That stubborn Madame Qiang! Even the neighborhood dogs knew to steer clear of her. With those dagger-sharp eyes and a spine stiffer than bamboo, she’d been ruling her household with an iron fist since her husband’s passing. Her poor daughter-in-law bore the brunt of her temper—daily beatings with bamboo sticks, they say. Meanwhile, her own daughter (married into the Wang family down our lane) inherited her mother’s notorious firecracker personality.
Here’s the kicker—this sixty-something terror would march four times daily between villages, her bony legs outpacing teenagers! Everything changed during that fateful spring of Renxu Year. After screaming bloody murder at some poor vendor, she wolfed down a feast fit for three kings. That’s when the fire started burning in her gut.
The Botched Treatment
Old Doctor Ren bungled it spectacularly. “Age-related weakness,” he declared, stuffing her with tonic herbs. The pain exploded like fireworks instead! When she crawled back, he washed his hands clean—“Incurable!” he pronounced, probably fearing she’d whack him with her walking stick.
The Turning Point
Enter Mrs. Wang’s neighbor—a former apprentice of mine who’d dabbled in traditional remedies. “You’ve got to save my monster-in-law!” the daughter pleaded, practically dragging me to their doorstep. Against my better judgment, I examined the old battle-axe.
Diagnosis Drama
My fingers found chaos at her pulse points:
Right guān pulse (spleen/stomach zone) – thick, rapid, slippery like eel guts
Liver region – tighter than a drumhead
“This isn’t illness,” I snapped. “It’s self-sabotage! You rage-stuffed your gullet till food and fury got tangled up inside!”
The daughter nearly slapped her thigh off. “Hear that, Ma? I told you a thousand times—don’t swallow anger with your rice!”
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