Returning home, Jiang Xiaolan had not yet returned from her sewing work.
Shi Mu placed the pastries neatly back on the table, lit a candle, and sat by the table to wait for Jiang Xiaolan.
In the years she had been married to Shi Xian, she had dedicated the most beautiful years of her youth, yet she had never received a single shred of true affection from him.
Shi Mu was certain that as long as he remained in this world for a single day, he would devote all his strength to protecting her every day.
After waiting for a little while, Jiang Xiaolan returned holding her sewing basket. Shi Mu called out to her, “Mother, come look at this.”
Jiang Xiaolan put down her things, walked over to the table, and looked at the exquisitely layered pastries in the box, raising her face in puzzlement. “Pastries from Fuyuan Zhai? Where did these come from?”
Shi Mu smiled. “Mother, I bought them.”
Although Jiang Xiaolan knew he had been practicing medicine in Liuli Lane recently, she had never imagined he could earn much—she figured barely scraping by to avoid starving was already enough.
She couldn’t help confirming once more, “Where did you get the money?”
Shi Mu smiled. “I go out early and return late every day; do you think I work for free? From now on, Mother, you will eat the best food and live the good life every day!”
The flickering candlelight illuminated the dilapidated room, casting a warm, glowing smile across the youth’s brows and eyes, with what looked like a tiny flame burning in the depths of his pupils.
“Not just pastries from Fuyuan Zhai; from now on, buy whatever you wish to eat. Whatever Shi Xian owes you, your son will pay it back to you piece by piece!”
His words stirred a myriad of emotions within Jiang Xiaolan, leaving her both touched and comforted, as if her heart was being gently squeezed. She looked closely at the child before her.
She realized that her son had not only grown up, but had matured into a young man she could rely on.
Even though she had not been blessed with a good husband, she had been granted a wonderful son.
Knowing she was about to shed tears again, Shi Mu hurriedly pushed her down to sit on a stool, pointing at the three kinds of pastries as he urged her, “Taste them one by one to see which is best. Fuyuan Zhai has too many varieties of pastries, and I was so overwhelmed choosing that Mother has to pick for me!”
With a choked voice, Jiang Xiaolan nodded repeatedly. “Alright, I will taste them all.” She pulled him down to sit as well. “You eat too.”
“I am eating, we will eat together.”
“Mother, I think this begonia pastry tastes better; the arrowroot cake is cloyingly sweet.”
Just as the mother and son were eating, a knock suddenly sounded on the door.
At this late hour, who could it be?
“Mother, rest, I will open it.” Shi Mu stood up to open the door, and saw a rugged-looking man standing outside—Zhang Qiang, the husband of Song Nianshan’s sister, Song Nianru.
Zhang Qiang was introverted, rarely speaking in daily life, and it was unclear why he had come.
Shi Mu greeted him, “Brother Zhang.”
Without replying, Zhang Qiang hesitated for a moment before asking in an extremely low voice, “You… can you really help me?”
“What is it?”
A glimmer of anticipation flickered in Zhang Qiang’s eyes as he asked Shi Mu, “Can you really make Nianru pregnant?”
So it was because of Song Nianru’s persistent inability to conceive.
Zhang Qiang cared that much about Song Nianru never getting pregnant?
Shi Mu had seen plenty of such cases in obstetrics and gynecology. When infertility cases came to the hospital and tests showed a problem with the wife, the husband would leave the hospital and immediately head to the civil registry office for a divorce.
Although many people were unwilling to admit it, the fact remained that in marriages facing reproductive issues, the party who first proposed divorce was almost always the husband.
Not to mention this was ancient times, where heartless men were likely even more common.
Shi Mu didn’t know the couple well, but he simply felt that love was originally pure, yet once tied to reproduction, it seemed to lose its flavor.
Zhang Qiang lowered his head and spoke in a deep voice, “Nianru proposed a separation yesterday.”
Shi Mu was taken aback. “What?”
“She said since things are like this, the two of us might as well go our separate ways and stop delaying each other.” Zhang Qiang cast aside his usual mild-mannered tone, his emotions suddenly turning intense. “But in truth, I do not care whether we have children or not. As long as I can live this peaceful life with her, that is enough! Because back then, she defied her family’s objections and resolutely married me, so I will never fail her!”
Due to his agitation, Zhang Qiang clenched his fists, his breathing slightly heavy.
Seeing Shi Mu in deep thought, Zhang Qiang suddenly fished two silver ingots out from his tunic. “I beg Dr. Shi to help me!”
Before the silver could be shoved into Shi Mu’s hands, Song Nianru suddenly rushed out from the corner behind the house, snatched the silver away, glared at Zhang Qiang with a mixture of exasperation and resentment, and scolded angrily, “Do you think earning money is easy for you? How can you just hand over our savings of many years to someone like that! You go to work at the Tanqiao medicine market every day, wearing away your shoulders and fingers, and you cannot even spare a bowl of warm wine for yourself, so why are you suddenly so generous? Ten taels of silver! Just giving it away like that!”
In truth, Song Nianru had been lurking nearby for a while and had already overheard the conversation between Zhang Qiang and Shi Mu.
Zhang Qiang usually didn’t say a peep, and she had always been the one calling the shots in this household. When she proposed a separation last night, he hadn’t said a single word, and Song Nianru had assumed he genuinely wanted to part ways with her.
She had cried the entire night.
She never expected he would take out their entire savings to find Shi Mu, nor did she expect him to utter those words.
Looking slightly nervous, Zhang Qiang lowered his voice and said, “Because I really have no other way.” After a brief pause, as if summoning tremendous courage to voice his true thoughts, he added, “Nianru, I do not want to part with you.”
Song Nianru froze for a moment, then abruptly burst into tears.
It was the first time the man who had shared her pillow for seven years had bared his innermost thoughts.
Yet it happened at such a desperate juncture, tasting sweet, sour, and painful all at once, overwhelming her with a complex mix of emotions.
The sweet part was that she hadn’t married the wrong person; the sour and painful part was that their matrimonial path had turned out so tortuous.
Averting her face, Song Nianru scolded through her tears, “Your family has kept its ancestral line single for nine generations, do not let it end with you!”
Poor with words, Zhang Qiang stammered, “Our family is not some noble household, we do not have anything that needs inheriting.”
Watching the two of them act out such a heart-wrenching scene of tragic separation, Shi Mu felt genuinely helpless. “Since the two of you are agonizing over this so much, why not simply have a child?”
Song Nianru glared fiercely at Shi Mu. “You make it sound so easy!”
The next moment, she heard the young man’s light, breezy tone: “It was never difficult to begin with. As long as we confirm neither of you has any other issues, you can have a child in a month.”
“A month!” Song Nianru widened her eyes.
She had spent a full seven years seeking treatments without the slightest effect, so what gave him the audacity to claim it could take a month?
Could this young fellow possibly be even more skilled than the imperial physician-trained doctors at Zhengde Hall?
“Still the same terms: if she does not conceive, I will not charge a single coin.”
The couple couldn’t help looking at each other, their eyes reflecting the same shock.
Shi Mu emphasized once more, “However, you must follow my instructions entirely.”
Things had already reached this point; the couple had no choice but to treat a dead horse like a live one.
Shi Mu first retrieved a sterile cup from his medical box. “Sister Song, help Brother Zhang take a sample of…” He paused, searching for an appropriate ancient term, and corrected himself, “Yuan Yang (vital essence).”
The couple exchanged another wave of glances. Blushing furiously, Song Nianru muttered discontentedly, “Why do you even need something like that, what is this supposed to do?”
Usually, this young fellow looked lively and mischievous, but when examining patients, he turned exceptionally solemn.
“I told you to listen to me.”
Though filled with doubts, the couple still went off to prepare as instructed.
After testing and confirming that Zhang Qiang’s sperm motility was fine, Shi Mu went to the couple’s home to conduct a thorough examination of Song Nianru. Confirming that all her internal organs as well as her reproductive system—including ovaries, uterus, fallopian tubes, and pelvic cavity—were completely normal, and that her infertility was simply caused by polycystic ovary syndrome (PCOS), Shi Mu officially began treatment.
Although ancient medicine offered various therapeutic approaches for infertility, the main focus remained on regulating Qi and blood, nourishing Yin, and warming the kidney.
Song Nianru mentioned that over the years, she did not know how many herbal decoctions she had drunk, and she had tried countless treatment methods. These included, but were not limited to, steaming and washing her lower abdomen, acupoint application, and a method from a certain clinic where vinegar-mixed ointment was applied to the soles of her feet, claiming it could anchor the fetus.
Shi Mu knew that traditional Chinese medicine’s regulation of Qi and blood was not useless, but on one hand, it required finding a truly skilled doctor, and on the other hand, it required long-term conditioning to show results.
However, modern medicine treated polycystic ovary syndrome by using gonadotropins to stimulate female follicle development, while daily monitoring the follicles to determine when they matured before proceeding with fertilization.
The success rate spoke for itself.
Today happened to be the fifth day of Song Nianru’s menstrual cycle, so Shi Mu administered her first injection of gonadotropins.
“For the next five days, you must come here to receive acupuncture every day.”
Song Nianru continued to ask, “And then?”
“I will tell you when the time is right for intercourse.”
The couple froze.
Did his diagnosis and treatment even include scheduling intercourse? Wasn’t this no different from the shamans she had consulted before?
In her quest to conceive, Song Nianru had tried consulting every possible avenue. Shamans had instructed her to engage in intercourse during full moons or periods of extreme Yin, yet the results remained completely useless.
Her heart started beating nervously again. “Dr. Shi, does… the timing of that really affect pregnancy?”
Ancient people lacked an understanding of the female reproductive cycle, and naturally knew nothing about the ovulation window.
Muttering under her breath, Song Nianru said, “Aren’t you just the same as those shamans? What temple have I not prayed at, what famous shaman have I not sought out, not a single one ever worked.”
The young man before her had dark, glossy eyes and smiled radiantly. “Sister Song, if you had met me earlier, wouldn’t it have worked?”
Seeing the young master pack up his medical box and prepare to leave, Song Nianru grew anxious. “Is there not even any herbal decoction to drink?”
She only received a parting remark: “Does Sister Song enjoy drinking herbal decoctions that much? Rest assured, follow my instructions and you will conceive.”
Song Nianru thought to herself: This person… could he be treating himself like the Goddess of Childbringing?
During this period, Shi Mu practiced medicine opposite Chunshi Tower. Because his treatments unfailingly cured patients, word of mouth spread among the neighborhoods of Liuli Lane and Ping’an Ward, leading residents to queue up one after another for consultations.
“Auntie, take these pills back with you, three times a day, two pills at a time!” Shi Mu’s voice was hoarse from shouting, but the auntie was quite hard of hearing and loudly asked again, “What, you are asking how many times it hurt? It has hurt for ages, two whole years.” Feeling somewhat embarrassed, the auntie added, “It hurts every time I relieve myself.”
Shi Mu continued shouting, “Auntie, I know it hurts! I said, if you take my medicine, I guarantee it will not hurt anymore!”
“What? Is this Caulis Spatholobi?” The auntie picked up a pill to study it closely. “It does not look like Caulis Spatholobi.”
Shi Mu: “…”
A kindhearted bystander pulled the auntie aside. “Come, let me explain how to take the medicine for you, and let Dr. Shi continue seeing patients.”
Passersby observing from afar remained quite perplexed. “Should a young unmarried man not stay safely at home weaving and cooking? How can he possess such superb medical skills?”
A man who had just finished treatment for upper respiratory infection angrily demanded, “Why can’t a young man possess superb medical skills? Is a young man missing a leg or an arm compared to men or women? In my eyes, Dr. Shi’s medical skills are no worse than any doctor in Yidu!”
The passerby scoffed lightly, “Go on, keep boasting.”
The man sneered, “I just hope you do not end up begging at Dr. Shi’s doorstep someday!”
In the afternoon, another infertile woman arrived at Shi Mu’s medical stall.
However, her case was different from Song Nianru’s—she had already suffered a staggering five miscarriages.