Yang Yizhong stared at the large pile of medicinal herbs in front of him, blinking.

To prevent those who might be interested from finding out the details of the medicines used in the palace, he had personally selected two Banzhi (imperial guards) to take people to sweep through the medicine shops in the south of the city, gathering fifty liang of each of the medicinal materials related to typhoid fever. But when the large and small packages were truly spread out in front of him, as someone who couldn't even distinguish between mahuang (ephedra) and chaihu (bupleurum), let alone pick out which pile was Qianghuo (Notopterygium incisum) and which was Duhuo (Angelica pubescens), he was stunned for a moment before he came back to his senses. And this moment of being stunned allowed the imperial father-in-law, Pan, who had been staring at him intently, to see through his facade.

"I've long heard that Commander Yang is absolutely loyal, unmatched by others. This old man has finally learned it today. But Commander, don't forget, you can slowly pick and choose here while consulting medical books, but the Emperor's illness cannot be delayed!" The anger in Imperial Father-in-law Pan's eyes almost burned into substance—he was obviously being suspected of having poor character and insulted his professional competence to his face, but he was concerned about the reputation of the Imperial Guards and dared not break with him. Putting himself in Pan's shoes, if the Emperor was not mentioned, Yang Yizhong would almost feel a little pity.

However, at this moment, he just said in a flat tone: "In that case, please confirm, Physician Pan, that if there are no missing medicinal materials, after the Imperial Pharmacy's doctorate supervises the weighing of the portions, they can be sent to decoct the medicine according to the prescription."

"Ginseng, peppermint, Poria cocos, Pinellia...they are all complete." Pan Yongshou carefully identified them for a while, snorted, and barely squeezed out an admission from between his teeth. Yang Yizhong slightly relaxed in his heart, waved his hand, and signaled the Banzhi who had been waiting for a long time to start picking the medicine. For a time, from the confidant commander standing behind him to the blue-clad servants who had strayed into the scene and were ordered not to leave, the people in the courtyard who dared not even breathe seemed to have been released from the immobilization spell in *Journey to Subduing Demons*, some hurriedly issuing orders, some responding with obsequious smiles, calling for tallying, carrying, and cleaning, immediately busying themselves or pretending to be busy.

But the father of the Imperial Concubine looked at the crowd that intentionally or unintentionally bypassed the small eye of the storm in the middle of the courtyard and finally couldn't swallow this breath. "The Emperor is in his prime, and occasionally catches a seasonal illness. With timely treatment, there will be no major problems." He turned and scanned Yang Yizhong up and down, sneering, "On the contrary, Commander Yang, this old man observes that your face is flushed—it's a pity that there is still a flavor of alum and a flavor of Arisaema here, otherwise, I would definitely carefully prepare a dose of Yuzhi pills for Commander Yang. Wouldn't that be beneficial to both the public and private?"

After saying that, Imperial Father-in-law Pan didn't even wait for Yang Yizhong to reply before flinging his sleeves and leaving.

"Pfft."

Yang Yizhong turned his head and looked at the Imperial Pharmacy doctorate, who had been coaxed and forcibly invited by the Imperial Guards to supervise the picking and decocting of the medicine, immediately shrinking his neck like a frightened quail under his gaze, trying to reduce his presence, and couldn't help but sigh. He didn't have to memorize the *Ben Cao* (Compendium of Materia Medica) or *Sheng Hui Fang* (Prescriptions for Universal Relief) like the other party to understand that Pan Yongshou was scolding him for having phlegm syndrome. However, he immediately turned around, suppressing his fatigue, and continued to stare at the Banzhi as they weighed the medicinal materials, leaving the doctorate behind—he had already sworn that this time, every step of the decoction, from picking the medicinal materials to decocting them, would not escape his eyes. How could he care about such a trivial offense?

"Prepared licorice root, thirty liang!"

He had previously asked someone about the prescription and memorized the chief, assistant, adjuvant, and guide herbs in the prescription. Licorice root was the guide herb among these ten-odd medicines, harmonizing the exterior and interior, and it was also sweet.

And that person... should also like desserts. Just came out of the well, and was thinking about ice cream. But Lady Pan personally made it back then, and in the end, the other party didn't even take a bite, and actually divided all the desserts made by the beauty to the Chixin (Loyal Heart) squad soldiers. As far as Yang Yizhong knew, if the current Chixin squad gathered for a drink in private, when they drank to a high point and ranked their qualifications and boasted of their achievements, there would always be one or two old men who jumped out, flaunting that they had tasted the personal reward of the nobles in the palace and exaggerating the taste of ice cream to the sky. But years of tacit understanding with his colleagues made him know very well that Liu Yan, who never said a word in the Imperial Guard's report and was only responsible for settling the accounts, was actually like him, and didn't want to hear the word "ice cream" ever again in this life.

The tottering court fled south in embarrassment, and the Jin people who followed closely pressed step by step. The "amnesiac" Emperor shared some snacks and spent the night in the Chixin squad camp to show that he shared weal and woe with everyone, but instead aroused the rebellious thoughts of ignorant fools. Suppressing the rebellion, appeasing, the anxiety about personal fate, and the panic of worrying about the imminent collapse of the sky. That night, in the eyes of those of them who truly knew the overall situation, the taste was really hard to describe.

That night, Yang Yizhong made up his mind behind the curtain.

"Chuanxiong (Ligusticum wallichii) thirty liang, Poria cocos with the skin removed, ginseng with the reed removed, thirty liang each!"

Three adjuvant herbs, Chuanxiong promotes blood circulation, Poria cocos removes dampness, and ginseng reverses the current to save the boat, strengthening the foundation and assisting the origin.

In the boat crossing the Huai River in the snow, that person's words made the young vice censor-in-chief burst into tears. Yang Yizhong stared blankly at the other party's figure, only feeling that the strange patterned metal disc hidden close to his body seemed to be stirred by that person's words and became scorching hot, faintly corresponding to the surge of enthusiasm in his heart. The moment the small boat left the shore, he understood that even if he usually didn't believe in strange forces and chaos, a miracle was truly born from the well that autumn and opened its eyes in front of him.

Later, people all said that his old superior Zhang Jun, Zhang Boying, was fond of wealth and gambling, and exchanged a Lower Cai City for a lifetime of wealth and fame. But only Yang Yizhong knew that he had observed, suspected, and hesitated, but had already bet the nearly two hundred years of the Song Dynasty's national fortune on the will of Heaven with a single thought of four words in Mingdao Palace.

Fortunately, Heaven had not failed him.

"Chaihu with the seedlings removed, Qianhu, Platycodon grandiflorus, Aurantium aurantium each thirty liang!"

Four ministerial herbs, helping to relieve the exterior and regulate the lungs, promoting the smooth flow of qi in the chest.

The Battle of Yaoshan shocked the world. At that time, he had just recovered from his new injuries, so he accompanied that person to send stacks of books with white paper covers like flowing water to the newly established shrine in the back mountain. This was a monotonous and repetitive task. Before long, he became as familiar with the shrine as he was with the imperial tent. And as the statistics of casualties in the imperial camp continued to be updated, the names that person had to copy became more and more numerous, so he took the imperial guards to undertake the task of repeatedly delivering them from the tent to the shrine on the mountainside. And as the local laborers and craftsmen gradually spread the news that the Emperor had personally written the memorial tablets, the families and people of the nearby Western Army received the news and came to worship in groups of twos and threes in advance. As long as they didn't go in the direction of the imperial tent, that person didn't stop them. Later, more and more Western Army soldiers came to worship, and even Qu Duan made an excuse to report military intelligence and came over for a turn—according to the Banzhi present, Commander Qu, who had made great contributions this time, entered the temple gate and, rarely, didn't say a word, only squinting his eyes to look for familiar names, staying inside for a full half an hour.

One day, he had just finished sending a new stack of name lists. Because this time there were imperial guards who had died in battle under his command on the list, he stayed a little longer, wanting to estimate the position where these ancestral tablets would be placed according to the carving progress of the craftsmen. When he roughly estimated the location, thinking that there was nothing to do in front of the imperial court, he started chatting with an old craftsman who had just changed shifts.

Only after chatting did he know that the craftsman was from Xihe Road, with three sons and five grandsons in his family. The eldest son and two grandsons had died early in the service of the royal family. In the Battle of Yaoshan, the second son was demoted to a laborer, the third son followed General Liu, and he himself became an army craftsman. Only his old wife and several daughters-in-law were left at home to take care of the three young grandsons.

The old craftsman was old and his eyes were dim. He couldn't see the fine armor on his body clearly, nor did he recognize his identity. He only felt that the Lanzhou accent he had deliberately put on was somewhat cordial, so he thought he was also a Western Army junior who had come to worship his comrades nearby, and actually rambled on to him for a long time, telling him about the ferocity of the Jin people in the past, worrying about his old wife and young grandsons at home, and finally asking him to inquire about the whereabouts of his third son—there were rumors that General Liu's army had collapsed, and he was worried and feared for his third son day and night.

He knew that Liu Xi's remnants of the Western Army from Xihe Road were currently resting nearby. If there was still no news at this moment, the old craftsman's son was likely dead, but looking at the other party's expectant eyes, he was momentarily embarrassed and couldn't think of how to open his mouth.

The old craftsman heard that he had been silent for a long time and squinted his eyes to look at his expression. Then he sighed, but instead squeezed out an ugly smile at him, "Young man, I've asked a lot of people these days, and I probably know what's going on in my heart. I don't need you to bother to make up words to coax this old man. If my son, if my son is really gone, then I will carefully carve these tablets every day, and I will carve my son. I want to tell him that those are the names personally written by the Emperor. The Emperor has not forgotten him."

His heart was shaken. He raised his eyes and looked at the tablets around the courtyard, and in a trance, he thought of his grandfather and father who had written their names at home to summon their souls and be buried together. He was momentarily distracted, only hearing the craftsman turn sideways and murmur behind the Hou Dan statue, "We couldn't win in the past, but we won as soon as the Emperor came. Son, rest assured, this time, the True Dragon Emperor is finally leading us to drive back the Jin people. This old man heard from the scholars in the army that there will be peaceful years in the future..."

He couldn't bear to listen anymore, made an excuse that he was going to miss the time to return to camp, cupped his fist in a perfunctory manner, and turned and left the temple gate. But as soon as he went out, he found that that person was standing silently outside, not knowing how long he had been listening outside the temple.

He quickly pleaded guilty. That person waved his hand casually, told him to get up, but stared at him for a long time without speaking. Finally, he only said, "Zhengfu, this shrine is dedicated to the ancestral tablets of those who died in battle in Yaoshan this time. As for those who died for their country since the Jingkang Incident, such as Academician Li Ruoshui, such as your father and grandfather, and the countless people who sacrificed—I have long intended to hold a grand ceremony in Tokyo in the future."

His heart ached, and he bowed down, but he felt comfortable in his chest, knowing that that person had guessed what he had thought of before. This time, Lou Shi was captured and beheaded. If his grandfather was alive in heaven, he could also close his eyes in peace. And the Battle of Yaoshan turned from offense to stalemate, just like what the craftsman said, this land that his father and grandfather had guarded should have peaceful years in the future.

His bow was sincere.

"Qianghuo thirty liang! Duhuo thirty liang!"

Two chief herbs, dispelling wind and cold, supporting the righteous and eliminating evil.

In the years in Bianliang, he watched the gradually thickening population of Tokyo, thinking of the newly recovered Han land of Xingqing Prefecture, leading the Imperial Guards to confiscate homes and arrest people without scruples, and dared to look directly into the eyes of the Grand Clan Temple when he went to court. He believed that he was not ashamed of the Zhao family's country and society at all. Only once in the fifth year of Jianyan did he lower his head, being especially respectful in front of the newly returned Empress Dowager at Baimadu, allowing a trace of pity as thin as morning mist to flash through his heart, but then he couldn't help but laugh at his own hypocrisy.

Because in the end, no matter whether it was the noble Empress Dowager or the eager mother standing in front of him and holding his hand to ask questions, he didn't care in essence.

And that person was the same.

Earlier, when the other party told him to go and welcome the Empress Dowager first, his tone was calm, his expression was calm, and there was not a trace of self-awareness or guilt of a demon or evil spirit seizing the body in his words.

And after he turned back in the afternoon and dismissed everyone, explaining the Empress Dowager's makeup and clothing one by one, he finally let the selfishness that should have been left in the darkness take over, and looked up at the other party, wanting to confirm whether his accomplice was ready in the face of the upcoming test.

That person looked back, his expression as usual, and said to Yang Yizhong in a gentle voice as he did every day, "You've worked hard," and then waved his hand to let him retreat. Under the sunlight in the hall, that person and that red robe and gold belt almost merged into one, like a natural emperor.

But the next day, in front of Baimadu, the other party drew a sharp blade from his waist, cut off the Emperor's robe, and made a shocking declaration, vowing to never coexist with the prosperous and abundant situation of the old Song Dynasty. And in his impassioned words, his concern for the hundreds of millions of people in the two rivers was so undignified that he didn't look like an official who should co-govern the world with the scholar-officials at all.

The captured noble women of the imperial clan were innocent, but that person didn't care. The Empress Dowager, the blood relative of this body, had just returned, but that person didn't give her any face. From Zhang Rong of Liangshanbo entering the list of entrusted ministers to the maidservants of Tokyo becoming the cases for attacking the prime minister and him, one fact after another had long proved that the other party's focus was different from that of the world. Since the autumn of the first year of Jianyan, Yang Yizhong had thrown some of the words of the sages behind him, and since Yuanxue had been passed down to the world, he even began to suspect whether any of the great Confucian sages of the past had truly understood the Great Dao. But when that person held a grand ceremony on Yuetai Mountain, Yang Yizhong looked at the countless nameless and famous tablets in his eyes and recalled the courtyard in the Yaoshan Temple.

Heaven hears what the people hear; Heaven sees what the people see.

Sages are born knowing things. Can they know whether there is a demon or evil spirit under the twelve-stringed crown, or...

However, after all, there are no sages in this world, and Lord Lu doesn't seem to want to become a sage on the spot—even if he does become a sage, he may not know more inside information than Yang Yizhong. That person bleeds when he cuts his finger, and needs food when he is hungry, so what should restrain him should still be the laws of the human world.

So he found the newly revised Criminal Law and also asked people to collect many notes of oddities like *Records of the Ten Continents* and *Miscellany from Youyang*. Late at night, he listened to that person's breathing and counted the terms of imprisonment in the Criminal Law for the demons and evil spirits hiding in the Emperor's body and those who knew about it but did not report it.

Aversions, witchcraft, regicide, treason...the principal offenders and accomplices are probably more than capital punishment or exile three thousand li.

He had always suppressed these thoughts in his heart, refusing to let the bizarre fantasies and fears invade his day. But the situation was forcing him to the front, and the Emperor, who was faint in the palace, was taking the chief herb, which was said to support the righteous and eliminate evil.

So, which is righteous and which is evil?

Who... is worthy of being the ruler.

And among the chief herbs, there happened to be a flavor of Duhuo—he lowered his eyes slightly, unwilling to continue staring at the light brown tuber on the balance that made him agitated just by its name, but he didn't dare to really let it out of his sight.

If only one person lives, who should live?

He knew his own mind.

The long selection and weighing of medicinal materials finally ended. The doctorate of the Imperial Pharmacy had already turned around and was heading in the direction of the decocting room under the escort of a Banzhi. Yang Yizhong nodded at the other Banzhi in front of him who were holding the weighed medicinal materials and waiting for his instructions, signaling them to follow, and he also stood up, but before going to the decocting room, he sternly ordered one of the two confidant commanders who were also waiting for his orders.

"Keep a close eye on the Pan family for me. Report immediately if there is any unusual movement."

The commander respectfully acknowledged and left.

But of course, he knew the other party's real thoughts—if it were an ordinary family, the young master's illness had not yet recovered, but the close subordinates offended the doctor who came to treat him to death. Then there must be relatives and friends who come out, saying good things that don't cost money, to mediate and smooth things over. What's more, the doctor is his father-in-law. Although the young master's close subordinates are always at his beck and call, how can they compare to the soft jade and warm fragrance of sleeping together?

The other confidant commander, who had been sent out to investigate a few days ago but had gained nothing, had already unreservedly advised him: "Commander, you are loyal and devoted, forgetting yourself for the country. Your subordinates admire you. But after all, relatives should not be alienated, and Physician Pan is the Imperial Concubine's father. Commander, your favor is unmatched by anyone, but this subordinate has a humble opinion. No matter how deep the favor is, if you offend the nobles in the palace, over the years, the pillow..."

He still remembered that the man stammered as he looked at his expressionless face, and the words that criticized the Emperor gradually disappeared. In the end, he panicked and didn't choose his words: "This subordinate is talking nonsense. The Emperor is wise and will definitely not be like this. This subordinate is muddled, but the loyalty to the Emperor and the Commander can be seen by the heavens..."

He scolded the other party sternly for a quarter of an hour, accusing him of the great righteousness between the ruler and his subjects, and finally comforted him with a few gentle words, which was considered as comforting his most trusted commander. When he turned back, he smiled bitterly in his heart. When he thought of the word "pillow", he only felt indescribable absurdity. He didn't know whether he should be glad that the real relationship between him and that person was so well hidden from the Imperial Guards or completely despair of the judgment ability of his most trusted subordinates.

However, with the lessons of the past in front of him, no one ever tried to persuade him to change his mind again. There was only a chorus of admiration and praise in front of him within the Imperial Guards—Commander Yang is unspeakably loyal, not afraid of powerful relatives, and does not hesitate to sacrifice himself for the country. He is a model for us. And after the news spread, Li Guang, Ma Shen, and others, who usually regarded him as a hawk and dog, had more complicated looks in their eyes these days—although the memorials from the censorate that should be submitted to impeach the Imperial Guards for disturbing the people not only did not decrease, but instead became more urgent.

He understood. They were all the duties of loyal ministers who were loyal to the country.

In later operas, that person should be the wise and martial Emperor, and the prime ministers and censors in the Golden Luan Hall are all loyal and virtuous people of their time. Han Yue, Li Zhang, and the Emperor are like the wind, tiger, cloud, and dragon, while he, the villain, will definitely have someone paint his face white and carefully play the role.

Under the stage, there were probably some rascals who couldn't help but make a few jokes, and the moralists shouldn't hesitate to sigh a few times, lamenting that Yang Yizhong was an unfilial descendant who disgraced the family name of Old Commander Ling.

He understood everything.

He had cared.

He had even been jealous.

Yue Fei, Yue Pengju. At first, he had some extremely absurd guesses, but he soon understood that his guesses were not true. But that person trusted the mediocre farmer from Hebei to an extraordinary degree. After falling into the well, the first person he asked about was the other party, and he bet his life on it again in Yanling Changshe. Yang Yizhong later took advantage of the cause of loyalty to the country and carefully observed Yue Pengju, deliberately befriending this general who had the greatest imperial favor. And the other party also reciprocated, taking the initiative to talk about the experience of cooperating in suppressing Li Cheng. Obviously, he also had the intention to befriend him, a close minister of the Emperor. Although he understood after only a few words that this person was essentially serious and dignified, and not a smooth and treacherous person, he still had some inexplicable disappointment and injustice.

Later, the reports from the Imperial Guards on his desk piled higher and higher, Yue Jiedu's reputation for governing the army spread wider and wider, and the Emperor's trust in this person became deeper and deeper. After the destruction of Xia, he was almost truly convinced. However, after the Emperor patrolled the river last year, he heard Liu Yan, who was accompanying him, rarely finish the experience in two or three sentences, and also brought back a personal letter from Zhang Jun, piecing together the truth from Liu Yan's embarrassed expression and the old superior's implicit complaints. On the third day after receiving the letter, he couldn't help it again and violated the rules he had set for himself, advising that person to think twice on a night when he should never mention political affairs, and even prepared to be asked again, "Do you want to be a virtuous minister?"

But what was beyond reason and yet within his hidden expectations was that that person didn't care at all, and didn't even notice that there was anything different about the content Yang Yizhong mentioned this time, only treating it as a casual chat as usual, his tone being a matter of course, talking about Yue Pengju and his army as if a child was showing off his beloved toys. After speaking, there was a hint of embarrassment, and he even asked him what the ideal army in his mind should look like.

"Orders are carried out without fail, and every attack is sure to be won." He hesitated for a moment, while despising himself for using his knowledge of that person to deliberately fish for a response, he gave an answer that was so mediocre that it was boring.

Unsurprisingly, that person smiled.

Not sarcastic, with no malice, but indeed with a hint of arrogance that a person who was not extremely familiar with this Emperor would not notice.

Laughing at him, laughing at them, laughing at this world.

And he recognized this kind of smile.

In fact, the close ministers around the Emperor all recognized it, but they tacitly didn't mention it to outsiders. Even once when this smile appeared, he deliberately paid attention to the expressions of Zhang Jun, Zhang Privy Councilor, Lu Haowen, and Lord Lu, and he did notice their subtle changes in body language.

He withdrew his gaze and confirmed that everyone knew.

And Minister Lin, who was present, later glanced at him, and there was even a hint of sympathy in that glance.

He still didn't want to think carefully about the meaning of that sympathy. He didn't know how much of that person's origins this universally acknowledged meticulous and most understanding official had guessed, and how much he knew about the relationship between him and that person. But the other party never mentioned it, and occasionally when they had official business together, he was also the usual detached and polite scholar-official. Anyway, the other party's visiting card didn't include the biographies of Han Yan or Han Zigao, and the gifts he gave during the holidays were only ordinary ink and books, so he could deceive himself and pretend not to know.

He had just withdrawn his thoughts when he heard the other party's laughter stop, and then he spoke.

"No, Zhengfu. Orders are carried out without fail, and every attack is sure to be won is good, but not enough. The army in my heart has no distinction between military households and ordinary people. They are all children of the people. They would rather freeze to death than tear down houses, rather starve to death than plunder. They know why they are fighting, and the direction they are waving their weapons is to eliminate injustice in the world, not for one family's surname. Therefore, they relieve the people from their suffering and attack the tyrannical rulers—"

"And wherever the banners go, the people bring food and drinks in baskets to welcome the royal army." He imagined the appearance of this army and softly echoed the Emperor's final conclusion.

That person laughed again, this time sincerely, nodding, his eyes full of light, full of memories, full of longing, full of praise, full of hope, full of the light of a kindred spirit—that was probably the light of a peaceful world rising thirty-three heavens, the light that made him lean forward regardless—then he turned his head and looked at him seriously, telling him that Yue Pengju and his Yue family army were this... were the team closest to what he wanted.

Yang Yizhong once again confirmed that he would never understand him and Yue Pengju. But he was no longer jealous.

Because Yue Jiedu would never understand that side of Zhao Jiu that belonged to human nature. Yue Taiwei could see the Emperor who knew him well, could build the royal army in the Emperor's heart. If Yue Pengju overstepped a little more, he would dare to say that he was of one heart and one mind with the Emperor, and shared the same aspirations. But those secrets that belonged to people, that belonged to Zhao Jiu, only Yang Yizhong could see.

That person's appearance of swallowing a word and changing his mind in front of him without bothering to cover it up, only he could see.

He watched the Banzhi holding the medicinal materials had already walked a few steps away, and then he said lightly to the last remaining most trusted subordinate:

"And, keep a close eye on Ningde Palace and... Chengping Palace."

Hearing this, the subordinate suddenly raised his head, his eyes full of disbelief. But Yang Yizhong stared at him expressionlessly for a few breaths as he had done last time. The man swallowed, and in the end, he didn't refute. After cupping his hands, he quietly left.

They didn't know that he didn't have the capital to take risks anymore. They didn't know that he had gambled once and had already spent all his luck and the luck of the Song Dynasty for two hundred years.

In the previous game of winning or losing, Heaven had not failed him. But Yang Yizhong had self-knowledge. Even the protagonist in the opera and the legend in the history book could not be favored by Heaven to the point that he would win a second time even if he bet the world.

Back then, a rebellious Chixin squad member who was bound to the ground knelt on one side, his face mixed with fear and disobedience under the light of the fire. When he was asked about the reasons for his rebellion, he still defended himself forcefully, hating that the rise and fall of the country were all fate and that the national fortune of the Zhao Song Dynasty had come to an end—that time he absolutely refused to believe it, so he recited the four words "national hatred and family hatred" in his mind and went all out.

The other day, the doctor who had been asked to hide the specific information and only asked about the prescription and inquired about the illness saw that his face was really ugly and actually advised him that life and death were all destined, and that human power might have its limits. As soon as the words came out, the Banzhi following him almost drew his sword, but he smiled instead, waved his hand behind his back, and turned and left—this time he refused to believe it even more, but with four other words piercing his heart, he couldn't afford to gamble.

He quickened his pace, caught up with the Banzhi holding the medicine, and watched those processed branches, stems, roots, and leaves fall into the clean pottery pot, clear water was poured in, and the soup boiled out small bubbles and hot air, letting the water vapor and medicinal fragrance penetrate his temples and sleeves in the sound of dripping. He stared unblinkingly, watching every step of the brownish-black decoction from coming out of the pot to entering the jar, and then took a silver spoon.

That day, he tried to suppress the drowsiness brought by the decoction, piecing things together in a half-dream, half-awake state, trying hard to outline a prototype of a demon in his brain, but he couldn't do it no matter what.

He only saw light and Zhao Jiu's smiling eyes.

That person was arrogant and willful, and sometimes unreasonable, his temper growing day by day, and he believed in many strange rules. He never politely ordered Yang Yizhong during the day, and he didn't tell him his origins in the dark of night.

"Commander, Minister Lin left half an hour ago."

Yang Yizhong put down the silver spoon and the medicine jar again and blinked.

"Prepare the horse. Go to the residence of Grand Councilor Zhang in Xifu."

That person was unique and unmatched in the world.

(End)

Note:

The prescription used in the article's setting for treating typhoid fever is the Renshen Baidu Powder formula, which comes from Volume 2 of the *Taiping Huimin Heji Jufang*, compiled by the Song Dynasty's Imperial Medical Bureau.

Original text:

Renshen Baidu Powder: Treats typhoid fever and seasonal illnesses, headache and stiff neck, fever and aversion to cold, body pain, and cough due to cold accumulation, nasal congestion and heavy voice, wind-phlegm headache, vomiting, chills, and fever.

Chaihu (remove seedlings), licorice root (prepared), Platycodon grandiflorus, ginseng (remove reed), Chuanxiong, Poria cocos (remove skin), Aurantium aurantium (remove flesh, stir-fry with bran), Qianhu (remove seedlings, wash), Qianghuo (remove seedlings), Duhuo (remove seedlings).

The above ten flavors, each thirty liang, are coarsely ground. For each dose, two qian, with a cup of water, add a small amount of fresh ginger and peppermint, decoct together for seven fen, remove the dregs, and take it at any time. Take it hot when there is more cold, and take it warm when there is more heat.

Yuzhi Pills are from Volume 4 of the book.

Renshen Baidu Powder is still used in modern times and should be a classic typhoid fever prescription. See *Clinical New Uses of Traditional Chinese Medicine Ancient Books Series—Essentials of Taiping Huimin Heji Jufang* (Guizhou Science and Technology Publishing House, 2007).