Chapter 107: The Heart of a Healer

After helping Master treat the man with the injured arm, Jiaoyan was drenched in sweat. The wound was severe—he had accidentally swung the sickle too forcefully while cutting grass, slicing deeply into his own arm. The cut was so wide it exposed the flesh and blood vessels beneath.

The master and apprentice struggled greatly to stop the bleeding and apply medicine. Miao Suwen instructed the man to rest well and avoid moving the arm, warning that the wound might reopen and worsen.

The injured man was from the village—a woman in her thirties, married into the Sun family. Her clothes were patched countless times, and her face bore the marks of hard years. She was a widow; her husband had passed away a few years ago, leaving her to support four children through her labor alone.

Miao Suwen knew the Sun family’s situation well, so after finishing the bandaging, she didn’t charge for the treatment. Instead, she gave some advice on care and told Jiaoyan to help with dressing the wound in the future so the woman wouldn’t have to come back every time.

“Doctor Miao, how much do I owe you for the medicine? Here, I’ll pay you now,” the Sun woman asked quietly, clutching her injured arm, her expression uneasy.

Miao Suwen waved her off. “Sister-in-law, no need. I know your situation. I won’t take a cent for this.” She wasn’t in medicine for great wealth; as long as she could get by, that was enough. For families like theirs, charging fees would only make life harder.

“That won’t do. Doctor Miao, I’m truly grateful for your help. If you don’t accept payment, I’d feel too guilty. Your family has to live too, you know,” the woman said anxiously, her cheeks flushing. “Please allow me a few days—I’ll bring you the money soon.”

“Auntie, since my master said no fees, then no fees it is. If you’re worried, have Qiangzi bring some firewood here instead. If there’s ever any work from my master’s side, Qiangzi and Gangzi can come help,” Jiaoyan quickly offered upon seeing the woman’s distress.

Miao Suwen had been practicing medicine in the village for nearly two months. Usually, this was how it went: well-off families paid modest fees; the poor didn’t pay cash but could offer goods or help with chores like gathering firewood. As long as they could get by, that was all that mattered. She was not one for grand ambitions.

The Sun woman knew this custom but still felt uneasy. “Then I’ll have Qiangzi and the others bring firewood every day—they’re free and strong, so it won’t be a problem. If Doctor Miao ever needs anything, just say the word. My two boys can come lend a hand.”

Beside her, a boy of about eleven or twelve nodded eagerly. “Yes, Aunt Miao, if you need anything, just call us and we’ll come help.”

Miao Suwen smiled gently. “Alright, that’s for later. For now, take good care of your mother. She mustn’t work for a while. You boys are old enough now—you have to learn to shoulder the family’s burdens so your mother won’t have to suffer anymore. Understand?”

The boy nodded repeatedly, thanked Miao Suwen, and then helped his mother up as they left.

After seeing them off, Jiaoyan hurriedly tidied the room, discarding bloodied gauze and other waste into the kitchen ashes.

“Master, couldn’t we try stitching Sun auntie’s wound? Just bandaging it like this won’t heal it easily—the cut might reopen,” Jiaoyan asked, having observed Miao Suwen’s treatment carefully. The wound was deep and open; stitching would aid healing.

“Stitching? How would we stitch it?” Miao Suwen found the idea strange. “Jiaoniang, come here and explain what you mean.”

Jiaoyan understood that in this time and place, surgical procedures like debridement and suturing hadn’t yet emerged—or at least weren’t widely accepted in medicine. She hadn’t heard Miao Suwen or any other doctor mention it.

From Jiaoyan’s perspective, the conditions for such surgery were lacking. Still, simple operations might be possible. With Miao Suwen’s skill, anesthesia could be managed—if not with drugs, then via acupuncture or oral sedatives.

What troubled Jiaoyan most was the surgical instruments. Where could they find rust-free tools? That was a difficulty, as was the thread for sewing.

Since apprenticing under Miao Suwen, Jiaoyan had been thinking constantly about these challenges. She longed to find substitutes in this world to apply the knowledge from her previous life.

“Master, I was just thinking: when mother sews clothes, she joins two pieces of fabric together. So if a wound like Sun auntie’s, or even deeper ones, could be stitched, the cut wouldn’t reopen and would heal faster,” Jiaoyan said cautiously, not wanting to speak too directly.

Though Jiaoyan’s suggestion sounded fantastical at first, Miao Suwen pondered it carefully and found some truth in it. “Jiaoniang, you’re quite bold with your ideas. I’ll think it over. But sewing on human skin—that might be hard for people to accept. And what kind of needle? And thread? We can’t just use the thread for clothes, can we?”

“Sewing would hurt badly, and we’d have to find a way to numb the pain. These are tough problems. Jiaoniang, we’ll think it through slowly and try our best. If your idea works, it could be very useful,” Miao Suwen said, her mind open to the possibility. She was a skilled and unorthodox healer, eager to explore new methods.

Jiaoyan’s eyes lit up at her master’s words but masked her excitement to avoid suspicion. “Hehe, Master, it was just a random thought. If you think it’s worth trying, let’s give it a shot. If it doesn’t work, just don’t scold me too harshly,” she said with a grin.

“Children’s minds are sharp. Jiaoniang, this isn’t nonsense; your idea might really help. We just need to figure out the details. You’re tired today, so rest up. These things can’t be rushed,” Miao Suwen said gently, patting Jiaoyan’s head.

Jiaoyan looked outside; it was almost noon. “Master, I’ll head home first. Father took my brothers to register at the town school today. I don’t know how it went. I want to check on them and come back this afternoon.”

“Wait a moment. Shaoyuan is back soon; he can take you home,” Miao Suwen said, stopping Jiaoyan.

Since the last incident, Shaoyuan had intensified his training. Beyond practicing an extra hour every morning compared to Wenxiu and the others, he also trained an extra hour at night. He ventured into the mountains daily to hunt or gather herbs—a constant risk, but he wanted to grow stronger quickly.

Jiaoyan had tried to persuade him otherwise, but Shaoyuan was determined. Only by becoming stronger could he protect their mother and those he cared about. In the mornings, the house was busy with people and companions like Yun and Yue, so he left then, returning at midday.

Before they finished speaking, Shaoyuan appeared at the gate. His clothes were torn in places and stained with spots of blood. Behind him, dragging and carrying, was a wild boar—not very large, but not small either.

Seeing her son’s battered state, Miao Suwen hurried outside. “Yuan’er, are you hurt anywhere?” She pulled him close, scanning his wounds, tears welling as she saw the injuries.

“Foolish boy, why did you provoke the wild boar? Look at yourself, all hurt. Can’t you stay safe at home? You’re making your mother worry sick,” she cried, embracing him.

Jiaoyan joined them, noting Shaoyuan’s injuries. Two somewhat deep cuts on his leg were from the boar’s tusks; several smaller wounds were scattered across his body, some from the boar, others from branches or debris. It seemed Shaoyuan had fought the boar and, though victorious, was wounded.

“Shaoyuan, why do you push yourself so hard? What if something bad happened to you? What would Master do? You’re only nine years old, yet you go tussling with wild boars in the forest. You’re just asking for trouble,” Jiaoyan said sternly.

The boar on the ground wasn’t fully grown. Luckily, or Shaoyuan might never have returned. Two crossbow bolts were lodged in its body, with several other wounds—proof that Shaoyuan had shot it with arrows before finishing it with a dagger.