay in the two systems’ medical theories.

No wonder the hospital hadn’t cured her. Dr. Liu turned to look at Iris, seated over to one side. Well, these two were just the same. Both thought they had some strange, intractable illness when it was actually very simple.

A confident smile spread across his face.

Reader Notes

↩︎ Medicinal processing in the kitchen. Paozhi means processing medicinal materials before use; it is distinct from simply boiling a finished prescription. Chinese medicine includes ingredients that also appear as culinary spices, which makes Wang’s attempt to apply medicinal thinking to a stew intelligible. His talk of “doses” and processing carries that joke. The chapter supplies no ingredient list or recipe. The source explains medicinal processing; it does not identify what Wang put into the pot or establish that a medicinal mixture belongs in food. Source: Hong Kong Department of Health — Chinese medicine GMP premises FAQ, question 12 (in Chinese).↩︎ Learning beside a master. Clinical mentorship includes observing consultations, recording cases, and reviewing the teacher’s reasoning. “Copying prescriptions” here means making records to study how a prescription follows from a pattern assessment, not passing another doctor’s work off as one’s own. A master–disciple relationship is also distinct from merely having attended medical school. Modern guidance describes clinical practice, notes, and case records as parts of mentorship; the claim that every young doctor must take this path belongs to the novel’s narration. Source: National Administration of Traditional Chinese Medicine — Medical mentorship measures, articles 3 and 15–16 (in Chinese).↩︎ Lunar New Year. Chunjie, or the Spring Festival, marks the New Year in China’s traditional calendar, beginning on the first day of its first month. It is separate from January 1 in the Gregorian calendar. The festival is an important occasion for family reunions and visits. Here it dates Mrs. Xie’s trip abroad; the continuing symptoms are measured from her return. The holiday reference supplies no exact departure date or destination. Source: State Council website / Xinhua — How do Chinese people celebrate Spring Festival?.↩︎ Dawn diarrhea. Wugeng xie literally names diarrhea at the “fifth watch,” the last traditional watch of the night, near daybreak. The timing is part of the traditional clinical description, rather than the name of a single infection or anatomical lesion. Mrs. Xie’s account explains why Ethan uses the term here. The final paragraphs present Dr. Liu’s certainty and the contrast he draws between medical frameworks. The label alone does not establish this patient’s underlying cause or make the story’s claim of easy treatment a general medical conclusion. Sources: WHO — Chinese medicine terminology, entries 835 and 1638; Taiwan Ministry of Education — Wugeng, definitions 2–3 (in Chinese).