In the seventh year of Yongzheng's reign, I was a student of the Imperial Academy.
Late at night, the door of the library was knocked open - the tribesman was covered in blood: "The old patriarch has been kidnapped by bandits, I want you to come back quickly!"
Three thousand miles back, I stepped into the wooden building.
Three of the old patriarch's fingers were burned with tongs, and the blackened bones were exposed. When he died, he left only a piece of paper:
"When you set your bones, you first set your heart. When you set your bones, you also set your life."
From then on, I resigned and returned to the mountain to become a bone-setter in Yaoshan.
When bandits come, I will pick them up; when officers and soldiers come, I will pick them up. Yao, Zhuang, and Han people are treated equally.
Someone asked me: Is it worth it if I don't give up the fame?
I said: There is no shortage of officials in the city, but there is a shortage of bonesetters in the mountains.
For three hundred years, we, the Wu family, have guarded Dayao Mountain for generations - using our hands to pick up the broken bones of the world.
