Chapter Seven: The Apothecary’s Apprentice

Mr. Zhang nodded and said, “He’s here. Go help in the back hall first; we just received a batch of medicinal herbs.”

“Yes, sir!” Xiaobao turned and left the hall. Watching his departing figure, Mr. Zhang grew pensive.

This young apprentice is truly a talent in the making. Anything that passes through his hands, he masters without fail; his learning advances by leaps and bounds, and he comprehends and connects ideas with ease. If he would only settle down, he would surely become a master of the healing arts.

He is honest and hardworking, treats guests with courtesy, has a charming tongue, and rarely fails at selling medicines.

It’s a pity his heart isn’t in this profession. At best, he will learn a skill but never practice it as his calling. Otherwise, passing on my teachings to him would be a joy.

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The Spring Rejuvenation Hall is arranged with a front hall for receiving customers and a workshop in the rear. The so-called “workshop” actually refers to the area where medicinal preparations are made, situated just behind the main hall. When Xiaobao entered the back hall, he found a small courtyard crowded with over a dozen people working busily around four cauldrons, the air thick with heat and activity. Several workers were busy preparing herbal medicines.

The preparation of traditional Chinese medicine follows the theories of Chinese medicine, involving various processing techniques according to clinical, dispensing, and pharmaceutical requirements. The goal is to retain the medicinal components, remove ineffective or even harmful substances, make the medicine easier to consume, and enhance its efficacy. Many herbs only become effective after proper preparation.

When Xiaobao arrived, everyone cheered, calling him their savior. He greeted them, tied on an apron, and hurried to help.

Roasting herbs in an iron wok!

In the frying method of herbal preparation, the herbs are placed into an iron wok over moderate heat, stirring until the surface is golden brown. Mastery of heat and technique is essential; too much heat or slow movements will burn the herbs, while too little heat and prolonged simmering will affect their properties.

The heat from the charcoal was intense. Xiaobao gripped the iron spatula and stirred with vigor.

The pungent aroma of the herbs was hard to bear, and the heat was even more suffocating! With each turn of the spatula, waves of heat and herbal fumes grew thicker, making one dizzy and nauseous.

Being an apprentice in a medicine shop is no easy task. First, there’s hard labor—hauling large sacks of herbs to and from the storeroom, sorting, washing, sun-drying, and pre-processing—all preparatory work left to apprentices. After that comes the crucial task of herbal processing; once the master demonstrates, apart from rare and precious medicines, most of the work is left to the apprentices.

Herbal processing is the result of long clinical experience in Chinese medicine, and the techniques are determined by clinical needs. Whether the process is reasonable and the methods appropriate directly affects the efficacy. The cleansing, slicing, heating, and use of adjuncts can all influence the outcome.

Heating is essential in herbal processing, with roasting and calcining widely used. Many herbs, after roasting, preserve active glycosides, such as mustard seeds and burdock seeds. Calcining is often used for minerals, animal shells, and fossils, making them brittle and altering their effects—alum, after calcining, becomes more astringent and drying; calcined human hair stops bleeding; the toxicity of processed aconite is greatly reduced, ensuring safer clinical use.

When adjuncts are added, the nature, efficacy, direction, and side effects of the medicine may all change, maximizing its potential.

Every step is an art—controlling the heat, the duration, the technique of stirring. Masters rarely have time for detailed instruction; at most, they give a brief explanation and often keep some secrets to themselves. How much the apprentice learns depends on his sharp eyes, quick hands, and innate understanding.

They start from the fundamentals: steaming, roasting, honey frying, calcining, and making pills, powders, ointments, and elixirs. In the past, there was a saying among the people: “Bootmaker, hatter, teahouse, medicine shop—the four hardest trades,” highlighting their hardship. Back then, there were no machines; regardless of sweltering summer or frigid winter, everything was done by hand in the courtyard. Getting blisters from the heat or red eyes from the smoke was commonplace.

Take slicing herbs for decoctions, for example—uniform thickness is essential, demanding real skill with the knife!

Developing steady hands and precision comes only after sore backs, aching waists, and numb fingers.

Beyond manual labor, apprentices must study vast amounts of medical texts in three stages. First, they memorize easy introductory materials—snippets of basic instructions from the physician, serving as elementary textbooks. Next, they recite the great medical classics, such as The Inner Canon, The Classic of Difficult Issues, and Treatise on Cold Damage Disorders, while receiving explanations from the master.

The Inner Canon of the Yellow Emperor is divided into the Divine Pivot and Basic Questions, attributed to ancient physicians under the name of the Yellow Emperor. It is generally believed to have been compiled during the Spring and Autumn or Warring States period. Through dialogues among the Yellow Emperor, Qibo, and Lei Gong, it discusses disease mechanisms and pathology, advocates treating disease before it arises, and emphasizes health preservation and longevity. It is one of the four great classics of Chinese medicine (alongside The Classic of Difficult Issues, Treatise on Cold Damage and Miscellaneous Diseases, and The Divine Farmer’s Materia Medica), and is the oldest extant medical text in China. It is a monumental work covering physiology, pathology, diagnostics, therapeutic principles, and pharmacology, establishing theories such as Yin-Yang and Five Phases, pulse theory, and organ manifestation theory, with a total of eighty-one chapters.

The Classic of Difficult Issues, originally titled The Yellow Emperor’s Classic of Eighty-One Difficult Issues, consists of three volumes and is attributed to Qin Yueren. “Difficult” refers to “questions and difficulties,” or points of doubt. “Classic” refers to The Inner Canon, meaning it poses questions about The Inner Canon. The author raises what he considers difficult or unclear points and then explains them one by one, sometimes offering expanded interpretations. The book is divided into eighty-one questions, discussing the functions and forms of organs, diagnostic and pulse methods, meridian theory, and acupuncture techniques.

The Treatise on Cold Damage Disorders is a specialized work on the treatment of externally contracted febrile diseases. Originally written in ten volumes by Zhang Zhongjing in the early third century, the original Treatise on Cold Damage and Miscellaneous Diseases was later edited and compiled by others, separating the sections on febrile diseases into the Treatise on Cold Damage Disorders, and the miscellaneous internal diseases into the Essential Prescriptions from the Golden Cabinet.

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In those days, there was no convenience of printed books for everyone; medical texts were costly, and apprentices often had to copy them by hand.

The third stage for apprentices was to follow the master in clinical practice, learning to prescribe and studying medical case histories. This is the standard path in learning Chinese medicine; all seasoned physicians have walked it.

Medical case histories are a doctor’s closely guarded secret, containing analysis, diagnostic reasoning, and prescriptions. “Methods are not lightly passed on”—an apprentice allowed to read medical cases is already close to being a disciple, forming a teacher-student relationship rather than merely that of master and apprentice.

In other words, being an apprentice in herbal medicine requires both physical strength and literacy. By “martial,” it means having the physical power to carry heavy loads and work tirelessly at the cauldron; by “literary,” it means being able to read. In ancient times, with complicated traditional characters and obscure phrasing, most were illiterate, and those of lesser intellect (often brawny types) would be baffled by the texts.

Even if one could read and understand, memorizing lengthy passages was daunting.

Among the apprentices, Feng Xiaobao was the most capable—not only strong but also deft, moving heavy loads with ease, working quickly, and producing high-quality finished medicines.

His skill with the blade was exceptional; every slice was uniform, every roasted herb perfectly done. The master said that his speed, accuracy, and force had reached the essence—his hands steady, as if born for this craft.

He was diligent, always the first to volunteer and never shirking work.

With his breadth of knowledge, though the differences between simplified and traditional script are great, the structure of Chinese characters is fundamentally unified. With his agile mind, Xiaobao could memorize whole passages in traditional script with ease and learned to distinguish the characters as well.

Had he not kept his ability to recite backward under wraps, everyone would have thought him a freak: “A young wanderer, never schooled, yet he can read and interpret texts? How strange!”

After a short period of study, Xiaobao was already a great help—who wouldn’t want such an apprentice!

The physicians and pharmacists gave him special attention, answering every question—treatment no other apprentice enjoyed, who were merely told to “watch carefully” without further explanation.

He soon became a leader among the apprentices, but no one envied him.

He knew how to behave, was charming and eloquent, generous with small favors, always ready to help, sometimes buying baked buns to share after a hard day’s work (his family gave him money for this, for which Feng Dabao would scold him for wastefulness). As the saying goes, “He who takes a gift cannot speak ill, nor refuse a favor.”

The key was, he let it be known that his ambitions lay elsewhere—he would not open a clinic here nor compete with anyone.

With that, no one wanted to oppose him, and all hoped to keep him as a friend.

...

Why would Xiaobao work so hard as an apprentice, always smiling and obliging? He wanted to acquire a skill for self-preservation, but more importantly, he harbored grand ambitions: to use Chinese medicine to build a public health system in the city, preparing for a future in the military... But that was a distant dream; for now, he had to study diligently.

He learned a great many things:

In preparing herbs, the medicinal parts must be carefully selected, with utmost attention to removing dirt, debris, and spoiled materials—especially insect-eaten, moldy, discolored, or rancid items, which must not be used. The usable parts are separated with meticulous care to maximize efficacy. All adjuncts used in making medicines had to be as uniform as possible—things like wine, vinegar, salt, honey. In those days, there were no standards; often, a shop would source everything from a single supplier. The same herb, when processed with different adjuncts, could have different effects. Moreover, the heat and timing of preparation were crucial—overheating or insufficient processing would ruin the medicine. None of this could be learned just by watching.

During clinical observation, he recorded symptoms and the corresponding medical cases (though still an apprentice, he would make preliminary judgments, with the doctor making the final decision).

No one knew how many notes the clever Xiaobao took at home; often, he would start writing as soon as he returned from the shop, sometimes even skipping meals.

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The next task was memorization. At home, apart from practicing martial arts, eating, and sleeping, he recited texts incessantly. Even with his prodigious intellect and memory, he never slacked.

This was his way, learned from a later life: never overestimate himself, never underestimate anything, and put his all into even the smallest task, ensuring success.

In truth, he did well; decades later, he could still recall the medical texts he memorized, finding them useful.

...

Xiaobao toiled for two full hours before stopping, by which time dusk had fallen and the courtyard was hard to see in.

Even with his extraordinary stamina, Xiaobao felt exhausted, thinking to himself, “This is child labor!”

He had no idea when he was born—his father had forgotten—but he was sure he was still a boy!

If it were modern times, several kids his age working so hard would have drawn the attention of the labor bureau and made the headlines.

After work, unlike the others, he did a set of stretching exercises to loosen his muscles—something he’d brought from a future life, though he claimed he’d seen it while traveling. No one was there to dispute the copyright, after all.

He could have taught them tai chi, but that was a trump card reserved for future encounters with noble families—methods not to be lightly passed on. But he was happy to teach the stretching exercises to anyone who wanted to learn.

Dinner arrived, and the apprentices and workers gathered to eat and drink together.

Feng Xiaobao ate with great decorum, even giving his share of bread to some of the heartier workers.

Such noble conduct won him further praise, though no one knew he was never worried about going hungry—at home, there was always a late-night snack waiting for him, and quite a lavish one at that, though he would never tell anyone, lest he arouse resentment as a young master.

A late-night snack!

The first time Xiaobao’s father heard this newfangled phrase, he nearly flew into a rage!

Traveling the land, they often ate only twice a day, sometimes just once, and at the worst, went hungry altogether!

Listen to this spendthrift—four meals a day! Even landlords aren’t so extravagant!

No, I must teach him a lesson, make him come to his senses!

When Feng Dabao’s palm, broad as a fan, swept toward Xiaobao’s cheek, the boy didn’t flinch, met his father’s gaze, and calmly said, “This is how immortals live.”

Dabao’s hand stopped, trembling violently. He found his son more and more unfathomable.

Yet, no matter how the boy changed, he was still his son!

From then on, Xiaobao had his late-night snack.