Chapter 49

The others stopped their jokes and finally believed that Old Zuo was really sick, but they didn't know what kind of illness it was that caused such distress.

Zeng Yi felt Old Zuo's pulse and examined his tongue coating, feeling somewhat puzzled. There was nothing wrong with Old Zuo's body. Insomnia is usually caused by physical or emotional factors. Physically, it could be due to qi, blood, stasis, or phlegm, but Old Zuo's pulse did not show signs of yin deficiency and hyperactivity of fire, nor did it show signs of internal disturbance due to phlegm-heat. If it were caused by emotions, it wouldn't fit either. The heart, liver, and spleen meridians govern a person's emotions and thoughts, but the condition of these three meridians could not lead to such severe insomnia.

On the contrary, Old Zuo's severe insomnia caused irritability and restlessness, which in turn made these three meridians somewhat overactive.

"Has there been any change in your daily life recently, such as changing your bed, or adding new furniture or potted plants at home?" Zeng Yi asked.

Excluding physical and emotional causes, the environment was the next factor. A very few people are extremely sensitive to their environment; even a slight change can prevent them from sleeping. In reality, we often see people who can't sleep well after changing their bed.

Old Zuo shook his head, "Not a single change."

Zeng Yi thought for a moment and asked, "Has Mr. Zuo recently traveled a long distance, perhaps even abroad?"

Old Zuo's face showed surprise, "Can you tell that from my pulse? I went to the United States last month."

Zeng Yi smiled, now understanding the cause of Old Zuo's insomnia. "In Western medicine, this is called circadian rhythm disorder, caused by the inability to adjust to the time difference, leading to insomnia."

Not only Old Zuo, but the others in the room also found Zeng Yi's explanation questionable. Isn't insomnia just a circadian rhythm disorder? Why emphasize it specifically?

"How can this be adjusted?" Old Zuo frowned. A circadian rhythm isn't a pendulum clock that can be manually corrected. It would be difficult to adjust unless one maintained a regular schedule, but the problem was that he couldn't fall asleep at all.

"Simple! I'll give you a prescription. Take three doses, and you'll be fine." Zeng Yi thought for a moment and said, "30 grams of lily, 9 grams of perilla leaf, decocted in water."

Old Zuo pondered the prescription. He had studied traditional Chinese medicine for a few days and had some understanding of it. Lily is mainly used to nourish yin and moisten the lungs and has a calming effect, which seems appropriate for treating insomnia. However, perilla leaf is used to dispel cold and treat colds, which doesn't seem to fit the symptoms.

"What's the reasoning behind this prescription?" Old Zuo asked.

"Medicine is about intention. Lily blooms in the morning and closes at night, while perilla leaf faces up in the morning and hangs down at night. These two plants have the most pronounced characteristics of the day and night cycle. They are the most suitable for treating Mr. Zuo's circadian rhythm disorder. Take three doses, and you'll see the effect." Zeng Yi smiled, noting that some people are very sensitive to time differences, but it was quite rare for someone to be so sensitive that they couldn't sleep for a month.

Old Zuo said, "Oh," acknowledging that traditional Chinese medicine indeed has the concept of "medicine is about intention," but he had never seen anyone prescribe medicine based solely on the characteristics of herbs, which lacks scientific basis.

"Alright, the prescription is given. Old Zuo, go get the medicine as soon as possible!" Dong Hongfeng, who couldn't sit still, urged, "Hurry up, everyone, bring out your treasures for appraisal."

The people present smiled and placed the items they had brought for appraisal on a long table. Zeng Yi, being an outsider, carried his medical bag over and sat back down, not intending to participate in the appraisal.

Like Zeng Yi, the two entrepreneurs from Rongcheng were also outsiders. The short, plump Mr. Xu brought a small Guanyin statue, about 20 centimeters tall. He sat back down after placing it, joining Zeng Yi for tea. His goal today was to have experts help him determine the authenticity of his item.

On the other hand, the mustachioed Mr. Chen stood by the table, holding a magnifying glass to carefully examine others' items.

The professionals present were actually only three: Cui Shiyi, who was an expert in appraisal due to his field of study; Dong Hongfeng, who dealt in antiques and had a keen eye; and Mr. Zuo from You Ran Ju, who was a semi-expert but had deep expertise in calligraphy, not inferior to Cui Shiyi and Dong Hongfeng.

Dong Hongfeng's eyes were sharp. He immediately noticed Mr. Xu's statue. Upon touching it, he found it was carved from wu mu (black wood), a fossilized wood that is highly valuable, hence the saying, "I would rather have a piece of wu mu than a box of jewels."

"Mr. Xu, where did you get this? Your eye is good. The material alone is worth tens of thousands!" Dong Hongfeng examined the style of the statue and said, "The craftsmanship and shape suggest it's from the Ming Dynasty. Mr. Xu, you've found a treasure."

Mr. Xu chuckled, feeling pleased. The market is full of fake antiques, and as an outsider, he was quite satisfied to have found a genuine item, at least without paying a tuition fee.

Dong Hongfeng then looked at Zeng Yi's box and said, "Made of huanghuali, the material is excellent, and the craftsmanship is simple and grand. It's an antique. This box is quite good, but why is it carved into a flower bud?" Dong Hongfeng shook his head, puzzled, as flowers are most beautiful when they bloom, and it's rare to see a flower bud carved.

"The flower is here!" Zeng Yi pressed the flower bud, opened the box, and flipped it over.

"Wow!" Dong Hongfeng's eyes lit up. The flower bud extended outward when the box was opened, transforming into a flower. The craftsman who made it must have put a lot of thought into it.

"Interesting, very interesting!"

Dong Hongfeng examined the box twice, noticing that the flower was a plum blossom, but it had six petals instead of the usual five, possibly a mistake.

Cui Shiyi, who had seen the box before but hadn't noticed this detail, now came over to examine it closely. After a while, he said, "I'm a bit envious now. Dr. Zeng carries such a treasure box every day to treat people."

Dong Hongfeng pounded his chest, "If I had known, I would have had someone steal it."

Zeng Yi smiled, "I just find it convenient to carry it when I go out."

Dong Hongfeng's eyes twinkled, and he came over to negotiate, "Dr. Zeng, I really like your box. Is there any chance you might part with it?"

Zeng Yi shook his head, "No need to talk about it. This box is a family heirloom, passed down through generations for medical use."

Dong Hongfeng had to give up and moved on to other items, but his interest was waning, his mind still on Zeng Yi's box. As a professional antique collector, he wanted to add good items to his collection and enjoy them at home.

The items everyone brought were quickly appraised, some genuine, some fake. The mustachioed Mr. Chen's two items were both determined to be fake. He seemed不服气 (unconvinced) and argued with Cui Shiyi and others, but eventually had to admit defeat, sitting there sipping tea angrily.

"Alright, Mr. Chen, don't be upset," Dong Hongfeng consoled him. "Everyone makes mistakes. I paid a lot of tuition fees in the past."

"Yes, don't take it too seriously. You can keep looking for real items in the future," the short, plump Mr. Xu added.

Mr. Chen was even more upset. If others said this, he might accept it, but Mr. Xu, who was also an outsider, could find a genuine item, while he, who was more skilled, bought a fake. Thinking about this, Mr. Chen was even more frustrated. He stood up, "I have another item. Please help me appraise it."

He walked to a side table, opened a small safe, and took out a rolled-up scroll.

"Mr. Chen, you should have shown us your good items earlier!" Dong Hongfeng, being an expert, could tell from the yellowed paper and the quality of the scroll that it was something special. He quickly cleared a large space on the table and said, "Come, put it here, let me take a closer look." His tone was eager.

Mr. Chen carefully unrolled the scroll and laid it flat on the table.

"It's Dong Qichang's calligraphy!" Dong Hongfeng immediately recognized it. This was his ancestor, and he was delighted, examining the style and the signature and seal at the end. "Yes, it's Dong Qichang's calligraphy, an early work. His style was not yet fully formed, and many characters still show traces of imitation from multiple masters."

Zeng Yi wasn't an expert in calligraphy, but he knew Dong Qichang, a famous calligrapher from the late Ming Dynasty, known for his elegant and natural style, which had a significant influence on later generations.

Dong Qichang's calligraphy wasn't always good. At 17, he participated in an exam and should have been first, but the examiner disliked his handwriting and gave the top spot to his nephew. This greatly humiliated Dong Qichang, who then studied and imitated many masters, eventually developing his own style.

Cui Shiyi and Old Zuo also examined the scroll closely and nodded. "It should be a genuine work by Dong Qichang. The style is indeed from his early period, and you can see traces of other masters' influence."

This meant that Dong Qichang's style in this work was not yet fully developed and still showed the influence of other masters.

"Mr. Chen, this calligraphy is excellent. Dong Qichang's works are very rare!" Dong Hongfeng was reluctant to let go, lingering over the scroll.

Mr. Chen's lips curled into a satisfied smile. He looked at Zeng Yi and Mr. Xu, who hadn't commented yet, "What do you two think?"

Mr. Xu waved his hands, "My handwriting is terrible. I don't know anything about this, so I won't embarrass myself."

Zeng Yi, who enjoyed writing, walked over and stood in front of the scroll, frowning after a moment. He asked Dong Hongfeng, "Mr. Dong, is this really an early work by Dong Qichang?"

Dong Hongfeng glared, "What do you mean! I might be wrong about others' calligraphy, but I would never be wrong about my ancestor's."

Zeng Yi shook his head, "If you say so, then this is a fake!"