Trouble in the County: Her Name Spreads Far and Wide
Su Qing’s reputation soon stretched beyond Xiangyang Brigade.
It was all because Old Liu, the village Party secretary, could not keep a secret. After Su Qing cured his wife’s chronic back pain, he sang her praises to anyone who would listen: “We have an educated youth here named Su—her skill is nothing short of magic. One needle, and the ailment vanishes. Better than any doctor at the county hospital!”
Word traveled fast—first to the neighbouring commune, then all the way to the county seat.
Li Defa, deputy director of the county supply and marketing cooperative, heard the rumours. He didn’t believe them. How could a young girl sent down from the city possibly be that skilled? Yet he could not afford to dismiss them—his mother was dying.
Seventy-year-old Mrs. Li had begun suffering from dizziness and unsteady gait six months prior. Three visits to the county hospital and piles of medicine had done nothing; her condition only worsened. By last month she could no longer rise from bed; by last week she had slipped in and out of consciousness. The hospital doctors had shaken their heads: “Prepare for the worst.”
Li Defa was a devoted son. Desperate, he drove the cooperative’s truck over bumpy mountain roads for two hours, arriving at the remote village in search of hope.
Su Qing was drying herbs in the courtyard when he pulled up.
“You’re Comrade Su?” Li Defa eyed the slender girl before him, thick with doubt.
“I am.”
“So young?”
“Yes.”
“…You really can treat illness?”
Su Qing set down her herbs, brushed the dirt from her hands, and lifted her clear, knowing eyes. She smiled faintly.
“You’ve come all this way. Sit. Tell me everything—from the very first symptom to now.”
Li Defa spoke for twenty minutes straight. Su Qing listened in silence, then paused for ten seconds.
“Your mother’s illness is not ordinary dizziness,” she said. “Blurred vision, poor balance, fading awareness… these point to trouble in the posterior cranial fossa. If I’m not mistaken—something inside her head is pressing against her cerebellum.”
Li Defa went pale. “Something? What sort of thing?”
Su Qing did not say “tumour” outright; in this era, the word would terrify anyone, and she would not make a diagnosis without examining the patient herself.
“I need to see her. Can you take me to the county seat?”
Two hours later, in the Li family’s old courtyard house in town.
Su Qing sat beside the kang, two fingers resting lightly on Mrs. Li’s wrist. The old woman lay motionless, skin sallow, eyes closed, breath shallow. Su Qing closed her eyes, letting her heightened senses—sharpened by the spiritual spring water—trace every faint signal in the pulse.
Deep and slow at the root, taut and slippery at the middle, faint and weak below. The left pulse was noticeably weaker than the right.
She opened her eyes. “Comrade Li—I can treat her.”
Li Defa sprang to his feet. “Truly?!”
“With acupuncture and herbal medicine, we will first stabilise her condition, then heal it step by step. No surgery, no journey to the provincial capital. But I will need a few items prepared.”
She handed him a list. Most were common herbs—but the last three lines read: deer antler 2 qian, notoginseng powder 1 liang, gastrodia 4 qian. In 1976, these were as rare and precious as gold.
Li Defa gritted his teeth. “I will find them—no matter the cost.”
Left alone with the patient, Su Qing readied her needles.
First needle: Baihui. Angle, depth, speed—precise to the millimetre, using the Traveling Meridian, Guiding Qi technique Shen Henian had just taught her.
Second and third: Fengchi, both sides. Shifting to the Green Turtle Probing the Cave method from her ancient texts—tiny, careful rotations of the needle tip, like clearing a blocked river.
Fourth and fifth: Hegu and Taichong, the classic Opening the Four Gates pairing to unblock the body’s vital energy.
Sixth: Yintang.
Seventh and eighth: Neiguan.
Seven needles in place. Su Qing closed her eyes, channelling a thin thread of spring energy through the silver shafts—just enough to awaken the body’s own healing powers, not enough to seem impossible or suspicious.
Ten minutes later, she withdrew the needles and opened the door.
“Come in.”
Li Defa rushed inside—and froze.
Mrs. Li’s eyes were open. The haze had cleared; her gaze was sharp and steady. Slowly, painfully, she turned her head.
“De… Defa…”
Her voice was hoarse and faint—but it was the first word she had spoken in half a month.
Li Defa’s eyes flooded with tears. He dropped to his knees beside the kang. “Mother!”
Su Qing stepped back, wearing a gentle, measured smile. But her mind was already turning: Li Defa, deputy director of the supply and marketing cooperative. In this era, that cooperative controlled the flow of every scarce good—cloth, sugar, cigarettes, bicycles, sewing machines—all things that required ration coupons. And now, he owed her his mother’s life.
Her first ally in the county seat—secured.
By sunset, Su Qing was ready to leave. Li Defa caught up with her at the gate, clutching a bulging cloth sack.
“Comrade Su—a small token of my gratitude. You must take it!”
Inside were two tins of malted milk, half a kilo of sugar, two bars of Shanghai soap, and fifty yuan—enough to support an ordinary family for two months.
Su Qing declined once, then accepted. Refusing too many times would only look false.
“I will take it, thank you. I’ll return in two days for the second round of needles. Seven days makes one course; three or four courses should bring clear improvement.”
“Of course! I’ll come collect you myself!”
Su Qing smiled and turned to go, then paused.
“By the way, Comrade Li—does your cooperative have any hard-to-find stock right now?”
Li Defa thumped his chest. “Name it! Anything in the warehouse—no coupons needed!”
Su Qing’s eyes curved. “I’ll write you a list another day.”
No coupons. Three words that meant more than a hundred yuan in 1976.
She walked through the county streets as the sun dipped low, her shadow stretching long behind her. What she did not know was that someone had already noted every detail of that afternoon. An urgent letter would be sent to the capital that very night, bearing only one line:
“Confirmed: this educated youth masters lost ancient acupuncture techniques. Her skill is extraordinary. Request instructions.”
Meanwhile, in the Lu family’s grand residence in the capital.
Lin Wanqing leaned back in her chair, swirling tea in a porcelain cup, her red lips curving into a cool smile.
“Oh? So there’s an educated youth hanging around Zhanye?”
She set the cup down with a sharp click.
“How interesting. Book me a train ticket to the northwest.”
“I want to see for myself—what sort of village girl dares to set her sights on my fiancé.”