Thanks to the personal announcement by Pan Shuangquan, the Party Secretary of the College of Traditional Chinese Medicine, the news that Jiang Fei—the renowned “Acupuncture Master”—was coming to recruit doctors had spread like wildfire. The master’s graduates from the college were eager to seize this opportunity.
After all, working at Jiang Fei’s hospital would mean frequent interactions with him. Through his guidance and example, they could learn a great deal from his extraordinary skills, which had even surpassed those of Qin Zhengming, one of Chengdu’s most famous physicians.
The old saying goes, “You become who you associate with.” Even those who had already secured decent positions elsewhere were curious to meet the legendary “Acupuncture Master” in person. It was an honor just to be in his presence.
Thus, when word got out that Jiang Fei was recruiting, more than half of the twenty-some students from the Acupuncture and Tuina program showed up.
Although they had heard that Jiang Fei was also an alumnus of their university and had only graduated with a bachelor’s degree—less impressive than their own seven-year integrated master’s programs—they knew that in the medical field, experience and skill mattered more than credentials. After all, in medicine, it’s not about who you are but what you can do.
Even if Jiang Fei had been a high school dropout, his ability to outshine Qin Zhengming would have earned their respect and admiration.
However, while they were eager to join Jiang Fei’s hospital, Jiang Fei wasn’t planning to hire just anyone. He and Lin Moli had already decided that they would recruit no more than six doctors. If they couldn’t find enough qualified candidates, five would suffice. Their private hospital was still small, with limited capacity, so they didn’t need a large staff. They weren’t a public hospital with the resources to carry dead weight. Expansion could come later.
Out of the twenty or so applicants, only five or six would be selected. Even after excluding a few who were just there to observe, the competition was fierce—only one out of every three candidates would make the cut.
Pan Shuangquan and Tian Shanshan sat to the side, while Jiang Fei took the central seat at the front of the conference room. The twenty-some students sat upright, their expressions serious.
Yang Hui, acting as Jiang Fei’s assistant, handed out sheets of blank paper and pens to each candidate. Jiang Fei smiled and announced, “Today’s assessment has two rounds. If you pass both, I’ll hire all of you, even if it exceeds the six-person limit.”
His tone was light, but the candidates tensed up, expecting a challenging test—perhaps diagnosing and treating some rare or complex condition.
Jiang Fei quickly revealed the first round. “The first round is simple—a written test. I want you to write out the following passages from memory: the ‘Ping Mai Fa’ section from the first volume of Shang Han Lun (Treatise on Cold Damage), the ‘Bian Tai Yin Bing Mai Zheng Bing Zhi’ section from the sixth volume, and the ‘Lun Fu Ren Ren Shen Bing Mai Zheng Bing Zhi’ section from Jin Gui Yao Lue (Essential Prescriptions of the Golden Cabinet). If you can do that, you pass the first round.”
The room erupted in murmurs.
“What? Did I hear that right? Memorize passages from Shang Han Lun and Jin Gui Yao Lue?”
“Are you kidding me? We studied that back in our second year! It’s been four or five years since then. Who remembers that stuff?”
“I think that was an open-book exam. I didn’t even bother memorizing it back then.”
“I’ve forgotten all of it! What doctor in their right mind still memorizes this stuff?”
The candidates were stunned. They had expected a test of their diagnostic skills or knowledge of complex conditions, not a memory exercise from ancient texts. Half of them were already mentally checking out.
Jiang Fei’s approach left them speechless.
Tian Shanshan, not being a TCM practitioner himself, didn’t see the issue. But Pan Shuangquan, a disciple of the renowned physician Ge Fangping, sighed softly. “Although the College of Traditional Chinese Medicine is the best at our university, the students’ foundational knowledge is lacking. In my day, memorizing classics like Shang Han Lun and Tang Tou Ge (Song of Formulas) was mandatory. Nowadays, it’s as if expecting students to know these texts is some kind of miracle.”
Tian Shanshan, still an outsider to TCM, asked, “Isn’t Jiang Fei’s question a bit too niche?”
Pan Shuangquan shook his head. “No, it’s perfect. Only a test like this can highlight Jiang Fei’s unique approach.”
Two candidates gave up almost immediately, unable to recall the passages. A few others struggled through but eventually gave up. However, being top students from a prestigious program, thirteen of them gritted their teeth and filled their papers, handing them in to Jiang Fei.
Of course, submitting the test didn’t guarantee a pass. Just like in an exam, completing the questions didn’t mean you’d get full marks.
A few minutes later, after reviewing the last paper, Jiang Fei shook his head in disappointment. “You’ve let me down.”
He looked up and asked, “Which one of you is Gu Hao?”
A clean-cut young man in a white shirt stood up, confidence radiating from his smile. “That’s me.”
“Good. Gu Hao is the only one who wrote all three passages perfectly, without a single mistake.” Jiang Fei nodded approvingly before turning to the others. “As for the rest of you, some were way off, writing your own interpretations. Others were close but had minor errors. I initially planned to only accept those who wrote everything perfectly, like Gu Hao. But given the results, I’ll have to lower the bar.”
He began calling out names. “Wang Xueyi, Zhang Qi…”
The candidates felt a sting to their pride. They were top students, yet they couldn’t even pass what Jiang Fei called a “simple” first round.
Suddenly, a bespectacled girl stood up, her face flushed with indignation. “Dr. Jiang, I don’t think the problem lies with our medical knowledge. Your question is just too obscure! Even senior doctors at major hospitals wouldn’t be able to answer it! And…”
Jiang Fei remained calm. “And what?”
The girl, her pride clearly wounded, retorted, “And do you even know Shang Han Za Lun (Miscellaneous Treatise on Cold Damage) by heart yourself?”
Shang Han Za Lun encompassed both Shang Han Lun and Jin Gui Yao Lue. The girl’s implication was clear: she doubted Jiang Fei’s own mastery of the texts. She suspected he had only memorized the three passages for the test.
“What’s your name?” Jiang Fei asked, still smiling.
“Wang Xueyi!” she replied defiantly, her face red.
Jiang Fei picked up a paper. “Ah, Wang Xueyi. Your answers were quite good, second only to Gu Hao. You only missed one line in the ‘Bian Tai Yin Bing Mai Zheng Bing Zhi’ section: ‘至七八日，虽暴烦，下利日十余行，必自止，以脾家实，腐秽去故也’ (After seven or eight days, even if there is sudden irritability and diarrhea occurring more than ten times a day, it will stop on its own because the spleen is strong and the foulness has been expelled).”
He paused, then added, “You think I don’t know Shang Han Za Lun by heart? Or that I only memorized these three passages for the test?”
Wang Xueyi hesitated, her confidence wavering. But she stood her ground, nodding firmly.
Jiang Fei admired her tenacity. “Alright, since you’re skeptical, I’ll prove it.”
He turned to Gu Hao. “Gu Hao, you seem quite familiar with Shang Han Za Lun. Can you recite it in full?”
Gu Hao straightened up. “I can’t claim to know it 100%, but I’m confident I can recite over 90% of it.”
Jiang Fei nodded, then, without hesitation, began reciting at an astonishing speed:
“Volume One: Bian Mai Fa (On Pulse Diagnosis), by Zhang Zhongjing. Question: What is meant by the yin and yang of the pulse? Answer: Pulses that are large, floating, rapid, moving, or slippery are yang. Pulses that are deep, hesitant, weak, wiry, or faint are yin. In yin diseases, the appearance of a yang pulse indicates life; in yang diseases, the appearance of a yin pulse indicates death…”
“Volume Two: Ping Mai Fa (On Normal Pulses), by Zhang Zhongjing. Question: The pulse has three regions, and yin and yang interact. The nutritive and defensive qi, blood, and essence circulate within the body. Breathing in and out, ascending and descending, they move with the breath, spreading through the body. The pulse changes with the seasons, like the strings of a lute in spring, floating in autumn, sinking in winter, and surging in summer. Observing the complexion and pulse, their sizes vary, changing constantly, with discrepancies in the inch and cubit…”
“Shang Han Li (On Cold Damage), by Zhang Zhongjing. The Yin Yang Da Lun states: Spring brings warmth, summer brings heat, autumn brings coolness, and winter brings cold. This is the natural order of the four seasons. In winter, when the cold is severe, all things hide deeply. If a gentleman remains guarded and secure, he will not be harmed by the cold. Only those who expose themselves to it will suffer from cold damage…”
The room fell silent as Jiang Fei’s voice filled the air, his recitation flawless and effortless. The candidates, including Wang Xueyi, could only stare in awe. Jiang Fei had not only proven his mastery of the texts but had also demonstrated why he was known as the “Acupuncture Master.”