You can't only love the Qing Dynasty when you're eating the fruits of others' labor.

Chapter 33 I'm clearly not sick!
As Jiang Qingyun entered the front hall, he deliberately slowed his pace and quietly observed the unsuspecting Wu Yong.

Officials of the Qing Dynasty were often adept at managing their facial expressions.

However, they may not be able to maintain this in private when no one is around. Management will always be lax, and only a very few ruthless people can keep their makeup on for 24 hours straight.

Like this~
Jiang Qingyun clearly saw worry on Wu Yong's face.

He took a deep breath, quickened his pace, appeared from behind, and smiled while bowing.

"I was unaware of the presence of Imperial Censor Wu. Our humble abode in the Southern City Military Command is truly honored."

"It's a pleasure to meet you. Imperial Censor Jiang is renowned throughout the capital, yet he is so young; his future is limitless."

……

As Aristotle once said: In officialdom, etiquette is the content.

Jiang Qingyun fully agreed with this and kept it in mind.

After a brief, insincere, and pointless exchange of formalities, the two took their seats at the same time.

"Professor Wu, may I have my pulse checked?"

"Ah~ Sure, Brother Jiang, what's wrong with you?"

"If you're sick, treat the illness; if you're not, prevent it. How could I miss the opportunity with the imperial physician in front of me?"

Wu Yong first laughed heartily, then composed himself, placed two fingers on Jiang Qingyun's wrist, closed his eyes slightly, and gently stroked his beard with his other hand, displaying the demeanor of a renowned doctor.

His two fingers are no ordinary fingers; they've cut off the Emperor, the Empress Dowager, and will cut off the Empress in the future.

……

After 30 breaths, he removed his fingers and opened his eyes.

"Brother Jiang, your blood and qi are flowing smoothly, your muscles and bones are strong, and your vital energy is abundant. Apart from the slight depletion from that activity and a slight deficiency in your yang energy, everything else is fine. But it's alright, I'll prescribe a formula for you to ensure you have a happy life from now on, and a happy life every day."

Jiang Qingyun was dumbfounded. How could the Imperial Physician be so improper!

Wu Yong picked up his brush and quickly produced a fresh "Golden Knife Square" paper, the handwriting reminiscent of the wild cursive script of the monk Huaisu.

"Brother Jiang, please keep this safe."

Jiang Qingyun took it, carefully blew away the ink, and folded it away.

"Brother Wu, I won't pay you for the consultation. Just let me know what you need. I'll do what I can right away, and I'll find a way to do what I can't. In short, get it done!"

……

"Brother, you speak your mind. I have a question for you: why is the success rate of smallpox vaccination in your southern city so high?"

"It is all thanks to the Emperor's blessings that the capital city is a place of outstanding people and abundant resources."

Wu Yong smiled without saying a word.
"Ahem, it's also because the people of the South City are tough and resilient to Cao Cao's attacks."

“Brother, I won’t hide it from you. The South City is doing so well, setting a good example. The court is preparing to follow the same approach in the inner city and vaccinate the Eight Banners in the capital as well.”

"This is a good thing; it benefits the country and its people."

"But it's only disadvantageous to my Imperial Hospital!"

"Brother Wu, are you worried that something might happen to these distinguished guests after they have contracted smallpox?"

"Yes, and that's not all. I know my own prescription, how could it be so successful? It's impossible, the number of patients at your smallpox asylum in the southern suburbs is far lower than I expected. Brother, can you tell me the truth?"

Looking at Wu Yong's extremely sincere words, Jiang Qingyun breathed a sigh of relief.

"The secret lies in the simple calculation."

"Underreporting?"

"Correct."

"What about the other people who had smallpox? Did you kill them all?"

"Just drive them out of the south city."

Wu Yong seemed to be deep in thought. He actually believed this statement, and then his expression became conflicted and pained.

"Brother, you've really put me in a difficult position. Your methods won't work in the inner city. What am I going to do when those Manchu nobles get smallpox?"

"Even if the sky falls, Minister Hong will hold it up."

"That's true, but I wrote the prescription, so I still have to bear some responsibility."

"I have a plan, come closer and listen."

……

Wu Yong's eyes widened in disbelief, and it took him a long time to come to his senses.

He sighed:
“Brother, you’re born to be an official. Don’t forget your old brother when you rise to prominence. From today onwards, I’ll take care of all the medical matters in your household. You can come whenever I call. If it’s inconvenient for me, I’ll have my wife come.”

"Brother Wu, how much longer?" "Hmm?"

"How much time do we have? Six months? Five months? Or immediately?"

Wu Yong's expression gradually turned serious as he stared intently at Jiang Qingyun's face.

Jiang Qingyun nodded, her eyes encouraging.

Yes, that's the question you're thinking of: How much longer can Dorgon live? You're the head of the Imperial Medical Academy, I don't believe you don't know. Maybe you even know when he'll succumb to poisoning!
Wu Yong was torn between his inner thoughts and his decision, but ultimately gritted his teeth and decided to take a gamble.

He dipped his finger in tea and wrote the character: Two. After thinking for a moment, he wrote another number: One.

The autumn wind entered the hall, and the water stains quickly dried.

"I have some matters to attend to, so I'll take my leave now. Please don't see me off. Farewell."

Jiang Qingyun stood up and solemnly clasped his hands in greeting.

……

Watching the man's departing figure, Jiang Qingyun felt a mix of emotions.

The powerful warlord Dorgon is about to die. What dramatic changes will occur in the court, and how will he be affected? Will Emperor Shunzhi still support him? How long can the Southern Ming Dynasty last?
Unconsciously, I stood there for the time it takes to burn an incense stick.

Until a gust of wind blew the "Golden Knife Square" off and left beside the boot.

Jiang Qingyun bent down to pick it up and patted off the dust.

Thinking to myself:

You lie to me, I lie to you. You fool me, I fool you.

I'm clearly not sick, but you insist I'm weak and trying to scare men with that. What man wouldn't be scared?

It seems that the Imperial Medical Academy might be even more chaotic than the Imperial Observatory. When specialized fields become crowded into disarray, the chaos can be truly unbearable, leaving both civil and military officials far behind.

……

"master?"

The concubine, Wanchun, sneaked out from behind, carrying a calico cat. The cat seemed reluctant, but couldn't escape.

"You've come at the right time. Take this and get the medicine as prescribed; autumn is the perfect time for tonifying the body."

"Yes, sir." Wan Chun glanced at him, then blushed instantly.

The women from Qingyin's small class might not pass the imperial examinations for the lowest level, but they were all masters of miscellaneous knowledge with a wide range of interests. She could tell at a glance what kind of tutoring this was.

Good luck and prosperity tonight!
"Late spring".

"Hey~"

"Remember, no one is allowed in my study except Green Pearl."

"Yes, sir." Wan Chun gracefully departed.

Once outside the house, the cat and its owner parted ways.

……

Fish play among the lotus leaves to the east, fish play among the lotus leaves to the west, fish play among the lotus leaves to the south, fish play among the lotus leaves to the north.

Jiang Qingyun failed several times. In the end, he realized that Wan Chun's carving skills were no less than her singing voice.

Afterwards, in late spring, she sang a poem called "Bodhisattva's Charm" a cappella

A jade censer, an ice-cold mat, and mandarin duck brocade—the powder melts, and sweat streams down the mountain pillow. Outside the curtain, the sound of a well pulley echoes; a startled smile, brows furrowed, escapes.

The willow shade is light and indistinct, the cicada hairpin falls softly. I must dedicate my life to making the most of today's joy.

……

"My husband, did I sing well?"

"Excellent. Especially the last line, which says, 'One must dedicate one's life to enjoying this day to the fullest.' Among all the spring poems of ancient and modern times, none can surpass it. 'Bodhisattva's Charm' is undoubtedly the best."

"As long as my husband likes it."

The calico cat squatted nearby, dozing off with its eyes closed.

Wherever the master is, that's where it is. As an exiled criminal cat, it is also Master Jiang's slave.

Across the room, the wife, Jiangnan, was disturbed by the noise, her brows furrowed.

She disliked Wan Chun from the very beginning. You don't need a reason to dislike someone. A respectable woman and a professional actress are rivals, but why should they have to fight over the same pot?

Even so, she didn't think her husband had done anything wrong.

The fault lies entirely with burning the opera singers.

(End of this chapter)