Fall In Love with the Technology Tree

When it comes to the big family in Qingzhou, the first is the royal family Liu family. There are many feudal kingdoms in Qingzhou, and almost two-thirds of the land is inseparable from the Liu family's titled king. Under the Liu family, it was the Kong family's turn.

Because of the rise of Confucianism in the Han Dynasty, from the 12th generation of Confucius, the head of the Confucius family was named Baochenghou, and now he is the 18th generation. The title has always been secure, but it is not a matter to say that the official is the third public and the nine ministers, or the shepherd's side. I don't know if the old Liu family was guarding them, or because Confucius sucked up the spiritual energy of the Confucius family for thousands of years, and the descendants were not very good.

The world often has a stereotyped impression of the mysterious Confucian family: the style of writing is extremely prosperous, and the Confucian schools have studied the classics from generation to generation. When using "trend", the speech is either citing the "Book of Songs" or "The Analects of Confucius". [1] Everyone seems to be carved out of the same etiquette mold. No matter how privately they are, what they show to outsiders is the word "Confucianism".

Acting as a living archway, is this something normal people can endure? Isn't there a ideological rebel who spontaneously awakened in the Kong family?

Maybe there have been, maybe there are many, but their names have disappeared in the long history, not even a splash.

Originally, Kong Mo should have disappeared like this.

Kong Mo, whose original name is unknown, and his parents and brothers are also unknown. He may be the son of the contemporary Marquis of Baocheng, or he may just be the son of a concubine, only he knows. Anyway, the name "Kong Mo" will definitely not be in the family tree of the Kong family. After all, Kongmen and the Mo family are mortal enemies. The irony of "Kong Mo" is really blinding people's eyes.

This strange man surnamed Kong has been rebellious since adolescence and yearns for the lost Mohist theory. But he has a strong hands-on ability. He taught himself to become a carpenter and a mason. Since then, he has run away from home, like a real and the oldest ink artist, mixed among the working people at the bottom, and supported himself by his craftsmanship. He lived in no fixed place, was alone, and left his footprints from Donglai to the plain.

Kong Mo is looking for his Mohism.

The Mohism was not found, but the epidemic was hit. It is no wonder that the living environment of the working people at the bottom is crowded and dirty, which is more suitable for the spread of the virus; Kong Mo is in his thirties and belongs to the susceptible group.

Kong Mo's condition developed rapidly, and the seven-foot man fell into a coma with a high fever within two days. When he opened his eyes again, what he saw was the beam of the isolation room of Ding's Medical Hall.

This is a very clean isolation room. There were two pots of budding peach branches under the window. The window was covered with a kind of paper with good light transmittance. The bright light allowed him to see the indoor scene clearly. Thirty-two beds in four rows, although they still used torn straw mats and quilts, but they were all washed exceptionally clean, and even their bodies were replaced with old linen clothes. It's still crowded, but the fresh air and the comfortable temperature on the ground are not stuffy.

It's amazing. This tentatively regarded as the location of the plague shelter, it is luxurious in some places, and it is extremely concise in some ways. Kong Mo pondered the designer's choice and intention, and unconsciously became obsessed.

In the isolation room, there is a woman tightly wrapped in a white mask, hat, gloves and apron. At this time, she is examining the condition of the patients one by one. Record.

Halfway through her investigation, a man also wearing a mask and gloves pushed in the door, carrying a bucket of liquid mixed with herbs, vinegar, and wine. He used a small-aperture spray tool to spray the vinegar and wine liquid all over the room.

Kong Mo is very interested in the liquid medicine and the spraying tool. It's a pity that his body is still weak, and the man's movements are very skilled. After a while, he sprinkled lime powder and went out. Helpless, he could only wait until the woman who was doing the rounds came to his bunk.

"Awake? Kong Mo... Right?" The woman was looking at a piece of paper pinned to the ground beside the Kong Mo grass mat. Except for a striking "nineteen" on the paper, it was Kong Mo's name. "According to the neighbor who brought you here, you have no relatives, right?"

Her stern way of speaking made Kong Mo grin, and the psychological comfort brought by this attention to the patient was not the least bit. You must know that even the epidemic prevention center set up by the imperial court is only to keep people infected with the plague together. Who will pay attention to the name of the dying pariah, and what relatives do they have?

"Who is your master? Is it a chivalrous man?"

"I've never heard of Xia Mo, we are Ding's Hospital." The woman tapped on the tablet with a charcoal pen, "Do you still have any relatives?"

Knowing the name, Kong Mo didn't pay attention to the current geographical location, and answered her contentedly: "No, I'm alone."

Kong Mo guessed that the purpose of verifying the identity is to facilitate the patients to find their relatives to collect the bodies after death. He nodded secretly in his heart, such thoughtful consideration is rare in the world. Unexpectedly, he only guessed half right.

Because the woman's next sentence came over: "If you are alone, you don't need the consent of your family. Let me ask you one more thing, if you die, are you willing to cremate your body?"

Kong Mo almost jumped up, and restrained himself: "What's the point of this?"

The woman seems to be accustomed to this kind of reaction: "You calm down first. If you don't want to, we will not force it. However, you also know that you have a disease and people die. Afterwards, the sickness gas still accumulates in the corpse. If it is not cremated, it will easily infect the person who buried you. In addition, the sickness gas may also invade the soil and water sources near the grave. If the corpse is eaten by insects and rats, the sickness gas will also follow. Move with insects and rats, and make more people sick."

Kong Mo was stunned by the new knowledge. "Is the epidemic actually spreading like this?" He was a man of extensive knowledge, and the witch doctor knew a thing or two. Based on simple empiricism, he could infer that what the woman said was likely to be true. He fell silent.

The hope of recovery is much greater than others, and it may not be used."

Kong Mo finally signed and handprinted the banner agreeing to be cremated.

One month later, he became a volunteer in the epidemic prevention center, persuading people to cremate his body everywhere. It's really just like what the people in the medical hall said, a person who has been infected once can get permanent immunity. Even if he stays with seriously ill patients every day, he will not get sick a second time.

After being together for a long time, Kong Mo has a general understanding of the structure of Ding's medical hall.

According to the level of medical skills, they are divided into three categories: big doctors, small doctors, and medical practitioners. The big doctor sits in the medical hall and is responsible for researching prescriptions, first aid, and confirming death. Small doctors are responsible for ward rounds. Basically, there will be at least one small doctor in each room to observe the patient's condition from time to time. It is the work of medical practitioners and volunteers to teach patients about the principles of epidemic disease, chat, and various chores. In addition, there are personnel responsible for burial, cremation, sweeping and food.

The first days were the hardest. When there were so many patients that no one could rest, firewood, food, medicinal materials, etc., all depended on the medical hall to bleed. When Kong Mo woke up, he was much better. Some recovered people joined the volunteer team, and knowledge of epidemic prevention such as rodent control, cremation, and boiling was also spread in a small area.

But no matter whether Ding's medical hall's theory is right or not, their righteous deeds are still respected by people. Every day, people spontaneously send firewood and food, and local wealthy families also come out to help.

In June, the epidemic prevention station was officially closed.

In the dazzling summer sun, the plaque of "Ding's Medical Hall" was removed and replaced with "Ding's Women's Medical Hall". They are going to take root in Qingzhou under this name. At this time, people suddenly realized that it is no wonder that 80% of the big and small doctors in the medical hall are women.

If anyone is strongly dissatisfied with the name "Ding's Women's Medical Hall", it must be Kong Mo.

"Your medical skills take the law as the bone, the ink as the flesh, and the Tao as the skin and hair. What about the birth?"

Fang Shi, the female doctor Kong Mo saw when he opened his eyes, was busy counting the number of orphans beside the porridge bucket, and answered him without looking back: "Women give birth, If it is said that it is the survival of a family in a small way, and that it is the survival of a country in a big way, why is it not important?"

Kong Mo smiled "haha" and bowed to her: "It was my fault, thank you for the advice of the female doctor."

Two young doctors who had finished eating wiped their mouths and said, "We call the Women's Medical Hall for a reason. The owner felt the mother's dystocia and established the Women's Medical Hall."

"No, even wearing white comes from the story of mourning."

Fang swept over with a glance: "Don't put the door on your mouth!"

But Kong Mo has grasped the point: "What? Isn't Doctor Ding your master?"

Fang pursed his lips and did not speak.

In terms of status, it's not as good as Ding Zhen from Sili and Madam Zhuang from Yuzhou. We were sent here by the master when we heard that there was a big epidemic in Yanzhou and Qingzhou."

"I see that you are counting the orphans' roster, and martial arts practitioners are looking for backgrounds, but you want to send them to the master's house?"

"Otherwise, so what? Either they were abandoned by their parents, or their relatives died of the pandemic, and no one was willing to adopt them. If you leave it alone, it will be human life."

Kong Mo was amazed: "I don't know what kind of person your master is. He behaves like this... Gee, what do you think of me? I can also visit your master. home?"

Fang's selfless and selfless: "Chengding, those who are willing to sell themselves can go on the road together."

"Slave?" Kong Mo was bitter, "I can read and write anyway..."

"I also read and write."

"You can only write hard pen, is that called literacy? You have read the "Book of Documents"..."

Fang threw a knife, Kong Mosan shut up. But he was so uncomfortable with his heart and lungs, he went to see Fang again after half an hour: "It is said that good birds choose wood, although I am just a sparrow, I also admire your master's phoenix tree. You let Ding The great doctor asked for me, and said, can the sparrow build a nest on a low branch without breaking its wings?"

Messages come and go for at least two months.

Kong Mo watched helplessly as background-checked orphans were trained in house rules, and watched helplessly as adults who were sold as slaves showed their talents. The children had already left twice before he was called by Ding Moxibustion.

In addition to Ding Moxibustion and Fang Shi, there was only a girl in black with a sword in hand.

"Kong Mo, the master asked you, what skills do you want to use to be a doorman?"

Although Kong Mo is rather strange in terms of values, his brain is quite shrewd. He had discovered that the first adults who could walk back with the orphans were craftsmen. "Only the skills of Mo Tzu and Gong Shuu Tzu [2] are the ones I have devoted myself to studying."

The author has something to say: [1]: The Analects once recorded how Confucius educated his son Kong Li. "When I tasted independence, the carp swarmed across the court. He said: 'Is it possible to study Poetry?' The answer was: 'Not yet.'

【2】: Gongshuzi, referring to Luban.

Kong Mo is my fictional character.