She was a junior high school graduate. For a villager, this was almost as good as graduating from college. Ever since returning from training, she had applied herself to studying traditional Chinese medicine and Western medicine on her own. She recited the herb formulas, learned about women’s genitalia, studied the treatment methods for different fetal positions, memorized a variety of herbal properties, practiced acupuncture and cupping, and so on. In the eyes of the villagers, Mrs. Yi was born to be a doctor.

There was not much basis for their opinion. When pressed, they would say, “The patients feel reassured with her. Just look at her hands.” In fact, they were an ordinary countrywoman’s hands, strong with prominent joints. Perhaps the villagers’ faith in her rested on the strength of the hands? But women with strong hands were everywhere in the countryside. The Yun villagers often spoke vaguely; it was hard to guess what they meant.

Mrs. Yi did cure a lot of people’s diseases, and she successfully delivered some babies. If a woman was experiencing a difficult labor, Mrs. Yi would urge the family to send her to the county hospital. Most peasant families couldn’t afford to do that, and the woman and her family would despair. Mrs. Yi could only hope for a miracle while racking her brain to think of ways to alleviate the woman’s suffering. This happened several times; each failure tested her will, as if she had died and come back to life. Except once, when it happened to a small woman nicknamed “Shorty.” Throughout the night, Mrs. Yi sweated profusely as she applied hot compresses and used acupuncture. At last, Shorty successfully delivered a healthy boy. After the delivery, Mrs. Yi felt weak in the knees, almost fainting. She slept for three days and three nights.

The earthen house where Mrs. Yi and her husband lived was a little removed from the other cottages and backed up against the mountains. In front of the house a large herb garden had been planted. The many varieties of herbs grew quite well; they showed Mrs. Yi’s deep commitment to studying medicine. Mrs. Yi not only planted Chinese herbs, she also made synthetic medicines. The big room in the back was filled with Chinese herbs and her decoctions. She made them to help the sick, of course, but mainly out of a desire to know more about how the two sides would interact when the herbs entered the human body. She often thought of such things. Sometimes, in the middle of the night, she would awaken with a premonition, get up, put on a coat, and do some research.

When she was busy in the herb garden, she frequently felt that the herbs were like her brothers and sisters. She bred them, put them into the human body, and blessed them as mankind’s best friends. Recent data showed that though banlangen—isatis root—was good for eliminating inflammation, it could severely damage the kidneys. This saddened Mrs. Yi, because banlangen was one of her favorite herbs.