Since the introduction of Western medicine to China, the standing between traditional Chinese medicine (TCM) and Western medicine has been anything but equal.
Many know that in the early Republican era, Yu Yunxiu spearheaded a campaign to “abolish old medicine,” yet few are aware that in 1950, at the First National Health Conference, Yu Yunxiu was invited as a special representative and once again advocated for abolishing TCM.
Although the conference officially affirmed the principle of uniting both TCM and Western medicine, the actual practice fell far short. In the Northeast, traditional therapies like massage and acupuncture were deemed “folk remedies” and were nearly eradicated.
Unreasonable interim regulations were also imposed on TCM practitioners. They had to pass exams, study Western medical theories, and avoid answers containing traditional concepts like the "Five Movements and Six Climates,” deemed "unscientific." In the Northeast, practitioners over sixty were even barred from taking exams.
Many TCM practitioners were pessimistic about the future and left the profession entirely.
It was during this time that Zhao Huanzhang developed his “three fears” completely.
In 1954, however, the Chairman noticed these issues and took corrective actions, dismissing two deputy ministers in the process. That same year, he also emphasised the importance of acupuncture research and established massage therapy programs. These long-suppressed and marginalised TCM practices were revitalised.
Moreover, in that year, four TCM universities were established in Beijing, Shanghai, Guangzhou, and Chengdu, marking the first time TCM had state-supported higher education institutions. A nationwide initiative was launched encouraging Western-trained doctors to study TCM, a historically unprecedented move.
This was a golden age for TCM.
Being asked to teach Western-trained doctors was indeed an honour. After all, it had been over half a century since such an event occurred. But just like TCM practitioners learning Western medicine, theoretical clashes were inevitable, and teaching sessions often turned contentious. Zhao Huanzhang recently attempted to teach them and returned utterly dejected.
Now, it was Gao-Yuan’s turn.
This was why others couldn’t tell if Director Wang Hanzhang’s invitation was a reward or a punishment.
Gao-Yuan’s upcoming trip to the county hospital would be closely watched by all the TCM practitioners in the county. Previously, everyone from Yan Qiao to Li Runyu and Zhao Huanzhang had stumbled at this task.
Anxiously, Zhao Huanzhang shared his previous experiences with Gao-Yuan, giving tips on communication, handling potential conflicts, and highlighting certain difficult personalities to watch out for.
But Gao-Yuan barely paid attention, preoccupied with his own thoughts.
Seeing Gao-Yuan’s distraction, Zhao Huanzhang sighed, “Maybe I should go with you tomorrow?”
Gao-Yuan snapped back, “What, you want revenge?”
“No,” Zhao Huanzhang replied. “I just don’t want you to be at a disadvantage.”
“Don’t worry. I’ll be fine,” Gao-Yuan reassured him. “Actually, Director Wang’s invitation came just at the right time—I’ve been meaning to visit the county hospital.”
Zhao Huanzhang looked surprised. “What for?”
Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.
With a smile, Gao-Yuan replied, “To truly unite the county’s TCM and Western medicine.”
The following day, Zhao Huanzhang tagged along to the county hospital. Initially, he was worried Gao-Yuan might lose face, but now he feared Gao-Yuan would stir things up. Gao-Yuan could only laugh at his nervous companion.
The county hospital was the only place in the county with Western-trained doctors, so the lecture was held there.
The hospital had received word about the session. Gao-Yuan had previously impressed them with his swift response in treating the explosive encephalitis of Qi Dongsheng’s grandson. Rumours about him still circulated within the hospital, and excitement spread when they heard he would be teaching them.
The session took place in a third-floor archive room. Only about a dozen people attended, which was considered a good turnout, given it was Gao-Yuan. When Zhao Huanzhang had taught here, barely seven or eight people had shown up.
Before Gao-Yuan arrived, the room buzzed with conversation.
Dr. Qiao Zheng, unable to resist, cautioned, “Hey, everyone, take it easy later. Don’t let his age fool you—Dr. Gao-Yuan is really skilled. Let’s not keep asking him to explain the theoretical basis of TCM acupuncture. He’s already proven how effective it is.”
A woman’s voice chimed in, “We’re here to learn, after all. We may not understand everything, but if something doesn’t make sense, we’ll ask. Isn’t that the point?”
Dr. Qiao looked at her and smiled wryly. The woman, Miao Ran, had a reputation for asking questions, often leaving previous TCM lecturers flustered and unable to continue.
“Ms. Miao,” Dr. Qiao sighed. “Curiosity is great, but let’s try not to put him on the spot too much, okay?”
Miao Ran rolled her eyes. “Why would I? Didn’t he say he often receives cases from the city hospital that others couldn’t treat? For someone that skilled, how could I possibly embarrass him?”
Her words sparked a flurry of whispers from the group.
Dr. Qiao shook his head, smiling helplessly. Well, if Gao-Yuan dared to make such a bold statement, he’d have to live with the consequences.
Soon, Gao-Yuan and Zhao Huanzhang entered, led by Director Li. After a brief introduction, Director Li quickly exited, leaving Gao-Yuan to face the crowd.
“Hello, everyone,” Gao-Yuan greeted the group with a warm smile.
Zhao Huanzhang sat down awkwardly in a corner.
The doctors scrutinised Gao-Yuan’s calm smile, wondering how someone so unassuming could make such audacious claims.
One doctor quietly asked Dr. Qiao, “Dr. Qiao, are you sure it was this young doctor who said he’s better than the city hospital? You didn’t make that up, did you?”
“Oh, please…” Dr. Qiao sighed, exasperated.
Settling into a seat, Gao-Yuan spoke calmly, “I’m here at the invitation of Director Wang to discuss TCM theories with you. I understand that there are different views on TCM and Western medicine, and I’ve heard about some of the challenges past lecturers have faced here.”
Miao Ran interjected, “Dr. Gao-Yuan, I think you’ve got it wrong. There’s nothing wrong with our attitude; we have respect for the TCM lecturers. But as learners, we need clarity. If explanations are lacking, you can’t blame us for asking. Isn’t that right, Dr. Zhao?”
Dr. Zhao could only manage an awkward laugh: “Yes, yes.”
Gao-Yuan turned to face Miao Ran.
Unfazed, she met his gaze directly.
Gao-Yuan had heard of her reputation but didn’t mind, merely nodding, “Seems like if I don’t address your question first, this lecture might not get very far. All right, please go ahead with your question.”
Miao Ran said, “It’s simple: we’re puzzled by this TCM idea of the heart governing the mind. The heart is just an organ that pumps blood, incapable of producing consciousness. The brain, not the heart, is where consciousness originates. So why do you say ‘the heart governs the mind’?”
The other doctors nodded in agreement.
Dr. Zhao scratched his head. This was the same question that had stumped him in his last lecture, leaving him flustered. He shot a quick glance at Gao-Yuan, hoping he remembered the prior warning.
Yet Gao-Yuan appeared entirely calm, replying, “That’s a typical example of the differences between TCM and Western medicine. You’re talking about the anatomical heart, but our concept of the ‘heart’ isn’t limited to that.”
“Then does it include the brain?” Miao Ran pressed.
“No,” Gao-Yuan replied with a shake of his head.
She spread her hands in a silent challenge.
“To illustrate,” he continued, “take unconsciousness. According to Western medicine, it’s the brain losing awareness. In TCM, however, we use methods to awaken the mind by opening sensory orifices with herbs that enter the Heart Meridian. This is the ‘heart governing the mind.’”
Everyone appeared puzzled.
Miao Ran frowned, “Dr. Gao-Yuan, that’s still rather vague. Like this morning, a stroke patient arrived at our hospital. Are you saying you could use heart-treatment methods to revive him?”
Ignoring Zhao Huanzhang, whose hands now trembled slightly in nervous anticipation, Gao-Yuan replied, “If that’s the case... then please, lead the way.”