That Is Not How You Do It
"Doli!"
"Yes, young master."
After a night of deliberation, the rough outline was set. It was a common, dime-a-dozen story: a novice physician, Jin Gwang-ryeol, accidentally encounters a miraculous opportunity, grows into a legendary doctor, and cures countless patients. I decided to stick to the typical structure, following the clichés of medical web novels to a T. As someone whose only exposure to medical dramas in my past life was Heo Jun, Behind the White Tower, and random medical forum posts, I had no other choice.
"That's settled."
Now, it was time to prepare the professional content. I spoke to Doli, who had just opened the door to my room.
"Doli, I need you to run an errand for me. Can you go out? I heard they're restricting movement outside."
"Yes, I'm fine. I had a mild case of Mama (smallpox) when I was young, so I'm immune. The spirits of smallpox don't visit twice. Even Hak-swae hyung is moving around just fine."
"Then that's fine. Go to the Hanyang merchant guild and bring back every medical book you can find. Get as many as possible, one of each kind."
The lifeblood of a medical story is its historical accuracy. It’s a drama focused on uncovering the cause of mysterious illnesses or deaths through 'diagnosis.' The value of a medical story lies in diagnoses that don't contradict the knowledge of the era. It would be useless to talk about vaccines or such things when the current response to an epidemic is to hold shamanistic rituals. So, I’d better borrow some famous names. By extracting the essence from the works of the era's Medical Sages—including Hua Tuo, Bian Que, Zhang Zhongjing, and Li Shizhen—and building the framework of the main story, I might be able to delay the heart attacks of the Royal Infirmary physicians who would eventually have to read this book.
"Deduct the book costs from the cotton fabric payment coming in, and... while you're at it, get me some cheap Gochoji (dried grass paper)."
"Gochoji?"
"Yes, the crude kind like that one you saw with the Gumiho story. The kind that gets moldy easily."
"What would you use something like that for... No, never mind. I understand. I'll be back soon."
"Right, thanks for the trouble."
The next step was to slip my knowledge from my past life into the gaps between the historically accurate extracts. Knowledge? What, like making soap? I think you just boil waste oil with ash. Penicillin? I only know about the mold, nothing else. I’ll just drop a hint; if the scholars of the Joseon Royal Infirmary spend a few hundred years obsessing over it, maybe they’ll find an answer. If not, oh well. Pasteur or Fleming will invent it later anyway, so why bother? And then there’s variolation. That’s the core, but it’s tricky. What kind of story could I weave to convince the physicians of this era to squeeze pus from a cow or horse infected with smallpox and inject it into human skin? Hmm, I need to think about that more.
Anyway, I would write down my past-life knowledge—which was essentially just folklore—onto the cheap, moldy paper Doli would bring. If they asked where I got such knowledge, I’d just hand them the moldy paper. What could they do if I said I bought it in the market? This was the perfect crime. It was excellent for a night’s worth of brain-racking. Satisfied with the perfectly secured plausibility, I nodded and began writing the introduction to the novel.
- Once upon a time, in the land of Saneum in Gyeongsang-do, there lived a true physician who cared for the sick and the poor who had nowhere else to go.
- The physician's name was Jin Gwang-ryeol.
"The illness is not being contained..."
Heo Jun, the Royal Physician leading the treatment of the major smallpox outbreak at the temporary infirmary on Mt. Mongmyeok, bowed his head in despair. The tent set up in the vacant lot was filled with the acrid smoke of medicinal decoctions and the groans of the sick. There were over a hundred patients lying on the shabby beds. It had been seven days and seven nights since the smallpox broke out. If the illness had been contained properly, the number of patients should have started to decrease by now through the Haegi (sweat-inducing) process, but unfortunately, the number was growing by the day.
The initial containment had failed. This was a much more vicious strain than the smallpox I encountered in Chungcheong last time.
"What on earth should I do..."
As he suppressed his despair and tended to the patients, the worst-case scenario happened. A physician came running to Heo Jun, drenched in sweat.
"Royal Physician! The blisters on the child I was tending to are turning black. The pulse is so faint I can barely feel it!"
"What? Let's go quickly."
Heo Jun rushed over to check the child's condition. The red sores on the child's face were losing their luster, turning ash-gray and sinking inward. Black spots. The mark of death. Seeing that darkness, Heo Jun dropped his head powerlessly and muttered.
"Alas... this child is beyond hope."
The standard procedure was to use Seungma-galgeun-tang (Cimicifuga and Kudzu Decoction) to lower the fever and force the pores open to expel the foul energy of the smallpox. If the Haegi worked, red spots would appear on the patient's skin; from then on, one would use tonics like Sipjeon-daebo-tang to boost the patient's vital energy and push out the pus from the spots. Once the pus was expelled, one would apply cooling herbs to the skin to prevent scarring. This was the method Heo Jun had learned and practiced until now.
The problem was that even the Haegi wasn't working. How vicious was this smallpox that it could overcome the efficacy of Seungma-galgeun-tang and allow the foul energy to penetrate the patient's body? Watching the child dying on the bed, Heo Jun clenched his eyes shut and shouted.
"We must lower the fever by any means necessary! Soak cotton cloths in cold water and wipe the patients' bodies! And from now on, prescribe double the dose of Seungma-galgeun-tang to all patients."
"Double the dose of Seungma-galgeun-tang?"
"It will put a strain on the patients' bodies, but we have no choice. If the foul energy settles and black spots form, everything is over. We must save their lives even if it leaves lasting effects."
"Yes... that is true, but..."
"Why? Is there a problem?"
"That is..."
To Heo Jun's question, the physician replied in a desperate voice.
"The Seungma (Cimicifuga) brought from the Royal Infirmary is almost gone, and the Galgeun (Kudzu root) has already run out. All the medicinal herb gatherers from the Royal Infirmary are currently climbing Mt. Mongmyeok and Mt. Samgaksan to dig up kudzu roots and herbs, but in this situation, prescribing double the dose is realistically impossible."
"Are there no medicinal herbs brought from other provinces! I heard there was quite a large supply!"
"There are too many outbreak areas besides this one, so the herbs have been scattered, and we had to set aside shares for the royal family and court officials, so there is nowhere else to procure them."
"No, how can this be..."
This cannot happen. If the illness spreads further from here, it will go beyond hundreds to thousands—no, the damage will be beyond imagination. At the same time, Heo Jun, drawing upon all the knowledge in his head, spoke urgently to the soldiers.
"You all go to the places in Hanyang where infirmaries have been set up, check if there is any surplus of Seungma and Galgeun, and bring back as much as you can. We have no time. Hurry!"
"Yes, Royal Physician."
"Also, according to the Hyangyak Jipseongbang (Compendium of Native Korean Prescriptions), water boiled with mugwort, willow branches, and peach leaves is effective for major smallpox, so gather people immediately and collect those materials."
"Understood, Royal Physician."
"And... Magistrate Park! I will be away for a moment, so you take command of the scene."
"Where are you going?"
"I must go to the Royal Infirmary and check the medical books. There is no answer like this."
Yes. It must be somewhere. Medicine is a record, and we physicians have fought and won against smallpox for the past thousands of years. Therefore, it must be here this time, too. The hope left behind by some unknown predecessor. As it always has been. Heo Jun ran toward the Royal Infirmary.
"... Is there truly nothing?"
The Seongjeonggak (Hall of Sincerity and Rectitude) of the Royal Infirmary. The medical books scattered in disarray and Heo Jun's bloodshot eyes told the story of what he had gone through last night. He read books he had already read, read new books he hadn't, and searched through every medical book that seemed related to smallpox, but there was still no answer. He did find out that water boiled with Hwangryeon (Coptis chinensis) was effective for major smallpox, but Hwangryeon was an expensive herb, so that couldn't be a solution.
"What on earth should I do about this?"
Just as Heo Jun slumped into his seat, realizing he had read everything and there were no books left, the door to the Seongjeonggak opened and a man entered.
"Oh, the Royal Physician was here."
"You are... aren't you Jeong, the Junior Scholar of the Gyoseogak (Office of Publication)? What brings you here at this hour?"
"There was a medical book that came up to the Gyoseogak last night, so I stopped by to check it."
"A medical book?"
"Yes, it was written by that famous Heo young master, but this time it was a medical book. Or is it? It’s a bit hard to call this a medical book, but it has content similar to medicine. As you know, anything related to medicine requires permission from the Royal Infirmary to be registered, so I came to find you."
"... Is that so?"
Heo Gyun, was it? I had heard rumors that the youngest son of Magistrate Heo Yeop was very bright. Since we were from the same clan, the memory was clear. But a medical book? What could that child know? Was he interested in medicine? No, he wasn't a middle-class commoner; he was a student who had to take the state examination, so there was no reason for him to be interested in medicine.
"... Give it here."
After much thought, Heo Jun took the book. He had to grasp at straws right now, so what did status or age matter? Since he was a bright child, there must be a reason he wrote the book, and if I can get even one thing out of this, that would be enough. Heo Jun stroked the cover of the book he had received.
"Physician Jin Gwang-ryeol. I've never heard that name before, but why is it so familiar?"
After the Junior Scholar Jeong left the Seongjeonggak, Heo Jun immediately turned the first page of the book.
- Once upon a time, in the land of Saneum in Gyeongsang-do, there lived a true physician who cared for the sick and the poor who had nowhere else to go.
- The physician's name was Jin Gwang-ryeol.
- Although he was a novice physician whose skills could not be called outstanding, Jin Gwang-ryeol's house was always crowded with patients because of his heart that put the poor patients first.
- In particular, the majority were the low-born patients called the 'eight classes,' and one day, a shaman came to him suffering from bedsores.
- Jin Gwang-ryeol sucked the pus from the bedsores on the back of the lowly shaman with his mouth, tending to her with utmost sincerity, and eventually cured her.
- And the shaman, who had recovered from her illness, said to Jin Gwang-ryeol.
- Thank you. I have told the ancestral spirits of your true heart, Physician Jin, so good connections will soon find you. Please accept this talisman.
- Jin Gwang-ryeol accepted the talisman with gratitude, thinking it was a repayment from a shaman who had no wealth.
- And some time later, a young boy who had lost consciousness and was carried on his father's back came looking for Jin Gwang-ryeol.
- Could this be... Jinsimtong (Angina Pectoris).
- A serious illness where nine out of ten die within a day if they catch it. Hearing the father's story, all the other physicians in Saneum had refused, and there was no time to find a famous doctor in a distant city.
- I will save him somehow. Just as he took out the acupuncture case from his waist and was about to use a needle on the Danjung acupoint to open the airway, someone said to Jin Gwang-ryeol.
- That is not how you do it?
- It was the voice of a ghost.