I am Sui'an, a female doctor. I can cure many people's diseases, but I can't cure my grandfather who is getting old.
I grew up in the fragrance of medicine. Grandpa's hand has twisted thousands of herbs and led me through half a lifetime of ups and downs. Every medicine in Huichuntang knows our ancestors and grandchildren. I once thought that such days would be like the time boiling in the purple clay medicine pot, lukewarm and never end.
That autumn came very early. Grandpa walked very quietly, like a medicine that had finally taken its time and dispersed its last scent.
Before he died, he suddenly became clear-headed, and his skinny fingers gently brushed my pulse, and then pressed on my wrist. He was taking my last pulse - not diagnosing a disease, but taking my pulse.
"Happy New Year," he said, his voice as soft as a sigh, "remember... People are like plants and trees, each has its own return date. Doctors can cure diseases, but not death. But the human heart can be crossed, and love can make a boat."
Purpose: Learn to reconcile with separation