The young man walked up to the medicinal baskets, picked up the piece of coarse black cloth, and blindfolded himself tightly, tying a dead knot at the back of his head.
Li Sheng lit the second incense stick and placed it in the bronze censer.
"Begin."
The young man reached both hands into the first bamboo basket.
The moment his fingers touched the herbs, the entire square fell silent.
His right hand lightly picked up a withered stem, gently twirling it a couple of times as if feeling the texture and thickness of its surface.
He then brought the stem just beneath his nose and took a light sniff.
The entire process took no more than three breaths.
The young man placed the stem back into the basket, his fingers already reaching for the next herb.
He grabbed a handful of crushed leaves, spread his fingers, and let the leaves slowly slip through the gaps.
At the same time, his other hand caught two of the leaves from below, crushed them, and brought them to his nose.
"Gelsemium, the entire plant is toxic, fatal if ingested."
The young man called out the name of the first poisonous plant without pausing his movements.
He placed the two crushed leaves on the left side of the table while his right hand reached back into the basket.
Below the stage, a few knowledgeable pharmacy assistants exchanged glances and simultaneously gasped.
Those two crushed leaves looked extremely similar to honeysuckle leaves, and once dried, they were even harder to tell apart.
For this person to distinguish them blindfolded, relying solely on touch and smell, his foundational skills were absolutely extraordinary.
The commoners in the audience gasped repeatedly, crying out in amazement.
In the Great Qian Dynasty, knowing medicine was an incredible skill. Ordinary people couldn't even afford a wandering doctor when they fell ill, let alone an expert who could identify herbs blindfolded.
On the outskirts of the crowd, several military doctors wearing the uniforms of the Northern Pacification Army squeezed their way over.
They had originally come just to watch the spectacle, but now they were staring blankly.
An old military doctor stroked his beard and whispered to his colleague beside him.
"Old Li, look at this young man's technique. This isn't something practiced in just a day or two."
"That herb was mixed in with the honeysuckle, and even the leaves were crushed, yet he picked it out with just a touch!"
"Indeed, this level of herb identification is a cut above even those old fellows in our wounded soldiers' camp. It's a pity we are military doctors and can't represent the commoners on stage to compete, otherwise, I'd definitely go up and spar with him."
The young man's speed in rummaging through the medicinal basket grew faster and faster.
His left hand pressed down on a grayish-brown tuber, his fingertips gliding across its cross-section.
He then brought the tuber to his nose, paused for barely a breath, and tossed it to the left side.
"Kusnezoff monkroot, contains aconitine. Poisoning causes numbness in the hands and feet, and in severe cases, death."
Immediately after, he picked up a long, thin dried root, rubbed the root hair between two fingers a couple of times, and his fingertips paused slightly.
"Stellera, highly toxic roots; skin ulcerates upon contact."
He picked them out one by one. From separating each poisonous plant from the basket to placing it on the table, the interval never exceeded five breaths.
When he encountered one he was unsure of, he would bring the herb to his nose, take a light sniff, and then decisively toss it aside or pick it out and place it on the table.
By the sixth herb, the young man's hand felt a tangled clump of roots at the bottom of the basket.
This time, he wasn't in a hurry to pull it out. Instead, he patiently used his fingers to untangle the roots one by one, distinguishing the thickness, texture, and elasticity of each strand.
After untangling them, he pulled out two of the roots from the clump, brought them to his nose to smell, returned one, and left only one resting on the table.
"Typhonium, poisonous."
"The root next to it is white peony, non-toxic."
"The morphology of their roots is extremely similar, but the cross-section of Typhonium has medicinal liquid residue, while white peony is dry and smooth."
The crowd below the stage completely erupted.
A few Northern Pacification Army doctors squeezed into the crowd. An old military doctor with a grizzled beard slapped his colleague's arm hard and said in a hushed voice.
"When the roots of Typhonium and white peony are mixed together, even I would have to look at them for a long time if I untangled them myself. This young man separated them blindfolded with just a couple of touches? What kind of background does he have?"
The young military doctor beside him swallowed hard, shaking his head, unable to answer.
On stage, the young man's fingers successively picked out three more poisonous herbs from the second bamboo basket: Pinellia, Cocklebur, and Pokeweed.
As he called out the name of each herb, he simultaneously stated its toxicity, poisoning symptoms, and even the method of detoxification.
"Raw Pinellia is poisonous; accidental ingestion causes throat swelling. It can be cured by administering ginger juice."
"The entire Cocklebur plant is poisonous. Poisoning causes incessant diarrhea, and in severe cases, liver and kidney failure."
"The root of Pokeweed is the most toxic. It resembles ginseng, and herb gatherers are most prone to mistakenly digging it up."
He spoke these words unhurriedly, no different from reciting a book in a private school.
The commoners below the stage listened, dumbfounded. Butcher Zhang's mouth hung open for a long time without closing.
Widow Zhang, who sold tofu, tugged at the sleeve of the person next to her and asked anxiously, "What exactly is this young man's background? Isn't he from the scholars' side? Which family's scholar has this kind of skill?"
No one could answer.
When the incense stick had only burned halfway, the young man suddenly stopped his movements.
He reached out and pulled off the black blindfold. Neatly arranged on the table were fourteen poisonous herbs. Next to each one, he had used his finger, dipped in the medicinal powder from the bottom of the basket, to draw a simple mark on the wooden board to differentiate them.
"Fourteen herbs, all here."
The young man turned to face Xu Qinghuan and cupped his hands in a salute.
The scholars' side below the stage was taken aback at first, but then erupted into a cheer of relief.
Scholar Zhou was so excited he almost jumped up, smacking his folding fan against his palm with a loud smack.
"Good! Good! This is the true skill of us scholars!"
Young Master Wu, who had just been shrinking in the back not daring to make a sound, now puffed out his chest and shouted, "See that! Who says we scholars are completely useless? We're definitely winning this round!"
Xu Qinghuan walked to the table and verified the fourteen poisonous herbs one by one.
She took out the list of poisonous herbs she had the military medical office prepare in advance from her sleeve and compared them one by one.
A moment later, she put away the list and faced the audience below the stage to speak.
"Fourteen poisonous herbs: names, toxicities, and symptoms, not a single word was wrong. The scholars' side has completed the herb identification."
Another commotion rippled through the commoners, and many began to whisper among themselves.
If the scholars' side won this round, what would the commoners' side do next? How many people in this city could identify fourteen poisonous herbs while blindfolded?
Xu Qinghuan withdrew her gaze from the young man and swept it across the dense crowd below the stage.
"The scholars' side has completed the herb identification with one hundred percent accuracy."
"Now, for the commoners' side, who dares to come up on stage and challenge?"
The square fell into an awkward silence.
Old Man Wang, who sold flatbreads, lowered his head, and Butcher Zhang took two steps back.
Sun Erniang, who had just won ten taels of silver, also shrank into the crowd and stayed silent.
She was good at calculating accounts, but she wouldn't even dare think about a task like identifying herbs.
A few commoners who had originally been eager to try pushed each other a bit, but upon reaching the steps, they shrank back.
Scholar Zhou began fanning his folding fan again. He deliberately raised his voice and shouted at the commoners below the stage.
"What's wrong? Weren't you all so glib with your tongues just a moment ago? Saying that ten Scholar Zhous wouldn't be enough for Sun Erniang to swat aside with one hand. Why are you all mute now?"
The scholar in the gray cloth gown chimed in from the side, "That is exactly right! Every profession has its specialty. You rough folks might be fine at tallying accounts, but when it comes to true knowledge, how could you possibly compare to us scholars!"
The commoners below the stage felt their faces burn with embarrassment, but no one had the confidence to refute him.
Identifying medicinal herbs indeed was not something that could be done with mere physical strength and courage.
Xu Qinghuan stood on the stage, neither rushing them nor showing anxiety, simply waiting.
Time ticked by, second by second.
More and more people in the crowd began to sigh softly, feeling that the commoners' side was undoubtedly going to have to admit defeat in this round.
A few burly men had already started walking away, muttering, "We can't compete, we just can't."
Just as everyone assumed that this herb identification challenge was destined to end with the commoners forfeiting, an aged voice called out from the farthest corner of the crowd.
"Could this old woman... give it a try?"
Everyone's heads turned in unison.
A silver-haired old woman slowly walked forward from the very back row.
Her clothes had no fewer than seven or eight patches, her back was bent like a drawn bow, and her withered right hand was held high, trembling in the air.
When Scholar Zhou got a clear look at the newcomer, the corners of his mouth immediately turned down in a sneer. He turned to the scholar beside him and scoffed in a low voice.
"An old hag with half her body in the grave? The commoners' side truly has no one left."
