The temple was filled with many patients, mostly poor villagers from nearby. Song Qingchao and Bai Youan followed the young monk around the central plaza, avoiding a large crowd of people. They eventually stopped at a platform in a corner of the plaza. The spot was very high, offering a full view of everyone in the plaza.
At the moment, people were lining up in the center of the plaza to receive food. Those still able to queue were mostly young and strong adults, with less severe symptoms. The food was being distributed by young monks.
Song Qingchao furrowed her brow and asked the young monk leading them, "How many more days of provisions does the temple have?"
The young monk's face became even more troubled. He nodded and replied, "The temple's grain is barely enough for three to four days. If we dilute it with water to make a thin porridge, it might last for six to seven days. Once the water supply was cut off, the original grain stores from the farming families became unusable. The few days' worth of supplies the temple has are almost gone after distribution. And almost everyone in the entire town is here. We not only have to care for their illnesses daily but also provide for their food and lodging."
"We are truly indebted to all the masters," Song Qingchao said, bowing respectfully. In this time of disaster, it was a great act of kindness for a place to willingly and generously take in these sick and displaced people. Song Qingchao's admiration for the temple's abbot grew.
She pointed at the worried young monks below and asked, "Aren't they worried about getting infected?"
The young monk beside her shook his head. "Actually, everyone is sick. But we cannot stop working just because we are sick. Some tasks must be done by someone. At this stage, those with milder symptoms are caring for those with severe ones."
As he spoke, he led Song Qingchao and Bai Youan towards the back courtyard of the temple. Passing the main hall, Song Qingchao saw it was filled with sick people. Their symptoms were similar to those at the city gates, with the severely ill vomiting foam and their limbs unresponsive. The young monk didn't let them linger, urging them to "Hurry along" and guiding them into the back courtyard.
He explained as they walked, "The abbot said that those who are not sick and those who are sick should be kept as separate as possible, with no interaction." He pointed to a small courtyard between the main hall and the back courtyard. "This is the handover area. Daily necessities and medicine are prepared by healthy individuals in the back courtyard and placed here at a fixed time. At another fixed time, patients with milder symptoms will help move them, ensuring no contact between the two sides. They operate as a self-sufficient system."
Bai Youan, with his hands behind his back, listened intently, which was rare. "This method is excellent."
The young monk nodded, looking relieved. "This method was proposed by Young Master Xiang. His medicine boys come to help every day; otherwise, we really wouldn't be able to manage."
Song Qingchao then voiced a doubt. "Are none of the medicine boys sick? I saw some of them in the main hall."
The young monk looked ashamed. "The temple only has Elder San who knows medicine. Caring for over a thousand people alone is truly overwhelming. Young Master Xiang, out of kindness, allowed his medicine boys to come and assist. To ensure communication and medicine supply with Young Master Xiang, they were split into two teams. The medicine boys you saw had not been infected before entering."
"Such righteousness."
"Indeed," the young monk sighed. "Without their help, half of the refugees here would have died."
"And what is the current casualty rate?"
"One-fifth, mostly the elderly and women and children."
Hearing this, Song Qingchao and Bai Youan's expressions grew grim. Song Qingchao thanked the young monk. Her heart became heavy. It seemed the progress needed to be expedited; every day's delay meant double the number of people affected. Outside the city, their situation was roughly similar, but that was due to exhaustion and malnutrition from a long journey. The people here did not face such difficult circumstances.
She had come to observe the patients up close, but she found it impossible to get near them. But this was for the best, as it ensured their own safety. While Song Qingchao was conversing with the young monk, Bai Youan had already gone to the medicine boys. These medicine boys had met him the previous night and knew he was also a doctor, so they were not resistant to his approach. Instead, they were quite welcoming.
Bai Youan took a pulse chart handed to him by a medicine boy and fell into deep thought as he read it. Song Qingchao joined him after confirming some information. The young monk had to attend to other matters, and she had no more questions for him. Seeing Bai Youan's furrowed brow, she softly asked, "Are you still troubled by something?"
"The symptoms are all similar," Bai Youan said, then flipped through a book recording the deceased. After a few pages, his already furrowed brow tightened further.
Song Qingchao looked up at him. "What is it?"
Bai Youan smiled. "Nothing." He put down his hand and rubbed his brow. "Outside the city, most people died from overexertion. Illness was the primary cause, but not the direct cause of death. It's the same here; most deaths occur after complications arise."
"So, different prescriptions are issued here every day?"
"Yes," Bai Youan nodded. "Outside the city, there was no progress because I wasn't sure what medicine specifically treated the epidemic. I mostly prescribed different remedies based on individual conditions. I find it's the same here."
Song Qingchao also fell into thought. This explained why Bai Youan, despite his excellent medical skills, couldn't find a cure. Song Qingchao looked at the stack of patient records on the table. One sheet contained the pulse records of ten people. A stack of ten sheets, a total of one hundred people, was the responsibility of one medicine boy. Each person was numbered to avoid errors.
Suddenly, Song Qingchao had an idea. She tugged at Bai Youan's sleeve. "Let's categorize them. Let's find the young and strong adults who only have the epidemic."
Bai Youan, holding the papers, said, "That's a good idea. We can single out this group as a test group. If it's effective, then this will be the prescription."
"Exactly! Now, we just need to find a hundred people with similar pulse readings, divide them into ten groups, and try different medicines. We're bound to find some useful herbs."
Song Qingchao acted immediately. She picked out similar pulse records from her hand and then compared them with Bai Youan's. The other medicine boys also thought this was a good method and began selecting patients. With the pulse records of over a thousand people, and prescribing medicine daily, they couldn't determine the exact cause of their illnesses.
Finally, they managed to screen out a hundred test subjects. With the test subjects identified, Song Qingchao became worried again. After all, this was testing medicine, and medicine had its side effects. She wasn't sure if these people would help her. After exchanging a glance with Bai Youan, she had the medicine boys select another 50 people as backup.
Song Qingchao raised an eyebrow and nudged Bai Youan with her shoulder. "Mr. Bai, we must share this hardship together. Do you dare to enter this dragon's lair with me?"