Chapter 8 : Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Born on the Same Year, Same Month, Same Day

Family…

In this strange world, alone, I could only cautiously touch its edges, sensing its mysteries and dangers.

Every step felt like walking on a cliff’s edge, one misstep away from the abyss.

The word “family” held a unique pull for me.

I was keenly aware that this so-called family belonged to the body I inhabited, while I was a stowaway who’d slipped into this world after its original occupant died.

Yet, I couldn’t help but wonder… What if my parents, after their passing, had come to this world too?

After morning lessons, my two senior brothers and I squatted by the large water tank in the southeast corner of the courtyard to wash up.

I took a willow twig, pressing its fibers into a brush-like shape, and awkwardly scraped my teeth, mimicking my senior brothers.

The burly senior brother who’d slept soundly last night grimaced as he squatted: “Master’s in a bad mood today. Don’t provoke him—it hurts like hell! My dad never hit me this hard!”

I spat out the salty water and tested: “Maybe this training’s useful?”

Liu Quxing scoffed, spitting out his rinse water: “Useful for what? We’ve been at it for over a year, and I feel nothing. Do you feel anything?”

“Nothing,” I shook my head, confirming the warm current was something only I could feel.

The burly senior brother, brushing his teeth, asked: “Liu Quxing, when your mom comes later, will she bring those tasty oil cakes again?”

Liu Quxing, lanky and thin, rolled his eyes and spat: “She Dakang, stop eyeing the food my mom brings.”

She Dakang bristled: “We’re fellow disciples. What’s wrong with eating a bit of your stuff?”

I chuckled: “Yeah, what’s wrong with eating a bit of your stuff?”

At that moment, Old Man Yao emerged from the main house with his bamboo stick: “Still in the mood to joke? Let’s see if you’re still laughing when I test your studies tomorrow. Get to the main hall and study your books.”

After washing up, the three of us, without breakfast, sat in a row on the clinic’s threshold, each holding a medical book.

Our minds weren’t on the books. Everyone was eagerly waiting for their families to bring money or food—except me, quietly flipping pages, trying to fill in too many gaps.

She Dakang said: “Master’s testing us tomorrow. Brothers share blessings and burdens. No one’s allowed to cram secretly, got it?”

Liu Quxing’s eyes darted: “I haven’t touched a book lately. Forgot everything Master taught.”

She Dakang sneered, clenching his fist: “You’d better be telling the truth!”

Liu Quxing shrank back: “Why not call out Chen Ji? He took the fewest hits this morning and is still reading!”

She Dakang snapped my book shut: “No reading. We get beat together tomorrow. My dad had my fortune told—I’ll live past seventy. Master can’t beat me to death!”

I: “…That’s some strong fate.”

Time seemed to slip back to the harsh yet cherished high school days—shoulder-to-shoulder in class, sweating on the playground, getting scolded by teachers together.

I wondered, if life in this world was like this, could I accept it? Maybe I could.

Soon, Liu Quxing leapt up, rushing to greet a middle-aged woman in a cyan skirt.

Her hair was adorned with a silver hairpin, her feet in embroidered shoes, elegant and gentle, followed by a maid.

She smiled warmly at Liu Quxing: “Xing’er, have you been upsetting Master lately?”

“No, no, Master loves me. How could I make him mad?” Liu Quxing grinned, handing her a bundle: “Mom, these are my dirty clothes. Wash them for me.”

She Dakang, sitting on the threshold, sneered: “Pathetic. A grown man still hoarding clothes for his mom to wash!”

The woman took the clothes and handed Liu Quxing a wooden box and a cloth bundle: “The cloth bundle has this month’s tuition silver and clean clothes. The box has some snacks I made. Share them with your brothers.”

In that moment, I distinctly heard She Dakang swallow hard.

But Liu Quxing didn’t share. He opened the box right there, stuffing oil cakes and mung bean pastries into his mouth.

We watched as he ate for a full quarter of an hour, cramming the snacks down his throat before handing the empty box back: “Mom, take the box back.”

I: Huh?

She Dakang muttered: “You son of a…”

The mother and son chatted a bit more before Liu Quxing returned gleefully with the cloth bundle, burping as he stepped over the threshold.

The street grew busier. Between the uneven buildings, children chased and played in alleys, women carried basins to wash clothes by the Luo River.

Someone drove an ox cart eastward, the ox flicking its tail and leaving droppings, filling the street with a grassy, earthy scent.

I immersed myself in it.

She Dakang and I waited eagerly until noon, when a brisk man arrived with a bundle.

The dark-skinned man wore a short jacket and gray trousers, sleeves rolled up to reveal twisted tattoos: “Youngest!”

“Third Brother!” She Dakang’s eyes lit up.

The man laughed heartily: “Got held up helping at East Market this morning. Here, Mom prepared two strings of cured meat—one for Master, one for you.”

“Where’d the meat come from?!” She Dakang said, delighted.

“Big Brother and I ran into a wild boar in the mountains a few days ago. Pity it was male—bit of a gamey smell,” Third Brother replied with a grin.

She Dakang beamed: “Meat’s meat! Who cares about the smell!”

“Gotta go. There’s a big household holding a banquet at East Market tonight. I’m helping set up the stage—might catch a show too,” Third Brother said, striding off without hesitation.

She Dakang hurried back to the clinic. Liu Quxing leaned against the doorframe, sniping: “I hear male boar meat smells like piss…”

I marveled: “Brother Liu, you’re practically the moral low ground of our clinic.”

She Dakang glared at Liu Quxing: “Believe me, I’ll knock your front teeth out.”

Liu Quxing shrank back and turned to me: “No one’s shown up yet. Your family’s probably not coming, huh?”

I shook my head: “Don’t know.”

Liu Quxing gloated: “Maybe they don’t want to pay your tuition. Two hundred wen a month is no small sum for most families. Maybe beg Master for some leniency.”

Just then, Old Man Yao, tallying accounts behind the counter, said leisurely: “The law isn’t taught lightly, the way isn’t sold cheaply, the teacher doesn’t stray, and medicine doesn’t come knocking. I only teach those with sincerity. If your family thinks two hundred wen is too much, you don’t need to study.”

“Understood, Master,” I replied.

She Dakang scratched his head: “Master, we’ll take care of you in your old age. Can’t you show some affection?”

Old Man Yao stroked his beard: “Even sons aren’t always truly filial to their fathers. Can I count on you? When you’re old, you’ll see—money’s what matters. Feelings change, long life brings disgrace, and only money brings dignity. Your families pay tuition, I teach you skills. We don’t need too much master-disciple sentiment.”

I sat silently on the threshold from morning to noon, then to evening.

Returning to the clinic at the third watch last night, tormented by the icy current until the fifth, I was exhausted. Leaning against the doorframe, I fell into a deep sleep.

I don’t know how long passed before someone tapped my shoulder. I opened my eyes wearily.

She Dakang, eating a bowl of cured meat, mumbled: “Chen Ji, go eat something. I’ll keep watch. If your family comes, I’ll call you.”

I didn’t answer.

Across the street, the clerks at the diner, pawnshop, and grain store put up their shutters to close for the day.

A clerk spotted me and grinned: “Little Doctor Chen, waiting for someone?”

I smiled back: “Yeah.”

But my family never came. My real parents would never forget such a promise.

As the sun’s last rays sank, the flow of returning pedestrians dwindled, and light faded from my face until night fell.

Someone once said, never wake up at dusk.

In that moment, the distant bell tolled, the world fell silent, and the sun dipped below the horizon. The dim sky felt impossibly distant, as if I were drifting away alone.

I suddenly remembered, before fate’s gears turned, someone had asked me:

“Can you endure loneliness?”

I’d answered: “Yes.”

…

…

The evening glow fell, vanishing behind the staggered rooftops.

I sat on the threshold, watching the last shop across the street close its shutters, the last pedestrian head home. I stood, brushing the dust off my clothes.

Life had to go on. Back in reality, I needed to seriously consider my situation.

Old Man Yao, still tallying accounts behind the counter, said without looking up: “What, your family doesn’t want you?”

I thought to myself, my master’s tongue is laced with poison. I smiled: “Master, they might’ve been held up. They’ll bring the tuition tomorrow.”

Old Man Yao sneered: “You’ve been here two years. The other two families at least bring me gifts during festivals. Your family? Nothing. Even if they pay on time, I don’t want a disciple like you.”

“Give me a month. Maybe I can pay the tuition without relying on them,” I said earnestly.

Old Man Yao shook his head: “Empty promises are easy.”

I thought for a moment: “Tuition’s two hundred wen a month. Give me a month’s grace, and I’ll pay two hundred forty wen each month after.”

Old Man Yao pondered, then tossed his copper coins six times, reading the hexagram calmly: “That shows some sincerity… but you, an apprentice who can’t even take a pulse, where’ll you get the money?”

“I’ll find a way.”

“Hmph, big talk. You’re just an apprentice who can’t read a pulse. What makes you think you can earn money?” Old Man Yao mocked, flicking abacus beads.

Liu Quxing, watching the show, chimed in: “Chen Ji, need a hand?”

“How would Brother Liu help?” I asked.

“We three take turns with chores. Tomorrow’s my day to fetch water, sweep the courtyard, and scrub the main hall floor. Scrub the floor, I’ll give you two wen. Sweep the courtyard, one wen. Fill the water tank, two wen. It’s not much, but you’ll make fifty wen a month.”

The hierarchy among apprentices became clear.

I said: “Fine, I’ll do Brother Liu’s chores.”

She Dakang looked at Old Man Yao: “Master, is this fair?”

“As long as the tuition’s paid, it’s fair,” Old Man Yao said coolly.

She Dakang turned to me: “You’re not mad? Liu Quxing’s treating you like a servant.”

I smiled: “Brother Liu’s helping me out.”

“What kind of ‘Brother Liu’? The three of us were born on the same year, same month, same day, even the same hour. Why’s he the senior brother?” She Dakang scoffed.

I froze. Why would a physician choose three apprentices with identical birth charts?