Chapter 2: They Should Treat Their Savior Well, Right?
Although Yuan Ye was only a sophomore in university, he had experienced many hardships since childhood. He wasn’t a naive college student with clear eyes. Even though he was shocked by his suspected transmigration through time and space, he could still remain calm and composed. He had two lives on his hands now: his own and his foolish son’s. Even for his foolish son, he had to stay calm and handle the situation properly!
His CPU spun rapidly as he analyzed the situation. He didn’t answer Jubei’s question or acknowledge Jubei’s eagerness. He glanced around indifferently, making the people in the distance lower their heads before asking Jubei, “What are you doing?”
Jubei found it difficult to understand him and looked up in surprise, “Lord, what did you say?”
Yuan Ye slowed down his speech and repeated it word by word.
This time, Jubei managed to understand with a mix of guessing and deduction. He respectfully lowered his head again and also slowed his speech, saying, “Our village’s servant husband, Jikuro, is gravely ill. We are holding a Prayer to the Gods Festival.”
“Ill?”
Yuan Ye also managed to grasp the situation with a mix of guessing and deduction, based on the few words he understood. He seemed to recall this Japanese folk custom from his visit to the Aichi Prefectural Archives.
In ancient Japan, medical resources were scarce, especially in rural areas. Some villagers never even saw a doctor in their lives and could only endure illness and injury. This led to the custom of the Prayer to the Gods Festival. If someone fell ill and could recover, that was fine. But if they became gravely ill and began to lose consciousness （ their souls leaving their bodies ）, villagers would carry them to a nearby mountain or wilderness to pray to the mountain god or some other deity to drive away the illness, reclaim their souls, and heal their bodies.
Usually, the patient would spend a night alone on the mountain or in the wilderness to allow the deity to perform miracles. Others would check on them the next morning. If the patient woke up, they would be happily carried back. If the patient died, it meant the deity had taken them, and they would be buried on the spot, while the others would continue their lives happily.
This was undoubtedly feudal superstition with no scientific basis. Except for the occasional person with exceptional resilience, almost everyone died. However, it was said to be a survival strategy at the time. Since the patient would die sooner or later, it was better to die sooner than later to avoid dragging the entire family down. Furthermore, sending the patient out of the village could prevent the spread of disease to weaker women and children, thus not affecting the future of the village.
Yuan Ye understood the situation. He touched the hiking backpack on his chest, pondered for a moment, and said to Jubei, “Take me to see him.”
He could turn around and leave now. He figured these villagers would at most find it strange and wouldn’t pursue him. However, he only had enough water and food in his backpack to last two or three days in the mountains. Meng Ziqi was unconscious and needed a safe and warm environment to recover. Eventually, he would have to interact with people. Dealing with these villagers, who seemed like decent folk, was better than encountering some ruffians later.
If a noble person wanted to see the patient, Jubei naturally had no objections and immediately led him over.
Yuan Ye put Meng Ziqi down and looked at the unlucky fellow abandoned by his fellow villagers. He appeared to be in his forties, short but sturdy. He wore a plain robe and was covered with a blue short haori with six circles, the same as Jubei’s. However, he still had plenty of hair and wasn’t bald; it was tied into a topknot.
As for the illness…
Yuan Ye held his breath and carefully examined his face, then flipped open his eyelids and tested his forehead temperature with the back of his hand. He breathed a sigh of relief, feeling it wasn’t a serious illness, just a severe cold. The man was currently delirious and muttering, purely due to a high fever.
He signaled Jubei and the others to step back a few paces, reached into his hiking backpack, opened the first aid kit, found an emergency fever reducer tablet and an oral anti-inflammatory tablet. Considering that people in ancient times likely had no drug resistance, he used them sparingly, breaking them in half, and then put the medicine into Jikuro’s mouth. He turned to Jubei and said, “Do you have water? Give him water to help him swallow the medicine.”
Jubei wasn’t surprised that Yuan Ye knew medicine. He had stayed in Aragiko Castle for over ten years and knew that some samurai were proficient in Chinese Classics, which included medical skills. Many samurai would gather herbs and make various pills and potions to treat themselves, their vassals, family retainers, followers, or friends.
When Jikuro suddenly fell ill with a fever, Jubei had gone to Aragiko Castle to ask the Maeda Family for medicine. The Maeda Family’s Senior Retainer, Okumura Iefuku, had given him a packet of herbal medicine made from various strange grasses, leaves, and roots. Jikuro drank it for three days before falling critically ill, on the verge of death. So, treating him now wouldn’t make much difference.
It was like treating a dead horse as if it were alive!
He immediately half-supported Jikuro and waved his hand, shouting in dialect. A middle-aged woman with a sorrowful expression brought over a section of bamboo tube, removed the stopper, and gave Jikuro, the patient, water to help him swallow the medicine. Yuan Ye, meanwhile, casually placed a physical cooling patch on Jikuro’s forehead.
The scene fell silent for a moment. Yuan Ye tidied up his hiking backpack, checked on his foolish son Meng Ziqi’s condition, and then leaned against a rock to wait patiently and recover his strength, his hand never straying far from the taser.
Jubei was unsure whether to continue praying to the mountain god. He carefully examined the cooling patch on Jikuro’s forehead, handed him over to the woman to care for, and cautiously probed Yuan Ye, “My Lord, now…”
“Let’s wait a little longer,” Yuan Ye replied softly. With the fever reducer, anti-inflammatory, and physical cooling, theoretically, the fever should subside within half an hour, at least bringing the temperature down to a level that wouldn’t damage his brain.
As dusk gradually fell, Jubei directed the villagers to light torches. They were likely using soybean oil, and a faint fishy smell immediately permeated the air. Ancient times lacked soybean oil deodorization technology. In this era, crude soybean oil wasn’t for eating; it was used as a moisture-proofing agent and building adhesive. Even using it for lighting was uncomfortable. Only the poor would use it.
The group waited silently amidst the smoky, fishy air. Yuan Ye secretly observed their expressions. They stood in clusters, whispering to each other at most, with no signs of impatience on their faces. Their tolerance and obedience were quite good, further confirming that they were not a mob. They likely belonged to a certain power for a long time and had been under stable rule, making them relatively docile.
Then, his gaze shifted to the short haori worn by the half-bald old man, Jubei.
The short haori was a sleeveless outer garment, somewhat like a very long vest or waistcoat. It was said that during the period when court nobles ruled Japan, they liked to give these outer garments to samurai when hunting for amusement, distinguishing different teams by color and insignia. Later, after the samurai gained control, the short haori gradually evolved into a “civil servant uniform.”
It wasn’t strange for bald Jubei to wear a short haori; he was likely a low-ranking or peripheral member of some power. What was important was which power he belonged to. The six white circles on the short haori were likely his family crest, his family emblem, which Yuan Ye was observing.
These six circles, five hollow ones tightly surrounding a solid one, resembled a simplified flower. Which family did this represent?
Was it a warrior family or a court noble family?
What era was this family active in?
Yuan Ye was trying hard to recall the information and introductions he had seen at the archives and museums. After more than ten minutes without any clues, he suddenly heard a woman’s surprised voice nearby, “The fever’s gone, the fever’s gone!” Immediately, the woman rushed to his feet, buried her head deeply on the ground, and said tearfully, “My Lord, thank you so much! Thank you for saving our head of the household, thank you for saving our entire family! Thank you, thank you so much!”
Yuan Ye also let out a long sigh of relief, a sense of joy welling up in his heart.
Of course, it wasn’t just the happiness of saving a life, but also the happiness of having found a relatively safe place to stay in this strange world with his friend.
He figured this family would treat their savior well, right?
He figured they wouldn’t be displeased if their savior stayed for a few more days and brought a friend to recover from his injuries, right?
