China by Edward Rutherfurd (historical books to read TXT) 📕

was plump, but I suppose you might say she changed from a girl to a perfectly formed young woman. I was very happy about it. A year after Zi-Hao was born, Rose was pregnant again.

There was some more good news that summer. The British barbarians came back again and stormed the forts down at the mouth of the Peiho. But this time we were better prepared and our men drove them back to Guangzhou. Even my father was triumphant. “I told you that one day the emperor would teach the barbarians a lesson,” he cried—which was quite untrue, of course. All the same, it did seem to be a good sign.

My little boy had started to walk. I would put him between my legs and hold his two tiny hands above his head, teaching him to put one foot in front of the other. By summer’s end he could walk a few paces by himself. And he could speak some words as well. I felt as if everything was right with the world.

—

So it came as quite a shock when he fell sick. It began in early autumn. One day he suddenly threw up. We didn’t think much about it. These things happen all the time with little children. But the next day it happened again, and afterwards he seemed very listless, which wasn’t like him at all. The day after that, he just lay on the kang covered with a shawl and didn’t want to move. We didn’t know what was the matter with him. He looked awfully pale.

My mother, the midwife, and a woman from the next village who knew many cures all took a hand, but nothing did any good. I became so worried I could hardly work.

It was my master who came up with a suggestion. “I know a physician in Beijing,” he told me. “If anyone can cure your son, he can. Take the baby to Beijing and come back as soon as you can.”

That was an act of great kindness on his part. Not many masters would have done it. I almost broke down when I thanked him.

So I took Rose and the baby to Beijing. My father insisted on coming, too. “You never know, I might be useful,” he said. And in fact he was, because he persuaded the master of one of the ships on the canal to take us there for nothing.

The apothecary’s where the doctor was to be found turned out to be a huge emporium. The main hall was like a temple. Behind the dark wood of the high counters were rows and rows of glass jars and baskets of herbs. The doctor himself was a tiny old man, sitting on a chair in one corner of the place, so small that only his toes touched the floor. He looked up at me curiously as I told him who’d sent me, but he was very courteous. He asked us a lot of questions and examined the baby.

I’d heard about how the best physicians examine the tongue and the pulse. Each wrist has three pulses, from just above the thumb to farther up the arm. There are all sorts of descriptions for what doctors feel—floating, surging, hard, soft, hollow, irregular, and so many combinations it makes the mind spin. I couldn’t believe the old man would be able to perform all these tests on a tiny child, and I don’t know how many he did, but it took a long time. Finally he delivered his verdict. “Your son is very sick,” he told us. “He may die. But I think I can cure him. However, the medicine will be expensive,” he warned me.

I’d have paid everything I had.

We waited patiently by the counter while the assistants collected the ingredients in a wooden bowl. Then they ground it into a powder. It all took some time.

Rose was looking exhausted. I had my little boy in my arms, and I was so busy whispering to him how the medicine was going to make him feel better—although he didn’t know what I was saying, the sound of my voice seemed to soothe him—that I hardly noticed that my father had gone off.

When I did realize, I started to look around, and finally I saw him deep in conversation with the tiny old doctor. My father was busy talking, and the old man nodded and said a word from time to time, though I couldn’t tell whether he was interested in what my father was saying or not. And I was just wondering how long this would be going on when Rose nudged me and pointed towards the counter. The medicine was ready. They gave me a slip of paper to take to the desk where you pay. I hardly looked at it. I had the money ready. I gave the slip of paper to the man at the desk, and I saw him look a bit surprised.

I don’t think I heard him at first. I’d put silver on the desk, but he was shaking his head and pointing at the slip of paper. Then I read it.

I still had my little boy in my arms, but I must have staggered and nearly dropped him, because suddenly Rose was at my side, and she had her hands out to take the baby from me. I stood there and stared at the cashier dumbly, like a man who’s just been struck dead but doesn’t know it. For the cost of the medicine was more than I’d brought to Beijing. In fact, it was more money than I possessed in the world. I couldn’t pay.

So what was to become of my little boy?

Just then I saw my father moving towards me. He was looking pleased with himself.

“Do you know who the old doctor is?” he said excitedly.

“No,” I mumbled. I was so wretched I was hardly listening.

“He owns the whole store,” my father said. “And you’ll never guess: His father came from our village. He