Revisiting Li Shizhen's Hometown

On November 5, 2023, the weather forecast called for rain, but although the morning was overcast, the sun was still visible. I had been gloomy for days over the early death of my cousin, and I felt I could not sink further into that state or I would fall back into depression. So I decided that rain or shine, I would pick a destination and go for a bike ride. In the end, the most suitable choice was Li Shizhen's hometown.

Li Shizhen's hometown is only a dozen or so kilometers from my home in a straight line, but because ours is a hilly, mountainous region with poor roads, every route winds around to more than twenty kilometers. Most of it is mountain road. I checked Baidu Maps; whichever way I rode, it would take about two and a half hours. I finally chose a route that passed by my old middle school, planning to drop in for a visit. I chose it because I know that road well; otherwise, a direction-challenged person like me could get lost even in my own hometown, GPS or no GPS.

The roads in my hometown are much better than when I was in middle school; every road is now concrete. Back then they were dirt roads, pitted and bumpy, and I often fell off my bike from the jolts. Now they are not much different from the concrete roads in Beijing. But these roads built across the hills have far too many ups and downs, making cycling hard work.

I had previously visited Li Shizhen's hometown by car; this time I chose to cycle. Cycling gives you a broad view, so I could properly enjoy the scenery of my hometown. Every village along the way felt familiar and warm; many of them were home to my classmates. As I entered the ancient town of Qizhou, the mountains I saw were of fairly high elevation, with dense forests or bamboo groves on their slopes. This is a place suited to seclusion; if one day I wanted to be a hermit, I would not need to go somewhere like Zhongnan Mountain—returning to my own hometown would suffice.

Li Shizhen's hometown is in Qizhou Town. Near his village is a lake called Yu Lake (Rain Lake), which is why Li Shizhen styled himself "Linhu" (Shore of the Lake). Yu Lake is a ring-shaped natural lake that half-surrounds his village. It is encircled by mountains, and the ancient town of Qizhou is only a kilometer or two away. On the road from Yu Lake to the old town of Qizhou stands a Daoist temple called Xuanmiao Temple. Li Shizhen's father, Li Yanwen, and Li Shizhen himself often sat and practiced medicine in front of Xuanmiao Temple, treating villagers from the surrounding area, and they had frequent dealings with the temple's Daoist priests.

Having grown up in a similar environment myself, everything about Li Shizhen's hometown is not so different from my own. Near my home there was also a Medicine King Temple; in its heyday incense burned vigorously, and fortunetellers and physiognomers always peddled their trades at the gate. In ancient times there must have been physicians sitting and practicing there too. Around my village there are natural lakes just like Yu Lake. So everything around Yu Lake feels strangely familiar. Li Shizhen's former residence has been beautifully restored now and the scenery is lovely—this is reflected glory from his fame. But in his lifetime, the area around Yu Lake was probably much like my own hometown.

Li Shizhen passed the xiucai examination at 14, then sat for the provincial examination three times and failed each time. In Li Shizhen's era, physicians were not as respected as officials, so although his own father had served in the Imperial Medical Academy, he wanted Li Shizhen to pursue an official career. But after repeated failures in the examinations, Li Shizhen gradually lost heart. In his thirties he began studying medicine with his father and made his living by practicing. By his forties, wanting to accomplish something significant, he decided to withdraw from the noise of the world and return to the shores of Yu Lake to write.

Although Li Shizhen traveled widely to identify medicinal materials, the great mountain near his home was where he most often gathered herbs. Looking at his Compendium of Materia Medica (Bencao Gangmu) today, one finds its greatest feature is its orderly organization, and most records follow the principle of seeking truth from facts, empty talk not being prized. Born in 1581, Li Shizhen classified plants earlier than Carl Linnaeus (1707-1778), and he also classified mineral and animal drugs.

Li Shizhen's Compendium of Materia Medica is far more scientific than earlier materia medica works. The distinguished British historian of science Joseph Needham assessed Li Shizhen's contribution this way: "Unquestionably, the greatest scientific achievement of the Ming dynasty was Li Shizhen's peerless masterpiece in the field of materia medica, the Bencao Gangmu."

Needham considered Li Shizhen's scientific spirit comparable to Galileo's. Constrained by his era, the Compendium inevitably contains many errors, but among all ancient TCM classics it may be the most scientific in spirit. Many works in ancient Chinese medicine were truly impractical metaphysical speculation; Li Shizhen's Compendium stands out as a clear stream.

I was born and raised in Huanggang and have deep feelings for my hometown. The greatest feature of the people of Huanggang, I think, is groundedness. Li Shizhen's writing style carries a strong regional-cultural flavor. Besides him, our area produced Wen Yiduo and Li Siguang, whose styles were also grounded. Huanggang's education is famous throughout China precisely because the local academic ethos prizes being grounded.

Today, returning to my old school, I saw that the first line of the school motto posted at the gate is "seeking truth," and the first line of the teaching style is "rigorous and pragmatic." I feel fortunate to have grown up in such an environment. In today's medical world, especially within TCM, there still blow unhealthy winds that prize empty talk and metaphysics. One often sees people, with their shallow understanding, presumptuously pronouncing on the world and declaring other practitioners of TCM not to be "orthodox." Having grown up here, steeped in a truth-seeking, pragmatic local culture, I dare not be so arrogant and irresponsible.

Such a predecessor as Li Shizhen has set me a fine example. In studying medicine I also prize a truth-seeking, pragmatic scientific spirit. I have no wish to sink into mystical talk, let alone be drawn into endless verbal disputes. Medicine is a practical discipline; clinicians are witnesses and experiencers of clinical practice, and scholars of medicine are the thinkers and synthesizers within clinical practice. Whether witnessing and experiencing, or thinking and synthesizing, all should be grounded in actual clinical outcomes rather than in metaphysical speculation and unrealistic "reasoning."

Since it is clinical practice, it should be scientific, valuing statistics of actual outcomes rather than armchair reasoning. If we can continually explore and innovate in clinical practice and raise the success rate of treating illness by even a little, that is already a great contribution to patients and society. If we then summarize the successful experience we have worked out and write it up for others to consult, we can benefit even more people.

This is my lifelong pursuit. Having witnessed the suffering of my own relatives tormented by disease, I cannot today imagine a more valuable life goal. Although in my early years, like Li Shizhen, I was once eager for fame and gain and did many vain and foolish things, by middle age I felt that everything pursued in youth was meaningless; the sense of value brought by medical research is more substantial.

That is also why I like to visit Li Shizhen's hometown. Walking along the shore of Yu Lake, thinking that Li Shizhen must have walked here many times before me, meditating just as I do, my heart grows quiet.