Chapter Twenty-Seven: The Incision

Inside the room, several midwives knelt as soon as Magistrate Wang entered. Through the gauzy canopy, Wen Qiniang looked toward the bed. A woman lay there with her eyes tightly shut, a layer of brocade draped over her, her belly swollen high, legs bent. Two midwives stood by nervously; seeing the magistrate, one of them collapsed to her knees.

“Your Excellency, forgive this old woman’s incompetence. The young madam has been unconscious for hours, unable to summon any strength. The child shows no sign of emerging… I fear…”

“Nonsense!” Magistrate Wang erupted in fury. The midwife trembled so violently she lost control of herself.

“Drag her to the dungeon!” he commanded.

With a wave from Captain Yang, two constables seized the paralyzed midwife and hauled her away.

Lin Bai’s brows furrowed. “Sir, please explain the young madam’s condition in detail.”

Magistrate Wang sighed heavily. “My son’s wife, Mistress He, fell yesterday at dawn and hasn’t woken since. The child is at term. The midwife reported that her waters broke, but the baby refuses to come. I am truly beside myself with worry.”

Lin Bai’s face grew grave; such a case was rare, and he was no expert in deliveries. He turned to the remaining, trembling midwife. “Has she been given Buddha’s Palm Powder?”

This remedy, made from ligusticum and angelica, was used for difficult labor, retained placenta, or when the fetus had died in the womb.

The midwife’s voice quavered. “She took it, and there was movement not long ago, but now… now there’s nothing…”

Magistrate Wang’s fury flared once more. He ordered that midwife taken away as well.

The midwife from Hanjiang County’s yamen blanched, realizing she must be next…

It seemed clear the case was obstructed labor, the amniotic fluid spent, the fetus suffocating. If it wasn’t delivered soon, the child would die within. The situation was dire.

Magistrate Wang turned to the midwife and Wen Qiniang. “You two—get started!”

The woman wailed, “Spare me, Excellency! I am useless—please, let me go!”

Magistrate Wang, too furious for words, waved her away; she was dragged out, and the tension in the room became unbearable. No one believed they would leave unscathed. Rumors of Magistrate Wang’s violent nature were proving true.

Wen Qiniang surveyed the silent crowd; clearly, no one wished to step forward. In such a moment, volunteering was tantamount to suicide. With a sigh, she stepped forward. “Sir, I am Wen, the seventh daughter. I am willing to try.”

Magistrate Wang’s cold gaze settled on the frail young maiden before him; she looked barely of age, surely inexperienced in childbirth—let alone midwifery.

“Let her try,” Lin Bai interjected.

Magistrate Wang regarded them both, then sighed and waved his hand.

Wen Qiniang donned gloves, instructed the bailiffs to light more lamps, and ordered white spirits to be brought. She soaked the surgical knife she’d borrowed from the blacksmith in the spirits to disinfect it.

“Your Excellency, forgive my bluntness,” she said. “The young madam may have injured her head in the fall, causing blood to press on her nerves and rendering her unconscious. Her waters are gone, and if the child is not removed at once, it will suffocate. I will open her abdomen and extract the child. I cannot guarantee the safety of mother and child, but this is the only option left. Rather than wait for death, we must try.”

Magistrate Wang nodded, a flash of ruthless resolve in his eyes.

Lin Bai was startled—performing a cesarean section. Medical texts record how Hua Tuo once proposed to trepan Cao Cao’s skull for his headaches, but Cao Cao refused. To most, such a procedure was tantamount to murder. Clearly, Magistrate Wang was grasping at straws. From the malice in his gaze, if mother and child died, none of them would leave alive. Sweat was already beading on Wen Qiniang’s brow.

“Master, please assist me,” she requested.

Lin Bai nodded.

Wen Qiniang picked up the surgical knife and approached the bed. She pulled back the thin blanket, exposing the woman’s belly. She suddenly remembered: there was no anesthesia, but the patient was unconscious. If pain brought her round, what then?

“You four—hold her limbs. Don’t let her move.”

She found four bailiffs to pin the woman’s arms and legs. If there had been time, Lin Bai could have prepared Ma Fei San, an anesthetic, but there was no opportunity now.

Taking a deep breath, Wen Qiniang gripped the knife and incised the woman’s abdomen. Blood welled up at once; the bailiffs paled, looking away, hands trembling as they pinned the mother. They feared they too would share this young woman’s fate—was there any hope after such a cut?

Lin Bai’s expression hardened, but seeing Wen Qiniang’s calm focus, he felt a little steadier.

Ignoring the whispers and gasps, Wen Qiniang imagined herself dissecting a corpse. Once in the zone, she became utterly absorbed; her hands moved with instinctive precision, no conscious thought required. Her familiarity with the human body had made technique second nature.

All in the room held their breath. The only sound was the tearing of flesh, sharp and unrelenting, needling everyone’s nerves. Magistrate Wang’s bloodshot eyes fixed on the scene within the canopy, like a hawk poised to strike.

She opened the womb and discovered the umbilical cord was wrapped several times around the infant, from back to neck—a clear cause for the stalled labor. Carefully, Wen Qiniang extracted the baby, snipped the cord, and handed the child to the trembling midwife.

The midwife grasped the baby’s feet, held it upside down, and slapped the soles sharply.

A thin wail rose up.

Magistrate Wang leapt forward, peering at the tiny life, tears unexpectedly welling in his eyes.

Wen Qiniang took up needle and thread, swiftly sewing Mistress He’s belly closed with deft hands.

“Master, please staunch the bleeding.”

Lin Bai nodded and handed her a cloth. The heat in the room was oppressive; in moments, it was hard to breathe. Thankfully, the recent rain had cooled things somewhat, or the place would have been an oven with so many bodies crowded in.

“Have everyone disperse,” Magistrate Wang commanded loudly.

The crowd fled as if granted a royal pardon, vanishing in an instant. They had no idea what had transpired but were in no mood to linger—self-preservation was all that mattered.

Wen Qiniang wiped her brow, her body drenched in sweat. This had not been a corpse but a living woman; fortune was with them that Mistress He did not awaken, sparing them another ordeal.

“Qiniang, come look,” Lin Bai called softly.

Mistress He’s cheeks were wet with tears. Wen Qiniang was deeply moved—though the mother could not move or speak, she was aware of everything. Those tears, perhaps, were tears of joy.