Chapter 80 Calling Dr. Xu for a Consultation

An ugly exchange in the ward leaves the doctors unsettled.

Outside the ward.

Dr. Qi sounded deeply apologetic. “Henry, I'm sorry. I never expected anything like that.”

Henry smiled. “It's all right. It wasn't your fault.”

“Still, thank you for helping with the consultation. Let me buy you dinner tonight.”

“There's no need. I have to get home tonight.”

“All right, then.” Dr. Qi nodded. “Well… I'll head over there.”

“All right,” Henry said.

In hospitals, doctors of Chinese and Western medicine generally got along quite well. There was seldom any real hostility.

Where were relations between the two at their worst?

Online!

You didn't often meet people who attacked Chinese medicine in everyday life. Online, they gathered in droves. Those internet medical experts were something else.

Look a little closer, and you would find that most of them understood neither Western nor Chinese medicine.

Ask what they knew about Chinese medicine, and they might name banlangen and Hua Tuo. That was about it.^[1]

Ask what they knew about Western medicine, and at most they might come up with Academician Zhong.^[2]

Yet these were the people who attacked Chinese medicine most eagerly. Besides those with no medical background at all, there were the theoretical researchers. The more theory they studied, the less they believed in Chinese medicine, and the more they attacked it.

At the bedside, though, relations between Chinese and Western medicine were actually quite good. The more accomplished the clinician, the less readily they dismissed Chinese medicine. They had seen what it could do.

During the fight against SARS—severe acute respiratory syndrome—in 2003, the Lingnan school had shown the strength of Chinese medicine. When Chinese medicine was brought into treatment early, most mild cases could be cured, severe cases could be kept from deteriorating, and deaths could be greatly reduced.^[3]

Academician Zhong's respiratory diseases institute had admitted 88 patients, of whom 10 died. Chinese medicine had not been used at first. Later, it was incorporated into treatment for 71 patients, and only one died.

There was a research report on it: “A Clinical Study of Chinese Medicine Intervention in 71 Patients with SARS.” Academician Zhong's name appeared last on the list of authors.^[4]

The leader of the Lingnan school at the time was the veteran physician Deng Tietao. At the First Affiliated Hospital of Guangzhou University of Chinese Medicine, Deng had also treated 73 patients. He insisted that Chinese medicine be the mainstay of treatment, and all were cured and discharged.

There were no patient deaths, no transfers, and no infections among medical staff. Follow-up more than a decade later found no lasting effects. It was the miracle of the “four zeros” in the fight against SARS.^[5]

Although SARS had first appeared in Guangdong, the province had the world's lowest case fatality rate: 3.8 percent in Guangdong, 3.6 percent in Guangzhou, and an average of 7 percent across mainland China. Across the water in Hong Kong, it was 17 percent. The world average was 11 percent.^[6]

The Lingnan school had fought that battle magnificently, showing the world what Chinese medicine could do. Later, when the disease spread to Beijing, the city's Chinese medicine practitioners were frantic. They weren't allowed to take part in treatment… Chinese medicine was brought in very late in Beijing…

Ah…

So anyone who had seen Chinese medicine work would never be among those who attacked it. And the more accomplished the clinician, the less readily they would dismiss it.

After that battle, policies that had held Chinese medicine back began to be removed. Previously, for instance, only people who had studied at a recognized college of Chinese medicine had been eligible to sit the licensing examination.

That left practitioners trained in family traditions, along with other folk practitioners, practicing without a license. Later, the rules changed: those with proven expertise could take the examination with recommendations from two doctors of Chinese medicine.

Private Chinese medicine clinics had also once been required to have at least 300 square meters of floor space and substantial registered capital. Those requirements were changed too.^[7]

There was no need to list every example.

With that experience of SARS behind them, Chinese medicine had been involved early in this latest epidemic.

“Uncle De,” from the Lingnan school, had become deputy head of the Chinese medicine team. On Lunar New Year's Eve, he had headed north into the outbreak to treat patients on the front line, staying until the end. The grueling work had brought his weight down to 50.5 kilograms. He was so thin he scarcely looked like himself, and he hadn't dared tell his family.^[8]

He too had contracted SARS back then. Fortunately, he recovered without lasting effects.

Deng, however, had died early in 2019, at the age of 104. He had not lived to see this latest outbreak. Otherwise, he would certainly have done his part too.^[9]

In every great disaster and epidemic, practitioners of Chinese medicine had never backed away. Yet… the public's hostility toward them had never diminished either…

In the office.

Alex was still furious. “That woman went too far! None of this was our fault. We were only trying to help. He's not even our patient—we went there for a consultation…” He went on and on.

Henry was looking out the window, lost in thought. “What would he do? How would he treat this?”

He had suddenly thought of Evan. Young as the doctor was, Henry had to admit that his skill was extraordinary. With each of the patients he had treated at the Chinese medicine hospital, a single dose had turned a stubborn illness around.

Henry had checked for himself yesterday. Even a patient whose condition he couldn't confidently assess had been cured with a single dose in Evan's hands. Reluctant as Henry was to admit it, the young doctor's skill had probably surpassed his own.

“How would he treat it?” Henry murmured again. Some things, once you started thinking about them, simply wouldn't leave your mind.

Alex was still talking. “Don't you agree, Dr. Zhong? That woman was biting the hand that helped her. We went there out of kindness to treat her father, and she said we were useless.

“How can she say Chinese medicine can't treat illness? How can she say it's useless? She's completely unreasonable!

“She went too far. And then she told me to cure him… I just… I…”

NovelPhoenix publishes the author's chapter for readers, while this version was reproduced without their permission.

Henry slowly turned his head. All he could think about now was Evan.

“Tell me… if it were him… how would he treat this?”

“Who?” Alex was taken aback.

“Dr. Evan Xu, from Mingxin Clinic. The doctor we saw yesterday.”

Alex hesitated. “Well… I… don't know. An acute abdomen like this is treated with surgery by Western medicine. We Chinese medicine doctors don't get to treat these cases. Dr. Xu… probably hasn't treated one either.”

“But this patient refuses surgery. He'll only accept Chinese medicine.”

Alex said nothing. He just looked awkward.

Henry thought it over carefully, then stood. “Come on. Let's go find Leo Cao.”

“Huh? Why Dr. Cao?” Alex asked, bewildered.

At Mingxin Clinic.

Clara put down her phone with a loud sigh. “Well, that's it. We're done.”

“What happened?” Evan asked.

“The article was rejected. Their boss hates Chinese medicine. Lily even got yelled at today. This isn't going to work.”

“All right.” Evan shook his head helplessly.

All he needed now was one more big burst of publicity. That would clear the system's remaining buffering time and let him go study with a clinical mentor again. Now, though, he would have to find another way.^[10]

“Don't worry. I'll help you think of something else,” Clara said reassuringly.

Evan nodded.

Beep, beep, beep…

His phone rang. After he answered, his expression shifted slightly. “All right. I'll be there right away.”

“What is it? What's happened?” Clara asked.

Evan hurried to his feet and gathered his things. “The Chinese medicine hospital has an emergency patient. They've asked me to come and take a look with them.”

Clara's face fell. “So you're leaving work again?”

“I'm sorry. The emergency has to come first.”

“Ah.” Clara knew she couldn't talk him out of it. If she could, he wouldn't be Evan. She forced a smile. “It's all right. Saving someone comes first. It doesn't matter whether we make any money.”

“I'm sorry. How about this—dock me two days' pay.”

After apologizing to Clara, Evan took his things and hurried out.

Clara gave a long sigh, then turned to look at Ben, who was huddled in the corner.

The moment Ben heard that Evan was going out again, he knew he was done for.

Meek, powerless, and helpless.

Clara gave him an angelic smile. In the friendliest voice, she said, “Ben, how about forty percent off all the wellness treatments today?”

“Ugh…” Ben nearly cried.

Reader Notes

Reader Notes

1. ↩︎ Banlangen and Hua Tuo. Banlangen is the Chinese name of an herbal medicinal material; the specimen record cited here identifies Isatis root and rhizome. Hua Tuo was a celebrated physician of the Eastern Han period, remembered particularly for surgery. The narrator pairs a recognizable herb name with a famous historical doctor to suggest superficial familiarity with medicine. Knowing either name does not establish someone's medical knowledge; that contrast is the point of this passage. Sources: Hong Kong Baptist University — Ban Lan Gen specimen record (in Chinese); Beijing University of Chinese Medicine Museum — Hua Tuo (in Chinese).
2. ↩︎ Academician Zhong. The respiratory specialist referred to here is Zhong Nanshan, a real physician and member of the Chinese Academy of Engineering. “Academician” is the title of an elected academy member. His surname and his position at the Guangzhou respiratory institute distinguish him from the fictional Dr. Henry Zhong. His Chinese name is retained, as are the names of the other real medical figures in this passage. Source: Chinese Academy of Engineering — Zhong Nanshan and respiratory health (in Chinese).
3. ↩︎ The Lingnan school and SARS. Lingnan refers to southern China, including Guangdong. Here “school” means a regional medical tradition, rather than a single college or a religious order. SARS in this historical passage is severe acute respiratory syndrome, the disease behind the 2002–2003 outbreak. The narrator's claims about treatment effects express the source novel's argument; identifying the tradition and the epidemic does not establish those effects. Sources: He Jianhua — The Tradition of External Treatment in Lingnan Medicine, p. 62 (in Chinese); WHO — Summary of the 2002–2003 SARS outbreak.
4. ↩︎ The 71-patient report. This 2003 paper by Pan Junhui and colleagues lists Zhong Nanshan last among its authors. Its public abstract describes a retrospective series in which Chinese and Western treatments were combined: 36 patients received Chinese medicine throughout treatment, and 35 during recovery. It reports 70 clinical recoveries and one death. This was not a randomized comparison establishing how much any treatment reduced mortality. The abstract does not verify the preceding 88-patient total or its implied before-and-after comparison. The English paper title in the narrative is translated for this edition. Source: Chinese Journal of TCM and Western Critical Care — Article record and abstract (in Chinese and English).
5. ↩︎ Deng Tietao and the “four zeros.” Deng Tietao was a real senior physician associated with Guangzhou University of Chinese Medicine. A university-hosted commemorative account reports 73 SARS patients and three zero outcomes: deaths, transfers, and staff infections. The chapter also asserts no lasting effects after long follow-up; that fourth outcome is not established by this account. The distinction matters: an institutional report of hospital outcomes is not itself patient-level evidence for a decade-long follow-up claim. Source: Guangzhou University of Chinese Medicine — Commemorative coverage, January 16, 2019 (PDF, in Chinese).
6. ↩︎ Comparing fatality rates. A case fatality ratio is the share of identified cases that resulted in death. The figures and “world's lowest” claim above are preserved from the novel. WHO's year-end table gives rounded ratios of 7 percent for mainland China and 17 percent for Hong Kong, but also lists places with lower ratios than Guangdong's stated figure. Its global totals, 774 deaths among 8,096 probable cases, imply about 9.6 percent, rather than 11 percent. The table does not separately verify the Guangdong and Guangzhou figures. Regional comparisons alone cannot isolate a treatment's effect. Source: WHO — SARS summary, data as of December 31, 2003.
7. ↩︎ Training, licensure, and clinic rules. Family training and clinical expertise are distinct from formal college qualifications. China's 2006 rules included an assessment route for experienced practitioners, requiring supporting statements from at least two licensed physicians as well as other conditions; earlier rules already existed in 1999. The chapter compresses this history. Its clinic-size claim also needs qualification: the national 1994 standards specified 40 square meters for a Chinese medicine clinic, while the larger “outpatient department” category required 300. Those categories should not be conflated. These documents do not establish that SARS caused the changes described. Sources: National Health Commission — 2006 assessment and examination rules, Articles 19, 22, 27 and 37 (in Chinese); Wuxi Health Commission — 1994 minimum standards, Chinese medicine clinic and outpatient department sections (in Chinese).
8. ↩︎ “Uncle De” and the later epidemic. This affectionate nickname refers to Zhang Zhongde, a real physician, rather than a family relationship. His university describes his departure for Wuhan on Lunar New Year's Eve in 2020 to work during the COVID-19 outbreak. Thus “this latest epidemic” is a reference in the narrator's historical commentary; it does not by itself date the clinic scene. The weight in the Chinese text is 101 jin, converted here to 50.5 kilograms. The cited account supports the nickname and journey, but does not document that weight. Source: Guangzhou University of Chinese Medicine — Zhang Zhongde recounts his epidemic work (in Chinese).
9. ↩︎ Deng's dates and reported age. The university-hosted memorial records Deng Tietao's death on January 10, 2019 and gives his age as 104. It also places his birth in the tenth lunar month of 1916. The figure 104 is the age reported in that Chinese commemoration, rather than a count of completed birthdays between those dates. The chapter retains the original figure and keeps this biographical aside separate from the fictional hospital's immediate timeline. Source: Guangzhou University of Chinese Medicine — Memorial to Deng Tietao, January 14, 2019, p. 8 (PDF, in Chinese).
10. ↩︎ Clinical mentorship and the system's wait. As explained earlier, studying with a clinical mentor means learning from an experienced practitioner's work with patients and medical cases. It is more specific than simply attending a course. Evan's system allows him to undertake such study in the past; the buffering time and its reduction through publicity belong to the novel's fictional mechanism. The modern policy cited here describes mentorship as professional education. It does not explain or validate that mechanism. Source: National Administration of Traditional Chinese Medicine — Mentorship education rules, Articles 3, 6, 15–16 (in Chinese).