Chapter 6: If Not a Good Minister, Then a Good Doctor

Chapter 6: If Not a Good Prime Minister, Then a Good Doctor

Uncle Hai took thirty coins and bought about fifteen catties of fresh rice, along with five eggs, intending to boil them and make tea eggs using the leftover braising liquid.

The eggs were specifically requested by Zhao An; otherwise, Uncle Hai would have preferred to exchange the coins for some leafy greens or radishes to pickle. The jar of pickles they had made shortly after arriving in Zhao Family Village had sustained the three of them until now.

But the young master had recently been injured and fallen ill, and his body was still weak. Now that he had awakened supernatural abilities and could cultivate magical fruits to sell, their lives no longer needed to be so difficult. It was only right that he eat eggs regularly to strengthen his constitution.

Reflecting on their recent hardships, Uncle Hai felt a surge of sorrow. But when he looked up, he saw Zhao An perched on the wall.

“Young master!” Uncle Hai cried in surprise, nearly dropping the cloth bag containing the rice and eggs.

Zhao An had been watching the direction in which Ah Wu had fled. At the sound of Uncle Hai’s voice, he turned, gave an awkward smile, pushed off with his hands, and leapt down from the wall.

His feet tingled with numbness upon landing, but he forced himself to appear composed as he walked toward Uncle Hai. “When I went to town today, I saw a master who could leap onto a two-story building in a single bound. It reminded me that I once learned martial arts from my master as a child, so I wanted to test my current abilities. Seems my kung fu hasn’t completely faded.”

Due to his recent illness and injuries, Uncle Hai had become overly protective. Though climbing the wall was reckless, Zhao An wanted to use this moment to show he was recovering well—healthy enough that Uncle Hai wouldn’t need to worry so much in the future.

Zhao An approached, took the bag from Uncle Hai’s hands, and headed inside. Uncle Hai followed, lost in thought. He recalled how Lady and Nanny Zhou had always praised the young master for excelling in both literary and martial studies. Back then, he had served Lord Zhao and hadn’t paid much attention. But remembering how Zhao An had defeated Zhao Tongming just days ago, he now suspected the praise might not have been exaggerated.

Inside, Zhao An placed the rice into the clean storage jar and asked casually, “Uncle Hai, how did you return so quickly?”

“I happened to see Liu Song’s family milling rice, so I traded for some and came straight back,” Uncle Hai replied, washing his hands before checking on the simmering meat. “Besides, I knew the young master must be hungry—he left without eating—so I hurried back to prepare a meal.”

Hearing this, Zhao An realized he was indeed hungry and offered to wash the rice. But as soon as he scooped out the slightly yellowish new rice, Qintong snatched the earthenware pot from his hands. Uncle Hai added, “Young master, don’t linger in the kitchen. Be careful not to get smoke in your eyes. If you’re idle, go study.”

Zhao An almost retorted, *Do I look like someone who studies?* Moreover, he remembered the upcoming plot: the Emperor and Consort Li’s romance would face several more trials. When Consort Li fell into misfortune, as the Emperor’s true love, she wouldn’t face mortal danger. But Zhao An, as a disposable side character, wasn’t sure if he’d survive another close call like last time.

So he’d rather read leisure novels typical of this era. Unfortunately, among the dozen books Uncle Hai had painstakingly brought from the capital, there wasn’t a single one.

Shooed out of the kitchen, Zhao An returned to his room, sat at his desk, and pondered his future. With the success of selling strawberries, he could plant more fruit trees. After all, no matter how rare strawberries were, he couldn’t sell them year-round without raising suspicion.

He didn’t mind showing his oddities to Uncle Hai and Qintong, but he needed to hide them from outsiders whose intentions were unknown.

Besides growing fruit, he also wanted to keep going up the mountain to search for valuable medicinal herbs. Given the limited uses of his Wood Element Supernatural Power, it was best applied to the most valuable plants. If it weren’t for improving grain seeds, simply growing rice or wheat wouldn’t even feed him, let alone cover clothing and daily expenses.

Thinking of herbs, he unconsciously pulled out paper and brush and began writing down names—from common ones like licorice and astragalus to expensive varieties such as ginseng, pseudoginseng (Sanqi), dendrobium (Shihu), gastrodia (Tianma), and fleeceflower root (Shouwu). As he wrote, he tried to recall what each plant looked like. Some he remembered clearly; others were unfamiliar. Although he had once browsed plant illustrations due to his Wood Element power, his focus hadn’t been medicine. He had prioritized combat-enhancing plants like thorny roses or corrosive pitcher plants and rafflesia.

He filled an entire page but recognized only about a third of the listed species.

When Uncle Hai came to call him for dinner, he noticed the list. “Does the young master want to prepare some tonic formulas to strengthen your health?”

Zhao An said, “Once I save some money, I’ll buy a few medical texts to study. Maybe I can become a doctor someday. As the saying goes, ‘If not a good prime minister, then a good doctor.’ I can’t follow in my father’s footsteps as a statesman, but perhaps I can become a skilled physician.”

After saying this, Zhao An felt it was a brilliant idea. Becoming a doctor would allow him to fully utilize his Wood Element power while giving him a stable livelihood in this world.

When Uncle Hai heard Zhao An’s intention, he hesitated but voiced no objection. Inwardly, he still held a sliver of hope—after all, Consort Li remained in the palace, so the young master might still have a chance to return to the capital.

Yet recalling how Lord and Lady had died, Uncle Hai’s hopes dimmed. If the young master was willing to become a doctor, settle in the countryside, and live a peaceful life, perhaps that wasn’t such a bad fate.

Soon, the two went to the main hall for dinner. Besides three large bowls of rice, there was a small plate of thinly sliced braised pork, a small plate of steamed grilled fish, and a large bowl of wild vegetable soup.

Truthfully, the meal wasn’t extravagant, but the rich aroma of the braised meat filled the air, making mouths water. Zhao An quickly noticed that no one else dared touch the braised pork except him. This time, he didn’t insist. He finished his meal quickly, ate more of the grilled fish, and left most of the braised meat for Qintong, who had been eyeing it hungrily.

As soon as Zhao An left the table, Qintong dug in with gusto. Though the meat wasn’t perfectly seasoned—the marinade had been prepared that morning, and the meat hadn’t braised long—each thin slice brought him pure joy.

While Zhao An’s household enjoyed their modest feast, Ah Wu had already run back to Zhao Tongming’s house to report that Zhao An’s family was eating meat.

“I’ve always said the second household is cunning. With a daughter in the palace as a consort, they can’t possibly be starving. They must have silver buried somewhere. Tongming, you’d better avoid provoking them,” said Zhao Tongming’s mother, Li Shi. Once beautiful, she now appeared sharp and calculating.

Zhao Tongming picked a piece of mutton from the preserved bamboo shoots, chewed vigorously, and said, “Mother, you didn’t see how pitiful he looked when he was sent back. Now he’s all alone with just two servants. Once we get rid of those two nuisances, we can take whatever silver he has.”

He swallowed the meat, suddenly convinced it was a brilliant plan. Without those servants, Zhao An would be easy prey.

With that in mind, he stopped arguing and instead glanced at his eighteen-year-old eldest son, Zhao Fuping, and seventeen-year-old second son, Zhao Fuxiang. He could leave the task to them—a chance to prove themselves.

Li Shi knew her son well. Seeing his expression, she sensed his scheme. But the thought of hidden silver tempted her, and she stayed silent.

Meanwhile, Zhao An remained unaware of the conspiracy brewing against him. With no immediate food shortage, he decided to skip selling strawberries the next day and go up the mountain instead.

The next morning, after using his recovered Wood Element power to make the strawberry plants bloom with tiny white flowers again, he took Qintong up Great Green Mountain behind the house.

This time, after reaching the stream, they followed the forest path where they had previously found strawberry seedlings, searching for useful medicinal herbs. But aside from a few wild lilies near the water, they only found common plants like plantain and dandelion.

They had come specifically to hunt for herbs, even eating rice balls and tea eggs for lunch, yet found nothing. Zhao An returned home with only a handful of wild vegetables, while Qintong carried a bundle of firewood—making the trip not entirely wasted.

The next day, as planned, they went to town to sell strawberries. This time, Zhao An didn’t keep any for tasting, so they sold over three hundred wen worth.

Shopkeeper Feng paid promptly, indicating the strawberries were selling well and that he was profiting far more than three coins per berry.

But Zhao An didn’t press for details. After all, Shopkeeper Feng had connections with the County Magistrate. Zhao An took the money, bought two jin of pork and two pork marrow bones. The pork would last two days, so portions wouldn’t be large. The bones would be used to make broth, making even wild vegetables taste delicious.

Besides wild greens, he wanted other vegetables too. But transportation in ancient times was difficult, and cabbage was hard to find in Changxi County near Jiaozhou. While wandering the market, he spotted water bamboo shoots (Jiaobai) and spent two coins to buy five, along with a bunch of garlic sprouts, planning to stir-fry them later.

Today, he spent cautiously. After buying vegetables, he still had three hundred wen left. He decided to visit the bookstore to look for texts like *Compendium of Materia Medica*. If he found a suitable one, he’d buy it. He suspected the reason he hadn’t found medicinal herbs on the mountain wasn’t because they weren’t there, but because he hadn’t recognized them.