ITIEQ C17

Chapter 17 – Human Greed Has No Bounds

The refugees afflicted with the plague were all herded into the quarantine zone. Shen Qinghe tallied the numbers, and only then did he breathe a little easier.

Fortunately, those showing evident symptoms numbered merely two to three hundred, and even after several days rose only to about five hundred—still within the range of control. As long as they held steady, this disaster could be endured.

There was even a piece of good fortune: the sole medical student of the Academy had found employment. Amid all his busyness, Shen Qinghe still remembered to plot a little private advantage for his students—he arranged for Gao Rong to intern alongside the senior physicians of the Imperial Medical Bureau. To practice beside such masters of the craft was to gain priceless experience, and a glowing addition to his résumé.

Gao Rong did not disappoint. With only brief guidance, he had fashioned an improved mask—two layers of gauze stitched together, with an inner pad of medicinal cotton infused with decoction. Simple needlework only, but after preparing the medicine, healthy refugees could produce them in bulk. When worn, the mask covered nose and mouth without suffocating. Soon, every physician and orderly in the camp bore a thick face-covering, so that men moving about in the plague camp looked strikingly uniform.

The other students lent their strength at the most basic of tasks, shortened clerkships for their future official service.

Meanwhile, the Imperial physicians brewed a decoction named Qingwen Baidu San (“Powder to Clear Epidemic and Expel Toxins”)*—a mixture of several herbs boiled in great iron pots so that everyone might drink a bowl.

* (Qingwen Baidu San 清瘟敗毒散 – a famous traditional prescription used in historical Chinese medicine during epidemics, believed to clear internal “heat toxin” and reduce fever.)

Shared by ten thousand mouths, the potion was thin as water—little more than placebo. Yet the effect was undeniable, for upon drinking their hearts calmed, fear abated, and soon more refugees rose to sweep, cook, serve porridge. The burden upon the few lessened sharply.

Once the refugees knew Great Yong would not cast them aside, all began to move for the better.

Shen Qinghe confirmed the day would bring no further turmoil and sat down to rest, watching soldiers and refugees pass with order, each in their proper place.

Then Gao Rong rushed up, yanking off his mask, breath hurried. “Teacher—the prescription the physicians gave us lacks certain herbs. We scoured every pharmacy in the city, but all say they are sold out!”

Shen Qinghe sprang up. “But this is the capital—richest crossroads of trade caravans. How can herbs be lacking?”

“There’s trickery,” Gao Rong bit down. “The shortfall is for wormwood and nut-grass—common enough medicines, not rare. Just weeks past, I gathered them in three shops on the west side. Today I asked from west to east— none. All declared out of stock, nothing for half a month.”

“Half a month cannot be waited.” Shen Qinghe glanced about, taking in the faintly smiling refugees. “Can you ride a horse?”

“A little. When gathering herbs in the mountains, I rode lean ponies—but never fast ones.”

Shen led the two snow-pure steeds from his carriage, produced two saddles, tossed one to Gao Rong. “Come. This time, you ride a treasure horse. Step-Snow and Step-Moon are gentle and spirited—hold the reins; they follow the will. You lead me to those shops. The demons in the sick are false. But this—this is the true demon. I will see what foul hand works this trick!”

They rode swiftly to a great apothecary. Upon its sign were bold strokes of black and white: Pharmacy of Universal Benevolence.

Shen pushed the doors. The shop-boy rose. “Welcome, honorable guests. What herbs are desired?”

“Wormwood, nut-grass, ephedra…” Gao Rong reeled off five, six names. The boy frowned, shaking head. “Out. All out.”

“How can that be?” Gao Rong’s voice chilled. “They are ordinary herbs—what use is your store if even such as these are absent?”

“We’ve said before—sold out, nothing left.”

Shen touched Gao Rong’s shoulder—in one motion slapping a gold-inlaid tally onto the counter.

“I am an imperial officer by His Majesty’s appointment! For a mere shop-boy to deceive me, to obscure truth—who grants you this courage?”

The boy’s eyes widened at the golden tally. Seeing Shen’s commanding air, he rushed from counter to kneel. But Shen seized his arm. “No kneeling—speak! Word for word! Obstructing state duty? You’ll find prison sticks your delight!”

Trembling: “Truly we deceive not. These herbs we had—but two days past, bought clean away. Since then, many came asking—we told truthfully, sold out. Ask those who purchased! We bear no grudge against you, lord!”

“Sold? To whom?”

The boy scrambled back behind counter and leafed through ledgers. “Here—the buyers, Qixiang Medical House. They bought two taels and two qian each. Said urgent. We surrendered our stock entire.”

Shen exhaled. Expected. Grabbing Gao Rong, he swung back to saddle, spurred white steed. “Qixiang Pharmacy. I will see what scheme lies beneath.”

Qixiang’s hall was great and tall. Its plaque black with gold, doubled in width of rival shops. Shen reined in, strode within. Attendants bustled. The chief sat serene in the center.

“What do you seek, young lord?” asked the keeper, stroking beard.

“The herbs you gathered from every shop—sell them to me. At thrice the price.” Shen threw down a sack. Metal clinked within.

The keeper chuckled. “Ah, but our store stocks none of those. They are reserved.”

“You refuse trade—then why open at all?” Shen cracked coldly.

“Our matriarch, the old lady, has fallen ill. We gathered all for her cure.”

“Hundreds of catties of wormwood—for one old woman? Even eating it daily, she could not consume in a lifetime! Enough palaver. You know my name in this city. Refuse me again, and today Qixiang Pharmacy closes its doors for good!”

He seized the abacus, swinging to smash. The keeper, flustered, bent down in panic.

“Shen Gongzi—” A languid voice behind.

Shen dropped abacus, cold gaze. “At last. Summoned ten thousand times, and here you appear.”

A handsome young noble in long gown descended, bowing. “I am Qi Lianjun. Forgive us. Truly my grandmother ails, thus we stored the herbs.”

Shen laughed low. “Qi Xiang, Qixiang Pharmacy. I should have known. The Qi clan owns tea and herb trade across empire. Still you stoop to robbing famine camps of medicine?”

“Robbing?” Qi Lianjun’s lips curved. “Merely sale to higher price. Grandmother ill—should sons not serve her needs?”

“A business of healing—turned to killing. Shen is enlightened indeed.”

The noble’s eyes half-lidded, voice smooth: “Who bade those wretches live as common rabble, present where they should not be, stand beneath the wrong banner? I cannot succor the world. Let them blame fate—not me.”

“Bravo!” Shen clapped once. “Splendid unkindness—all in broad daylight! Qi Gongzi, you emulate incorrupt Jade in shameless clarity!”

“Desire without end is like snake that swallows elephant.* Shen Da-ren—your appetite, your nerve, surpass all. Admirable indeed.” Standing upon high stair, aura of aristocrat untouchable, “My father reminded me—a youth must be guided by elders. If you yield a little, I will appeal to grandmother, send you some. Thus we exchange. Such is the way of enduring ties.”

* (“人心不足蛇吞象” – “Human greed knows no bounds, like a snake trying to swallow an elephant.” A proverb describing limitless avarice.)

Shen at last saw through. Useless words. All they sought was his concession. In their eyes, lives of thousands were numbers. A rise or fall meant nothing.

Beneath clans, all else was dust. Dust underfoot—step upon, erase.

This age was chaos embodied, greed and decay rotting all.

He had no great clan behind, no mountains of gold below. Only the fleeting wind of imperial favor above. That day in Hanchang Hall, he seized a first step—but one step is nothing. Each after must tread steady, till atop heights, his voice weighs stone and his words echo truely.

The boy clenched his palm, sweat dripping. Steeled himself:

“Shen Qinghe—take it slow. Each chance is seized. You seized before—you seize again.”

He raised his gaze, smiling falsely.

“Qi Gongzi, true indeed—I am born with boundless appetite. Everything good or bad—I shall swallow all. Better you watch yourself…lest one day, untrained, untutored, I swallow you whole.”