Taoist Doctor - Chapter 34

The atmosphere at the table was very pleasant, and if it weren’t for the afternoon schedule, they might have taken their time with the meal. 

 

After everyone had eaten their fill, Professor Mo waved over Zhou Jinyuan, “Xiao Zhou, let me ask you, have you joined any academic societies?”

 

Zhou Jinyuan shook his head. His family had been practicing medicine in rural areas for generations, long before the existence of medical licenses. He was probably the first in his family to work in a hospital, so joining any societies or associations hadn’t crossed his mind.

 

Professor Mo had met countless people in his career. He had heard about Zhou Jinyuan’s case where he treated a patient with a sealed mouth, and after seeing Zhou’s use of Xiao Qinglong Tang (Minor Bluegreen Dragon Decoction), he already had a good sense of Zhou Jinyuan’s abilities.

 

As a prominent figure in the Haizhou Traditional Chinese Medicine Association, Professor Mo was always eager to mentor promising newcomers. “In that case, why don’t you join our Haizhou Traditional Chinese Medicine Association? It would give you a platform for more exchange and learning!”

 

“What? I don’t think I’m qualified enough yet, and besides, I’m from Yingzhou!” Zhou Jinyuan, though quick-witted, was unfamiliar with these circles and wasn’t sure how things worked.

 

“For talented individuals like you, exceptions can be made,” the hospital leadership chimed in with enthusiasm.

 

With Professor Mo’s recommendation, it was almost certain. Although Zhou Jinyuan’s title was still low, his expertise was undeniable. If he could join the Haizhou Provincial Traditional Chinese Medicine Association, which had Professor Mo as a patron and was highly regarded, it wouldn’t be surprising if he eventually earned the title of an expert—even though experts usually held the title of chief physician or higher.

 

“That’s right, Xiao Zhou, you’ve been studying medicine since childhood. Your practical experience isn’t any less than some doctors with higher titles. You’re practically a young veteran in traditional Chinese medicine, aren’t you?” Xie Min added, half-jokingly.

 

Professor Mo continued, “What does it matter if you’re from Yingzhou? You’re working in Haizhou now, so I’d better recruit you for Haizhou before your hometown association does!”

 

Indeed, his birthplace wasn’t an issue since Zhou Jinyuan was currently practicing medicine in Haizhou.

 

After some thought, Zhou Jinyuan realized that he would likely open a clinic in Haizhou and that even if he eventually returned to Yingzhou, he would still have ties to Haizhou. Moreover, having such a title would only benefit his future clinic.

 

With that in mind, Zhou Jinyuan didn’t refuse. He raised his teacup to Professor Mo as if it were wine and said, “Thank you for your guidance, senior.”

 

And just like that, it was more or less settled.

 

…

 

In the afternoon, it was time for Zhou Jinyuan’s lecture.

 

Quite a few attendees were actually not very interested.

 

Zhou Jinyuan had made a name for himself and was praised by Professor Mo, which had initially impressed people. But after he hesitated when challenged, many thought he was just another unreliable young man.

 

Not everyone had shared a meal with him or knew the story behind the Xiao Qinglong Tang.

 

Zhou Jinyuan didn’t seem to notice the restlessness in the room. He adjusted the PPT and began, “First of all, I’m honored to have the opportunity to share some of my medical experiences with all of you today. Through my self-created formulas and some case studies, I hope to convey my personal views on practicing medicine, for your consideration. If there are any shortcomings, please forgive me.”

 

He started very humbly, but as soon as the PPT slide moved, revealing the formulas and case details, the room gradually quieted down.

 

The initial silence was soon replaced by murmurs as people realized that the patients in Zhou Jinyuan’s cases were mostly cured with just one dose, at most three.

 

Zhou Jinyuan’s case studies were written in great detail. As professionals, the audience could see at a glance that the progression of the illness and the treatment process were not fabricated. The cases were described so plainly, yet the method of diagnosis astonished many.

 

The treatment process was so straightforward, and the efficacy so remarkable, that even among those who specialized in quick-acting classical formulas, it was quite impressive.

 

Those unfamiliar with Zhou Jinyuan’s achievements couldn’t help but discuss it—these cases were extraordinary!

 

“The most famous characteristic of classical formula practitioners is the rapid effect, like a drumbeat, so I’ve chosen cases where the results are quick. All of them were treated with this one formula.

 

“My approach to formulating prescriptions is to focus on the main symptoms, and the formula should target no more than three. In clinical practice, there’s no need to get overly caught up in disease names; as long as the symptoms are clear, treatment can be determined accordingly!”

 

Zhou Jinyuan’s words were concise, and those who had been skeptical about the case studies now began to pay attention, listening closely to his explanations.

 

He then expanded on this, explaining how he identified the main symptoms and applied classical formulas in clinical practice, making connections with similar methods.

 

“Lastly, I have a few words that are unrelated to the main topic. Many of you might know that I am a Daoist doctor. That’s right, I am, and I also use Zhuyou techniques in my medical practice.

 

“Zhuyou techniques are ancient healing methods where the physician invokes spirits or gods, but the essence lies in shifting energy and changing the patient’s mindset and spirit. I see no reason why this can’t be used.”

 

Zhou Jinyuan looked around the room and said, “I believe everyone agrees that medicine and Daoism have the same origin. When treating patients, both the body and mind should be healed together! If I get the chance, I’d like to explain my understanding of Zhuyou techniques in more detail!”

 

This statement was aimed at those who, like Dr. Zhu, might have doubts about his identity as a Daoist doctor.

 

The response from the traditional Chinese medicine department was the first to break out in applause, which quickly spread throughout the room.

 

Setting aside his final remarks, Zhou Jinyuan’s lecture was filled with valuable insights for a full hour.

 

Moreover, his thought process was laid out so clearly that after listening to the lecture, any doctor present who wasn’t completely clueless could apply his formula with ease!

 

This made many in the audience develop a favorable impression of Zhou Jinyuan, though some couldn’t help but feel a bit conflicted.

 

Director Xie had once complained to Zhou Jinyuan that traditional Chinese medicine was in decline, partly because some colleagues were too secretive with their formulas and experiences, which she strongly disapproved of.

 

While it was understandable that people needed to protect their livelihoods, some had taken it to the point of deliberately creating mystique, making it difficult for others to understand their treatment methods. Even the patients themselves might not fully understand how they were cured. This had been a common practice throughout history—some families would guard a highly effective formula for generations, keeping it a secret. The most extreme cases would involve splitting up the prescription when buying the herbs, sending different people to different pharmacies to avoid revealing the formula.

 

Compared to some, Zhou Jinyuan’s open sharing made the attendees feel their trip was well worth it. This young man’s approach was honest and effective, and when they thought about it, they realized they had gained as much from his lecture as they would from one of Professor Mo’s classes!

 

What they didn’t know was that Zhou Jinyuan had also shared his unbeatable hair growth formula without charging a penny and regularly taught his colleagues techniques like ‘Burning Mountain Fire’ and extra-meridian acupuncture points—it was just part of his everyday routine.

 

During the Q&A session, the audience eagerly asked questions, and the atmosphere was lively as Zhou Jinyuan answered in detail.

 

When his time was up, he bowed and stepped off the stage to resounding applause.

 

The invited experts from other provinces frequently expressed to the hospital leaders and Professor Mo that Haizhou’s academic environment seemed excellent, which reflected well on them.

 

After the day’s events concluded, Professor Mo approached Zhou Jinyuan again, “I have some matters to attend to, so we’ll have to catch up another time. As for the membership materials I mentioned, prepare them carefully. If you’re unsure, your hospital should be able to help you.”

 

“And let me introduce you to someone—this is President Luo of Haizhou University of Traditional Chinese Medicine.” Professor Mo introduced an elderly man with graying hair to Zhou Jinyuan.

 

Experts like Professor Mo always had packed schedules.

 

After he left, President Luo greeted Zhou Jinyuan, “We were at the same table at lunch earlier. I asked Professor Mo to introduce us again because I was very impressed by your lecture! There were some details that I’ve been pondering, and I’d like to ask you about them.”

 

“I’m flattered; please feel free to ask.” Zhou Jinyuan replied modestly, thinking that this was the university where Xiaoxue studied.

 

President Luo praised him profusely and asked about some of the points they hadn’t had time to discuss earlier. Finally, he said with great interest, “You know, I’m tempted to ask if you’ve ever considered a teaching career. We have an affiliated hospital at the University of Traditional Chinese Medicine…”

 

Zhou Jinyuan had never thought about becoming a teacher, but perhaps it was a natural talent—his lecture was clear, easy to understand, and particularly practical. Not every great doctor is also a great teacher, but President Luo felt that Zhou Jinyuan had a lot of potential in this regard.

 

Although the idea came to him on the spur of the moment, he felt it was well-founded.

 

Most importantly, even Professor Mo had a high opinion of him, and could Professor Mo’s judgment be wrong?

 

“Huh?” Zhou Jinyuan was genuinely surprised by this. When he was giving his lecture, his only goal was to make sure people understood, approaching it with a mindset of sharing. “Are you joking? Don’t teachers at the Chinese Medicine University need to have a PhD?”

 

“Ha ha, what a pity, what a pity. If you’re really interested, you should give it a try and benefit more students,” Principal Luo said, clicking his tongue. This was his first time meeting Zhou Jinyuan, and he brought up the idea on a whim, just to gauge Zhou Jinyuan’s reaction, as it seemed he had never considered such a direction. Oh well, it’s up to fate.

 

…

 

After leaving the conference, Professor Mo drove to his office, where he had an appointment with a patient at seven. After a hasty meal, the clock showed it was already six forty.

 

The patient was punctual, arriving at the office at six fifty-five. The patient was a man dressed in a white trench coat, wearing a mask and hat.

 

Once inside, he removed his hat and mask, revealing a face as white as snow and similarly white hair, with pink irises and pupils.

 

His steps were slow, and with his white attire and hair, he resembled someone covered in a long-awaited snow, which startled observers.

 

“Hello, Professor Mo,” the visitor said, shaking hands with him.

 

“Mr. Jin, I’ve heard a lot about you. I really like your music,” Professor Mo said.

 

The patient, Jin Chuo Xian, had albinism and was a composer renowned in the industry, known both domestically and internationally. Recently, his fame had grown beyond professional circles due to his contributions to popular film scores.

 

Jin Chuo Xian rarely appeared in public, not due to any concern about his appearance, but because of his low profile. This meant that while many knew his name, few knew what he looked like.

 

Due to his low profile, few knew that he had cancer.

 

Half a month ago, a doctor informed him that he had less than six months to live.

 

The company, not willing to give up, contacted Professor Mo, known for his remarkable results. Perhaps there was a treatment method from a traditional Chinese medicine perspective. It was said that a diagnosis from Professor Mo could determine life or death.

 

Professor Mo’s schedule was packed, but knowing the patient was Jin Chuo Xian, he made time for the evening appointment.

 

Cancer was still a difficult challenge, but some early-stage cases could be treated to achieve medical cure and extend survival beyond five years.

 

For those in poor condition, treatments could alleviate symptoms, extend life, and improve quality of life.

 

Professor Mo had previously saved patients who other hospitals had given up on, extending their lives for many years, with stable conditions and normal daily functions.

 

“Please sit.” Looking at the patient, Professor Mo felt deeply for Jin Chuo Xian. At not yet thirty, he was in the prime of life and creativity but was afflicted with liver cancer—truly a waste of talent.

 

The electronic version of Jin Chuo Xian’s medical records had already been sent to Professor Mo. He placed his hand on Jin Chuo Xian’s white wrist, closed his eyes slightly, and carefully felt his pulse.

 

Jin Chuo Xian’s breathing was light, and his lips were tightly pressed together, waiting for a result—

 

After five minutes, Professor Mo finally released his hand and opened his eyes.

 

Professor Mo did not speak immediately, as if choosing his words carefully. Jin Chuo Xian seemed to understand something and said softly, “Professor Mo, please be straightforward.”

 

Professor Mo knew some people claimed his diagnosis could determine life or death, but he never considered himself to be such. He even disliked this reputation.

 

He was neither the king of death nor a so-called miracle doctor. He had his strengths and weaknesses in various conditions, and he could only do his best. Excessive deification of doctors could sometimes create psychological pressure on patients.

 

He knew Jin Chuo Xian had been very cooperative during the treatment and had a strong will to live, making it even harder for him to be blunt, but it was necessary.

 

After careful consideration, Professor Mo said, “Mr. Jin, this is my personal diagnosis… My abilities are limited, and I’m afraid I may not do better than your previous attending physician…”

 

Jin Chuo Xian’s expression faltered, and he could no longer absorb what Professor Mo said.

 

Professor Mo wrote out a prescription, saying, “This medicine should alleviate your current pain and improve your quality of life.”

 

Cancer pain is extremely distressing, and long-term use of painkillers can lead to drug resistance, increased pain episodes, side effects, and even addiction.

 

Professor Mo had seen some cancer patients with no medical options left, where pain made it impossible for them to sleep, and families and patients only hoped for a higher quality of life in their final days.

 

Thus, he prepared an external application medicine using toad venom, borneol, and other ingredients, effective for pain relief in liver and lung cancers, without side effects.

 

He could not reverse the disease, but this was the only thing he could do.

 

Jin Chuo Xian’s eyelashes fluttered, and the long-awaited snow seemed to cover even his faint pink eyes.

 

“Thank you…”

 

…

 

By the end of the lunar year, the hospital was even busier.

 

The Spring Festival schedule was out, and since Zhou Jinyuan was from Yingzhou, Director Xie had arranged his shifts as late as possible.

 

Qu Qingrui also came to take Qu Guanfeng out of the hospital. In fact, Qu Guanfeng’s treatment frequency had been reduced, and he no longer needed intensive stimulation, so he could be discharged, requiring only regular treatments and occasional rest.

 

“Dr. Zhou, you’re going home for the New Year, right? Before you leave, can you come visit us? Just consider it an early New Year greeting,” Qu Qingrui asked.

 

“Well… The shifts before the New Year are all full,” Zhou Jinyuan said with a troubled look.

 

He felt that Qu Qingrui had already done too much, including bringing in big names for academic events, so he felt awkward turning down the invitation.

 

“Well, there must be time for a meal, right?” Qu Qingrui said, suddenly having a good idea, “My company has an annual meeting today. Why don’t you join us? Just as a favor.”

 

Qu Qingrui had previously told Zhou Jinyuan that he hoped Qu Guanfeng would make significant recovery progress before the New Year, aiming for this day to show some people in the family and company what’s what. The annual meeting, relatively informal yet sufficiently formal, was a good choice.

 

He knew that Zhou Jinyuan had earned Professor Mo’s favor and joined the Haizhou Chinese Medicine Association. If Zhou Jinyuan attended the event, it would likely make a stronger impact and confirm a fact more clearly.

 

Zhou Jinyuan initially wanted to refuse, thinking there was no reason to attend the company’s annual meeting, but he reconsidered and detected a different tone in Qu Qingrui’s request.

 

He looked at Qu Guanfeng.

 

Qu Guanfeng, sitting in a wheelchair, noticed his gaze and shrugged.

 

“Ha ha, alright. Give me the address, and I’ll come by after work,” Zhou Jinyuan said.

 

Qu Qingrui joked, “I’ll arrange a driver for you, or you could use Guanfeng’s wheelchair to get there quickly.”

 

Qu Guanfeng: “That works too.”

 

Zhou Jinyuan: “………”

 

Zhou Jinyuan, looking displeased, said, “No need for that, really… It’s the end of the year, and there might be traffic again.”

 

…

 

The hotel where Qu Qingrui’s annual meeting was held was conveniently located. After work, Zhou Jinyuan took the subway for three stops and arrived quickly, actually faster than if a driver had come to pick him up. He didn’t care much about appearances.

 

The banquet hall was filled with elegance. This was the year-end meeting of the Qu family’s corporate headquarters, and all the employees were dressed in formal attire. However, not all the guests had arrived yet, and the Qu father and son were not present.

 

Zhou Jinyuan called Qu Qingrui, “Mr. Qu, I’ve arrived.”

 

Qu Qingrui replied, “Dr. Zhou, we’re in the room upstairs. We’ll be down shortly. Please take a seat at the main table; I’ve informed them. Just tell a server your name, and they’ll show you to your seat.”

 

“If you’re coming soon, I’ll just sit by the door for a bit and wait for you. It would be awkward otherwise,” Zhou Jinyuan said honestly. He wasn’t familiar with the other guests and sitting at the main table might attract unwanted attention.

 

Qu Qingrui realized his oversight and laughed, “My mistake. I should have sent someone to pick you up. It’s alright; we’ll be there soon.”

 

In the evening, there was a lottery. Employees who arrived picked a number from the left side of the entrance. Zhou Jinyuan found a chair and sat against the wall.

 

He had changed out of his white coat after work and was now wearing a blue and yellow jacket. His youthful face and longer hair with bangs made him look even younger.

 

Just as he settled in, a young woman in a backless dress came over after getting her number and asked, “Hey, little brother, why are you sitting here alone?”

 

Her playful tone was very familiar to Zhou Jinyuan. He looked up and replied, “Waiting for someone.”

 

“Waiting for whom? You’re so cute—” The woman reached out to pat his head.

 

Zhou Jinyuan turned his head to avoid her hand and said, somewhat exasperatedly, “Don’t you recognize me?”

 

He thought he was gaining some recognition recently. Could it be that he had faded from public view so quickly?

 

And if it was ordinary people, that might be understandable. But shouldn’t many people in the company know that Young Master Qu is receiving treatment at the Third Hospital? Was she a new employee, or was she just not interested in gossip?

 

The woman was taken aback, looked him over carefully, and then said somewhat sheepishly, “Sorry, you’re not the son of our department head, are you?”

 

Zhou Jinyuan: “…No. I’m not the son of any of your leaders, just the attending physician for your leader.”

 

The woman laughed and said, “Hahaha, you’re so cute that even if you’re not the son of our leader, it’s not right to be rude.”

 

Zhou Jinyuan: “…??”

 

What was she thinking? Who was being rude? Qu Guanfeng was genuinely ill!