The clinic closes, and an ordinary evening begins.
Iris and her husband collected the medicine, paid, and left. Only when they stepped outside did they discover a parking ticket on their Mercedes.
Back inside the clinic, Ben was feeling rather deflated. He wanted to call the whole thing an elaborate performance, but his instincts told him it probably wasn't.
Clara was still a little dazed too. Evan was better than she had ever imagined. Better than the specialists!
Little Octopus hadn't left either. The carefree girl cried out in delight, “Wow, Dr. Xu, you're amazing! All those big hospitals and top specialists couldn't cure her, but you can!”
Evan shook his head. “We can't call her cured yet. I'll have to see how she's doing when she comes back. Besides, this isn't some rare, difficult case. Any doctor of Chinese medicine with reasonably developed skills would know how to diagnose and treat it.”
After a moment's surprise, Ben nodded in solemn agreement. Not a trace of a guilty conscience.
“You're still amazing!” Little Octopus said excitedly. “Wow. I never knew Chinese medicine was even better than Western medicine!”
“You can't compare them that way,” Evan corrected her. “Chinese and Western medicine—or traditional and modern medicine, if you prefer—aren't simply better or worse than each other. Each has its strengths.
“Take all the vaccines you've had since you were a child. Those are the fruits of modern medicine. They've eliminated many dangerous infectious diseases that Chinese medicine struggles to cure. For that alone, modern medicine has done an immeasurable amount of good.[1]
“Modern medicine has surpassed Chinese medicine in many areas, especially surgery.
“But it hasn't surpassed us in every respect. If it had, Chinese medicine might as well go straight into a museum.
“Take the case we just saw. It's called a shaoyang pattern. Western medicine has a hard time treating it, but a few doses of Xiao Chaihu Tang can cure it.[2] There are plenty of other illnesses where Chinese medicine has the advantage. The two systems start from fundamentally different theories, so they have different strengths in treating illness. Differences make the world interesting. Medicine is no exception.
“So there's no question of one being superior to the other, much less of the two being enemies. In a healthy relationship, Chinese and Western medicine should cooperate and make up for each other's weaknesses. We should put aside our loyalties to particular schools and do everything we can to treat illness and save lives.”
“Is that why everyone is promoting the integration of Chinese and Western medicine?” Little Octopus asked.
Evan shook his head, a conflicted look on his face. “Cooperation, not integration. Keep integrating them, and there won't be any Chinese medicine left.”[3]
Little Octopus didn't quite understand.
Clara and Ben both felt their hearts sink.
Even Ben, who had been drifting through his days playing Dou Dizhu, suddenly felt a sense of desolation at those words.
Clara felt troubled too.
It was time to close.
There hadn't been many patients today either. Apart from those two, only another two had come in the afternoon.
Clara had never imagined that love on the app could arrive so suddenly and disappear so quietly. All that flirting online, yet hardly any of them dared show up in person. She had found Evan more than forty matches!
Evening came.
Lily Li finally got off work, escaping the Abbess's clutches. She ordered takeout and turned on her computer, watching a performance with a doting, slightly foolish smile.
Her hands were covered in sauce and grease. Her period pain had mostly eased. With her Spleen strengthened and the dampness dispelled, her appetite had improved a great deal. She felt much better in herself.[4]
She could now eat a whole large bowl of rice on her own. She was just worried she might start putting on weight again. Still, it was fine. Her “Ji Ni Tai Mei” idol wouldn't turn his nose up at her![5]
What she didn't know was that her weight came from Spleen deficiency with obstructing dampness. Once the deficiency was treated and the Spleen could transform and transport properly, she would lose weight instead.
After dinner, Lily licked the grease from her fingertips and sighed softly. There was still the problem of producing a WeChat article with a hundred thousand-plus views every week.[6]
Evan had told her that excessive thinking and worrying could weaken her Spleen, but what could she do? How many people quietly put up with jobs they knew were damaging their health? They all had to make a living.
Real life was miserable enough. Couldn't she at least find a little comfort online? Suddenly, life didn't feel quite so bitter.
April had gone home too. She went into the kitchen to cook noodles. Dinner would be simple: two bowls would do.
Her husband came home from work as well.
They sat opposite each other, eating their noodles, with a plate of soy-braised beef between them.
“Does your stomach still hurt?” he asked as he ate.
April shook her head. “It's much better. And my lower belly feels a little warm.”
He nodded. “Good.”
“It's just…” She hesitated.
“Hmm?” He looked up at her.
April lowered her head. “Do you think… I'll be able to have our baby?”
He looked at her, at a loss for what to say.
She pressed her lips together. “I've always felt that the baby we lost is punishing us…” she said quietly.
Her husband frowned deeply. “Don't think like that.”
“We shouldn't have given him up.” Her voice grew quieter still.
He sighed too. “If we'd had any way to keep him… Who wouldn't have wanted to? We were just too young…”
“Do you think I can get pregnant again?”
“It doesn't matter. We'd have an easier life without children, just the two of us.”
April poked at the noodles in her bowl with her chopsticks. “But I still want us to have a baby,” she murmured.
“We will,” he reassured her. “Didn't that doctor say you could get pregnant once he'd warmed your womb?”[7]
“Mm.”
The night grew deeper.
Iris and her husband were curled up on the sofa at home, watching television. At 173 centimeters, Iris had tucked herself into the arms of a husband who stood under 165. It looked like a little chubby bear hugging a bamboo pole.
It had been a long time since they had watched television together. A small, contented smile appeared on Iris's usually cool face.
Her husband, however, looked preoccupied. Watching TV like this… It was so damn expensive!
“Honey, why don't we go out to a movie?” Iris suggested.
“At our age? What's so great about going to the movies?” he replied irritably.
“Oh,” she said softly.
At the cinema, Iris's husband held two movie tickets and sighed.
“Well, I might as well spread the cost a little. This movie… So damn expensive!”
Sunshine Residential Community.
Clara finished feeding her father and wheeled him into the living room to carry on watching The Legend of Zhen Huan. Then she washed the dishes. Normally, this was when she would do something of her own, but she hesitated.
“Dad…” she called at last.
“Hmm?” Adam Zhang turned his head with difficulty. His eyes and mouth were still askew, his left hand forming the Chinese sign for six, his right the sign for seven.[8]
Clara paused. “Why did you and Mom give up perfectly good jobs as doctors in the public system to come here and open this little place, Mingxin Clinic?”[9]
His crooked mouth trembled as he stammered, “Because… your mother… wanted to be… be a real doctor of… of Chinese medicine…”
Clara went still for a moment. Then she walked onto the balcony. In the darkness, her expression was hard to make out, but her breathing was unsteady.
Looking up at the sky, she sighed softly.
“Mom…”
Then she lowered her head, picked up her phone, and opened the dating app. Her index finger blurred as she began swiping right for all she was worth again, sparks practically flying from the screen.
Reader Notes
↩︎ Vaccination and “eliminated.” Vaccines prevent particular infections by preparing immune defenses; preventing a disease differs from treating someone who already has it. Evan's praise preserves the novel's broad use of “eliminated.” This should not be read as saying that many infectious diseases have disappeared worldwide. Smallpox was declared globally eradicated in 1980, while many other vaccine-preventable infections still circulate. These distinctions clarify the public-health terms without changing his dialogue. Sources: WHO — What is vaccination?; WHO — Smallpox, “Overview”.
↩︎ Shaoyang and Xiao Chaihu Tang. Shaoyang is a traditional diagnostic category discussed in the preceding consultation. Xiao Chaihu Tang is the classical formula associated with harmonizing it. Evan's claim about a few doses concerns that framework; Iris's response to treatment has not yet been shown. Source: Hong Kong Baptist University — Xiao Chai Hu Tang, “Action” and “Indications” (in Chinese).
↩︎ Cooperation and integration. “Western medicine” here means the conventional medical system, rather than treatment available only in Western countries. “Integrated Chinese and Western medicine” is an established Chinese institutional and educational category. Evan draws his own sharper distinction: cooperating while retaining separate approaches, versus combining them in a way he fears will erase Chinese medicine. That distinction expresses his position in this conversation. It is not a neutral definition of everything practiced under the name of integrated medicine. Source: State Council Information Office — Traditional Chinese Medicine in China, sections II–III.
↩︎ The Spleen, dampness, and overthinking. The capitalized Spleen denotes a functional system in Chinese medicine, with roles in processing food and distributing nourishment and fluids. “Dampness” describes a traditional pattern of impaired fluid handling, rather than moisture measured in an anatomical spleen. This framework links poor appetite and bodily heaviness with deficient Spleen function, and also associates excessive thinking or worry with impairment of that function. It supplies the vocabulary of Lily's explanation in the novel. These definitions do not independently establish the cause of her symptoms or a guaranteed treatment outcome. Sources: Chinese Medicine Hospital of Hong Kong — Zang-xiang, Spleen and Stomach paragraph; Beijing University of Chinese Medicine — When the Spleen is overburdened (in Chinese).
↩︎ “Ji Ni Tai Mei.” The Chinese uses a meme associated with pop singer Cai Xukun. It plays on a mishearing of zhi yin ni tai mei, roughly “just because you're so beautiful,” as ji ni tai mei, with a word sounding like “chicken.” Here it stands in for Lily's idol, rather than referring to a dish or to someone she personally knows. The English keeps the meme's sound and makes the fan reference explicit. Sources: iQIYI — Idol Producer, Cai Xukun contestant feature (in Chinese); China Digital Times — “Chicken, You Are So Beautiful,” opening explanation.
↩︎ A hundred thousand-plus views. WeChat is called Weixin in mainland China. Alongside private messages, its public-account system lets individuals, media organizations, and companies publish articles for readers and followers. Lily's assignment is an article that attracts more than 100,000 views each week, rather than a private message sent to that many contacts. The weekly requirement and the number come from the novel; they describe the pressure of her particular job, not a rule imposed on every public account. Source: Tencent — Weixin Official Accounts, publishing and subscription accounts.
↩︎ “Warming the womb.” This recalls the traditional cold-pattern explanation given at April's consultation. “Warming” is treatment language within that framework, rather than a report of a measured uterine temperature or an instruction to apply heat. Her husband's reassurance repeats the doctor's promise as he understands it; no pregnancy is established here. Her fear of punishment belongs to her own distress. Source: WHO — Chinese medicine terminology, entry 1343, “Deficiency cold in the uterus pattern”.
↩︎ Six and seven. Common Chinese number gestures use an extended thumb and little finger for six, gathered fingertips for seven. Adam's hands resemble these shapes involuntarily; he is not counting or signaling. Source: Open University — Basic numbers, Figure 6 description.
↩︎ Jobs “inside the system.” The Chinese phrase tizhi nei refers here to established medical posts within the public institutional system, which Clara contrasts with her parents' small private clinic. China's public institutions have formal arrangements for staffing, contracts, pay, and benefits. The chapter does not specify the parents' former hospitals, ranks, precise employment status, or salaries. Clara's question emphasizes the position and security they chose to leave, without giving those missing details. Source: China's Ministry of Justice — Regulations on Personnel Management in Public Institutions, chapters II–IV and VII (in Chinese).