Chapter 35: Old Physician Huang Biao

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“My leg isn’t the main problem. What’s really bothering me lately is my lower abdomen! During the day, I’m constantly needing to urinate, and sometimes I can’t hold it in at all. It also hurts when I pee from time to time.”

Huang Biao froze. What was going on? Was this actually for real?

He had heard long ago that Little Guizi suffered from prostate problems.

But although the specialist profile posted outside Huang Biao’s office claimed that he excelled in treating men’s disorders, in reality he had very few successful cases.

At most, after taking medicine for several months, his patients would see a slight improvement in sexual function.

That was why Huang Biao had never dared to take the initiative and prescribe traditional herbal medicine for him. He did not want to risk being exposed as a fraud.

“Frequent urination, urgency, painful urination, and a feeling of heaviness and distension in the lower abdomen—those are classic symptoms of prostatitis.” Huang Biao wore an air of complete confidence.

“That’s what the Western doctors at the hospital said too. But after I was given anti-inflammatory injections and put on an IV for quite a while, there was indeed some improvement at first. It just didn’t last long, and before I knew it, everything was back to the way it had been. Director Huang, do you think you could help treat it as well?”

Seeing that Huang Biao had diagnosed him at once, Little Guizi could not help filling with hope. Perhaps his uncle really was an expert.

This time, there was not the slightest trace of acting in his expression.

“Of course. I’ll prescribe a few courses of herbal medicine to help regulate your condition.” Huang Biao agreed readily.

“You can really cure it?” Little Guizi’s eyes widened.

What he was really thinking was: If you could cure it, why didn’t you say so sooner? I’ve suffered all these years for nothing. Could it be that this nephew of mine was adopted?

“Of course it can be treated. It’s just that traditional medicine addresses the root of the problem, while Western medicine treats the symptoms, so the herbs may take a little longer to show results.” Huang Biao quickly left himself a way out.

“A little longer doesn’t matter, as long as it can be cured. Director Huang, then I’ll trouble you to examine me carefully.”

“Don’t worry. I haven’t spent all these decades practicing traditional medicine for nothing.” Huang Biao put on a solemn expression and continued, “Open your mouth and stick out your tongue.”

Little Guizi opened his enormous mouth and extended his tongue as far as it would go.

He strained so hard that the whites of his eyes rolled upward, making him look just like a hanged ghost.

It was a rather frightening sight. Huang Biao had never been particularly courageous, so after giving it only a couple of hurried glances, he immediately ordered him to retract his tongue.

“Well, Director Huang? Is there something wrong with my tongue?”

“Don’t be impatient. Traditional medicine emphasizes the combined use of four diagnostic methods: observation, listening and smelling, questioning, and pulse-taking. We haven’t performed the last one yet—the most important of all.”

“Oh, all right, all right.” Little Guizi nodded repeatedly.

“Put your right hand here, palm facing upward.” Huang Biao pointed to the small pulse cushion in front of him.

Following his instructions, Little Guizi placed his thick wrist heavily on the tiny cushion.

Huang Biao extended the three fingers of his right hand and began taking the pulse with an air of solemn expertise.

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After examining the right hand and then the left, he finished the entire procedure in less than half a minute.

Huang Biao raised a hand and stroked the small tuft of white hair on his chin. He nodded slightly and said, “The pulse is rapid and slippery, while the tongue coating is yellow and greasy. This indicates an accumulation of internal damp heat.”

“Is my condition serious?” Little Guizi had not understood much of that and hurriedly asked.

“It’s all right. It isn’t particularly serious.” Huang Biao deliberately left himself some room to maneuver.

“It isn’t particularly serious” could easily be understood as “fairly serious.”

If the treatment proved ineffective later, he could simply blame it on the severity of the illness.

“Then how should it be treated?” Little Guizi asked again.

“Don’t rush to ask how it’s treated. First, we need to understand what caused the illness in the first place.”

“Mmm, yes, yes. Then please analyze it for me.” Little Guizi tilted his ear toward him.

“Frequent urination, urgency, and painful urination mean there’s a problem with the urinary bladder. In medical terms, that organ is also called the bladder. In the theory of the Five Elements, the bladder belongs to water. Although it appears on the surface that the problem lies with water, the true source is not water but wood.”

At this point, Huang Biao suddenly stopped.

Little Guizi had no idea what all this talk of water and wood meant, but he did know a little about reading people’s expressions.

Realizing that Huang Biao was waiting for him to respond, he immediately pretended to be curious and asked, “Why is that?”

“The Five Elements are connected by patterns of mutual generation and mutual restriction. Mutual generation means nourishing, promoting, and fostering one another; mutual restriction means restraining, overcoming, and suppressing one another.”

“The pattern of mutual generation is this: wood generates fire, fire generates earth, earth generates metal, metal generates water, and water generates wood. The pattern of mutual restriction is this: wood overcomes earth, earth overcomes water, water overcomes fire, fire overcomes metal, and metal overcomes wood.”

“So the relationship between water and wood is that water generates wood. In other words, water and wood are like mother and child—just as you are your mother’s son.”

“Among the Five Elements of traditional medicine, there is an important theory called ‘the mother’s illness affecting the child,’ also known as ‘the mother’s deficiency burdening the child.’ It means that pathogenic factors are transmitted from the mother organ and invade the corresponding child organ: first the mother organ becomes diseased, and then the child organ follows.”

“So, what you see is a problem with the bladder, which belongs to water. But in fact, the mother’s deficiency has already burdened the child. In other words, the liver, which belongs to wood, is diseased. If you want to treat the problem completely, you must treat the liver first.”

After delivering this long explanation, Huang Biao let out a long breath.

Then he asked, “You understand now, don’t you?”

Little Guizi had clearly been lost in a fog for quite some time, but he was afraid that if he admitted it, Huang Biao would launch into another rambling lecture.

So he nodded repeatedly, pretending to understand. “Yes, yes, I more or less get it.”

Then he asked timidly, “Director Huang, can you prescribe the medicine now?”

Huang Biao finally nodded and picked up his pen to write on the prescription.

As he wrote, he shook his head and recited:

“Gentian drains the liver, with gardenia, scutellaria, and bupleurum;
Rehmannia, plantain seed, and alisma join the brew;
Akebia, licorice, and angelica complete the blend—
Together they drive damp heat from the liver channel.”

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Little Guizi was baffled. Why was his uncle reciting poetry while writing a prescription?

He had not studied much. He had dropped out before finishing middle school.

As a result, apart from the few lines beginning, “Before my bed, the bright moonlight; I wonder if it is frost upon the ground,” he could not remember a single other poem.

Still, one had to show respect for his third uncle, so he could only flatter him against his better judgment.

“Wonderful poem, wonderful poem. Which poet wrote it?”

Huang Biao smiled. “These aren’t ordinary lines of poetry. They come from a book called Songs of Decoction Formulas, compiled by Wang Ang, a renowned physician of the Qing dynasty. It contains three hundred and twenty famous prescriptions divided into twenty categories. One could say it covers virtually every illness encountered in clinical practice.”

“So there are more than three hundred verses like this? Director Huang, you know them all by heart?” Little Guizi asked tentatively.

“Of course. That’s merely basic training.” Huang Biao’s face was filled with pride.

For the first time in his life, Little Guizi realized how formidable his third uncle was, and he could not help regarding him with profound respect.

After all, he knew from experience how difficult memorizing poetry could be.

Forget more than three hundred poems—even thirty would have been beyond him, no matter how hard he tried.

At the same time, he rejoiced inwardly. It seemed his third uncle really did have some genuine skill. His illness could actually be cured!

He quickly took the prescription and hurried out to buy the herbs.

After him, the relatives Huang Biao had invited came in one after another for consultations.

Most of them, however, either had no real illness or did not believe Huang Biao could cure them.

The whole thing was therefore nothing more than a formality.

Each person listened to Huang Biao deliver a lecture on the fundamentals of yin-yang and the Five Elements, received a harmless prescription for general regulation, and was then sent on their way.

As for the prescriptions he chose for them, Huang Biao was quite particular.

Every one of them contained only a few inexpensive ingredients, with no costly medicinal materials whatsoever. He also prescribed the herbs in very small doses.

There was only one reason for this: to save money. After all, he would be paying for everything himself.

As lunchtime approached, Huang Biao cheerfully saw off the last of his planted patients.

He then walked straight to the medicine-dispensing and payment counter and said with a grin, “翠, you must be exhausted from preparing all those prescriptions today. What a coincidence—Little Zhang’s patients and mine all showed up at the same time.”