Maomao was made to prepare medicine day after day.
(Grind, grind, grind, griiiind)
Her hands were about to develop calluses from the grinding.
Maomao
and the others were often asked to prepare the same crude medicines, though the formulas varied.
Anti-pus medications, blood-circulation improvers, anti-inflammatory agents.
"What on earth are we being asked to make?"
A fellow medical officer of medium height said.
He was still young, not much different in age from Maomao.
Just a few years past twenty.
"They've modified the Daiō Botanpi-tō formula somewhat."
A medicine to improve blood circulation.
The three gathered medical officers and Maomao.
Their mentor—
that is to say,
Luomen—
was apparently going to stop by the rear palace medical office before coming today.
"And the others?"
The medium-height colleague, perhaps because he knew the least, eagerly joined the conversation.
"Licorice
and peony root — that's Shakuyakukanzō-tō."
The taller senior medical officer answered.
The taller one tended to answer questions eagerly, while the shorter senior medical officer only offered his opinion when something caught his interest.
"Indeed."
Maomao also agreed.
"It's the medicine that suppresses muscle spasms, right?"
"It also works for lower back pain and stomach pain."
"It's also used to pinpoint the specific location of abdominal pain."
Maomao mulled it over.
She had assumed it was for the circulatory system, but was it for the digestive system instead?
Daohuang Mudanpi Tang also worked for constipation and abdominal pain.
Since it was also used for irregular menstruation, it was often prescribed to women.
What illness could it be, though?
She thought it would be easier to figure out if she simply went to see the patients being given the medicine.
And naturally, Luomen was not about to let his students go without developing that very ability to think.
When Luomen arrived later, he had a carriage prepared.
"We're going to deliver the medicine now. All of you, come along."
The carriage ride took
a quarter of an hour. They arrived at the suburban estate. It wasn't a lavish place — just a spacious, simple house.
The surrounding area was residential, but the estate was surrounded by garden trees that blocked the view inside.
"Carry the supplies inside."
At Luomen's instruction, the three medical officers began carrying the supplies. Maomao didn't seem to be needed, so she stood beside Luomen and helped support him as he walked.
Inside were a dozen or so men ranging from their teens to around their forties. The large room had partitions set up, with a bed for each person. Perhaps because the care was thorough, both the bedding and the nightclothes they wore looked clean.
Their complexions were poor. There were buckets near the beds — for vomiting?
Their occupations seemed to vary. The one with knobby hands and feet was probably a farmer. The one with calluses on his fingers might have been a copyist.
Since these were people who volunteered for drug experiments, none of them seemed particularly well-off.
The one walking around in a white apron — presumably a medical worker.
"I've brought the medicine."
Luomen called out to the man in the white apron.
"Thank you very much."
"Since you're here, would you mind if I restock while checking inventory?"
"Of course. Thank you for your help."
Maomao and the others were led to the medicine storage area. Beside the kitchen, two new medicine cabinets had been set out.
"I need to sort these out, so could you hand me the medicines?"
"Yes."
Luomen steadily restocked the cabinets with medicine. The medicines were already individually packaged, separated into single-dose portions.
(There's nothing for me to do.)
The three medical officials didn't burden Maomao with odd jobs, so before she knew it, she had nothing to do. Looking around restlessly, she surveyed the room.
The place originally looked like an ordinary private residence, hastily converted into a clinic. There were familiar tools like mortars and pestles, drug grinders, powder sifters, and medicine spoons.
(So they make medicine here too?)
However, Maomao wrinkled her nose.
(It doesn't really smell like medicine. There is a sweet smell, though.)
Sniffing the air, Maomao descended to the earthen floor. When she opened the pot hanging over the hearth, she found dark, thick honey inside.
Honey with the moisture removed — in other words,
refined honey,
is used for making pills. It was used for that purpose, but the crucial medicinal herbs that needed to be mixed in were nowhere to be found.
All that was there were ordinary powders like wheat flour and buckwheat flour.
"Buckwheat flour..."
Maomao quietly stepped back and covered her mouth with a handkerchief.
"Maomao. You mustn't go touching things without permission. Come back over here."
"Yes."
There were other strange things as well.
There were two medicine cabinets, but they were identical in shape. Names of medicines were written on them, but both cabinets had the same medicine names on the same drawers.
(Why go out of the way to separate them into two?)
While Maomao was pondering this, a man wearing a white apron entered the kitchen.
"It's almost time for the medication rounds."
"I see."
When Luomen stepped away from the medicine cabinet, the man took five packets of medicine from the ones that had been restocked earlier. Then he took another five packets from the identical cabinet next to it—from the same drawer—and left.
Maomao wasn't the only one who found this peculiar behavior puzzling.
"Han medical officer."
It was Senior Chang who raised his hand.
"Would it be permissible to check the contents of the other cabinet?"
"Go ahead."
With Luomen's approval, Senior Chang took the wrapping paper from one of the packets in the other medicine box and opened it. Maomao and the other medical officials peered in as well.
"Maomao. You stay back and watch from a distance."
At Luomen's words, Maomao tensed up.
The pills inside the wrapping were brownish in color. Looking closely, she could see dark specks inside them.
"...Could that be buckwheat flour?"
"That's likely mixed in as well."
They were pills made by mixing dye into wheat flour or buckwheat flour to make them resemble real medicinal herbs. No—they weren't medicine at all.
"You mean that fake medicine with no real efficacy is what's stored in this cabinet?!"
Colleague Chu raised his voice.
"Keep it down."
"Why would anyone do something like that?"
"Why would they do such a thing? Think about it."
When told to think about it, there was nothing to do but think.
Luomen only ever posed questions that could be figured out if you thought hard enough. If you couldn't solve them, it simply meant you had missed some piece of information.
(He took five packets each earlier. If there were ten patients, that would be five per patient.)
The patients received a reasonable level of care when being treated here. They were probably given good food as well.
(Confirming the Effects of Medicine Under Identical Conditions)
It might look as though improvement came not from medicine but from a clean environment and nutritious meals. That would be a problem.
So they needed to prepare two
groups
.
"Maomao, do you understand?"
"Yes."
"What do you think?"
"I believe the two groups were set up to confirm the efficacy of the medicine itself, rather than the effects of changes in environment or diet. By having people with the same condition in the same environment, you can verify whether a difference appears depending on whether they receive the medicine or not."
Luomen smiled, but he was not fully satisfied.
"Also, the reason they specifically prepared both a medicine expected to be effective and a dummy medicine was—"
"Yes, that's enough. There's another child who looks like she wants to answer, so let's have her take it."
Maomao felt slightly uneasy and glanced to the side. Short Senior had a sharp, composed expression.
"Beyond matching their clothing, food, and shelter, it was also to align their mental states. Just as it's said that illness arises from the mind, it's equally possible for medicine to work because of the mind."
"Correct. Strangely, when a person believes they are taking medicine, their body can sometimes mistake that belief for the medicine actually working. These pills are meant to standardize that effect."
Luomen picked up one of the pills containing buckwheat flour.
The meticulousness of deliberately making even the color look similar was impressive.
"I'd like you all, in addition to your usual work producing medicine, to also keep records of the patients' conditions here. Would that be alright?"
With that, Luomen placed the pills back on the medicine shelf.