Chapter 037: Early Menstruation—Honey-Fried Licorice Decoction Combined with Two-Grounds Decoction

"Oh! So that's what you meant. It’s just that I’m not very eloquent and don’t care much for idle chatter. If you want to discuss traditional Chinese medicine with me, I’m more than happy to have a long, heart-to-heart talk with you." Zhang Jing suddenly realized what she meant and explained with a smile.

"Really?" Gui Cui’s eyes lit up immediately.

"Of course. We’re colleagues, after all. Do you really think I’d value a stranger over you?" Zhang Jing chuckled.

"You’re absolutely right!" Gui Cui was so excited she felt her heart might jump out of her chest. "Actually, there is something I’ve been wanting to ask you."

"Go ahead."

"I’ve been too shy to bring it up, but I’ve been suffering from irregular periods."

"Oh, is that so? Let me take your pulse first."

"Here?" Gui Cui looked around, feeling a bit hesitant.

Zhang Jing realized immediately that a fast-food restaurant wasn't the most appropriate place for a medical consultation. He changed his tune: "I’m finished eating. Why don't you finish up, and we can head back to the clinic for a proper examination?"

"I’m done too. Let’s go now," Gui Cui replied quickly.

The two made their way back to Mingde Hall, one following the other.

"Where are we going?" Gui Cui asked.

"How about the acupuncture room on the second floor?" Zhang Jing mused for a moment.

Gui Cui nodded repeatedly and followed him upstairs. After passing through the massage room, Zhang Jing opened the door to the acupuncture room, ushered her in, and closed the door behind them.

"Alright, lie flat on the bed and rest for a few minutes. Then I'll check your pulse," Zhang Jing said calmly.

His voice was soft, but to Gui Cui, it felt like a bolt of lightning. As someone who had studied at a medical college, she certainly knew how things worked. She had seen plenty of period dramas and knew that while patients in ancient times might lie down for a pulse reading, it was usually because they were bedridden, of high status, or because of strict gender segregation rules. But she was a vibrant, youthful girl of the twenty-first century—why would she need to lie down just for a pulse reading?

Could it be that he wanted to...

Oh my! The scenes flashing through her mind were too embarrassing to describe. She never would have imagined that the usually aloof Dr. Zhang had a side that struggled with self-control. It seemed he had finally been conquered by her beauty after all. The more she thought about it, the more embarrassed—and excited—she became.

Overcome by a rush of heat to her brain, she blurted out, "Dr. Zhang, please be gentle when you kiss me. I’ve never done this before."

Zhang Jing was stunned. He barked, "Xiao Cui, what on earth are you talking about! I’m here to check your pulse, not to do anything else!"

Gui Cui finally realized her blunder. Still confused, she stammered, "Then... then... why do I have to lie down? I thought patients usually sat for a pulse reading?"

"Oh! It’s simply because lying down allows the qi and blood to flow more smoothly, making the pulse easier to read," Zhang Jing explained.

"Oh, I see! I’m so sorry, Dr. Zhang. It’s my mistake," she apologized profusely.

"It’s my fault as well for not explaining it clearly beforehand," Zhang Jing replied with a slight nod. "Now, calm yourself. We’ll begin the pulse reading in five minutes."

Realizing it was all a misunderstanding, Gui Cui soon settled down.

Zhang Jing checked his old-fashioned phone, and once five minutes had passed, he began to carefully read her pulse—first the left, then the right.

Under his fingers, the pulse was slow and skipped beats at irregular intervals. This was a classic "knotted pulse," known in traditional Chinese medicine as palpitations. Zhang Jing felt a pang of concern. They had been colleagues for so long; why had she never mentioned having heart issues? Beneath that, he also felt a pulse as thin as a thread, beating five times per breath—a sign of a thin, rapid pulse.

After the pulse reading, he moved on to examine her tongue. The result: the tongue body was reddish, there were small petechiae on the tip, and the coating was sparse.

"Have you ever had an abnormal EKG?" Zhang Jing couldn't help but ask directly.

"Wait! How did you know? It’s true, back during my college entrance exam physical, the doctor said I had sinus arrhythmia, but they said it wasn't serious and didn't count as heart disease."

"I see. And your periods are often early, right?" Zhang Jing asked again.

"Yes! They’re always off, and they come whenever they please. It’s so annoying. Dr. Zhang, you’re amazing! I’ve finally witnessed your god-like skills firsthand."

Hearing such blunt praise, Zhang Jing was taken aback. He realized that this kind of "miracle doctor" interrogation was inappropriate as it could lead the patient. He quickly returned to a standard, objective questioning method, stripping away any subjective bias.

Five or six minutes later, the consultation was finished. Zhang Jing reviewed the results: 21-year-old female, periods often arriving seven to ten days early, blood dark red and scanty, sometimes with clots, accompanied by lower back pain. Last period started on September 30th.

Current symptoms: thin build, decent complexion, dry mouth and throat, irritable, feels feverish, light sleeper with many dreams, dark urine, bowel movements every two days, stool on the dry side.

Examination: Red tongue, small petechiae on the tip, sparse coating, pulse thin, rapid, and intermittent.

Through diagnostic analysis, the cause of Gui Cui’s early periods was clear. Zhang Jing nodded slightly and said, "Xiao Cui, you have a combined pattern of Taiyang and Taiyin, with a deficiency of both qi and yin."

"What does that mean? Is my qi and blood deficient?" Gui Cui didn't understand the terminology, only knowing that most women dealt with qi and blood deficiencies.

"That’s part of it, but they aren't quite the same thing," Zhang Jing corrected.

"Is it hard to treat? I’ve heard qi and blood are difficult to regulate," Gui Cui asked, her brows furrowed.

"It’s not difficult. A week of medicine should do the trick," Zhang Jing said confidently.

"A week? Is Chinese medicine really that miraculous?"

"It’s not so much magic as it is solving a puzzle. Once you find the root cause, even seemingly complex problems can be solved with ease."

"Okay, okay! Dr. Zhang, please, write me the prescription!" Gui Cui was so excited her face turned red.

Zhang Jing nodded and began to write: 20g roasted licorice, 10g Codonopsis, 80g raw Rehmannia, 15g cinnamon twig, 10g donkey-hide gelatin (melted separately), 20g Ophiopogon, 18g hemp seed, 7 slices of fresh ginger, 5 jujubes, 15g Cortex Lycii, and 15g Scrophularia.

As for the brewing instructions, Gui Cui was a pharmacist herself, so there was no need for him to explain.

Looking at the formula as a whole, the base was the "Roasted Licorice Decoction" from the *Treatise on Cold Damage*, though at about one-third the original dosage. The final two herbs added were intended to incorporate the "Two-Earth Decoction" from *Fu Qingzhu’s Gynecology*, a famous and highly regarded formula for treating early-onset menstruation.

However, even the best formula shouldn't be copied blindly. Traditional Chinese medicine emphasizes treatment based on syndrome differentiation, not just treating the disease name. Only with an accurate diagnosis could one achieve results as immediate as a drumstick striking a drum. Otherwise, one would only ever achieve partial effectiveness, never a permanent cure. If one continued like that, they would inevitably become a "slow doctor."

Wasn't Huang Biao, the old, white-haired, white-bearded doctor at Mingde Hall, the perfect example of that?