nucmednet Chapter 434 Plague (1)
Chapter 434 Plague (1)
As soon as he stepped out of the room, he saw the steward Yuan Zhong waiting under the eaves, dressed in a blue cloth robe, holding a sandalwood tray with a rhinoceros horn belt hook on it.
Upon seeing Yuan Xiaomiao emerge, Yuan Zhong immediately bowed and said, "Master, Magistrate Wang has been waiting in the front hall for half an incense stick's time, saying he has urgent business to discuss with me."
"Urgent?"
Yuan Xiaomiao raised an eyebrow, took the hook from the tray and fastened it to her waist. Her gaze swept over the unconscious woman on the ground, and her tone was as indifferent as if she were talking about something unimportant.
"Clean that up on the ground, don't soil my yard."
"Yes."
Yuan Zhong readily agreed, turned around and waved to the shadows. Two expressionless maids immediately stepped forward, wrapped the woman on the ground in a black cloth, and dragged her out like a dead dog. The whole process was completely silent, clearly indicating that they were used to doing this kind of thing.
Yuan Xiaomiao watched them disappear behind the moon gate before slowly walking towards the front hall, her steps filled with the arrogance of a powerful and wealthy family.
In the front hall, Wang Qinian could no longer sit still.
He was dressed in a scarlet official robe of a third-rank sub-prefect, but he showed no composure whatsoever in officialdom. He rubbed his hands repeatedly on his knees, and his eyes kept glancing towards the door. He didn't even touch the warm Biluochun tea on the table.
The tea leaves in the celadon teacup sank to the bottom, just like his heart, which had sunk to the bottom at that moment.
He was completely bewitched when he listened to Yuan Xiaomiao's instigation and followed Prince Rongyang to seek some "benefits".
But he forgot that Yuan Xiaomiao was backed by the Yuan family of Runan—a family with a history of over 100 years. Even if he made a mess, the elders of the family would step in to smooth things over.
But Wang Qinian was just a poor official who climbed up through the imperial examinations. He had no connections or backing, and if something happened to him, he would be doomed.
Especially a few days ago, they secretly intercepted the Crown Prince's secret letter to the capital. If this matter is exposed, let alone a mere prefect, even the Prince of Rongyang would probably not be able to bear the consequences!
What alarmed him even more was the news he had just received this morning—that Cui Zhihao, the young master of the Qinghe Cui clan, had quietly arrived in Chuzhou.
The Cui family of Qinghe! They are the most prestigious family, even the current emperor has to give them some leeway. Their disciples and former officials are all over the court and the country. Even the crown prince has to respectfully address Cui Zhihao as "Brother Cui".
Yuan Xiaomiao, relying on the reputation of the Yuan family of Runan, ran rampant in Chuzhou and didn't even put the Crown Prince in his eyes. But has he forgotten that although the Yuan family of Runan is strong, it is far inferior to the Cui family of Qinghe!
"Prefect Wang is in quite a mood, just standing here in a daze?"
Yuan Xiaomiao's voice suddenly came from the doorway, and Wang Qinian stood up abruptly, almost knocking over the teacup beside him.
He looked up and saw Yuan Xiaomiao swaggering in, followed by two servants, and plopping down on the pear wood chair at the head of the table.
He even deliberately swung his leg, his nonchalant demeanor reigniting Wang Qinian's anger, but he dared not lash out.
"grown ups."
Wang Qinian suppressed his anger, bowed respectfully, and spoke with a hint of urgency in his voice.
"I have come to you today with important news—Cui Yu'an of the Cui family of Qinghe has arrived in Chuzhou!"
"Cui Yue?"
Yuan Xiaomiao picked up the teacup on the table, casually blowing on the foam, without even lifting her eyelids.
"Let him come, what right does he have to interfere in the affairs of my Yuan family?"
"My lord!" Wang Qinian's voice rose in urgency.
"You've forgotten, we intercepted the Crown Prince's secret letter a few days ago! The Cui family of Qinghe has always been on good terms with the Crown Prince, and his trip to Chuzhou this time might just be for this matter!"
"If the Cui family of Qinghe gets involved, not only us, but even the Prince of Rongyang wouldn't be able to withstand it!"
Yuan Xiaomiao put down his teacup, looked up at Wang Qinian, his eyes full of disdain: "Wang Tongpan is indeed cowardly. He is just Cui Yu'an. Even if he is the young master of the Cui family of Qinghe, he still has to show me, Yuan Xiaomiao, respect in this territory of Chuzhou."
"Besides, the Prince of Rongyang has already given instructions, so even if Cui Zhihao wanted to investigate, he wouldn't be able to find out anything about us."
He paused, stood up, walked to Wang Qinian, patted him on the shoulder, and said in a threatening tone, "Now that you're on our ship, don't even think about getting off."
"Just do your job as a prefect well. Don't ask questions you shouldn't ask, and don't be afraid of things you shouldn't be afraid of—with the Yuan family of Runan here, I'll guarantee you a life of wealth and honor for the rest of your days."
Looking at Yuan Xiaomiao's arrogant face, Wang Qinian felt as cold as ice in his heart.
He knew that Yuan Xiaomiao's words were just to appease him. If something really went wrong, the first one to be pushed out to take the blame would definitely be him, a magistrate with no connections.
The moonlight streamed in through the windowpane, falling on Yuan Xiaomiao's brocade robe, but it brought no warmth. Instead, it made Wang Qinian feel as if he were walking on thin ice, about to fall into the abyss at any moment.
The water clock in the front hall was ticking away. Yuan Xiaomiao had already turned and gone to the inner room, probably to find those two maids again for some fun.
Wang Qinian stood alone in the empty front hall, looking at the tea on the table that had long since gone cold, and felt a sudden sense of unease—the situation in Chuzhou was probably about to change.
Shi Wanxia held the wolf-hair brush above the plain paper, and a drop of ink spread out on the paper, forming a small dark patch, much like the shadow of the plague spreading in the suburbs at this moment.
The study where she was was originally the old study of Prince Rongyang.
Since she moved in here to recuperate, there have been some unusual items here—several pages of yellowed hemp paper are stacked on the desk, with the words "Plague Transmission Chain" written on them in charcoal.
Rodents → Fleas → Humans
"Three isolation zones: suspected cases/confirmed cases/contacts"—that was a key point of epidemic prevention that she meticulously copied from a news release by the Center for Disease Control and Prevention.
A light rain was falling outside the window, carrying the chill of late spring, and the faint sound of the footsteps of the Eastern Palace guards on patrol could be heard.
Shi Wanxia rubbed her tight temples and looked down at the newly delivered "Chuzhou Epidemic Report" on the corner of the table. The handwriting on it was hasty and hurried: "Twenty-seven people have died suddenly in the past three days in the refugee camp outside the city. All of them had high fever, purple bumps under their armpits, and blood from their mouths and noses after death."
"It is said among the people to be a 'divine punishment,' and Taoist priests have set up altars to drive away the plague. Some refugees even said that the government wanted to seal off camps and burn down houses, causing widespread panic."
She closed her eyes, and images of plague prevention from her modern memories suddenly became clear—disinfection workers in protective suits carrying sprayers sprayed permethrin in a corner of the market;
In the negative pressure ward, doctors administer streptomycin to patients; on the big data screen, the trajectories of close contacts are marked one by one.
But when I opened my eyes again, all I saw was the flickering candlelight, the herbal medicine packet on the table, and the almost invisible line of defense against disease under ancient medical conditions.
Shi Wanxia picked up her pen again and wrote "Strategies for Dealing with the Plague in the Southern City" on hemp paper. The rustling sound of the pen tip gliding across the paper seemed to be sorting out her chaotic thoughts.
The first thing that came to her mind was the core of modern plague prevention and control—source control.
Modern disease control manuals clearly state that the culprit of plague is Yersinia pestis, which is mainly transmitted through fleas, with rodents being the primary host.
In Cangling, the people only knew that "rats crossing the street" were filth, but they did not know that the fleas hiding in the haystacks of the refugee camps were the real "plague demons".
She drew a simple mouse on a piece of paper, circled the word "flea" next to it, and added an arrow pointing to "person". This was the most intuitive diagram of communication that she could think of.