"Stop crying! Both of you!" Mo Lixia's voice was firm, instantly cutting through the couple's panic. "Bring the child inside. Quickly!"
The man, Yang Dayu, didn't dare hesitate. He carried Fu'an into the house and laid him on the wooden table under Mo Lixia's direction.
Mochen stood in the corner, holding A'Mu tightly, his eyes wide as he watched the scene.
Mo Lixia stepped forward. Fu'an's face was flushed a terrifying shade of crimson, and his breathing was raspy and labored. She gently opened his mouth and gasped. His throat was covered in angry red spots and white pustules—a classic case of "Rotten Throat Fever," or what she knew as Scarlet Fever.
In ancient times, without antibiotics, this was a death sentence for children.
"Is... is it really hopeless?" the mother sobbed, her hands trembling.
"It's serious, but there is a chance," Mo Lixia said without looking up. She turned to Mochen. "Mochen, go to the kitchen and fetch some salt and warm water. Now!"
Mochen nodded and darted away.
Mo Lixia opened her medical kit. She took out a small bottle of distilled spirit—something she had refined herself for sterilization—and cleaned her silver needles.
"Hold him down," she commanded Yang Dayu. "This will be painful, but he must not move."
She began to perform acupuncture on Fu'an's neck and chest to reduce the swelling and clear the toxins. Each needle was placed with surgical precision.
After the acupuncture, she took a small bamboo spatula and carefully cleared some of the pustules from the boy's throat. Fu'an groaned in pain, but the obstruction was partially cleared, allowing him to breathe more easily.
"Listen to me," Mo Lixia addressed the parents. "This disease is highly contagious. You must keep him isolated. I will give you a prescription of honeysuckle, forsythia, and rehmannia root. He needs to drink this every four hours."
She then pulled out a small packet of powder from her hidden stash—a concentrated herbal antibiotic she had experimented with.
"Add this to the medicine. If his fever breaks tonight, he will live."
The couple knelt on the floor, kowtowing repeatedly. "Thank you, Miss Lixia! You are a savior!"
"Go now. Keep him warm, but don't smother him. And both of you, wash your hands with the spirit I gave you," Mo Lixia warned.
After they left, Mo Lixia felt a wave of exhaustion. She looked at the medicine stains on the table and sighed. This was only the beginning. If Fu'an had it, other children in the village might be next.