Chapter 24: The Weeping Idol
After returning from the inspection of the mines, the members of the Fang clan agreed to meet the next day at the local temple. Following a ritual sacrifice conducted by the abbot himself at the general's command, Bai Xiao stood in the sweltering, dim hall of the temple before a wooden, brightly painted statue of one of the gods of medicine, holding smoking sticks of incense in his hands and reciting a prayer:
"I thank you, Great Healer, for aiding us in our weakness and suffering..."
Within Bai Xiao, a battle raged. Did the Great Healer truly help them? Was the glowing being from his visions truly divine? If it was all true, then the sacrifices at the temple should stop. But what if it wasn't true? The gods might be angered by his heresy and punish him. What should he do?!
If he stopped offering sacrifices, people would begin asking questions. They might even stop seeking his help, because according to imperial Hou medical protocol, incense must be lit before idols in the same room as the patient. Anyone violating this tradition could be suspected of witchcraft or black magic and reported to the Academy. The Academy might then officially brand him a heretic and sorcerer and report him to the Emperor for inclusion on the execution list. If not for his noble birth, he might even be burned alive by a mob.
His brother and father stood before the statue of the god of war, also praying, their swords held out in front of them, heads bowed. According to ancient tradition, this would ensure the god's blessing and guide the blade unerringly toward the enemy.
But did it really work? Everyone prayed this way, and yet... warriors' swords and arrows still missed. The priests, of course, always had a thousand explanations.
And yet the recipe and practice passed to him by that being were effective — based on real natural laws, not on arbitrary superstitions.
"...and bless me, as a physician, to aid those in need."
"...and bless me, as a warrior, to protect the people," came his father's voice from the side.
Looking up at the statue, Bai Xiao noticed something dripping from its eyes.
He called to a young priest and approached him. The priest, dressed in black robes, already knew Doctor Bai and smiled.
"Doctor Bai," the young priest greeted him, joining his hands respectfully.
"Reverend, the statue... it's crying," Bai Xiao said, slightly surprised.
The priest's smile vanished, and he quickly walked over to the statue. Indeed, droplets of liquid streamed down its cheeks, leaving damp trails behind.
The young priest jogged into a side room of the temple, where the clergy prepared for rituals, and called for the abbot.
The abbot, Han Li — around seventy years old — was deeply respected by the locals and had served in the temple since the age of ten, first as a novice. He suffered from arthritis and moved slowly. Exiting the room, he too approached the statue and ordered a stepladder to be brought. When the young priest and an altar boy carried it over, Han Li climbed it himself and closely examined the statue's face. He touched the liquid with his fingers and smelled it.
"A miracle! A miracle! The statue is weeping holy oil!" he exclaimed joyfully from atop the ladder.
A small crowd of worshippers, including Bai Xiao's father and brother, had already gathered and were whispering among themselves.
The abbot climbed down and showed his damp fingers to the crowd, letting anyone who wished smell them — luckily, there were few people, as soldiers had cordoned off the temple but allowed those already inside to remain until the general finished praying.
"Doctor Bai! You were praying in front of the statue when it began to weep, weren't you?" asked the abbot.
"Uh... yes..."
"Don't be modest. Surely the strength of your prayer moved the god. It's a miracle! Tell me, did you see anything else? Any visions during prayer or recently?"
"Uh... not that I recall, Reverend Abbot." Bai Xiao had seen visions, but he doubted the abbot would approve.
"No matter, no matter... the miracle of the weeping is evident to all. Let the doubters believe now! Hong Jiao, record everything in the temple journal... no, I'll write it myself..." The abbot hobbled back toward the rear room.
Bai Xiao exchanged glances with his brother and father and stepped out of the temple, squinting in the sunlight.
"Brother Wei, you really are chosen by Heaven. Even statues weep near you," Dazhu smirked.
"Oh, stop it," Bai Xiao waved him off.
"Don't reject Heaven's gifts," said Jingchuan. "This will be a great morale boost for our soldiers. The physician treating them has been blessed by a miracle. Ha! It's better than any ceremonial weapon or noble title!"
The soldiers brought over horses for the Fang clan, and helped the general into his saddle. Bai Xiao and Dazhu mounted on their own, and the three of them, escorted by the guards, rode off toward the military camp set up near the town.
In just a few days, the soldiers had turned the camp into a real fortress, working in shifts. The moat and spiked chevaux de frise were nearly complete, and even a simple watchtower now rose above the rows of tents. The camp buzzed like a beehive. The moment scouts saw the returning general's banners, a trumpet announced his arrival.
The general's white horse, with its braids tied in the traditional fashion, stepped proudly through the camp, past soldiers standing at attention. The general's aide, a young officer named An Pao Wu, greeted the general and handed back the command tablet with both hands.
"Soldiers!" General Fang Jingchuan's voice boomed across the camp. "Today I witnessed a miracle! The statue of the god of medicine — the Great Healer — in the town temple began to weep! The gods have shown their favor to my son, Fang Wei, who is renowned across the Hou Empire as a physician and scholar. From this day forth, Doctor Fang is appointed Head of the Army Field Hospital."
"Ten thousand years to the Emperor! Ten thousand years to General Fang! Ten thousand years to Doctor Fang!" roared the chorus of soldiers and officers — the formal salute. Then came the crash of spears and swords against shields, followed by wild howls and spontaneous cheers — the informal response, a roar of approval that rolled through the camp like thunder. To the general, that was the sweetest sound of all.
Bai Xiao's heart nearly froze from the surge of emotion — a mix of pride and awe — lodged in his throat. So this is what generals feel, he thought. No wonder they chase power so fiercely.
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The next day, the Duke of Ran himself arrived at the camp with a small escort of five hundred royal guards. Bai Xiao was seated with officers in a large pavilion for a feast, held to honor the new hospital head and the joining of the duchy. The tables were covered in abundant food, but no wine was served. By imperial law and the military customs of the Hou Empire, drinking alcohol in camp during wartime was punishable by death. Instead, they drank dried fruit tea with honey, believed to strengthen the soldiers' Qi. According to legend, this custom dated back to the war with the Kingdom of Zu, when an entire legion was wiped out one night after getting drunk and missing an enemy raid.
Bai Xiao sat beside his brother and the newly appointed thousand-man commander Dong Li, who was enthusiastically devouring a pork leg in sauce. The Duke of Ran — a man around forty, with traces of gray in his long black hair — was clean-shaven and wore beautiful patterned light armor made from the new blue steel. He was a deadly serious man who always found a personal gain in any matter he involved himself in. His sharp features, pallor, angular armor, and hooked nose made him resemble a predatory bird. He sat silently beside the general, who was speaking with his adjutant. They had nothing left to discuss — everything had been settled in a private tent before the feast. The Duke of Ran quietly studied Doctor Bai Xiao.
"General," the duke said suddenly. When the general turned, he continued, "Allow Doctor Fang to examine me after the feast. It would be foolish to pass up a chance to consult a renowned graduate of the Academy."
"Of course, my lord. As you wish," the general replied without much interest.
After the feast, the Duke of Ran, now out of his armor, sat in the examination tent of the field hospital. Doctor Bai Xiao, eyes closed, fingers on the duke's wrist, listened to his pulse and the flow of Qi.
"Strange," Bai Xiao thought. "This doesn't feel like a natural disorder."
He turned the duke's hand and examined his fingernails — white transverse bands.
Bai Xiao stood and took a vial of white powder from a chest. Holding it in one hand, he resumed checking the pulse with the other.
"Your Grace, don't you have a court physician?" he asked.
"Of course. But his remedies make me worse. I used to be strong and healthy, but now I'm emaciated, suffer from diarrhea, sweat like a horse, and can't concentrate for long."
"Might I ask your physician's name? Perhaps I know him. Is he an Academy graduate?"
"His name is Niu Hui. Yes, he's from the Academy."
"I see. Well then... I'm almost certain you're being poisoned with arsenic — and no graduate of the Academy could miss that."