The monk went on with Dong Shihong through the Qiantang gate into Linan and stopped inside a small lane. There he spoke to Dong Shihong, saying, “You stand here inside this lane. Don’t wander off. In a little while, a person will ask you your birthday and your age. Just answer him. Today I am going to bring you two, father and daughter, face to face, flesh and bone back together.”
Dong Shihong agreed and said, “Saintly monk, you are most compassionate and kind.”
The monk turned his head and looked. On the north side of the road was a large gateway. Inside the gateway stood twenty or thirty of the household’s people. From the tablet hung above the gate, he knew that it was the home of a government official.
The monk proceeded up the steps and said, “Excuse me, gentlemen. Is this the house of the Zhao family?”
The household people, glancing quickly, saw that he was a poor monk and said, “You are not wrong. Our master is named Zhao. What are you doing here?”
The monk replied, “I have heard people say that the old lady of your honorable house is sick in body and gravely sinking, and that it is feared that she may die. I came especially to see your master and to offer a cure for the old lady.”
When the family’s people heard the monk’s words, one of them said, “Monk, your arrival is most opportune. You are not wrong about what you have heard. Because the young master of the house became seriously ill, the old mistress was so concerned about the child that she became disturbed and fell ill. A great many doctors have come to see her, but there has been no sign of improvement. The master of the house, Zhao Wenhui, is most filial toward his mother, and from the first, when he saw the old lady’s illness grow more serious, invited famous medical men to come.”
The man continued, “There is a yuanwai named Su whose personal name is Beishan. In his home there is also an old lady who became sick. They invited a gentleman named Li Huaiqun, who is well versed in herbal medical science, to examine her. The master of the house has just now gone to the Su home to invite that gentleman to come here.”
Even as he spoke, a group of horsemen came riding up with three men at the front. The first, a good-looking man riding a white horse, wore a square cap on his head topped by a jade flower with two ribbon streamers. On his body he wore the blue satin leisure coat of a gentleman. It was embroidered with a design of bats and butterflies. This man was Li Huaiqun, a cousin of Zhao Wenhui.
The second wore a double-butterfly treasure-blue jacket and a blue satin gentleman’s cap with three embroidered blue flowers. He wore a soft blue satin leisure garment and black palace-style shoes. His face was like the waning moon, eyebrows compassionate and eyes benevolent. Three long strands of beard, blown by the wind, went sweeping across his chest. This was Su Beishan.
The third was also dressed like a wealthy official with a white face, long beard, and handsome features.
When the monk had finished looking at them, he went over and, stopping the horses, said, “Will the three gentlemen go more slowly? I have been waiting for you for some time.”
Zhao Wenhui, the third of the three riders, seeing the monk walk into the road, said, “We have urgent business, monk; we have invited this gentleman to cure my old mother’s illness. You should come to solicit funds on another day. Today it is not possible to talk with you.”
The monk said, “Not possible, you say! But, I am not soliciting alms. Today I heard it said that the force of the illness influencing the old lady in your residence has grown more severe. I have made a vow to treat those who have become ill, wherever they may be. Today I came with the special intention of treating your mother’s illness.”
Zhao Wenhui said, “The gentleman I have invited here is the most famous doctor of the present age. You can go away. We are not using you.”
As soon as the monk heard this, he turned his head and, looking at Li Huaiqun, said, “Sir, even though you are a famous doctor, I can still teach you what illness one kind of medicine can cure.”
Doctor Li asked, “What kind of medicine are you talking about, monk?”
Ji Gong asked in return, “What illness can be cured by biscuits hot out of the oven?”
Doctor Li replied, “I don’t know. They are not among the herbal medicines.”
The monk laughed. “Ha! Ha! You don’t even know one of the most important principles and still dare to call yourself a famous doctor! Biscuits that come out of the oven cure hunger. Isn’t that right? You didn’t know that! I had better come with you into the Zhao home and help you.”
Li Huaiqun said, “Good! Monk, you just come with me.”
Zhao Wenhui and Su Beishan could not very well keep him back—the only thing they could do was to go on through the gateway with the monk. When they entered the old lady’s house and sat down, they were given tea by the house servants.
Doctor Li examined the old lady and said that she had a collection of bloody mucus in her throat, and that she could not become well except by expectorating it. The old lady was advanced in years. Both her spirit and her blood were deficient, so medicine could not be used. Official Zhao was then asked whether there was anything else he wanted the doctor to do.
Zhao Wenhui said, “Sir, my field is not medicine, but I know that there are famous doctors. You may recommend someone in addition, if you choose.”
Doctor Li said, “Here in Linan there are only two outstanding doctors—myself and Tang Wanfang. Those people that he can cure, I can cure; those that he cannot, I also cannot. We two have the same capabilities.”
When they had conversed just to this point, Ji Gong spoke up. “You need not all become alarmed. First, let me look at the old lady.”
Zhao Wenhui was first of all a caring son, and as soon as he heard the monk’s words, he said, “Good. Come and look.” Li Huaiqun also wanted to observe the monk’s capabilities.
When Ji Gong approached the old lady, he patted her twice on the head and said, “Old lady, you are not going to die. Your head is still hard.”
Li Huaiqun asked, “What are you saying, monk?”
Ji Gong said, “I will summon the phlegm and make it come out, and then everything will be all right.” Going around to the front of the old lady, he said, “Phlegm, phlegm, come out quickly! You’re blocking up the old lady enough to kill her.”
Doctor Li laughed, but just as he said, “Isn’t that a bit unprofessional?” he saw the old lady cough up a mouthful of mucus.
Ji Gong put out his hand with a piece of medicine in it, saying, “Bring me a bowl of water.” It was brought to him by one of the household servants.
Zhao Wenhui looked and asked, “Monk, what is that medicine? Can it cure my mother’s illness?”
Ji Gong laughed loudly, and holding out the medicine in his hand answered, “This medicine that I carry has endless uses. It completely cures numerous symptoms of many diseases. It is the Eight Treasure Pill to Restore the Dead. It is by no means one that may lie loosely with other medicines.” After Ji Gong had spoken, he placed the pill in the bowl, saying, “The old lady is in this state because of anxiety. Now that she is relieved of the mucus she will grow stronger. Very soon she will fall into a stupor and not awaken immediately.
