Dr. Xu: A Chinese Medicine Novel

A note on common misconceptions, the limits of wellness advice, and a traditional congee recipe.

I began this novel with a simple wish: to make Chinese medicine a little easier to understand for people who have never encountered it.

I have met people who dismiss it at the mention of its name, and others who discover a wellness recipe and want the whole family to try it. Both can overlook the same questions: What does it actually mean, and who is it meant for?

Online, plenty of health tips invoke Chinese medicine without explaining where their claims come from. Discussions of medical reasoning, diagnostic patterns, and case histories can be so full of unfamiliar terms that a newcomer gives up. A story can put those terms in context and show why a doctor asks certain questions or follows a particular line of thought.

Understanding a medical tradition does not require accepting every claim made for it. Questions are welcome. Learning to distinguish traditional theory, personal experience, and findings supported by research is more useful than remembering only that something is “miraculous” or “useless.”

Take the phrase “tonifying the Kidney.”

Many people associate it only with male sexual function. In Chinese medical theory, however, the Kidney also has a role in the framework used to describe growth, development, and the bones. This traditional concept does not correspond exactly to the anatomical kidneys. “Kidney deficiency” should not be read as another name for kidney failure.[1]

Then there is Liuwei Dihuang Wan, a familiar Chinese herbal formula. Its traditional use concerns particular patterns, including Kidney yin deficiency. The word “tonic” does not make it suitable for everyone. Yin deficiency and yang deficiency are different patterns; the nature and cause of a person’s symptoms matter. Recognizing a medicine’s name is quite different from knowing whether it is appropriate for you.

The same applies to An Gong Niu Huang Wan. Fame and a high price do not make it a wellness supplement. Taking it routinely to prevent a stroke is a misuse. It has specific clinical uses that require professional judgment; a health tip on the internet is no basis for deciding to take it.[2]

These distinctions matter to the Chinese medicine I want to write about. Remove the conditions governing a treatment, and a recipe for everyone to copy can end up misrepresenting the very tradition it claims to explain.

That brings me to everyday health.

Part of the appeal of yangsheng, the traditional practice of tending to one’s health, is its place in ordinary life. A warm bowl of congee or a small dish you enjoy feels familiar and comforting. But enjoying a food and treating an illness are very different things.

Consider ginger pickled in vinegar. It can be enjoyed as a sharp, tangy side dish. If you like it and it agrees with you, there is no reason to eat more in pursuit of a promised benefit. If it causes heartburn or acid reflux, there is no need to persist. Ginger used in cooking and concentrated ginger products taken regularly are not interchangeable. Nor does one physician’s eating habit become a rule for everyone.[3]

I have kept a recipe for astragalus congee associated with the Chinese physician Zhu Liangchun as an example of traditional food-based care. Published accounts describe it, but a documented recipe is not proof of longer life, an effective treatment for disease, or suitability for everyone.[4]

Its scope needs to be clear before the ingredient list: this preparation contains a medicinal herb. It is not a general recipe for a pot of mixed-grain porridge. A qualified clinician familiar with your health should assess whether it is appropriate, especially the amount of astragalus. People with autoimmune diseases should avoid using astragalus on their own. Anyone taking immunosuppressants or other medicines, or who is pregnant or breastfeeding, should not simply follow the recipe without professional advice. The quantities drawn from this adult practice should not be transferred directly to children.[5]

Here are the original quantities for a whole batch:

250 g dried astragalus root (huangqi)50 g mung beans50 g coix seeds, also called Job’s tears (yiren)50 g dried white hyacinth beans (baibiandou), the seeds rather than fresh pods50 g lotus seeds30 g dried jujubes, also called Chinese red dates10 g goji berriesIn the original method, the astragalus is soaked in sufficient water for about twenty minutes. The water is brought to a boil, then simmered for about fifteen minutes before the liquid is strained off. The root is simmered again in fresh water for about fifteen minutes. Both batches of liquid are combined and used to cook the congee; the strained root is discarded.

This copy came from the page where the author publishes without permission; reading the published chapter there supports the creator.

The rinsed mung beans, coix seeds, hyacinth beans, lotus seeds, and jujubes are added to the astragalus liquid. After bringing it to a boil, reduce the heat and simmer for about forty minutes. Add the goji berries and cook for about ten minutes more. The beans should be thoroughly cooked and soft; the clock alone is not a test of doneness. A clay pot or another pot suitable for congee can be used, with sufficient water for cooking and attention to prevent it from boiling dry.

These are whole-batch quantities. The original account divides the pot into five portions; it is certainly not a single meal for one person. Dividing it into five does not establish that each portion is suitable for everyone, either. Whether to use the recipe, how much to eat, and how often still depend on the individual. Calling something “nourishing” is no reason to keep increasing the amount.

I include it to give a concrete example of traditional food-based care. Its ingredients have their own backgrounds and conditions of use. A physician’s personal experience is worth understanding, but it cannot replace an assessment of the person who wants to try it.

Rather than chasing costly herbs or a “secret to longevity,” I would encourage care with everyday eating, without expecting a single food or herb to provide every answer. Illness deserves medical attention. A bowl of congee should not be asked to do more than it can.

I hope this book leaves you willing to ask what an unfamiliar Chinese medical term means—and, when an appealing wellness recipe comes your way, whether it is appropriate for you.

Reader Notes

Reader Notes

↩︎ Capitalized organ names such as Kidney identify concepts within Chinese medical theory, which groups bodily functions differently from modern anatomy. The Chinese Medicine Hospital of Hong Kong’s account connects the Kidney with growth, development, and bones. Beijing Chaoyang Hospital’s explanation of Liuwei Dihuang Wan distinguishes Kidney yin deficiency from other patterns and rejects indiscriminate use. These sources explain traditional terminology and prescribing distinctions; they do not make “Kidney deficiency” equivalent to a diagnosis of impaired renal function. Sources: Chinese Medicine Hospital of Hong Kong; Beijing Chaoyang Hospital.↩︎ An Gong Niu Huang Wan is a Chinese medicinal formula, not a general nutritional supplement. Beijing Tiantan Hospital specifically rejects its routine use for wellness or stroke prevention and explains that its use depends on professional assessment of the clinical presentation. This note supports the distinction made in the essay; it does not recommend the formula for a reader or supply instructions for treating a suspected stroke at home. Source: Beijing Tiantan Hospital, via the Beijing Municipal Health Commission.↩︎ Ginger in a meal is different from a concentrated preparation studied or taken as a supplement. The U.S. National Center for Complementary and Integrative Health notes that much of the research concerns supplements rather than foods, and that oral ginger can cause heartburn, abdominal discomfort, or diarrhea. Its research summary does not establish special benefits for vinegar-pickled ginger. The dish appears here as a food preference, not as a treatment or a requirement for healthy eating. Source: NCCIH: Ginger.↩︎ CCTV’s program description confirms that Zhu Liangchun’s congee combines these beans, seeds, and fruits with astragalus cooking liquid. A clinician’s article hosted by Shanghai’s Civil Affairs Bureau corroborates 250 g of astragalus and 50 g each of mung beans, coix, hyacinth beans, and lotus seeds, divided across five portions; it does not specify the jujube and goji quantities. The full quantities and cooking times here preserve the author’s recipe. These accounts document a traditional practice, not a clinical trial of this batch or proof of universal suitability. Sources: CCTV program description; clinicians’ discussion of traditional dietary care.↩︎ NCCIH reports insufficient reliable evidence to establish astragalus’s usefulness for a health condition. It advises people with autoimmune diseases to avoid it, identifies possible interactions with immunosuppressants, and notes limited pregnancy and breastfeeding safety data. Those cautions concern astragalus itself; they do not evaluate this congee recipe. Five equal portions would allocate 50 g of the original dried root to each portion, but that arithmetic neither measures the extracted dose nor establishes a suitable serving. The recipe is presented for cultural understanding and discussion with a clinician. Source: NCCIH: Astragalus.