Zhu Siqi returned to the mountaintop in high spirits. Seeing a light inside the cave, he knew his master was there and hurried in, calling out as he ran:
"Master! Today I treated several patients! Look, this is the money I earned today!"
He ran up to Fan and proudly took out the few one-yuan bills he had made that day.
"Not bad. Keep it up," Fan praised.
"I will, Master. Although it's only a few yuan today, I believe the next market day will be better. I have confidence."
"Confidence is good," Fan said, "but next time you come back, remember to buy rice. There isn't much left on the mountain, and we also need oil."
Hearing this, Zhu Siqi's mood dimmed a little. That was true—just a few yuan would be gone once he bought rice and oil. When would he ever manage to earn a hundred yuan? Thinking about this, he went back to his room to continue studying his medical books. Now, combining them with the cases he had seen that day, the books felt completely different. Before, he could remember what he read, but now it was as if the words had come alive—vivid and clear. With firsthand experience, he paid special attention to common illnesses and gained a much deeper understanding of the texts.
Unknowingly, several days passed, and it was once again the market day at Santang. This time, Zhu Siqi went down the mountain at dawn and arrived at the market early. When he reached the Santang pharmacy, they had just opened. Doctor Deng, who usually sat in the clinic, had not arrived yet, but the shop assistants already recognized Zhu Siqi. Without saying much, they let him move out the same table and chairs as last time and set up his stall in the same spot.
Early in the morning, most people at the market were locals buying vegetables. Some who got up early would eat breakfast after shopping, while vendors from other places were busy setting up their stalls. After more than an hour—once most people had finished buying vegetables and the vendors had lined up—the crowd gradually increased.
Zhu Siqi's first patient that day was an elderly man who couldn't sleep well at night and often felt dizzy. It was a common ailment among the elderly. Feeling sympathy for him, Zhu Siqi performed acupuncture and prescribed a formula. He was supposed to charge two yuan but only took one.
Next came a young man who was initially skeptical and wanted to go to the Santang pharmacy instead. The elderly man from earlier seemed to know him and said, "Shitou, this young fellow is quite good. You should let him take a look too." Hearing this, the young man stopped, sat down, and explained his symptoms—nothing serious, just a fever and diarrhea. Zhu Siqi quickly wrote him a prescription.
Before long, the middle-aged woman from last time came again, accompanied by an elderly lady. As soon as she saw Zhu Siqi, she said excitedly, "Young man, the acupuncture you gave me last time worked wonders. When it thundered and rained the day before yesterday, my legs didn't hurt nearly as much as before. I could basically endure it. As soon as I finished breakfast today, I rushed to the market to find you."
"Then sit down quickly. I'll give you another acupuncture session," Zhu Siqi said happily.
Afterward, the woman stood up and introduced the elderly lady. "This is my mother-in-law. She's had rheumatism for decades. She's taken a lot of medicine, but it hasn't helped much. Could you also try acupuncture for her?"
The elderly lady sat down and placed her hand on the table. After checking her pulse, Zhu Siqi found her condition similar to the woman's but more severe due to her age and weaker constitution. Still, it posed no real difficulty for him.
He performed acupuncture as usual, but while inserting the needles, he guided a faint stream of true energy into her body. To him, it was negligible, but the elderly lady clearly felt numbness and a slight itch in her knees. The damp, heavy sensation she had always felt seemed to vanish, as if the moisture had been drawn out all at once. Afterward, Zhu Siqi prescribed a gentler formula, concerned that stronger medicine might be too much for her.
When everything was done, the elderly lady felt an unfamiliar sense of strength in her body, especially in her legs—a feeling she hadn't experienced in many years. She shared this with her daughter-in-law, and both thanked Zhu Siqi repeatedly. He modestly waved it off. After paying three yuan in consultation fees, they left. The onlookers began whispering among themselves, impressed by the young man's abilities. People in the mountains were simple and honest—if you had real skill and could cure illnesses, they would recommend you to others, providing free word-of-mouth publicity.
That morning, Zhu Siqi treated several more patients, all with common ailments, prescribing according to each condition. Two of them were children with fevers. He not only prescribed medicine but also explained basic care to their parents: loosen clothing, avoid shoes and socks, use alcohol or strong liquor to wipe the forehead, neck, and soles to reduce fever, or cold water if nothing else was available. Children's fevers could rise quickly, and without timely treatment, there could be lasting consequences.
The parents were deeply grateful. In the mountains, people usually only rushed to a doctor and didn't know any emergency measures. They immediately went to the pharmacy to buy the medicine he prescribed.
More patients came throughout the morning, all handled smoothly. Near noon, pleased with his earnings, Zhu Siqi spent one yuan on a bowl of noodles.
After noon, the market thinned out. Most people had finished shopping and gone home to cook lunch. Mountain folk wouldn't spend a yuan on noodles—they'd rather go hungry and cook at home.
In the afternoon, he treated only four more patients, all minor cases. By the end of the day, he reflected that most people suffered from common illnesses. Why not make pills specifically for these ailments? It would save patients the trouble of buying herbs and boiling medicine.
With this idea in mind, he packed up as the crowd dwindled, bought ten jin of rice, five jin of oil, and two bottles of liquor as gifts for his master, then hurried back up the mountain.
After handing the remaining ten-plus yuan to his master, he immersed himself in medical books, planning which pills to make. Based on the texts, his experience, and the local herbs, he decided on four types: one for colds and fevers, one for diarrhea, one anti-inflammatory, and one health tonic to strengthen the body.
Early the next morning, he went into the forest to gather herbs. With his keen perception, none of what he needed escaped him. After washing and chopping them, he realized he lacked equipment, so he went down the mountain again to buy a large pot and four plastic bottles.
On the third day, he began making the pills—boiling the chopped herbs into a paste, removing residue, letting it cool, and shaping it into pills. He did this four times, making each type a different color for easy identification.
Market day came again. This time, Zhu Siqi waited until after breakfast and daylight before heading down with the four bottles. When he arrived, people had finished buying vegetables, and vendors were just setting up.
He borrowed the table and chairs from the pharmacy, placed the bottles on the table, sat down, and waited for customers.
This time, people came earlier and in greater numbers. Word had spread that a teenage boy was treating patients and prescribing medicine at the market. The curious came to watch; the sick came for treatment. Zhu Siqi had gained a modest reputation at Santang Market.
Ignoring the crowd, he focused on diagnosing and prescribing. When appropriate, he recommended his own pills. At first, people were hesitant, thinking he was reselling pills from elsewhere. But when they learned he made them himself, interest grew. The pills sold well—even onlookers bought some to keep at home for emergencies.
He was busy all day, prescribing, selling pills, and explaining their use. By late afternoon, things finally slowed. He hadn't even had time for noodles, yet felt more satisfied than if he'd eaten ten bowls. He knew clearly that he had earned ninety-two yuan—his memory was sharp, and he remembered exactly what each person bought.
Just as he was about to pack up, a middle-aged man wearing glasses arrived. He looked thin but energetic, with bright eyes and an air of scholarship. When the man sat down and Zhu Siqi took his pulse, he found that this case was unlike any he had encountered before.