第五回 选色柳城疏狂容半夕 销魂花下遗恨已千秋 (Chapter Five: A Night’s Revelry in Liucheng, Eternal Regret Beneath the Blossoms)

It turned out that Chen Ruokuang had stayed overnight in second-class brothels far too often and had contracted several ailments. At this time, he was suffering from gonorrhea. For the first couple of days, he was unaware. Every night, he still went to the second-class Teahouse to fool around. Later, he felt it was both inconvenient and painful to sit for long. When he went to relieve himself and looked down, heavens-his lower parts were in a dreadful state. A foul, fishy odor assaulted his nostrils, making him nauseous. This came as a tremendous shock. He wondered, \"Isn't this what people often call gonorrhea? What should I do?\" This was the first time such a thing had happened in his life, and he was too embarrassed to ask anyone about treatment. He vaguely remembered that in the less important sections of the newspaper, among the drug advertisements, there were things like \"Five Gonorrhea and Turbid Discharge Pills,\" but he had never paid attention. Why not look them up now? With this thought, he flipped through several newspapers he had. This search greatly expanded his knowledge; he learned this condition had many names and many ramifications. However, all the drug advertisements claimed their products were best-either promising a cure within a week, a money-back guarantee, or instant relief. Which one should he buy? After much picking and choosing, he selected the cheapest pill that promised the greatest efficacy and bought a bottle. Who could have known that despite the claims of miraculous effectiveness in the newspaper ads, taking the medicine showed no improvement whatsoever? Too embarrassed to ask others and even more unwilling to go to the hospital for treatment, he continued to randomly search the advertisement sections of newspapers for remedies. He even stole glances at the advertisements for venereal disease specialists pasted in the corners of hutong alleys, where urination was prohibited. Thus, he changed pills one day and remedies the next, continuing this for a whole week. Finally, he heard about a Western medicine called something like \"Third Generation Love Beauty,\" said to be very effective. He bought a bottle to try and felt somewhat better after taking it. However, this stuff was terribly expensive; a bottle lasted only a day and night, yet cost two dollars and fifty cents. For the sake of his health, he had no choice but to grit his teeth and buy it. In less than ten days, he had spent a considerable sum. When he borrowed money from Yang Xingyuan, it was precisely to treat his gonorrhea. Last night, he had tried his utmost to appease Yang Xingyuan, all in the hope of borrowing more money to cure his illness.

Who would have thought that as his gonorrhea improved, another illness emerged? From that day on, he felt extremely fatigued, with his limbs often alternating between chills and fever. Thinking it was a minor ailment of no consequence, he paid it no mind. At the newspaper office, apart from Wang Tianbai, there was another editor, Huang Bieshan, a fellow townsman of Yang Xingyuan. Seeing Chen Ruokuang grow more exhausted by the day, he said, \"Ruokuang, I see no color in your face. While you may appear to be holding up on the surface, your internal condition is severe. I urge you to see a doctor. If you don't believe me, look in the mirror. You no longer look human.\" Upon hearing this, Chen Ruokuang indeed looked in the mirror. His eyes were sunken, his face had turned from pale to ashen, like a wax figure. He was startled. He thought to himself, \"It's just a slight chill. How did I get so sick? If I don't seek treatment soon, I'm afraid it will become a serious illness.\" With his mind made up, he went to see a doctor, a fellow townsman named Doctor Chen. This man knew many influential people, having been exempted from the medical licensing exam upon recommendation by over a dozen fellow townsmen who were councilors, backed by official letters to the police bureau. Although not highly skilled, his consultation fee was set at two yuan, and house calls started at five. The elite of Beijing had a peculiar quirk: they loved what was expensive and disdained what was cheap. Consequently, his practice was surprisingly good. That day, Chen Ruokuang went to see him. Because the wealthy fellow townsmen trusted him, he thought it couldn't be wrong, so he went straight there without a second thought.

Arriving at the doctor's residence, he paid the customary two-yuan registration fee, and the doorman led him into a consultation room. The room contained some calligraphy, paintings, and curios, but most bore inscriptions from fellow townsmen officials. Behind a horizontal desk sat a man in his thirties, reading Qunqiang Bao. Seeing him enter, the man politely invited him to sit. Chen Ruokuang observed that he didn't look like a doctor, nor did he seem like a servant, leaving him perplexed. After Chen Ruokuang was seated, the man asked for his name, native place, and address, took out a medical form, and meticulously filled it in with a brush. Only then did he go to summon the doctor. Chen Ruokuang then realized he was the doctor's assistant and thought to himself that a famous practitioner indeed had a different air. Shortly, the doctor entered from outside. He was around fifty, with a slight mustache, wearing an old silk gown, the very picture of scholarly composure. He gave Chen Ruokuang a slight nod, invited him to sit at the horizontal desk, and sat opposite him. After glancing at the form, he asked, \"What seems to be the trouble, Mr. Chen?\" Chen Ruokuang replied, \"My body alternates between chills and fever, my limbs feel weak, I'm utterly exhausted, and my appetite is poor. I don't feel like eating anything.\" Doctor Chen nodded. The man who had filled out the form brought over a small cloth pillow and placed it on the table. Chen Ruokuang knew this was for pulse-taking and placed his hand on it. Doctor Chen extended a hand and pressed on his pulse. His fingernails were nearly an inch long. Tilting his head, he concentrated intently on counting the pulse, pressing down so hard that his nails dug into Chen Ruokuang's flesh, causing sharp pain. After feeling the pulses of both hands, Doctor Chen said to Chen Ruokuang, \"It's nothing serious. You've caught a bit of wind-cold. Take one or two doses of medicine, and you'll be fine.\" With that, he opened the gleaming bronze inkstone on the desk, picked up a brush, and on the medical form wrote a few lines describing the pulse condition and cause of illness. Then, in wild cursive script, he prescribed over a dozen medicinal ingredients. Among those Chen Ruokuang recognized were: one qian of Schizonepeta, one and a half qian of Saposhnikovia Root, one qian of Perilla Leaf, one qian of Magnolia Bark, one and a half qian of Bupleurum, one qian of Ginger-processed Aconite, one qian of Dried Ginger, along with others he didn't know. After finishing the prescription, Doctor Chen took an ivory seal from a drawer and stamped the form with a vivid red impression. He then handed it to Chen Ruokuang, saying, \"Take two doses first. If you feel better, no need to come back.\" Chen Ruokuang murmured a few \"Yeses\" and left Doctor Chen's house, returning to the The Happiness News office. Who would have thought that while he could still walk a few steps on the way there, on the way back he felt so wretched and his body so weak that he could hardly support himself, wishing he could just lie down right there in the street. Without even asking the fare, he hailed a rickshaw and rode back. Upon arriving home, he collapsed onto his bed, handed the prescription to a servant, and told him to buy the medicine and decoct it immediately, without informing anyone else.

Who could have foreseen that this medicine, though weighing less than two liang, would have such a potent effect? That night, Chen Ruokuang suffered high fever and violent vomiting, with excruciating aches in his bones, groaning incessantly. In this state, his illness had grown severe and required proper rest and quiet. Yet the The Happiness News office was extremely noisy. The editor-in-chief, Wang Tianbai, was a great socialite. While there were only two or three staff members working at the newspaper office, there were seven or eight idle residents. Most were people who had come to the capital seeking employment. Staying at the newspaper office allowed them to eat and drink for free and even assume the title of news correspondent, which was far better than staying at a Guild Hall. Among these idle guests, though freeloaders, some were quite talented. There was a returnee from Germany who had specialized in screw technology, a former Qing dynasty official awaiting appointment, and a former deputy chief of staff under Zhang Xun. Just considering these three gave a sense of the eclectic company gracing the halls of The Happiness News. These guests had nothing to do all day. Besides going out to visit friends, back at the newspaper office, they would gather together, engaging in lofty discussions and analyzing the current political situation. Their room for these deliberations was right next to Chen Ruokuang's. Under normal circumstances, Chen Ruokuang found their chatter tedious, but now, lying on his pillow, he found it unbearably noisy, giving him a headache. Yet he had no right to interfere, so he cursed them inwardly, wishing he could drive every last one of them out of the newspaper office.

He remained ill for three days. The medicine prescribed by Doctor Chen had been taken for two doses, not only failing to improve his condition but rather adding fuel to the fire, exacerbating the illness. Chen Ruokuang believed his illness was merely a minor wind-cold affliction and knew that Doctor Chen's prescription was mostly dispersing in nature, so taking it shouldn't worsen things even if it didn't help. By the fourth day, Chen Ruokuang was in a dazed, lethargic sleep. Sometimes, when he regained consciousness, he felt aches all over his body and was completely unable to move his legs. Apart from Huang Bieshan visiting him at night when he came to the newspaper office, no one paid him any mind. As for Editor-in-chief Wang Tianbai, he was busy outside trying to raise funds because they owed money to the paper supplier for printing fees, leaving him no time to inquire about Chen Ruokuang's condition. Chen Ruokuang's income was limited to begin with. When he told people about hundreds here and tens there, those figures weren't accurate. During his illness, the ministry had already owed him several months' salary, and the newspaper office was in the midst of financial difficulties. With no money coming in, he was truly caught between poverty and sickness. Not only was there no one to treat his illness, but even if someone were willing, there was no source for the medical fees. After the fourth day of his illness, Chen Ruokuang had stopped taking medicine. His condition didn't seem to worsen, but he remained in a drowsy, comatose sleep. Even the one or two people who came to see him assumed he was recovering and paid little attention. Time flies when recounted-a whole week passed in a blink. That evening, after finishing his work, Huang Bieshan made a special trip to his room to see him. He found Chen Ruokuang covered with bedding, sleeping with his head turned inward. Under the electric light, Huang Bieshan noticed patches of red rash emerging behind his ears and stepped closer for a careful look. At that moment, Chen Ruokuang sensed someone's presence and threw back the bedding, turning over. As he did so, a wave of hot air rushed out, carrying with it a foul, fishy stench. Huang Bieshan instinctively retreated several steps, overcome with nausea that made him want to vomit. Steadying himself, Huang Bieshan approached Chen Ruokuang's bedside. At a glance, he saw red lesions covering his forehead and neck. He couldn't help but cry out, \"Heavens! Ruokuang, what illness is this?\" Chen Ruokuang said weakly, \"I just feel awful inside, can't clearly describe the symptoms.\" Huang Bieshan asked, \"How do you feel down below?\" Chen Ruokuang hesitated for a moment before answering, \"Not particularly bad.\" Huang Bieshan said, \"My friend, your life is at stake. Are you still ashamed? Whatever it is, speak frankly. Perhaps I can still think of a way to help you!\" Chen Ruokuang said, \"There is a bit of a problem. A few days ago, some skin broke and only clear fluid leaked out. It has scabed over now.\" Huang Bieshan stamped his foot. \"Why didn't you say so earlier? This is the most serious condition.\"

Seeing Huang Bieshan speak with such gravity, Chen Ruokuang grew alarmed and asked what exactly the illness was. Huang Bieshan said, \"Unbutton your clothes and let me have a look.\" Chen Ruokuang propped himself up halfway, leaning against the headboard, and weakly unbuttoned his clothes, exposing his chest. Huang Bieshan looked and saw numerous coin-sized red spots on the pale skin, appearing startlingly vivid. Huang Bieshan nodded, told Chen Ruokuang to button up, and said to him, \"This is undoubtedly syphilis, probably already in the third stage. You need urgent treatment.\" Upon hearing this, Chen Ruokuang felt as if a basin of cold water had been poured over his head. He was speechless with fright for a long time. Seeing his state, Huang Bieshan comforted him, \"What's done is done; there's no helping it now. Fortunately, this illness is not beyond cure. It's too late tonight to do anything. I'll come first thing tomorrow morning to take you to the hospital.\" Chen Ruokuang said, \"I don't have a single cent now. How can I go to the hospital?\" Huang Bieshan replied, \"Fortunately, the hospital doesn't require payment upfront. We'll get you admitted first. As for any incidental expenses, I can try to manage something.\" Chen Ruokuang was someone who had always enjoyed the company of profligates and spendthrifts and had always looked down upon the utterly impoverished Huang Bieshan. Unexpectedly, during this illness, none of the so-called good friends he had cultivated came to see him. Instead, it was Huang Bieshan who showed such heartfelt kindness, making it all the more precious. Moved by gratitude, he couldn't help but shed tears. Huang Bieshan, thinking he was anxious about his illness, said, \"Your illness might just take a bit longer; it's not necessarily fatal. When a man is away from home, if misfortune strikes, who will look after him? It's best to take care of yourself.\" These words touched a nerve in Chen Ruokuang, and he began to sob even more bitterly. Huang Bieshan comforted him for a long while, then told a servant to brew a pot of tea and place it by the bed before leaving the newspaper office for home.

Alone in bed, Chen Ruokuang recalled Huang Bieshan's words-that his syphilis had reached the third stage-and was terrified. He reproached himself for having run wild in the hutong alleys, feeling that all the prostitutes he knew were as venomous as snakes and scorpions. He also thought, if he were to die, what would become of his widow mother and his childless wife left at home? At this thought, he was overwhelmed with sorrow. Tears welled up like a spring, streaming from the corners of his eyes onto the pillow, soaking most of it. It was already past two in the morning, and the entire courtyard was completely silent. Only the ticking of a clock in the next room could be heard, along with faint rustling sounds on the floor. Peering out, he saw three or four mice scurrying under the table, sniffing around the floor mat with their noses, searching for scraps to eat. The room felt even more desolate. Lying in bed, Chen Ruokuang turned things over in his mind, unable to sleep a wink! Occasionally, when he closed his eyes, he would imagine himself at home being severely scolded by his mother. Another moment, he seemed to be in the hospital, with doctors treating him, performing surgery. And so, he spent a confused and restless night. By dawn, he finally fell asleep. When he awoke, Huang Bieshan was already standing by his bed, instructing him to dress slowly, hiring a rickshaw for him, and personally escorting him to the hospital. Chen Ruokuang's gratitude toward Huang Bieshan for this went without saying.

In truth, what Huang Bieshan did was merely a friend's duty. After sending Chen Ruokuang to the hospital, Huang Bieshan felt he had discharged an obligation and, adhering to his principle of walking, returned home on foot. However, he was too late; lunch at the Guild Hall had already been served. Reaching into his pocket, he remembered he had pawned a padded robe that morning for a mere four dollars, all spent on Chen Ruokuang. He had only a dozen or so copper coins left. Worried it might not be enough for a meal at a small eatery, he took ten copper coins and asked the attendant to buy seven sesame cakes and some pickles, making do with a simple meal. His intention was to keep the remaining few copper coins for incidental expenses throughout the day. Later, when people learned of this, they chided him for being too foolish, saying that Chen Ruokuang was someone who always boasted wildly. \"He only cares to hobnob with wealthy friends,\" they said, \"and when he has money, he neglects his family and throws it away recklessly in the hutong alleys. He deserves what he got. You pawned your clothes and begrudged yourself a proper meal to treat his illness-what's the point?\" Huang Bieshan merely smiled upon hearing this. It was simply a case of following the ancient dictum: \"Each acts according to the peace of his own heart.\"