And now, as the sun grew weak and the square emptied, it seemed everyone remembered their ailments. A small crowd formed around the doctor. He took the pulse of a woman who complained of depression, and her pulse seemed to give a clear diagnosis. He sold her an amulet with a picture of a man in fighting gear holding a thick club. The words beside the picture said, If you want a beating, just come. He told her to wear it around her neck to ward off the sadness demons. Several men, some with mud caked on their calves from working in the rice paddies, lamented flagging sexual desire. The doctor sent them away with various powders to dissolve in rice wine in a small tortoiseshell and drink an hour before making love. A man wanted the ends of his arms to be longer, a woman the ends of her legs to be shorter. The doctor said spells over them and prescribed physical exercises and gave them small white pills. For some patients he read cards as part of the diagnosis; for others he played a fish-shaped drum as part of the cure. He dispensed elixirs, pills, powders, ointments.
Xing Xing squatted on the ground beside the black dog, who had woken and was now sitting patiently, as though studying the sick people. After awhile Xing Xing dared to touch his floppy ear. He licked her hand. So she petted him constantly while she waited for the last sick person to receive his medicine and leave.
At last she stood. "Honorable Doctor," she said, "could—?"
"Call me Yao Wang," he interrupted.
The word meant "medicine king." It seemed an immodest name, even for the very wisest doctor. Xing Xing looked down at her feet in embarrassment for this lang zhong's self-importance.
"Have you heard of Sun Si Miao?" he asked.
Xing Xing shook her head.
"He lived seven hundred years ago and was the best doctor of all time. The people called him 'Yao Wang.' I use his name to honor him, in the hopes that he will guide my hands at work." Yao Wang held both hands out. "Sun Si Miao is responsible for whatever skills these hands have. He traveled with a black dog and"—he leaned down toward Xing Xing—"and with a tiger and a dragon."
Xing Xing jumped backward.
Yao Wang laughed. "I have no tiger or dragon. Only Sheng."
The dog looked at his master when he heard his name. His tail thumped happily on the ground.
"Sheng was the last of a litter when I entered the restaurant. Instead of eating him, I took him home."
Xing Xing smiled. The name Sheng meant "leftover." "Lucky dog," she said quietly.
"Lucky me," said Yao Wang, "for Sheng has many talents."
Xing Xing squatted and wrote the character for the dog's name in the dirt, making it as beautiful as she could.
Yao Wang leaned so far forward, he had to put his hands on his knees to steady himself. He studied the character, then he straightened up. "You're very skilled."
Xing Xing looked down in shame, for she knew she had drawn in the dirt to show off that she, like the dog, had skills.
"Sheng's hungry," said Yao Wang. "It's time to eat."
Chapter 15
Yao Wang and Xing Xing lay stretched out on the ground behind a house at the very edge of town. The dry rice stalks that Yao Wang had bought from a farmer cushioned their bones. Yao Wang snored in his sleep. Two ropes went around the cart that held his medicines. The end of one was tied around Yao Wang's wrist. The end of the other was tied around Sheng's neck. If anyone should try to disturb the cart in the night, Yao Wang and Sheng would jump up and defend it. That's why the man slept with his worn hemp shoes on.
It was midmonth, and the bright moon lit up everything. The house was surrounded by cassia trees, the shadows of which spread in a fine pattern. Cassia trees can have golden red blooms or moonlight white blooms—Xing Xing knew this. But in the almost cool of night light, these blooms appeared the gray-pink of wet tongues. A wind rose and the shadows stirred. Xing Xing reached out and rubbed Sheng's side. The dog, too, was still awake, his eyes glistening in the night. He gave a contented grunt in acknowledgement of her hand.
Yao Wang normally stayed at inns or patients' homes. But no patient today had offered lodging in return for services. And when the innkeeper had requested extra money for Xing Xing, the girl had told the doctor that she didn't want him to pay for her and that she'd gladly sleep outdoors, especially if she could take Sheng with her. After all, being beholden to a man in an inn room was a situation any girl should avoid, no matter how honorable the man might appear.
Yao Wang had responded that sleeping outdoors would be a refreshing change, and Sheng needed that now and then. So they wound up here.
Xing Xing's stomach was fuller than it had been since the funeral feast after Father's death. The three of them—man, girl, and dog—had shared a whole roast duck, feet and head included, and finished it all off with steaming, glutinous rice cakes. Every time she went to open her sack to show Yao Wang the green dates and to explain Wei Ping's problem, the doctor had hushed her. He said that a good meal, a good night's sleep, and time would lead her to tell him the whole truth. He didn't want to waste his time listening to partial truths that would result in nonsense. Though Xing Xing felt the pressure of time passing, she had no choice but to practice patience. So she had lain down in silence, listening to the drums of evening that came from the town and then the croaks of the frogs in the rice paddies.
She watched the cassia patterns for hours. Every joint, every muscle of her body was tired. Even her skin was exhausted. She had traveled a long way, but she'd found the lang zhong. This much of her journey had been successful. She closed her eyes and yielded to sleep.
In early morning the bells from town woke them. The air was clear. Down in this river valley, summer morning didn't come in the guise of fog. Xing Xing looked around and felt the lack of dragon spruce and azaleas and of cuckoos overhead. The difference in altitude made it feel like she was in a very different world, much farther from home than she knew she really was.
Yao Wang told Xing Xing to guard his cart while he washed himself in the river. He didn't just splash his arms and legs from the bank. He stripped off his clothes right in front of her and jumped in. He swam and went under the water and floated on his back, his great belly shining in the dawn sun. Sheng paddled around him, joyously.
People passed on the street, singing folk songs. They laughed with wonder at the sight in the water, for neither dog nor man had any fear, even when a boat came, bearing boxes for the market. Xing Xing marveled that one who weighed so much as Yao Wang could be lifted so easily by the water, when a small child could disappear below and never be seen again. She walked up and down the bank looking into the water, hoping to see the beautiful fish while she waited for her companions.
When Yao Wang was ready, they wandered over to a side street, where people sold food they cooked outside—boiled or steamed or fried—in wide curved pans that people in Xing Xing's village used only for drying grains. They stood up eating bowls of rice floating in bean curd whey—white rice of the quality Xing Xing had only on holidays. They ate fried dumplings filled with pork liver. They ate fried bread with sugar sprinkled on top. Sheng ate everything Yao Wang ate, just as though the dog were a person.
Then they walked to the square where Xing Xing had found Yao Wang the day before. Patients came quickly, spluttering loudly about their health problems. While Yao Wang tended to them, Xing Xing took a jar from his cart and looked it over. Unlike the jars in Master Tang's house, the name of the medicine was not fired under the glaze of the vessel. Instead, it was written on top in ink. The writing on this jar was unpleasing; in fact, even ugly. The writing on the other jars was just as bad. At the end of every label was the character for tiger, which was supposed to ward off misfortune. But the character was so awkward, Xing Xing was sure it had no power at all.
She searched around in the cart for paintbrush and ink. She found a crude brush, a jar of ink powder, and a bowl meant for mixing up the ink. She didn't want to leave Yao Wang for the time it would take to go down to the river for water. So she spit in the bowl and mixed in some p
owder to make a small amount of ink. She painstakingly scratched away every bit of the lettering on the jar in her hand. She wrote the name of the contents again in her most beautiful calligraphy. She did the same to a second jar, and a third, all the while keeping her activity a secret from Yao Wang. She couldn't wait to see his reaction when he came upon them later.
The rest of the day passed in this way, as did the following three days. While Yao Wang cured patients, Xing Xing lettered the medicine jars and combed Sheng's long hair with her fingers. They slept on rice stalks each night, and every time Xing Xing tried to talk, Yao Wang hushed her.
On the morning of their fifth day together, Yao Wang said, "Talk today. But only when I can listen." So whenever Yao Wang had a lull in business, Xing Xing talked. She explained that the spirit of Stepmother's mother had told Stepmother that the green dates made good medicine, though Xing Xing confessed that the spirit hadn't told her for which ailments. She revealed that Stepmother wanted Yao Wang to tell everyone that it was Wei Ping who had recognized the medicinal value of the dates, so that she could find a husband. And despite Stepmother's order never to tell anyone, she told him about Wei Ping's feet and about the demon raccoon that she had so grievously erred in bringing home and about the cleaver in Stepmother's hands.
In her whole life Xing Xing had never said so many words to anyone. Yao Wang had been right about the effects of food and sleep and time: Xing Xing told the whole truth. And she loved telling it. The telling made her feel energized and strong, ready for anything.
Yao Wang made no comment as Xing Xing talked. When it came time for the midday meal, Yao Wang bought them fried fish and seaweed. Then they sat in the shade of a jujube tree and munched on the first apples of the season. Yao Wang turned his face to the sky and spit the apple pips in a high arc, like a small child.
"I am a fat man," he said.
There was nothing to say in response to that.
"I wander from village to town to village, as a lang zhong must. But I cannot walk on my own, like a skinny man. Instead, I take whatever rides offer themselves. It is not a simple thing with a dog and a medicine cart." Yao Wang finished his apple and wiped his mouth with the back of his wrist. "People need my services. A girl your age understands that surely."
Xing Xing was not sure where this line of thought was leading, but it made her stomach tumble in worry. "My sister needs your services."
"I use alchemy for longevity. I call on male and female spirits to protect inner organs of humans. I exorcise demons by saying spells in two different Indian languages. I draw on astrological calculations so that I can use acupuncture to its greatest efficacy. My patients need me, pretty Xing Xing. I am cheap, effective, and convenient. What would they do without me?"
"Maybe exorcism would help Wei Ping," said Xing Xing.
"You will make someone a persistent wife." Yao Wang gave a close-lipped smile as he shook his head. "There are always more patients in the next village. I've already passed your way. I cannot return so soon. It would be too hard for me to get there and back here again. The most I can do is give you a balm and teach you how to apply it."
"I'd be afraid of doing it wrong," said Xing Xing.
"That's exactly how I feel each time I meet a new illness," said Yao Wang. "But I will ask the spirit of Sun Si Miao to guide your hand, as he does mine."
Xing Xing worked to keep the disappointment from her face and voice. "May the dates be beneficial for something," she said, tucking the sack into Yao Wang's cart.
"Thank you. I will experiment with them," he said. "If they turn out to be useful as drugs, I will tell everyone that they came to me from a woman and two girls who live in a cave home outside your village. That's the best I can do." He handed Xing Xing a small cloth sack from his cart. "Take the entire bag. Mix a little with soy oil. Rub it all over both of Wei Ping's feet. Then put a dab right on the open wounds. Do this every other day until scar tissue has formed over the missing toes. And hide this sack well—to keep it safe from pickpockets."
Xing Xing kept her head down so that Yao Wang wouldn't notice her dripping nose. She took the sack of powder, bowed, and left.
Chapter 16
The smell of incense was making Xing Xing woozy. She had entered the temple to pray because she was too miserable to think straight on her own. There were several altars: to heaven, to the mountains, to the rivers, to the moon, to the earth, to the sun, to the soil, and to Kong Fu Zi. She'd gone from one to another, praying. Stepmother would be furious that she'd come home without Yao Wang after taking all this time. The willow switch would get a good workout. And, worst of all, if Xing Xing applied the balm to Wei Ping too thickly or too thinly or without the right amount of oil mixed with the powder, something awful could happen to her half sister. She had been praying for guidance for a long time now. But maybe the dense fog of incense from the large pewter burners was confusing her too much, because she still had no answers.
She couldn't afford to stay here any longer. It was already afternoon. If she started out right now and kept up a good pace and nothing bad happened, it would take the rest of the day and part of the next to get home. Maybe longer, actually, since she would duck down to the riverbank whenever she heard the clatter of wheels on the road. She would take no more chances with passing oxcarts, no matter how many hours they might shorten her journey.
She went to the doorway of the temple and shielded her eyes from the bright sunlight. An old man sat on the steps eating a bowl of ox intestines. She recognized him by the ringworm on his head—he was one of Yao Wang's patients. When he saw her, he lifted a string of Buddha beads tucked in his waist sash, shook them at her, and pointed into the square. He was pointing at a crowd pressed around Yao Wang and his cart. But, oh, this was not the usual type of crowd. There were two men in uniform, and people were talking angrily. Sheng showed his teeth and growled at a man who held him at bay with a bamboo stick.
Xing Xing ran to Sheng and threw her arms around the dog's neck. She looked back defiantly at the man with the stick.
The man withdrew his stick. "He's not a real doctor—a real zhong yi," he said loudly. "If he were a real zhong yi, he would send his patients to a state run pharmacy for their medicine. He's nothing but a lang zhong. He costs little," said the man, looking around with a challenge in his eyes, "because he's a quack. A wandering quack. A real doctor is thin because he works hard. This man is a load of blubber who hasn't done an honest day's work in his life. Look!" He picked up one of Yao Wang's medicine jars and held it under the nose of one of the officials. "See? There's no national stamp on this jar. No trademark. These are unregulated drugs—phony drugs. How is an honorable man like me supposed to run a decent pharmacy if charlatans are allowed to sell their junk on the streets? I've already lost a week's worth of business because of him."
The crowd of onlookers didn't say anything. Xing Xing recognized several of them as having been patients of Yao Wang that very day.
The official took the jar from the pharmacist's hand and examined it. He rubbed his cheek as he turned the jar this way and that.
The second official leaned over Yao Wang's cart and touched jar after jar. "Some of these jars have different labeling from others," he said. He picked up one of the jars that Xing Xing had written on and tapped on the character Xing Xing had added to each jar in place of the awkward tiger character that had been there before. It was the character that Xing Xing had seen on all the jars in Master Tang's house. "And here's the national trademark."
The pharmacist shut his lips tight, and his cheeks puffed out so big, he looked like he would pop. "He put that trademark on himself! It's not under the glaze; it's on top. You can tell! He did it himself! This is even worse than being a charlatan. This is a crime. According to the Code, he should be beaten with bamboo. Many blows. At least sixty. No, seventy! I'll bare his buttocks myself and hold him down for you."
Men could die from infections in bloodied bottoms, everyone knew that.
"It
's my fault, not Yao Wang's." The words burst from Xing Xing in a high squeak.
Everyone looked at her. They whispered to one another. Some of them giggled.
Xing Xing felt the blood drain from her face. She thought she might faint. She leaned on Sheng for support.
"Yao Wang?" said the second official, raising an eyebrow. "That's your name?"
'"Yao Wang' is her pet name for me," said Yao Wang with a sheepish look. "You know how foolish things can start with a child."
"Well," said the first official, rubbing hard at his cheek, "speak up, girl."
"I scraped off the words and wrote them again. I was trying to make them pretty. I didn't know about the trademark."
"Are you claiming a pitiful little girl like you knows calligraphy?" asked the second official.
Yao Wang's eyes instantly brightened. "She's been learning—but slowly. Compare the lettering." He held out two jars, one with the ugly lettering and one with Xing Xing's writing. "Which is that of a state representative and which is that of a mere girl?"
The second official, the one who had tapped his finger on the trademark, nodded vigorously. "This is a girl's work." He pointed at the jar with the ugly lettering. "When she copied, she failed to copy the trademark. Just as you would expect from a girl."
"We must not be too harsh on her," said Yao Wang. He shot Xing Xing a hard look that made her feel like she'd been slapped. Then he looked at the officials and smiled sweetly. "Kong Fu Zi is the master teacher of us all," he said humbly. "And Kong Fu Zi says that lack of talent in a woman is a virtue."
The words bit like ants in Xing Xing's ears.
"That's right," said the first official, still rubbing his cheek. "Common sense should guide us in this, as in all social matters—common sense and the teachings of Kong Fu Zi. Mistakes by females shouldn't come under the Code. This is a matter properly between a father and his errant daughter. Not a matter for us."
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