The Fearless Husband - Chapter 5

Chapter 5 — Good Heavens! They’re Not Innocent Anymore…

The old physician’s name was Mo Wencheng—“Do good, and ask not about the future.” He was around sixty, which counted as a long life in this era. As a respected healer, he was well-regarded throughout the neighboring villages.

There were only two doctors in all the nearby towns, and this one’s medical skill was considered excellent. So Yu Qinglong thought—this was the man.

He had made himself dizzy enough to see stars, and with his mind racing to plan his next steps, his heart really had started beating too fast.

When Doctor Mo took his pulse, he indeed frowned slightly. “This boy has pent-up anxiety. Has he not been sleeping well these days?”

Yu Qinglong had indeed slept poorly of late. He lowered his gaze and muttered, “I’m fine.”

Doctor Mo was a kind man. Living in the same village, how could he not know that the boy’s troubles ran deep? “Truly fine?” he asked. “Tell me, do you sometimes feel dizzy inside, and see black when you stand too fast? Does your heart sometimes pound like a drum?”

Every single one of those symptoms was spot on.

Since his transmigration, though Yu Qinglong had worked through the issues that had crushed the original owner, he had gained a whole new set of his own. A man raised in the 21st century, used to comfort and convenience, suddenly dropped into a world like this—who wouldn’t feel trapped?

So in truth, while he had healed one heart, he had birthed another illness of the mind.

Yu Dayou saw that his son did not deny it and quickly asked, “Doctor Mo, how should we treat him?”

“He’s still young,” said the doctor gently, “and youth recovers quickly. I know your family’s situation, so I won’t prescribe medicine. Instead, take him out more often—don’t let him stay cooped up, brooding at home. Walking in the sun is the best remedy. As for herbs, since he’s a ge’er, avoid anything too cooling. Let him drink some dandelion tea. It’s easy enough—pick tender, unopened leaves, wash and dry them, then steep in boiling water. Drink for three to five days—it clears the heart’s heat. But it’s a cold herb, so no cold water, and he should get more sunlight.”

“Thank you, Doctor Mo,” said Yu Dayou sincerely.

The doctor waved it off. “No need. We’re neighbors, after all. Let me just speak a few more words of advice. Some things are heaven’s will—tests meant to temper a person. Even parents cannot shield a child forever. You’re a good family, harmonious and kind—but if you shelter him too much, he’ll never grow. Better to let him find his own footing.”

Zhou Yuehua brought the consultation fee and handed it to Yu Dayou, who passed it to the doctor—thirty copper coins, the usual rate for a visit, with medicine charged separately.

But Doctor Mo only took ten. “This will do.”

Seeing that, Yu Qinglong immediately scrambled down from the kang bed and dropped to his knees with a thud. “Doctor Mo, please—may I become your disciple?”

The entire Yu family: “……”

What kind of scene was this now?!

Startled, Doctor Mo rushed to help him up. “What are you saying? Get up, child! You’ll catch cold kneeling on the floor like that.”

But Yu Qinglong didn’t move. His voice was firm. “Doctor Mo, I wish to study medicine under you. I know I’m a bit old for an apprentice, and I’m a ge’er besides, but I’ll work hard! Please let me try! I can help you gather herbs, dry them, chop firewood, cook your meals—anything I’m able to do, I’ll do. Please, let me learn from you!”

Doctor Mo frowned. “Child, stand up. I don’t take disciples.”

“Why not?” Yu Qinglong asked earnestly. “Do you think I’m too clumsy? Or too old?”

“Neither,” the doctor replied shortly. “I simply don’t take any. If you keep this up, I’ll be too afraid to visit this house again. Up with you!”

Yu Dayou and Zhou Yuehua hurried to coax him, “Long Ge’er, get up, don’t make things hard for Doctor Mo.”

But if I don’t make it hard for him, it’s even harder for me!

He was practically dying inside from frustration.

Still, he obeyed and stood. But deep down, he vowed he wouldn’t give up. Forget about “career prospects”—even if he one day returned to the modern world, what greater treasure could he bring back than ancient Chinese medicine itself?

He was about to kneel again, but Doctor Mo cut him off firmly. “I absolutely will not take any disciples, so give up that thought. I’m leaving now.”

Yu Dayou rose. “Let me walk you out.”

When the two had gone, Yu Qinglong sat back down on the kang, frowning. “Dad, why won’t Doctor Mo take an apprentice?”

There was nothing like that in the original’s memory.

Zhou Yuehua sighed. “He once had one. Smart, kind, a good child. But he died young. One day, when Doctor Mo was out gathering herbs, he spotted a wild ginseng root growing across a wide crevasse. He decided to leave it—life was worth more than any herb. But his apprentice heard about it and, without a word, went alone to fetch it. He found it and dug it out—but before he could cross back, he fell to his death. The ginseng, though—he threw it up to safety first. From that day on, Doctor Mo swore he’d never take another disciple.”

“…” Yu Qinglong’s chest ached hearing it. If anything, it only proved how deeply the old man cared. It made him even more determined to learn from him.

The room fell silent until Yu Dayou returned.

“Long Ge’er,” he asked, “why are you suddenly so set on apprenticing yourself to him?”

Yu Qinglong said, “Father, I’m not very healthy. Dad’s body is weak too. If I could learn medicine, wouldn’t that help the family? And if I ever became skilled, maybe I could even earn some money. Then people would stop calling me clumsy.”

Yu Qingjia pointed out, “But to study medicine, you must be literate. How will you learn if you can’t read?”

“I’ll learn slowly, from Doctor Mo,” Yu Qinglong insisted. “Even if it takes time, I’ll manage.”

He hadn’t seen a single book here, not even a written word—but letters were fixed symbols. If he couldn’t learn them once, he’d learn them twice. If not twice, thrice. There was no such thing as an unlearnable word.

“But Doctor Mo refuses,” Zhou Yuehua said.

He actually hoped the man would relent. As a ge’er, Yu Qinglong couldn’t attend school, and his only expected path was marriage. But if he could learn medicine—that would change everything.

Who could guarantee never to fall ill? When you’re sick, no one cares whether your doctor is man or ge’er—only whether he can save you.

“It won’t be easy,” Zhou Yuehua sighed, “but nothing worth doing ever is.”

Yu Qinglong said firmly, “If he refuses me one day, I’ll ask again the next. If he refuses two days, I’ll ask for two more. Father, Dad—please let me try. I used to think if I kept quiet and caused no trouble, people would come to see me differently. But no—they still mock me, just because I don’t look like other ge’ers. But if I can master a craft, won’t that change things? Just like Dad—who doesn’t praise your embroidery?”

Zhou Yuehua glanced at his husband. “Why not let him try?”

Yu Dayou nodded. “Try, then. But don’t trouble the doctor too much—he’s an old man. Be careful.”

“I will,” said Yu Qinglong. “I’ll go first thing tomorrow!”

Seeing their son’s determination, the couple exchanged a look. Maybe this was fate—so they didn’t stop him.

They didn’t think he’d succeed, honestly. Plenty of people had begged to study under Doctor Mo over the years, but not one had succeeded. Even the scholar Fang—before he’d earned his title—had once tried and been refused.

And if a so-called prodigy like him couldn’t convince the doctor, what chance did their illiterate son have?

Yu Qinglong knew his lack of literacy was a problem—but that only made him more desperate to seize this chance.

It was his best route toward knowledge in this world.

That night, he went to bed early, determined to visit Doctor Mo at dawn.

Four people shared the same heated kang, divided by two curtains—one between the parents and the second brother, another between him and his brother. The curtains were patched together from bits of old cloth.

He never would have imagined himself living like this.

But when he opened his eyes the next morning, he was still here—not back in his own world, but trapped in this godforsaken time.

Fine then. I’ll fight my way through it.

When Zhou Yuehua and Zhou Jian’er woke, one stoked the fire while the other prepared breakfast. The pot steamed gently, and there was even a faint fragrance—but when the lid was lifted, it was only a mush of flour and wild greens.

The so-called “flour-vegetable porridge” was made by boiling a large pot of water, stirring in bits of dough until they dissolved, adding a pinch of salt, then tossing in a handful of foraged greens—mostly the dandelions and shepherd’s purse they’d dug up before.

Each person got a bowl—thin, yellow-gray, sometimes even gritty between the teeth.

Yet even this wasn’t guaranteed every day. To eat one’s fill was a blessing.

Yu Qinglong drew a deep breath and forced it down, then set out for Doctor Mo’s home.

The doctor lived on the west side of the village with his family—a daughter and a young grandson. The son-in-law, an outsider who had married into the family, was away doing military service and hadn’t returned.

Yu Qinglong arrived early, wanting to bring a small gift but finding nothing suitable at home. So he decided to go empty-handed and offer help instead—perhaps with chores or errands. He was strong enough, surely useful somehow.

But someone had beaten him there.

The sun had barely risen—four or five in the morning at best—and yet an ox cart already stood outside, one he recognized.

Before he could think, a loud cry burst from inside the house—“Ahhhh—owww!”—the kind of scream that made one’s spine tingle.

The front door was open, so he stepped in and knocked lightly on the inner one. “Doctor Mo, may I come in?”

Hearing his voice, the doctor called, “Not yet! Wait outside!”

So Yu Qinglong waited, wincing as another painful howl echoed through the air.

After about five minutes, the doctor called, “Come in now.”

Inside, Yu Qinglong found Fang Shu lying facedown on a narrow bed, his face pale as death. A heavy cloth bag, steaming with heat, was pressed against his lower back.

So he had gone off to move bigger stones yesterday!

Fang Shu noticed him too but stayed quiet, remembering something suddenly.

“Doctor Mo,” Yu Qinglong asked, “is there anything I can help with?”

The old man frowned. “Didn’t I say I don’t take apprentices? What are you doing here again?”

“Please, reconsider,” Yu Qinglong said earnestly. “I truly want to learn medicine from you.”

Doctor Mo shook his head. “No. You’re a ge’er—learning this trade will only cause trouble. You can’t treat girls conveniently, and you can’t treat men conveniently. It’s impractical.”

Before Yu Qinglong could reply, Fang Shu froze. “D-Doctor Mo, what did you just say?”

“What did I say? About Qinglong Ge’er?”

“H-he’s a ge’er?!”

Yu Qinglong shot him a fierce glare, silently begging him to keep his mouth shut. But Fang Shu was too shocked to process it.

Doctor Mo said, “Of course. He’s just taller and sturdier than most, but he’s a proper ge’er. Alright, Qinglong, you’d better head home. I’m treating a patient here; it’s inconvenient for you to stay.”

Fang Shu: “……”

Inconvenient? That wasn’t the issue here!

The issue was—this person was a ge’er, and he’d already seen him pee!

Good heavens! They’re not innocent anymore!