general_tiu
Banned
Kurushihebi=Khruschev?
Yeah. The proto-Hentai culture from Japan is really imported from China.
Yeah. The proto-Hentai culture from Japan is really imported from China.
Perpetual Brightness: Surviving Southern Ming
- Thread starter Faeelin
- Start date
Faeelin
Banned
Suzhou, 1679
Jin Yuan felt his patient’s pulse and scowled. “Fever, chills, headache, and nausea like clockwork,” he muttered. He turned to the man’s wife, standing beside the bed. “Have you given him anything?” he asked.
The woman looked down as she spoke, her voice thick with fear. “Just qinghao,” she whispered. “I read it’s best for him.” [1]
Jin sighed, and nodded. “There’s a Western drug, quinine, [2] that works too. But it’s expensive.”
The woman bowed, and stepped out of the room. While she was gone, Jin looked at the patient, and scowled. The teachings of Ge Hong didn’t work, while the Song treatises were hopeless. His patients were dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He walked through the streets of the city. Fewer people were out and about, but life continued, as it always had. Vendors hawked wares, some of them clearly sick. People walked in and out of a temple, praying for health; they always did good business during a plague.
Jin sighed. “Why not?” he said wryly. “They’re about as useful.”
He nodded brusquely to one of the Dutch wandering through the streets, intent on business. He wondered if the man had malaria, and if they had the disease in Holland.
Jin stopped in his tracks. Had anyone ever asked them?
Guangzhou, 1685
Jin Yuan entered the room, along with three other doctors from the area. One of them, Chen Yuanlong, scowled. “What’s the point of this?” he asked irritably. “We have pictures of the body’s organs.” [2]
Jin looked at the Dutch book he held in his hands. “Dutch physicians disagree. So,” he said ruefully, “I am curious. Are their bodies different, or are our depictions wrong?” Jin turned towards the Dutchman, a surgeon who worked with their trading company. “Are you ready?”
The surgeon nodded, and then asked a question his broken Chinese. “This good?” he asked, pointing to the body.
Jin nodded. “This good,” he replied. Lowering his voice, Jin muttered, “Although given the magistrate’s opposition, you’d think I was cutting up his mother.” He shrugged. “Let’s begin.”
As the surgeon went to work, he pointed out organs and named them in Dutch. When they came to the lungs, however, Jin thought. “May I see?” he asked. The surgeon blinked, but handed the knife to Jin. Slicing carefully, Jin opened the lung’s interior. “Do you see?” he asked.
Chen was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was subdued. “You were right to be concerned,” he said. “The lung is wrong.” [3] Chen picked up a piece of paper, and began to sketch what he saw.
The surgeon continued his work, and the contradictions mounted. The liver looked different than they had been taught, and the stomach and intestine were in different places. They even noticed two lumps on top of the kidneys they had never seen before. When they saw those, Jin picked up the book next to him. Swallowing, he nodded. “The Dutch,” he said, “know of these.” He turned to the barber, and asked, “What for?”
The surgeon shrugged amiably. “Not know.”
Jin scowled. “You don’t know, or the Dutch don’t know?”
The surgeon stroked his beard. “We don’t know,” he said at last.
Jin sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
After the dissection, the doctors left the surgeon’s quarters. One of them, Li Guangdi, sighed. “Well, now what?”
Jin shrugged. “The Dutch have some of the answers,” he mused. “Clearly they have different ways of treating patients.” He gripped the Dutch book in his arm. “Some of them are better,” he thought, “but some of them are worse.”
Chen frowned. “We have to figure out,” he mused, “a way to figure out what is right, and what is wrong.”
He looked back at the Dutch East India Company’s compound. “And we need to figure out what the barbarians know.”
[1] Qinghao is an anti-malarial drug first mentioned 1800 years ago by the Chinese physician Ge Hong. For a fascinating look at how the drug came to prominence once again, check out:
http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=1885105
[2] Dissection was carried out in the Song Dynasty, but it wasn’t attempted after that. Oddly, some people were aware of anatomy from Western sources; artists at the
[3] The Chinese view of the lung was that it had six lobes and two projections.
Jin Yuan felt his patient’s pulse and scowled. “Fever, chills, headache, and nausea like clockwork,” he muttered. He turned to the man’s wife, standing beside the bed. “Have you given him anything?” he asked.
The woman looked down as she spoke, her voice thick with fear. “Just qinghao,” she whispered. “I read it’s best for him.” [1]
Jin sighed, and nodded. “There’s a Western drug, quinine, [2] that works too. But it’s expensive.”
The woman bowed, and stepped out of the room. While she was gone, Jin looked at the patient, and scowled. The teachings of Ge Hong didn’t work, while the Song treatises were hopeless. His patients were dying, and there was nothing he could do about it.
He walked through the streets of the city. Fewer people were out and about, but life continued, as it always had. Vendors hawked wares, some of them clearly sick. People walked in and out of a temple, praying for health; they always did good business during a plague.
Jin sighed. “Why not?” he said wryly. “They’re about as useful.”
He nodded brusquely to one of the Dutch wandering through the streets, intent on business. He wondered if the man had malaria, and if they had the disease in Holland.
Jin stopped in his tracks. Had anyone ever asked them?
Guangzhou, 1685
Jin Yuan entered the room, along with three other doctors from the area. One of them, Chen Yuanlong, scowled. “What’s the point of this?” he asked irritably. “We have pictures of the body’s organs.” [2]
Jin looked at the Dutch book he held in his hands. “Dutch physicians disagree. So,” he said ruefully, “I am curious. Are their bodies different, or are our depictions wrong?” Jin turned towards the Dutchman, a surgeon who worked with their trading company. “Are you ready?”
The surgeon nodded, and then asked a question his broken Chinese. “This good?” he asked, pointing to the body.
Jin nodded. “This good,” he replied. Lowering his voice, Jin muttered, “Although given the magistrate’s opposition, you’d think I was cutting up his mother.” He shrugged. “Let’s begin.”
As the surgeon went to work, he pointed out organs and named them in Dutch. When they came to the lungs, however, Jin thought. “May I see?” he asked. The surgeon blinked, but handed the knife to Jin. Slicing carefully, Jin opened the lung’s interior. “Do you see?” he asked.
Chen was silent for a moment, and when he spoke again his voice was subdued. “You were right to be concerned,” he said. “The lung is wrong.” [3] Chen picked up a piece of paper, and began to sketch what he saw.
The surgeon continued his work, and the contradictions mounted. The liver looked different than they had been taught, and the stomach and intestine were in different places. They even noticed two lumps on top of the kidneys they had never seen before. When they saw those, Jin picked up the book next to him. Swallowing, he nodded. “The Dutch,” he said, “know of these.” He turned to the barber, and asked, “What for?”
The surgeon shrugged amiably. “Not know.”
Jin scowled. “You don’t know, or the Dutch don’t know?”
The surgeon stroked his beard. “We don’t know,” he said at last.
Jin sighed. “I was afraid of that.”
After the dissection, the doctors left the surgeon’s quarters. One of them, Li Guangdi, sighed. “Well, now what?”
Jin shrugged. “The Dutch have some of the answers,” he mused. “Clearly they have different ways of treating patients.” He gripped the Dutch book in his arm. “Some of them are better,” he thought, “but some of them are worse.”
Chen frowned. “We have to figure out,” he mused, “a way to figure out what is right, and what is wrong.”
He looked back at the Dutch East India Company’s compound. “And we need to figure out what the barbarians know.”
[1] Qinghao is an anti-malarial drug first mentioned 1800 years ago by the Chinese physician Ge Hong. For a fascinating look at how the drug came to prominence once again, check out:
http://www.pubmedcentral.nih.gov/articlerender.fcgi?artid=1885105
[2] Dissection was carried out in the Song Dynasty, but it wasn’t attempted after that. Oddly, some people were aware of anatomy from Western sources; artists at the
[3] The Chinese view of the lung was that it had six lobes and two projections.
Faeelin
Banned
the Imperial Court in the 18th century depict skeletons that are based on Western anatomical references.