After resting at home for several more days, Lin Jiayan’s foot finally healed completely.
As the weather grew colder, getting out of bed in the mornings became increasingly difficult, and her fitness plan was postponed indefinitely.
Lianxin brewed some hot tea and brought it over to warm her hands.
“I haven’t seen A Ming these past few days.”
“Perhaps it’s because of the cold,” Lianxin replied. “Hardly anyone in the tribe has been going outside lately.”
The freezing weather had withered the grass on the plains.
Only Chahar and the others still went out riding every day. Most people stayed indoors to keep warm.
“So boring…”
Lin Jiayan yawned listlessly.
How did people in ancient times pass the time without phones or computers?
Forget it. I’ll go visit Sister-in-law.
Dulan’s back pain had improved significantly over the past few days. Another massage or two, and she should recover completely.
Seeing that Lin Jiayan was preparing to go out, Lianxin draped a cloak over her shoulders.
“It’s cold outside, Princess. Don’t stay out too long.”
“I know.”
Exhaling a cloud of white breath, Lin Jiayan tucked her hands into her sleeves and headed toward the golden tent.
“Sister-in-law?”
She lifted the flap and stepped inside.
The tent was empty.
Where did everyone go in weather like this?
Since the owners weren’t there, she felt awkward staying alone and turned to leave.
As she passed another tent, she spotted a familiar-looking woman coming out.
“Auntie,” Lin Jiayan called out, “do you know where my sister-in-law went?”
The woman had seen Lin Jiayan at Dulan’s tent several times and knew she was Chahar’s princess consort.
“A Ming developed a fever last night. Dulan took him to Cheren.”
She pointed toward a nearby tent.
Cheren was the tribe’s Mongolian physician. Whenever someone felt unwell, they sought him out.
“All right, I’ll go take a look. Thank you, Auntie.”
After expressing her thanks, Lin Jiayan hurried toward the tent.
As expected, Dulan was inside.
A Ming lay on the bed with a damp cloth resting on his forehead. His face was flushed bright red.
“Sister-in-law, what happened to A Ming?”
Lin Jiayan touched his cheek.
He was burning up.
“Why is his fever so high?”
“He hasn’t felt well these past few days and hasn’t had much energy. I thought he’d caught a chill because of the colder weather.”
Dulan’s eyes were ringed with dark circles. It was obvious she hadn’t slept much either.
“Last night, his fever suddenly spiked and kept getting worse, so I brought him to Cheren right away.”
“A cold?”
Frowning, Lin Jiayan examined A Ming carefully.
“It should just be a cold caused by playing outside in the wind,” Cheren answered while tending to a pot of medicine.
“I’ve already given him mahuang decoction to induce sweating. Once the fever breaks, he’ll be fine.”
“But he’s had a high fever since last night, and it still hasn’t come down. Are you sure it’s only a common cold?”
Ordinary colds didn’t usually cause such persistent high fevers.
Lin Jiayan desperately wished she could draw some blood and run tests to find out what was really wrong.
Seeing her question his diagnosis, Cheren became annoyed.
“Princess Consort, you don’t understand. We people of the grasslands are not as frail as those from the Central Plains. Usually, we can endure minor illnesses on our own. If the fever becomes serious, we drink some fever medicine and sleep it off.”
Unsure herself, Lin Jiayan said nothing more.
She sat beside Dulan and kept watch over A Ming.
As evening approached, Cheren fed A Ming several more bowls of medicine.
The fever still refused to break.
Soon, the child began mumbling incoherently.
Dulan held him tightly, frantic and at a loss.
At that moment, Zhana pushed open the tent flap.
He had just returned from the military camp, his face filled with concern.
“How is he? The fever still hasn’t gone down?”
Taking A Ming into his arms, he pressed their foreheads together to check his temperature.
“This doesn’t make sense,” Cheren muttered, scratching his head in frustration. “He’s taken all the right medicine. Why isn’t it working?”
Mongolian medicine excelled at treating external injuries, but when it came to internal illnesses involving fever and infection, its methods were often simple and limited.
Most treatments relied heavily on the patient’s own physical strength.
“The weather has been changing constantly,” Zhana said as he wiped A Ming’s back with a damp cloth. “People in the military camp have fallen ill too.”
“Wait.”
Lin Jiayan noticed a patch of red rash peeking out from beneath A Ming’s clothing.
She quickly grabbed Zhana’s hand and gently lifted the boy’s shirt.
Everyone in the tent gasped.
A dense cluster of vivid red spots covered his back, spreading downward from between his shoulder blades.
“This…”
Cheren suddenly began to tremble.
“It’s typhoid fever.”
Everyone except Lin Jiayan froze.
Typhoid was one of the most terrifying epidemics on the grasslands, second only to smallpox.
It spread quickly, was difficult to prevent, developed rapidly, and carried a high mortality rate.
There was still no truly effective treatment.
Whenever typhoid swept through the tribes, it claimed countless lives.
“How is that possible?”
Dulan burst into tears and clutched A Ming tightly.
“Typhoid disappeared more than ten years ago. How could it suddenly return?”
The great epidemic of ten years earlier had left corpses strewn across the land and devastated entire communities.
Zhana and Chahar had lost their mother during that outbreak.
Those who survived still remembered the horror vividly.
“Are you sure it’s typhoid? Look again.”
Zhana’s eyes were bloodshot as he grabbed Cheren by the shoulders and forced him closer to A Ming.
“It’s typhoid. I’m certain.”
Thinking of how quickly the disease spread, Cheren realized that no one present might escape infection.
Overcome with despair, he crouched down and buried his face in his hands.
Only then did Lin Jiayan fully understand.
In modern times, typhoid was considered a common and treatable illness.
But in this era, without effective antibiotics, it was a deadly plague.
Damn it.
Couldn’t someone at least give me some warning before transmigrating me? I could have prepared a little.
Levofloxacin.
Ofloxacin.
Ciprofloxacin.
Lin Jiayan wished she could instantly return to the twenty-first century and haul back crates of antibiotics.
Then these people would know that typhoid was nothing to fear.
Zhana closed his eyes tightly and took a deep breath.
Then he strode outside and issued orders.
“Send word to the Khan immediately and summon everyone to the main tent.”
“Also, dispatch a messenger to the military camp. Inform Chahar that the epidemic has arrived. Tell him to maintain order among the troops and prevent panic.”
“Be on guard against anyone seeking to take advantage of the chaos.”
At the military camp, Chahar was already inspecting the sick.
More than a dozen men lay inside the tent, while many others with milder symptoms remained in their own quarters.
“Urgent report!”
A messenger tumbled from his horse and scrambled to Chahar’s side.
“Word from the tribe: typhoid fever is spreading. The Khan orders you to remain at the camp and take charge.”
Chahar’s pupils contracted sharply.
“Are you certain it’s typhoid?”
The messenger lowered his head solemnly.
“Yes. More than half the tribe has already fallen ill.”
Outside the tent, the sound of galloping horses and hurried footsteps filled the air.
Lin Jiayan was sent back to her own tent and placed under temporary quarantine.
She sat with her head lowered, tracing words on the carpet with her finger as she desperately tried to recall everything she had learned about typhoid in medical school.
“Typhoid is an acute intestinal infectious disease caused by Salmonella Typhi. Its clinical features include persistent fever, apathy, relative bradycardia, rose spots, enlargement of the liver and spleen, and decreased white blood cell count…”
Frustrated, she tapped her forehead.
None of that helps.
I need to think about what medicines might actually be available here.