He took a long, cold shower to suppress the burning desire within him.
Lu Ming went to bed, not wanting to waste his energy on courtesans. He'd rather have some respectable women to play with.
The next day, after informing Dong Zhuo, Lu Ming went to the Yang residence. Dong Zhuo seemed to have other matters to attend to, presumably some shady business.
Bringing Lu Ming along was a gesture of goodwill. Now that his connections were beginning to open up, as long as he didn't make any mistakes, he didn't need to worry about anything else.
Arriving at the Yang residence, he announced his arrival. He still had to wait a long time, which annoyed Lu Ming. Was this condescension, or a deliberate attempt to intimidate him?
About two hours passed, nearing noon, before the steward finally emerged. "You're Lu Ming? Come with me."
Lu Ming looked at the steward, silently memorizing his appearance. He'd definitely get his hands on him sometime.
Instead of going to the living room, they walked through a flower-filled courtyard and arrived at a room.
The steward went in to announce their arrival, then came out, still looking down on them, and said, "The master is inside. You may go in."
"Thank you," Lu Ming said, bowing slightly, his face beaming, but inwardly he was cursing.
Entering the room, he found it was a study, where Yang Cong stood wearily at the table, writing with a brush.
In this era, there was no white paper, only rough straw paper, barely usable for writing, but poorly preserved, so nobody used it.
It was only occasionally used for practicing calligraphy; other uses were out of the question. Even wiping one's bottom might cut one's anus!
"Sir, what are your orders?" Lu Ming asked calmly, his mind racing.
"I heard you can cure difficult and complicated diseases?" Yang Cong's complexion wasn't good, and he seemed to have indulged in excessive sexual activity.
"I wouldn't dare claim to cure all diseases; there's no absolute certainty in healing," Lu Ming said, first putting on his protective gear before continuing, "It all depends on human effort. Everyone's constitution is different, and their pathology varies. Only through observation, listening, questioning, and palpation can a diagnosis be made. If the illness is terminal, even a god can't save it. Ignoring the illness will only delay treatment. Rest assured, sir, a doctor will only ask about the symptoms and nothing else."
Yang Cong's expression improved slightly; it seemed there was something he found difficult to discuss. "Then come and take a look at me, see what's wrong with me."
"Sir, please." Lu Ming took out his diagnostic tools and gestured for him to speak.
He placed his fingers on Yang Cong's wrist to feel his heartbeat, feigning expertise. He didn't know the specific principles behind it; he relied entirely on his skills to treat the patient.
This didn't stop him from putting on airs. Only by presenting a strong enough preamble could he control his opponent.
"Sir, I don't know what's wrong, your heart rate is irregular, fluctuating."
"Can't you tell?" Yang Cong seemed unwilling to elaborate, only asking in return.
If it were anyone else, Lu Ming would have slapped them across the face. "Can't you tell? You might as well go home and wait to die!"
"I do see some problems, though they may not be accurate. There are issues with the stomach, spleen, and kidneys; it's an accumulated illness that needs treatment. Internal organ problems are the hardest to cure." Lu Ming finished, giving Yang Cong a meaningful look. "Sir, there's no need to shy away from a medical ailment. Since you've summoned me, you must have something to ask of me. Please speak."
Generally, this was indeed something difficult to discuss. Yang Cong's expression remained unchanged; he was a seasoned veteran. "It's itching in my private parts."
"Is there any ulceration?"
"It's already ulcerated."
"Sir, you might as well take off your clothes and have a look. There are only two types of ulceration in the private parts: one is syphilis in wealthy people, and the other is inflammation in poor people who are constantly soaked in salt water." Lu Ming chuckled upon hearing this. Syphilis, wasn't it?
He went to a brothel last night, and now he knows something's wrong?
Luckily, he hadn't been tempted last night, otherwise, who knows what problems might have arisen.
Yang Cong was decisive. Since he had said not to spread the word, he would naturally see it through and completely cure the problem. To be honest, Lu Ming had no interest in looking at a man's naked body.
However, in this era, such things were private, and if he could cure it, he would undoubtedly become very wealthy.
After just one glance, he concluded that it was venereal disease, but the good news was that it wasn't syphilis.
If it were syphilis, there would be no cure. Syphilis was brought in by foreigners during the Age of Exploration; the most common disease in the homeland was venereal disease.
It was a pathological condition caused by inadequate genital hygiene and frequent intercourse. Although it looked similar to syphilis, it wasn't.
It looked frightening, seemingly incurable, but this was simply a matter of medical skill.
At least in the era of warlordism at the end of the Eastern Han Dynasty, only one doctor could cure it: Hua Tuo!
The handwritten copy of *The Secret Manual of Hua Tuo, the Divine Physician* contains 15 prescriptions for treating venereal diseases, describing terrifying symptoms such as genital ulceration, sloughing off, and the imminent collapse of the nasal septum. Hua Tuo's ability to cure it, even "regenerating what has already sloughed off," is truly astonishing.
"Sir, this is venereal disease. Curing it will require considerable effort. With my skill level, it will take several months. Moreover, the medicinal ingredients are precious and difficult to find. You must be prepared," Lu Ming first threatened, then began to complain about how difficult it was to treat.
"Anmin, where did you learn of this treatment?" Yang Cong wasn't worried about the cost of treatment. On the contrary, he had consulted many doctors in Chang'an and Luoyang, even the imperial physicians, but to no avail. That's why he was curious—could a young doctor compare to those veteran traditional Chinese medicine practitioners?
"Occasionally, merchants from the Western Liang region pass through, and my late father had a collection of books recording strange tales and unusual events, so I have some knowledge of this." Lu Ming wasn't worried about being exposed; either they were merchants from the Western Liang, or it was hearsay—he had plenty of reasons.
"Hmm, well-informed, very good. Then, Anmin, is there a cure?" Yang Cong was most concerned about this; his penis was starting to swell with lumps, looking quite disgusting.
"Yes, there is. A medicinal ointment needs to be made and applied continuously. Abstain from women and alcohol, and continue taking the medicine. Recovery should occur within a few months; if one is strong and healthy, it can be cured within a month. Sir, there's no need to worry; it's not a big deal, just something difficult to talk about, nothing serious." Lu Ming was secretly pleased. Perfect, this wasn't difficult to cure at all; the problem was solved, and now he could talk about his reward!