For the people of Han and Tang, the appearance of yet another unfamiliar name upon the heavenly screen did not cause much commotion.
At most, Liu Bei sighed and remarked that the Liu clan truly had flourished across the ages.
"This Liu Han claims he serves as a Hanlin Medical Officer in the Song court," Liu Bei said, reading with interest. "What exactly is 'Hanlin'?"
Lu Su considered briefly before offering a guess.
"Yang Xiong once wrote in his 'Changyang Fu' that fine writings gathered like a forest. Later generations likely borrowed the phrase to name an office meant to gather talented scholars."
The term sounded plausible enough. Liu Bei nodded and continued reading aloud.
"...Our Song emperor has recently suffered only from irritability and restless sleep. Otherwise, he appears largely at ease. Yet the heavenly screen claims he has but two years remaining in life. I respectfully request the Medical Sage and the King of Medicine to assist in diagnosis…"
"So he seeks treatment across time," Liu Bei concluded.
Immediately, every gaze in the hall turned toward Zhang Zhongjing.
Consulting physicians through a luminous screen that bridged dynasties was unprecedented, even for them.
Zhang Zhongjing frowned, fingers slowly combing through his beard as he reread Liu Han's description again and again, weighing every phrase.
Zhang Fei, meanwhile, had already finished reading and shook his head vigorously.
"Isn't this just Zhao Da scaring himself?" he scoffed. "With a younger brother like that, who wouldn't be irritated?"
"In my view, just drag the brother out and chop him cleanly. Problem solved. No more worry, no more anger."
"Instead of asking physicians, he ought to consult that Tang emperor. He seems quite experienced in... resolving family matters."
Zhang Zhongjing's eyelids twitched violently.
The others maintained diplomatic silence.
Ma Chao, however, admired openly, "General Yide is versed in medicine as well?"
Liu Bei, for once, felt deeply grateful.
Grateful that earlier outbursts from his sworn brother had already sent the writing desk and all brushes and paper flying somewhere into oblivion.
Had that suggestion just been written down and sent through the screen for Emperor Taizong of Tang to read, heaven only knew how many storms would follow.
Firmly suppressing Zhang Fei's creative prescription, Liu Bei watched as Zhang Zhongjing rose, wrote upon a slip of paper, and cast it into the light.
A second message followed.
Zhang Zhongjing: "Irritability and excessive worry cause constraint of liver qi. Prolonged stagnation transforms into fire, consuming yin and exhausting the liver. When yin fails to restrain yang, rising yang agitates further anger. Thus the cycle perpetuates itself."
Sun Simiao: "The Medical Sage speaks truly. From Liu Han's account, I also hear of heavy foods, sweet flavors, rich dishes, and frequent drinking. Dampness accumulates internally, festers into heat, scorches fluids, obstructs the vessels. There may be grave consequences."
Zhang Zhongjing: "Our assessments align."
Sun Simiao: "The principle of liver and kidney sharing one source is a model of medical insight."
Zhang Zhongjing: "Liu Han's knowledge is also commendable. The Song's medical learning lies centuries beyond ours. It must possess many refinements."
Sun Simiao: "My understanding spans but a few decades. Liu Han commands the accumulated wisdom of Han and Tang. Surely he surpasses us in many respects."
In the palace at Bianliang, Liu Han nearly fell over from shock.
As a youth studying medicine, he had complained countless times that the writings of Zhang and Sun were unbearably thick and dense, swearing he would surpass them in his lifetime.
After coming of age and practicing medicine, he had lamented that those same works were not thicker still, wishing only to approach their mastery.
Now that both legends praised him in unison, Liu Han felt utterly at a loss.
Beside him, Emperor Taizu of Song, Zhao Kuangyin, only half understood Zhang Zhongjing's reasoning, but Sun Simiao's words were clear enough.
"So," Zhao Kuangyin asked, "to remove the hidden root of illness, I need only abstain from wine and eat lightly? Is it truly so simple?"
Liu Han steadied himself, then bowed slightly.
"Your Majesty, forgive my boldness. If the prophecy of two remaining years proves true, at what age would Your Majesty pass?"
Zhao Kuangyin's expression darkened. Still, he answered bluntly.
"Fifty."
Liu Han nodded.
"Does Your Majesty recall that this very year, a certain military commander also died at fifty?"
Silence.
How could Zhao Kuangyin not know?
Seeing Liu Han's steady gaze, he finally spoke.
"You refer to my friend from common days, Wang Shenqi of Zhongwu."
Liu Han inclined his head.
"And may I ask, how did Wang Shenqi die?"
"Suddenly."
Liu Han lifted his chin.
"All of Bianliang knows that Wang Shenqi was no drinker. Yet he died suddenly from drinking."
That was enough.
Among the ten sworn brothers of the Yishe Society, Wang Shenqi's poor tolerance for alcohol was common knowledge.
Yet in the early days of his reign, Zhao Kuangyin had been flushed with triumph. He had half jokingly threatened Wang Shenqi that if he wished to share wealth and honor, he must also share the wine cup.
After that, Wang's health deteriorated. Each banquet ended with illness upon returning home. At the time, Zhao Kuangyin had assumed it was political caution, perhaps feigning weakness after relinquishing military power.
Then this year, Wang Shenqi died suddenly.
At fifty.
The same age the prophecy assigned to him.
Zhao Kuangyin rubbed his temples. Not long ago, he had declared boldly, "How can a man who indulges in drink be worthy?" Yet the very next line of that speech had admitted that he often regretted his drunken excess the morning after.
His willpower had never been as strong as his boasts.
On the floor, Zhao Guangyi, who could do little but speak, suddenly shouted excitedly.
"Elder Brother, I swear I never harbored the slightest intent to harm you! It would only be your fondness for wine that—"
Zhao Kuangyin turned, frowning, but strangely patient.
"Oh? Then De Zhao stabbed himself after drinking? De Fang fell into eternal sleep because of wine? And Guangmei drank himself to death in exile?"
Zhao Guangyi froze.
Utterly speechless.
…
In Chang'an, at the general's residence, Zhang Zhongjing saw that Liu Han had finished speaking. He took the opportunity to exchange further thoughts with Sun Simiao, even elaborating on the preparation and application of allicin.
He asked casually about the future direction of his Treatise on Cold Damage, then finally resumed his seat.
Turning to Liu Bei, he explained calmly, "Song medicine has certainly advanced beyond ours. Yet that emperor, being so close to the date of his foretold death, wavers between fear and denial. Thus he undervalues his own physicians."
"That is why Sun Simiao and I praised Liu Han. We wished the Song emperor to place trust in his own medical officers."
Liu Bei sighed in admiration.
"Such benevolence."
Still, curiosity tugged at him.
"Are you not curious, Divine Physician, how long you yourself will live?"
Zhang Zhongjing stroked his beard and smiled.
"To know it changes nothing."
"If one hears the Way before death, what regret can remain?"
With the medical debate concluded for now, Zhang Fei immediately asked his elder brother for paper.
Under strict supervision, he wrote a note and hurled it into the light.
Zhang Fei: "General Tiance, my brother and I are about to campaign against Cao. Any advice?"