Lin Fan only wanted to look after the shabby pharmacy his master had left behind and treat the villagers for headaches and fevers.
But his master's wife fell critically ill, the village bully came knocking, and a neighboring village laid claim to the place. He had no choice but to keep moving forward.
Su Qingyao stayed by his side, helping him organize medical records, treat patients on her own, and trek over mountains to check on patients in the neighboring village. She didn't say much, but when he said he wanted to go into the mountains to gather herbs, she would pack a hoe, provisions, and a bamboo flask of water into his basket ahead of time.
Wan Changgui had spent all summer tending his dew-herbs. One stormy night, a blow left his forehead split open, requiring eleven stitches. When he woke, the first thing he asked was, “Can the grass curtain still be mended?”
Xiaoman noticed the dew-herb was so cramped in its flowerpot that it couldn't turn around. The child crouched down and gently straightened its roots with a finger, then looked up at Lin Fan and asked, “If its roots can't grow deep, is it because there's nowhere for them to go?”
From a single medicinal herb to an entire village, from a shabby pharmacy to a cooperative jointly managed by three villages.
Together with everyone, he carried on the work his master had left unfinished.
