Chapter 26: A Prescription from the Future

Smallpox? Zhu Biao stood in a daze—not because he was unfamiliar with the disease, but because he was perplexed as to what Zhang Yi’s solution had to do with his future wife and child.

Zhang Yi explained, “You want to save your beloved directly, but you’re not worthy of her yet. She is destined to be the Crown Prince’s consort! However, her fate is not unchangeable—the most crucial point lies with her eldest son. Lady Chang’s poor health and unstable spirit all stem from her eldest son’s untimely death. If the boy survives, perhaps the tragedies that follow could be avoided. So rather than focusing on problems you cannot solve, why not address the root cause and save the child?”

Zhang Yi spoke confidently, but Zhu Biao was thoroughly confused.

“Most children who die young fall victim to accidents or illnesses such as smallpox and chills, with smallpox being the most troublesome. I have a method that can solve smallpox once and for all. If it’s widely adopted, your beloved’s child may not die after all!”

“To solve smallpox?” Zhu Biao’s expression grew even more bewildered. Could Zhang Yi cure smallpox?

In ancient times, smallpox lingered like a specter over all people; surviving smallpox was recognized as the true test of life. This was common knowledge among the populace. Even emperors and nobles, when their families caught smallpox, had no protection from death’s grasp.

No one had ever claimed to have a solution to smallpox.

“Brother, can you cure smallpox?”

“No, no, no,” Zhang Yi waved his hand dismissively. “Smallpox cannot be cured, but it can be prevented. By inoculation—using human or cowpox. Those inoculated will never catch smallpox. This method is called a vaccine.”

To Zhu Biao, these words sounded like mystical scripture.

He asked, “Is this method taught by immortals?”

Zhang Yi rolled his eyes. “No, it’s something I read in the celestial books—knowledge from the future! People of the future discovered that those who survived smallpox became forever immune. So some learned to puncture the pustules of a survivor with a needle, then use the infected needle on themselves.”

Zhang Yi’s description was rather revolting to Zhu Biao, who asked, “Isn’t that courting death?”

“It’s a way to deliberately contract mild smallpox—since the amount of virus is small, the disease is much lighter, and most survive. It’s a form of fighting poison with poison. But using needles carries a risk of infection, so later people found a new method: take the scabs from recovering patients, use them as inoculation material, seal them in porcelain bottles, and store them in cool places. In spring, they last for a month; in winter, for a month and a half—thus, the vaccine is ready. Another method uses cotton to soak up pus from a patient’s pustule, then stuff it into the nose of the person to be inoculated. This is called nasal vaccination.”

“Later, people discovered cowpox was even safer than human pox, and improved the method further…”

Zhang Yi recounted the history of the smallpox vaccine, but to Zhu Biao it was all incomprehensible. When he finally understood, his excitement was palpable.

If this method proved effective, it would not merely save his future son—it would be a monumental blessing for Ming and all of China.

“Is it really effective?” Zhu Biao rolled his eyes.

“Of course. If I could find cowpox, I wouldn’t need to tell you. Brother Huang, whether you believe it or not, just try to get me a sample of the vaccine as payment for my help.”

Zhang Yi’s decision to share the method of inoculation was partly self-serving.

He was far too young to do much on his own. Since he was determined to survive in this chaotic era, ensuring his own safety was paramount—and nothing was more crucial than vaccines. Smallpox, a disease that indiscriminately claimed lives, was especially urgent for Zhang Yi to address.

Yet, even knowing how to make a vaccine, who would believe a seven-year-old? Outside the temple, it was unlikely he could even find a smallpox patient.

But Huang Mu was different—coming from a merchant family, he traveled widely.

With Huang Mu’s help in finding the vaccine, Zhang Yi felt reassured.

He also knew Huang Mu’s unrequited love for the Chang family’s maid—a doomed romance. Giving him something to do might give the lovesick man a sense of purpose.

“Cowpox, cowpox… Don’t worry, brother, I’ll definitely help you find it!” Zhu Biao readily agreed. In this era, smallpox was rampant, ever-present. Finding an infected cow might be beyond Zhang Yi’s reach, but Zhu Biao could manage it.

Understanding the significance of Zhang Yi’s method for Ming, Zhu Biao could hardly sit still.

“May I tell Lady Chang about this recipe?” Zhu Biao asked, curious why Zhang Yi would divulge such a priceless secret.

Zhang Yi replied, “No need to keep it secret. Brother Zhang, use your own judgment.”

To Zhang Yi, this so-called secret was nothing special. If the method of inoculation could spread centuries earlier in China, it would be all for the better.

He had already “accidentally” revealed this method at Mount Longhu, but no one had believed him.

Zhang Yi’s attitude inspired Zhu Biao’s respect. Though the method had yet to be proven, Zhu Biao bowed solemnly to Zhang Yi.

“If it works, you are the Hua Tuo of our time! Wait here—I’ll find cowpox at once…”

The previously dejected Zhu Biao now seemed invigorated, as if he’d found new purpose.

He bade Zhang Yi farewell and hurried back to the palace.

“A lovesick fool truly is a lovesick fool—just a bit of involvement and he’s beside himself with excitement!” Zhang Yi watched Zhu Biao leave, his sharp tongue undiminished.

Fortunately, Zhu Biao didn’t hear him, and Zhang Yi continued writing.

…

Meanwhile, Zhu Biao returned to the palace, brimming with excitement.

East Pavilion—the Emperor’s office.

The Crown Prince entered directly, ignoring the usual protocols.

Whenever anyone entered the Imperial Study, the Emperor was always there, working. Hearing his son’s arrival, Zhu Yuanzhang didn’t even look up.

“You went to find Zhang Yi?”

“Yes, Father…” Zhu Biao replied.

“You have feelings for Lady Chang, which is good, but letting your heart rule your head is not the blessing of an emperor. Do you understand, Biao?” Zhu Yuanzhang raised his head, his gaze stern, slightly displeased.

He had discerned that Zhu Biao, moved by his affection for Lady Chang and shaken by Zhang Yi’s predictions, had gone to seek answers from Zhang Yi.

Zhu Biao paused, then bowed silently.

“Enough. Tell me, what did you gain from that boy?” The Emperor gave Zhu Biao a gentle admonition, then moved on.

Zhu Biao replied, “I learned from Zhang Yi about Uncle Chang and Lady Chang, and received two life-saving remedies!”

“Oh?” Zhu Yuanzhang’s interest was piqued; he looked up, awaiting further explanation.