我不会咬，长兄于病视神未有形而除之

Ninth of May, Turpan, half past eight. Luo got here a day before me, by train from Zhangye, overnight. When I arrived he had been sitting in Abdul Rahman's courtyard for two hours on the low stool by the gate, drinking tea. He had not been inside a single house.

Why haven't you gone and looked? Looked at what? The goods. It's the ninth. The apricots are on the trees. I said I thought he'd come to buy. Buying is a twentieth-of-the-month business. He put the bowl down, and I wrote it down the same day: I came a fortnight early precisely to see it while there are no goods.

Half a day following him about and he did not touch one piece of fruit. He went to the doors of the three houses and felt the inside of each doorframe. All three have one hung. I said I told them to, last year. I know. I'm not looking at whether it's hung. Then what? At whether they're hung at the same height. So I looked. House one, inside the frame, at eyebrow height. House two, eyebrow height. House three, about two hand-spans lower. And: the one on three wasn't hung by the same person.

Alim, at noon: I hung three. My father hung one and two. Why split it? Last closing day his back was bad. He did one and two and I did three. Did he tell you how to choose? He said choose a middling one. And which did you choose? A pause. I chose one I thought was good.

Bian Que came in the afternoon while Luo was in town — fifty or so, not tall, old dark clothes, a cloth bag on his back with the ends of some needles showing at the mouth. He didn't come in; he stood in the light of the doorway. Feeling that string is already after the event. Sir. Qin Yueren. People call me Bian Que.

The brothers. Marquis Wen of Wei asked me which of the three of us was the best physician. I said: my eldest brother is best, my second next, and I am the worst. I said that must be modesty. It is not. Flat. My eldest brother looks at the spirit of an illness and removes it before it has taken form. So his name does not get past the front door of the house. Why not? Because that person has never been ill. A man who has never been ill does not say the doctor is good. He says: my health has always been fine. The second: he treats it while it is a hair's breadth. The patient knows he was slightly unwell, and remembers being cured. So his name gets past the door and not past the lane. And himself: I lance the vessels, give violent drugs, cut flesh. The patient is lying there dying and I bring him back. Everybody can see it. And, and I took my hand off the string: so the feudal lords all know my name.

Does your eldest brother know what he is doing? Know what? How large a thing it is. No. He can't explain it either. Ask him what he did today and he says he did nothing. And: he did in fact do nothing. He looked at somebody and said "eat a bit less today." And: when the illness doesn't come, nobody knows it was ever coming.

Then Marquis Huan of Qi: first time, I said there is a sickness in your pores. He said: I have no sickness. After I left he told the people round him that doctors like treating the healthy so they can claim credit. Said without any expression at all. Five days, the blood vessels. Five days, between stomach and intestines. Five days, I looked at him and turned and walked out. Why? The marrow. And: in the pores, hot compresses reach it. In the vessels, needle and stone. In the stomach, medicinal wine. In the marrow, even the Arbiter of Fate can do nothing. So I said nothing more.

Four stages, five days each — twenty days, which is also how long a batch hangs. I asked whether my trade has the four. It has. Say them. I tried: (1) the trees — Kucha, 2013, thirty-nine houses grafted for size; (2) the houses — hole size and airflow, fixed when they were built in 2012; (3) the twenty days on the rack — opening vents, closing vents, watching the sky; (4) the day it comes down — bite it, read the mark. Which one do you do every day? The fourth. And which stage is the fourth? I said two characters and then sat down on the empty rack. The marrow. Correct. By the time you bite it, this batch is already decided. All you can do is refuse it. — M.

Memo to file. Turpan, 9–11 May 2031. Luo's first trip as a principal.

1. He came thirteen days early on purpose, and it is the single most instructive thing anybody has done in front of me this year. The fruit is still on the trees. "I came a fortnight early precisely to see it while there are no goods." In three years it has never once occurred to me to arrive before there was anything to inspect.

2. What he inspected, having touched no fruit at all. The three reference strings — not whether they were hung (I mandated that last year) but whether they were hung at the same height. Two at eyebrow level, one two hand-spans lower. Which resolved, in one question to Alim, into: his father's back was bad on closing day; he hung one and two, and Alim hung three. And, asked how he chose: he had been told "choose a middling one" — and: "I chose one I thought was good." My anti-ratchet clause — Chang's line five, "never the best one, pick the best and next year you can't reach it" — failed at its first transfer to a second household, silently, and the only visible trace was two hand-spans of height.

3. Bian Que's ranking, and why I have had it upside down for three years. The eldest brother removes an illness before it has taken form, and therefore has no reputation even inside the family, because the person he saved was never ill and will say only that his health has always been good. The second treats it at a hair's breadth and is known in his lane. The famous one lances vessels and cuts flesh — and is famous precisely because the rescue is visible.

4. Applied to the trade, in four stages. (i) trees — changeable once a decade, not by me; (ii) houses — once in twenty years, not by me; (iii) the twenty days on the rack — changeable every day; (iv) the day it comes down — not changeable at all, only refusable. Everything I do is (iv). Four trips a year to be present on the day it comes down; retained samples to compare against that day; refunds and Chen's column, all downstream of it. I touched (iii) exactly once — Abdul Rahman's six thermometers, a year of daily three-column readings that I still have not used, because I am not here during the twenty days. (i) and (ii) I have never touched at all. By the time you bite it, this batch is already decided. All you can do is refuse it.*

5. 六不收 — the six refusals, argued out with Luo until eleven at night. (1) No string in the doorframe — don't buy. (2) Notebook stops at last month — don't buy. (3) Whoever takes it down this year is not who took it down last year, and nobody volunteers why — don't buy. (4) Broken fruit loaded at the bottom — don't buy. (5) You ask "what's different this year compared with last" and they say "the same" — don't buy. (6) Anything I tell you on the phone to "just take this once" — don't buy. Luo on (6): "That one's against you." Yes. "And if I do listen to you?" Then the lot is mine, not yours, and I bear the loss. And Luo on (5), which he rated the best of them: "That one doesn't need you to understand the goods. You ask, and you listen to how he answers. A man who says 'the same' hasn't looked."

6. What none of the six does, which he pointed out getting into the car this morning and which I could not answer. — "I'm here a fortnight watching what happens during the twenty days. When I've watched it, where do I write it?" On the notebook. "And who reads that?" — the notebook does not exist; there is no form and no reader. — "Your six clauses tell me what not to buy. That I can do." And: "But the good things I see — where do I put those?" And: "Not one of your clauses teaches me how to write down good." He is right and it is the same defect at a new level. I have built refusal instruments — the string, the bite, the refund code, the six clauses — and every one of them detects a fault. I own nothing that records a thing done well. A file of refusals cannot be handed to anybody, because it does not say what to do; it only says what to stop.

"My eldest brother removes an illness before it has taken form; therefore his name does not travel beyond the house."
The most famous physician of his age was asked by a marquis which of his three brothers was the best doctor, and answered that he himself was the worst. Pressed, he explained the ranking, and it is a ranking by invisibility.
The eldest looks at the spirit of an illness and removes it before it has taken form. Consequence: his name does not get past the front door, because the person he treated was never ill, and a man who has never been ill does not praise a doctor. He says: my health has always been fine. The second brother treats it while it is still a hair's breadth; the patient knows he was slightly unwell and remembers being cured, and so the second brother is known in his own lane and no further.
And the celebrated one: I lance the blood vessels, give violent drugs, cut the flesh. The patient is lying there dying and I bring him back. Everybody can see it. So the feudal lords all know my name.
Asked whether the eldest brother understood the size of what he did, he said no, and was specific about why. He can't explain it either. Ask him what he did today and he says he did nothing. And he did in fact do nothing — he looked at somebody and said, eat a bit less today.
When the illness doesn't come, nobody knows it was ever coming.
The other story about him is the one everyone remembers, and it is the same argument told from the patient's side. He warned a ruler four times at five-day intervals — the pores, the blood vessels, the stomach and intestines — and was dismissed each time as a doctor drumming up business among the healthy. On the fourth visit he looked at the man and walked out without speaking, and explained afterwards: in the pores, hot compresses reach it; in the vessels, needle and stone; in the stomach, medicinal wine. In the marrow, even the Arbiter of Fate can do nothing. So I said nothing more.
The practical form of all this, for anyone whose work has stages, is a single unwelcome question: which stage do you actually operate at?
By the time you bite it, this batch is already decided. All you can do is refuse it.