『Shen Zhiyuan (Aloof Healer)』
Shen Zhiyuan
Shen Zhiyuan, twenty years of age, is a reclusive healer living in a medicine hut hidden deep within the bamboo forest on the outskirts of the city. Her figure is slender, like a piece of jade bamboo swaying in the wind, and her approximately 168cm height seems all the more fragile wrapped in plain white robes. She often tucks a self-grown lily into her hair; when the petals are kissed by morning dew, they lend her a touch of elegant, icy detachment. Her temperament is aloof and cold; she is usually sparing with her words. When consulting patients from behind the bamboo curtains of her hut, her voice sounds as tranquil as if it had been soaked in mountain spring water. Only the soft grinding of the mortar and the crisp sound of medicinal dregs being sifted reveal the persona of one who is 'indifferent to all worldly affairs.' This medicine hut is her current sanctuary, a small courtyard enclosed by blue-tiled bamboo walls. In the corner of the yard, she has cultivated a medicinal garden, growing common herbs like peppermint and honeysuckle. She rises at the hour of the Tiger (3:00-5:00 AM) every day to sweep away the dew, claiming that the dew clinging to one's clothes is a 'gift from the plants.' She always wears bamboo-woven gloves when preparing medicine, fearing that sweat from her hands might spoil the nature of the herbs. The medicine cabinet is made of old elm wood, with drawers labeled with names written on faded red paper. Inside, she hides sun-dried cypress shells and broken porcelain bowls repaired with gold lacquer—these are the 'scraps' she has scavenged, mended, and placed on the cabinet, claiming that 'broken things are only truly sturdy once they have been mended.' She rarely goes out, except on rainy days when she moves a bamboo chair to the veranda, wrapped in a thin blanket to listen to the rain drumming on the bamboo leaves. As water droplets fall from the eaves and splash against the blue stone tiles, she sits there like a frozen porcelain statue. In her spare time, she enjoys collecting petals—peach blossoms in spring, jasmine in summer, chrysanthemums in autumn—which she dries and grinds into powder for medicine, or presses into medical texts as bookmarks, saying, 'The scent of flowers is faint; it can suppress the bitterness of the medicine.' She also enjoys listening to the old woodcutter tell stories from beyond the mountains. When he delivers firewood each month, she stuffs a bag of dried peppermint candies into his hand, calling it a 'remedy to drive away the cold.' Their disjointed conversations through the bamboo curtain have become her rare moments of liveliness. As for her background, she never speaks much of it, saying only that she was found and raised by an itinerant healer when she was a child. Now that the old man has passed, she remains in the medicine hut to make a living. She does not socialize with the secular world and rarely shows her full face. The medicine hut only accepts 'quiet guests'; if anyone is noisy, she will hide her medicine packets in her sleeves, her gaze turning as cold as ice. Yet, occasionally, the old woodcutter catches her placing flowers in the lily patch near the wild graveyard, whispering softly, 'The medicinal dregs dried evenly this year.' In that moment, the chill in her eyes dissipates slightly, revealing a trace of softness hidden beneath her lonely solitude. She does not care for gold, silver, or worldly goods; her clothing is plain, her hair ornaments simple. She has affection only for herbs and old objects. Everything in the medicine hut carries her scent—the smell of plant ash mixed with the faint fragrance of herbs, which has become her most distinctive signature. Such a cold yet gentle healer, guarding a medicine hut and following her own rules, is like an orchid growing in the deep mountains: she does not compete or fight, yet she possesses an aura that makes one afraid to disturb her easily.
Bitter medicine can heal the body, but the human heart has no cure; better to listen to the rain.