It is said that a famous physician by the name of Yan Benren, a descendant of the famed Yan Junping, lived in Yizhou, Sichuan. His way of taking the pulse, so important in Chinese medicine, was different from that of other practitioners. He used three fingers to lightly feel the pulse, and in so doing directly and successfully diagnosed the source of the illness, and none of his prescriptions failed to cure. Because of this he had become known as "Yan Sandian" , which means "Three Point Yan". He had once been a physician of the Imperial Medical Department of the Song Court, but during the Jing De reign he ran into trouble when summoned to cure the imperial concubine Li Chen. He had applied his three fingers for only one moment to her pulse and left. The courtesan felt that his attitude was not careful and diligent, and told the Emperor Zhen Zong about it. The Son of Heaven wanted him tried for disrespect of the Court, but because many officials came to his rescue, saying that he had been a student of a truly unorthodox and extraordinary man and that he was in a class of his own as a doctor, he was pardoned of such a grave charge. But his prescription for the Concubine Li was never used and he was exiled to his home district.

Because of this he only remained at Yizhou and practiced medicine, and on the 5th, 15, and 25th of each month, these three days only, he conducted a free clinic and dispensary, not collecting a cent. Even on ordinary days those with no money were never turned away, although he didn't refuse payment from patients of means. Because of this his clinic was mobbed like a marketplace. And there was one more strange thing. When other doctors took a pulse they would consider only the individual patient's illness. It was just a matter of skillfully determining the state of the patient's vital force by means of the pulse, and then looking at age and wealth as other factors. But by Yan's "Three Points on One Spot" method he could make an exact determination of whether or not the patient's mother, father, wife, daughter or other close relations would meet with bad fortune! Even astrologers, arranging the zodiac so carefully in pursuit of the auspicious, could never achieve such accuracy.

One day his excellency the district magistrate came down with a touch of a cold and sent for Doctor Yan. On arriving he took the pulse as usual.

"What is ailing your honor," he said, does not require any medication. All you need to do is brew some strong Liu An tea and drink it hot. you'll sweat until about midnight and then it'll be gone quite naturally. And, happily, your wife will soon bear a son, a cause for rejoicing. But during Autumn, the wife of your eldest son will meet tragedy in childbirth." His excellency the magistrate laughed; "my wife is indeed pregnant," he thought, "perhaps some people in the Yamen have leaked it out and he has heard of it...who knows, perhaps he's just flattering me, who knows? But my son's wife is at home in Xiangxhou, over three thousand li from here; I don't even know if she is pregnant. And as for a tragedy in childbirth, how can he know from her father-in-law's pulse? That's absolutely preposterous!"

Later, that night the district chief had the prescribed cup of hot tea and was indeed cured. Afterward his wife gave birth to a boy; as for the prophecy he wrote it off to chance. But within ten months he received a family letter written personally by his eldest son, stating that on the twenty-seventh day of the eighth lunar month his wife had indeed miscarried and died. From that point on the magistrate worshipped Yan Sandian and named him Banxian, meaning "Half Immortal". Because of this, others as well came to call him Yan Banxian, and the entire world in time came to hear of this name. There is a poem called "The Angel by the River" that singularly recounts the merits of Yan Banxian:

Now it is said that our old mother vixen changed into an old beggar woman and walked on and on, day and night. Arriving in the town of Yizhou, she already knew that Yan Banxian lived near the Hall of Begonia Blossoms. The date was exactly the 15th of the ninth lunar month, the time for his free dispensary and clinic, and, coincidently, the magistrate's birthday as well. Banxian prepared several boxes full of gifts and set off to congratulate him. Meanwhile, those patients of his, who never numbered fewer than a hundred, were waiting around as usual. There were also some idlers hanging around, amusing themselves watching the goings on in the street outside the nearby Begonia Hall. This building was located west of the city Yamen and had been built by Viceroy Li of the Tang for the enjoyment of his subordinates, and it was surrounded by begonias which have flourished to this very day, and every time a newly appointed official takes office he restores this important local landmark to a most dignified and orderly appearance. The old vixen, however, was in no mood for sightseeing and started directly for Yan Banxian's gate. She came to a line of wooden fenceposts in front of the entrance, and through them could be seen a landscaped garden with a manmade hill and four or five Cassia trees. Inside the compound opened to a main hall consisting of three small rooms; on the plaque above were the three characters reading Ban Xian Tang, the Banxian Hall. This plaque was, incidentally, a gift from the magistrate. And on either side of the hall hung two banners which when read together proclaimed:

Now the old woman had a fast eye, and took it all in. Leaning on her bamboo cane she stood under the eaves, and come noon or thereabouts heard folks shouting: "He's here! He's here!" And going out into the street for a look she saw Yan Banxian riding on a white horse, with his servants ceremoniously holding a gown and several empty boxes, all returning from the Yamen east of there. The crowd had become impatient and one third of the visitors had already left, but many had merely gone out to meet him and follow him home, all tagging along behind his horse. Banxian dismounted at the gate in the wooden fence, and rather than enter his quarters he went quickly to the center of his hall, where he then stood to receive his patients. The crowd then surged forward, pushing and shoving, each thrusting out his arm and begging the great doctor to take his or her pulse while others shouted out the details of illnesses in their families. Banxian examined them individually as they streamed passed, shouting out his prescriptions while his servants dispensed the medicines. There were both decoctions and pills, both internal external; more than ten servants were engaged in handling the chores and before two hours had passed all was finished and the patients were gone.

Now, Yan Banxian had been taking pulses with three fingers for some time. If so many things at once were done by an ordinary doctor, what with his taking breaks and all, even if he worked like a madman he wouldn't be able to examine very many patients. And moreover he had been giving only one dose of medication per patient. If his colleagues even opened a medicine chest they would have taken out at least two or three bags, and would have prescribed more than ten doses per patient, all to no avail. For even if you piled up all their medicines like so much dried kindling, enough that a thousand men be needed to ring it in and another thousand to move it, it would all still not help even this one day's patients. On ordinary days, Banxian's dispensing of drugs was limited to midday and he never practiced his craft in the afternoons. But today, because he had gone out and been late in returning, he had been especially busy and did not finish until 3 PM. Here is a poem about it:

Although his clinic was filled like a market with those begging to be healed, Dr Yan had learned from his ancestor Yan Junping to close early. Now our old woman who was a transformation of an old vixen knew that she was a bit strange and decided to lay low, rather than push and shove her way into the hall. So she dozed off at the foot of the sculpted hillock until all had left and then got up and ran forth top see the doctor, but, alas, he had already gone home to his attached quarters. She then leaned lifelessly against his gate in the hope that he would emerge. Then just as she noticed that it was getting late an elderly servant came out carrying a lock for the gate and startling her. She threw herself toward him shouting out blessings, but the old servant wasn't impressed.

"If you wish to beg, you should have come earlier," he stated, officiously; "With the doors bolted and windows closed whose going to come so conveniently by this gate to give you money!" There was suspicion and annoyance in his voice. The old woman wept.

"This old wife isn't here to beg alms," she pleaded, "but a prescription."

"If it's medicine you need there's a time for that" answered the old servant. My Master has labored all day and he's finally having a well deserved rest. I'm not about to break the rules for you and he wouldn't come out anyway, old mother. Nothing in it but trouble for me!"

"I hail from Ande Zhou" she answered through her tears, "and the long walk here has made me a bit late, I know. But I've got a strange illness and wish only to beg the great doctor to save me. I beg of you, kind uncle, give me a break, that's all. You know," she continued, "saving a single human life is a greater deed than building a seven-tiered pagoda! Doctors have the spirit of self-sacrifice in healing patients, even cutting their own flesh! If you only go and ask him, just once...please, old uncle, then perhaps he will pity me. You can't just say what he wouldn't come out then!" And one hand propping herself up on her bamboo cane and the other clutching the servant's sleeve she knelt.

The old man yanked himself away, leapt to his feet and exploded.

"You old hag" he raged, "you still don't get it! After I was nice to you and told you the score you just won't shut up! If you really got such a weird illness I imagine you aren't dying of it tonight! Even if you're lucky enough to meet the Emperor you have to wait till morning!" He then seized her bodily with both hands, carried her from the gate and most unceremoniously threw her out into the garden.

Now, the old woman landed on her feet and cried out loudly, awakening Yan Banxian himself from his sleep inside.

"Who's carrying on out there?" shouted his page. The hag thrust herself forward to state her case but the old man held her back.

"This old bitch," he answered, "half human and half ghost has been trying to get in and bother our Master for medicine. When I told her to wait till morning she kept it up and now that I've kindly shown her out she's complaining she was roughed up!"

The pageboy came forth. "You, old woman," he asked, "wherever you've come from, how dare you carry on like this? You're not exactly a regular paying customer, you know. And you're no young maiden or tempting wife either! Why, your death would weigh no more than an old dog's. Even his excellency the magistrate has to wait his turn for medicine and he's the chief of a whole district. Now, you are really out of line but if you leave now there won't be any trouble, I promise. On the other hand," he continued, threateningly, "if you insist on bothering our Master, we'll write out a nice little letter of introduction for you to the magistrate's Yamen and then you'll only wish you could die of illness instead of the beating you get.!" Then he helped the servant pick the woman up by the clothes on her back and throw her out again. Now the old hag had a violent seizure; she let out a scream and threw aside her cane, turned yellow and then lay lifeless. It was like this:

The old servant, seeing the woman dying before their eyes, began blaming the doctor's pageboy.

"It's all your fault, idiot," he shouted; "I only scolded her once, and you were supposed to mediate. But no, you had to go on scolding and mishandling her and now we've really got a problem! This critically ill old woman, how could she take it? You go and explain what you've done to the Master, I've got nothing to do with it!"

Now the page was in a real panic as he reported the happenings to Banxian. The doctor had been sitting quietly in his study but upon hearing the commotion went to the foyer. By the time he got to the hillock for a look, the old woman had already been revived by the servant and lay staring blankly. Banxian ordered the old man to pick up the woman's right hand, and then applied his godly, all-knowing and marvelous fingertips to the pulse. Then he ordered up the left wrist and repeated the procedure.

"How strange," he gasped, "this pulse is extraordinary, to say the least!" Then he returned to his study and sat, telling the maidservants to go out and escort the woman inside; he had something important to tell her. The old housemaids then fetched the woman.

"Our Master says your pulse is quite odd, and he really wants to have a word with you," they told her. At first the old woman lay stiff and motionless on the ground like a wooden tiger, but upon hearing these words she sprang to life, leaping up at once and grabbing her cane from the ground. She flew along taking double strides , and without anybody's help, either, noisily clambering into the study at the rear of the dwelling. Even the maids couldn't keep up with her. The old servant laughed darkly.

"Sure enough", he chuckled, "she was playing dead all along. How frightening!" Now, Yan Banxian was in the room, breaking the darkness with the dazzling light of a candle. When he saw the old woman, followed by his trembling servants, he told her to enter.

"Where are you from?" he asked.

"This lowly old woman is from An De Zhou" she answered humbly.

"Don't try to fool me," said Banxian; " I can see that you have the form of a human and the pulse of a beast. Now, there must be a reason!"

"What a doctor," the old vixen thought to herself, "I can't hide anything from him.". And seeing the room empty of others she hurriedly knelt and confessed. "The truth cannot be concealed any longer," she proclaimed, "I am an old fox from the foot of Goosegate Mountain. Only because of my admiration for the great name of Banxian have I come to plead for treatment."

Banxian answered bluntly. "I've already determined from your pulse," he declared, " that nothing ails you except a case of "rescue-my-child-it-is!"

The old hag kowtowed a few times and rose on her knees. "Great doctor," she exclaimed, how can you be named only Banxian, meaning half an immortal, when you are so really and truly a whole god! All this old mother has got left out of her brood are a son and daughter, and now my boy has been wounded in the left leg by someone's arrow. It's hopeless for him to live and he only longs for death!" Then she gave a careful description of her son Chu's wound.

"The injury itself," answered Banxian, "is no life-and-death matter, for it's only flesh and bone.. But even when it has healed, if the left leg isn't as strong as the right I'm afraid to say he'll be a cripple."

The old woman was almost overjoyed. "If he should regain his life even the loss of a leg would be a small thing. After my boy's wound is healed I'll bring you a token of my worship and appreciation of you."

"That won't be necessary," answered Banxian, "but I've got something else to discuss with you. According to your pulse your daughter will also meet with tragedy."

Now, our hag's vixen heart once more met with a heavy blow, as if struck by a board. She had seen the uncanny correctness of the doctor's earlier pronouncements; how could she not be terrified at this additional prophesy?

"When will she meet with disaster?", asked the old woman, frantically. "I beg you", she continued, to do me a great favor and rescue her without delay, and I'll never forget you, oh great doctor!"

Yan Banxian sat pensively. "Your daughter's misfortune is indeed bizarre, and even I cannot describe it clearly. We can only wait out six months to a year's time and see what happens. Creatures like yourselves impersonate humans, create disorders and deceive the people, and that's about all. You lack knowledge of the supernatural and have no outstanding skill at sorcery either. The one day one day when your fate comes to an end, you find yourselves at the mercy of the hunter's mere subordinates, the falcons and hounds. Take for example your son. Fortunately he was just shot in the left leg. If that arrow had struck a vital spot, even the great physician of antiquity, Bian Que of Lu would have only been able to utter a few words of pity. But as things are he has not suffered an untimely death. Now, from the third pulse of your left hand I've determined that the root of your life is strong and firm; from the first pulse of your right I find that you are resourceful and clever. There is much goodness and virtue in your fate. What's more you and your kin were born in a mountain ravine and aren't versed in the ways of the world. You'd had little chance to be entrapped by the seven feelings and six desires of worldly ways. So, you thought, why not take advantage of this decline in your family's fortunes to consult with a great doctor? You could once more grow flesh and hair on your son's leg, and in the bargain avoid disaster forever. Now, isn't that beautiful?"

On hearing those words the old hag's tears poured forth like raindrops; she once more kowtowed and thanked the doctor for his advice. Banxian then called a page to bring some medicine, and ordered one dose of Nine Springs Elixir of Life as well as some medicinal ointment.

"These medicines," he stated, should be administered with a dose of good, pure wine," he told Holy Auntie as he wrapped them up, "and everything will clear up naturally. Perhaps if the arrowhead has entered the bone it will cause a lifetime of pain if it is not entirely extracted. You can take warm water and wash the wound clean, then apply this poison-extracting salve. Draw out the old dark blood until it comes forth fresh and bright. Then apply the Fairy's Bone Healing Ointment. After a hundred days he'll be able to walk. Well, that's about it. You must remember to do just as I've told you. It's all correct and will do no harm." Thereupon he called a maid to escort her out, and the old woman thanked him over and over for the medicine. As she followed the maid out through the foyer she bumped into the old servant who had first abused her and she blessed even him, although that is hardly surprising. Passing through the gate she went on her way delighted with the world. Now, Banxian was truly shaken by all of this but he kept his surprise and fear to himself. There's a poem for proof:

As our story continues, Holy Auntie climbed over the city wall that very night, and on the road home purchased a bottle of fine, pure wine. Then she went directly to the foot of Goosegate Mountain in Ande Zhou. There, Hu Chu was groaning in agony without any respite and Mei had not yet left his side. Brother and sister were waiting nervously and hoping against hope, and as soon as they saw the old vixen burrowing into their earthen den they were immeasurably delighted. The mother heated the wine to a boil and poured the potion, to be taken with the Nine Spirits Pill of Life, into a porcelain cup. She then assisted Hu Chu in taking the medicine and washing it down with the wine, and as per instructions applied the poison-extracting salve to his wound. Chu continued to lie on his earthen bed feeling only sleepiness, and didn't awaken for three hours. The old mother vixen and her daughter kept watch.

"He hasn't closed his eyes for quite a few days," said Mei.

"Well," answered Holy Auntie, "his sleeping now is due, I reckon, to his feeling no pain. We can see the medicine at work."

Pus was running down the curve of his leg and the salve had already been dissolved away, but they didn't dare apply more of the balm out of fear of awakening him. In a few moments, though, Chu came around.

"The wound is really starting to itch," he exclaimed, and when his mother removed the plaster for a peek she saw some slender thing beginning to emerge, still hidden in the pus and blood. The old vixen cleaned away the filth with some grass, and when she applied her claw to remove it a shovel-shaped arrowhead emerged into her grasp. The arrowhead used by Zhao Yi had been of such a shape; she had at first plucked out only its wooden shaft, leaving the tip embedded until this very time. Just then she became ill at ease and examined it closely, and only then did she fully realize the greatness of Yan Banxian's skill and knowledge, and saw for herself the secret power of the poison-extracting salve. She then boiled a potion of medicinal herbs and ever so gently bathed the wound with it. On seeing the chipped bone and wounded muscle, the torn and decayed flesh and the fresh blood now running out, her appreciation of the tragedy was complete. Reaching for the Fairy's Bone Healing Ointment she applied it hot, and slowly bound up the limb with some silken cloth. He passed the night and next day the dressing was changed and the wound again cleaned; it went on like that for several days until it was completely drained.

After this she did not move him while he spent forty or fifty days recuperating, during which time the flesh grew back, the torn muscle knitted smoothly together, and he struggled to get up, with much agony. Alternating between napping and sitting he didn't dare try to leave the burrow. Then when the one hundred days were completely up the plaster was removed and the wound was entirely without pain. Only when he looked at the spot where the dressing had been did he see the smooth bright red scar flesh and the failure of about half the hair to grow back. Then upon walking he found that his left foot was two inches shorter than the right. The vixen oddly cried out for joy.

"Yan Banxian told me," she exclaimed, "that you'd become a cripple and it's come to pass! You can change your name to Zuo Que, for "Limping Lefty" in honor of his achievement. And from that time on he was indeed called Zuo Que, familiarly Quezi or Que'r, and his former surname Hu was gradually forgotten. "How can I avenge this wrong?" he thought, and ran back to his old mother for consolation. Holy Auntie was sitting on her earthen kang and upon hearing his words she shed bitter tears, so deeply was a good and virtuous fate rooted in her soul. It's really like this: