The Fortunate Lady and Her Mountain Man

Chapter 201: Chapter 201: Take a Look at Him

The afternoon sun slanted through the large window in the wall by the kang bed, slowly blanketing the floor.

On the small table set up on the kang, light and shadow danced across the paper, steeping the lingering scent of ink in a slow, drawn-out rhythm.

It should have been a leisurely, peaceful moment, yet Ji Huan couldn’t calm her mind no matter what. She had been copying text for the better part of the day, completely oblivious to what she was even writing.

Dabao obediently remained lying flat on his back, turning his head to glance at her from time to time.

Because of his foot injury, Ji Huan had given him the afternoon off. He didn’t have to practice his calligraphy today; he just had to lie down.

But lying down didn’t mean he couldn’t listen to a story...

With Dabao sneaking glance after glance, it was impossible for Ji Huan not to notice. She finally put down her brush and told him the story of Nezha’s battle with the sea.

Her mind was elsewhere, which inevitably led to a story riddled with errors.

’Nezha’s rampage went from the sea all the way to the heavens, where he kicked over Lord Lao Zi of the Great Monad’s elixir furnace... I’m mixing everything up. What kind of nonsense is this!’

A huge question mark was written all over Dabao’s face. The last time she told a story, it was the Great Saint who stole the Immortal Pills.

Ji Huan sighed. She was truly on edge.

She knew the root of her anxiety.

Ever since she returned from the low shed, the image of the homeless man’s injuries kept surfacing in her mind.

She and Dabao were safe inside, sheltered from the wind and rain. She could have easily just ignored the world outside.

But every time she remembered that with each passing second, the homeless man was suffering inhuman torment, such self-deception felt exceptionally feeble.

This was no longer about repaying a favor. It was about a former doctor facing a patient... her professional instincts were acting up.

’Forget it. I won’t wait for Hu Liang to send a message tomorrow. I’ll go to town right now and get Xin Ziqi.’

The sooner he arrived, the less the man would suffer, and she wouldn’t have to be on edge like this.

She recalled that in history, a relatively complete system for debridement and suturing had already formed during the Sui and Tang dynasties. She just didn’t know what the level of tendon treatment was in this era.

Doctors in ancient times were practically jacks-of-all-trades, meaning they could treat a little bit of everything.

It was rare to find one who truly specialized in a specific field.

Medical specialization had only been established for a few decades.

It was broadly divided into fields like adult medicine, pediatrics, gynecology, dermatology, acupuncture, ophthalmology, dentistry, otolaryngology, febrile diseases, orthopedics, and healing incantations.

The Xin family had practiced medicine for generations. It was only from his grandfather’s generation that they began to focus on orthopedics. His father inherited this focus and, after years of specialization, had made significant achievements.

’I wonder if Xin Ziqi has mastered it, or how well he learned it...’

As her mind raced with these scattered thoughts, Ji Huan got off the kang and put on her shoes. She turned to look at Dabao and felt a headache coming on.

He was practically a patient himself right now, so it wasn’t appropriate to take him to town. And after being recently abducted, he definitely wouldn’t want to be sent to the Hu Family’s home.

She stood with her hands on her hips, unsure of what to do, when she heard someone calling at the gate.

The voice was a little familiar... ’Little Ping’an!’

Ji Huan was overjoyed and rushed to open the gate.

Sure enough, outside were Xin Ziqi and his attendant, Ping’an, accompanied by Hu Dacheng.

"How did you all..."

Hu Dacheng scratched his head. "My mother was worried about you. As soon as she left your place, she sent me to town to fetch Doctor Xin."

Xin Ziqi gave a slight nod. "I was on a house call, which caused a delay. How are you feeling now?"

"Um..." Ji Huan waved her hand awkwardly. "Let’s not talk about that for now. Please, come in."

Ji Huan asked Hu Dacheng if he had eaten lunch.

Hu Dacheng said he had eaten with Ping’an while waiting for Doctor Xin at Yide Hall.

So Ji Huan told him to go with Ping’an to tether the horse cart, while she led Xin Ziqi inside.

"You sent for me, but not to treat an illness, did you?"

Xin Ziqi had figured it out. Ji Huan didn’t look sick at all; she must have had another reason for summoning him.

"Well, yes and no. Why don’t you sit down for a rest and have some tea first?"

Xin Ziqi shook his head. "I’m not thirsty, nor am I tired. You may as well speak plainly."

Since he put it that way, Ji Huan dropped the pleasantries and led him directly to the homeless man’s low shed.

"I wanted to ask you... to take a look at him..."

She felt uncertain, not knowing if Xin Ziqi would agree to treat a filthy, foul-smelling homeless man.

’After all, this isn’t the future, where doctor-patient relationships are extremely tense and the slightest misstep can go viral online.’

Here, doctors held absolute authority and the final say, at least among the common people.

Patients had neither the confidence nor the grounds to question them. To a large extent, whatever the doctor said was law.

As a result, it was inevitable that some would leverage their skills to build their own prestige.

They still healed the sick and saved lives, but they only served the prosperous and saved the wealthy.

Of course, not all doctors were beholden to money and power.

But even those who would deign to treat the poor might not be willing to see a homeless beggar.

For a high and mighty doctor, it was an act that would mean a complete loss of status.

To Ji Huan’s surprise—or perhaps, just as she had expected—Xin Ziqi didn’t hesitate in the slightest. He lifted the hem of his robe and bent down to enter the low shed.

When he first laid eyes on the homeless man’s face, Xin Ziqi was clearly taken aback.

But he quickly composed himself and, following Ji Huan’s instructions, carefully unwrapped the gauze bandaging his hands and feet.

Because Ji Huan had already cleaned the wounds, the initial shock was much less than it had been that morning. Even so, Xin Ziqi’s expression gradually grew grave.

"The tendons in his right hand and his left foot have both been severed by a sharp weapon..."

Ji Huan froze for a moment, then it dawned on her.

’"Tendon" was a rather general and vague term used in early traditional medicine.

’Take the "foot tendon," for example. Literally, it could refer to anything from the thigh to the sole of the foot. In reality, it could mean a muscle tendon, a ligament attached to a tendon or bone, or even a visible subcutaneous vein or muscle.

’Strictly speaking, the homeless man’s injuries were to the tendons in his wrist and his Achilles tendon. They’re what allow humans to stand upright, run, jump, and grasp things with their hands.

’The ancient punishment of "severing the heel tendons" actually referred to cutting a prisoner’s bilateral Achilles tendons, rendering them unable to walk. But a unilateral Achilles tendon rupture would only cause a limp; it wouldn’t completely cripple a person. The patient could still walk, just slowly. They couldn’t run or carry heavy loads. If the tendon is sutured through surgery and recovery goes well, they can live a normal life afterward.

’In her old department, a male colleague who loved basketball was jumping for a pass when he landed on a raised object. His feet didn’t land at the same time, and one of them went numb.

’But since he didn’t feel any pain at the time, he didn’t think much of it. After changing, he even climbed up to the third-floor cafeteria to eat.

’After his meal, he limped down from the third floor, crossed the grounds, and climbed back up to his fifth-floor dorm room.

’It was only when he was soaking his feet in cold water and felt a soft, bunched-up mass where his Achilles tendon should be that he realized it had ruptured.

’Then, unhurriedly, he dried his feet and called for his colleague who lived across the hall...’

But in this medically undeveloped ancient era, it was a long-held consensus that once the tendons of the hand or foot were severed, they could not be healed.

When doctors encountered such patients, they would usually just shake their heads and turn them away.

Sometimes it wasn’t that it was impossible to treat, but that the chances of a successful recovery were too small, and no one was willing to take the risk.

This also led many patients to miss the window for treatment. People who could have avoided being crippled ended up crippled simply due to the delay.

So, what about Xin Ziqi? He specialized in this area, but would he be willing to take the risk?

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