"You... you... you insolent brat—"
"Enough, old man. If you want to die, keep shouting. It doesn't matter to me."
But Dr. Henry Wong dared not. His son had just taken a concubine, hoping to finally produce a son to continue the Wong family line. His lawful wife, due to illness, had only managed a single birth—a daughter—and could have no more children. Dr. Wong was already fifty-three, his body growing weaker by the day. He desperately wanted to live long enough to see his grandson born.
With a loud smack, Xu Fu slammed The Emperor's Canon of Medicine down in front of Dr. Henry Wong.
"Teach me what's in this book, old man."
"Hmph, you ignorant child. How could you possibly comprehend The Emperor's Canon of Medicine..."
"Are you going to teach me or not?"
Dr. Henry Wong sighed, finally calming himself. Xu Fu then revealed his own background to him. Kind-hearted but helpless, Dr. Wong sighed again, placing a hand on Xu Fu's head.
"You do seem quite pitiful. Fine, I'll teach you. As for the Queen Dowager's illness, I'll do everything I can, but astragalus, notoginseng, and licorice must not be used in excess. These herbs are too strong for someone so frail. At first, they help, but after a while, I've found her body grows cold and weak. Continued use will cause serious problems. I'll adjust the prescription, and you can deliver it tomorrow. As for the ephedra—you actually dared to use that? It's toxic. Not something to be used lightly."
Xu Fu shot to his feet, staring at Dr. Henry Wong, and shook his shoulders violently.
"Don’t say things like that, Old Wong! My mother is still waiting for me—I have to go back, I have to go home..."
"You don’t know, but this illness has existed since ancient times. Some older women get it, usually in the breast—a hard lump, a tumor. It’s almost never curable. My master told me, when it gets this bad, the pain is unbearable, you wish for death. The Queen Dowager’s suffering is growing worse. Ephedra still helps, but if this keeps up, it won’t..."
Xu Fu began to tremble, his lips pale. Even if he spoke honestly, King Tianjian would only demand a solution. If anything happened to the Queen Dowager, they would die—and their families too.
That night, the old and the young both lay awake, tossing and turning, unable to sleep, haunted by the fear that they might never see the morning sun.
"In the end, Fu, this is just your guess. We must examine her thoroughly to be sure."
Because propriety demanded it, Dr. Henry Wong had to swallow his pride, kneeling beside the Queen Dowager and, through her maid, explained his intentions.
At last, the Queen Dowager revealed that her pain was not in her abdomen, but on both sides of her chest—hard lumps.
Dr. Henry Wong started drinking, and soon was hopelessly drunk, while Xu Fu kept searching through medical texts. He finally found a description matching the Queen Dowager’s symptoms, but the final verdict: incurable.
It was as if a death sentence had been passed. Xu Fu began to cry. He longed to see his mother, but the situation left him with no choice—only a dead end remained.
The next morning, King Tianjian summoned Xu Fu and Dr. Henry Wong to the palace. The hall was empty except for the king himself, sitting on the throne, his face haggard, a deep sorrow etched between his brows.
"Fu, tell me—can my mother’s illness be cured?"
"Your Majesty, the Queen Dowager is kind-hearted, favored by Heaven, surely—"
"Guards!"
With a creak, the palace doors swung open. Soldiers entered, blades drawn, dragging Xu Fu and Dr. Henry Wong forward.
"Hmph. Those who spout lies deserve to be executed."
"Your Majesty, please—this old man has something to say!"
Dr. Henry Wong knelt, bowing his head repeatedly, begging for forgiveness.
"Sire, Fu is still a child, frightened by your authority, so he lied. But he truly wants to heal the Queen Dowager—he studies medical texts day and night. I am to blame; I failed to teach him properly. He is young, Your Majesty, please show mercy. I am willing to bear all the guilt myself..."
"Enough."