Chapter Fifty-Six: Pulmonary Heart Disease?

Li Zisheng was fully aware that it was absolutely impossible for Deng Qing to suddenly fall ill as the rumors suggested—an illness that baffled all doctors and left them helpless. Perhaps Deng Qing had deliberately orchestrated this, but what exactly he was planning behind the scenes remained unknown.

On this point, Li Zisheng was exceedingly clear: every event has its cause; if there were none, it would be a futile effort to investigate further.

Following closely behind the young soldier, who kept glancing back anxiously at Li Zisheng, the latter had grown somewhat accustomed to this behavior and no longer paid it much mind. Instead, his thoughts drifted to Deng Qing’s hidden motives and the banquet planned for today.

Before the feast was set to begin, Deng Qing’s sudden illness was, to anyone observing, quite baffling—yet it had happened, and at such a coincidental moment.

Li Zisheng simply refused to believe it.

When the young soldier led him to the general’s tent, Li Zisheng immediately noticed an overwhelming scent of medicinal herbs. Being highly sensitive to medicines, especially traditional Chinese herbs, he recognized the aromas with ease.

Inside Deng Qing’s tent, the main medicinal scents were of codonopsis, ophiopogon, schisandra, fritillaria, trichosanthes peel, arisaema, licorice, pinellia, and chuanxiong.

Among these, the codonopsis scent was slightly mixed with hints of red ginseng, salvia, and astragalus—clear indicators of a patient suffering from pulmonary heart disease, accompanied by excessive sweating and blood deficiency. This was absolutely not the Deng General.

Pulmonary heart disease typically develops from chronic bronchitis or tracheitis that, over time, affects the heart. Symptoms include difficulty breathing, cyanotic lips, palpitations, shortness of breath with minimal exertion, purple tongue, distended neck veins, swelling of the lower limbs, reduced urination, irritability, heat sensations in the palms and soles, insomnia, constipation, and eventually pulmonary encephalopathy, which threatens life.

But when Li Zisheng saw Deng Qing just the day before, he was in robust health—there was no sign of breathlessness or any of those symptoms. Moreover, pulmonary heart disease is generally seen in the elderly, and Deng Qing did not fit this profile.

The idea that Deng Qing was genuinely ill was completely dismissed by Li Zisheng. The sudden sickness was nothing but nonsense.

Although Li Zisheng did not know Deng Qing’s true intentions, he still possessed a compassionate heart. The prescription given, while somewhat effective for pulmonary heart disease, was too mild and slow-acting. Different symptoms required different treatments, and this formula was inadequate for what appeared to be an acute condition. Using it would be like pouring a little water into a dried-up well—utterly ineffective.

In the end, it could very well lead to death.

Therefore, Li Zisheng did not want to stand by and watch anyone die before his eyes, regardless of who they were. This was the nature of a healer’s compassion, not mere affectation.

He did not instruct the young soldier to spread the word but sent him off to find more doctors, as that was his primary duty. Li Zisheng himself strode directly into the tent.

Originally spacious, the general’s tent was now somewhat crowded with numerous physicians, yet still accommodated them all.

At the head of the tent stood a screen-like partition—simple yet sturdy, adorned with a painting depicting Emperor Taizong’s historic campaign against the Turks.

Its presence now carried a different significance. Everyone knew that today’s banquet was meant to entertain Ashina Zanghe. According to Mr. Zhong, Emperor Taizong had spared Ashina Zanghe’s life all those years ago, choosing not to kill him.

Thus, the screen’s meaning was unmistakable.

Yet now, with the news of Deng Qing’s illness, the screen seemed to offer the Turks a golden opportunity.

Deciding not to dwell further, Li Zisheng approached a relatively young doctor and inquired about the situation.

This young physician, upon noticing Li Zisheng’s freedom of movement within the tent, assumed he had some standing and lowered his guard, explaining the situation.

The gathered doctors concurred that the diagnosis was pulmonary heart disease, but they had noticed something odd: the patient’s pulse was vigorous and forceful—uncharacteristic of pulmonary heart disease. Yet, their consensus remained unchanged.

Li Zisheng frowned deeply. How could this be?

Pulmonary heart disease usually causes high blood pressure, which would alter the pulse. So why was this patient’s pulse so strong? If the pulse was indeed vigorous, why then was the diagnosis pulmonary heart disease?

The key point was that such a robust pulse was typical only in young and middle-aged adults—matching the patient’s age, presumably Deng Qing. But this was inconsistent and illogical.

“General Deng, I have some knowledge of medicine and would like to examine you myself,” Li Zisheng said.

Without knowing what else to think or do, he decided to act on his own judgment. After asking around, he found that others also noted this contradiction between a normal, vigorous pulse and the presence of illness. Frustrated by this conflicting information, he declared loudly that he too understood medical arts.

Li Zisheng was not reckless; he knew disease waited for no one, and a moment’s hesitation could cost a life. His medical skills were no secret, especially since he had apprenticed under Wei Cizang, which lent him credibility. Even if his master appeared, it would not pose a problem—Wei Cizang had given him several medical texts before departing, a testament to Li’s aptitude.

Thus, his clear, slightly youthful voice rang out in the crowded tent, drawing all eyes to him.