Library

Confucians achieve peace and order through scholarship, while physicians save lives from peril through medical arts. The subtlety of adapting to circumstances, making adjustments, and undergoing constant change cannot be fully conveyed by ink and paper, nor exhaustively recorded in bamboo slips or historical texts. Since ancient times, there has been no renowned Confucian who clung exclusively to a single classic, nor any distinguished physician who rigidly adhered to a single school; thus, broad learning is highly esteemed. However, the transmitted literature often boasts individual insights, sometimes leaving matters unresolved, being verbose yet lacking essential points, biased and self-righteous, or mixed with both pure and impure elements. With a hundred schools contending, their core intentions differ significantly. Without profound discernment, how can one distinguish truth from falsehood? My friend, Mr. Wang Mengying, is a scholar of outstanding merit. He is deeply versed in medicine, his learning neither dogmatic about the past nor blindly conforming to the present. I previously had his clinical cases printed for public circulation. This summer, while passing through Wulin (Hangzhou), Mengying showed me his great-grandfather Bingheng’s *Chongqing Tang Suibi* (Notes from Chongqing Hall). I read it with reverence: his arguments are clear and lucid, his insight into principles is penetrating and bright. Tracing back to Xuanyuan (Yellow Emperor) and Qibo, and reaching down to the contemporary era, he meticulously sifts through and clarifies matters, discarding errors and preserving truths. I could not help but bow my hands and sigh, saying, "Indeed! One must possess discernment when studying books." Gong elucidated medical principles through profound Confucian scholarship, with such deep roots that it is no wonder Mengying encompasses various schools and stands as a leading master of his time. I have often remarked that the rise and fall of scholarship and the prosperity and decline of medical arts in ancient and modern times are remarkably similar. Let us not speak of the Three Dynasties; the great Confucians of Han and Tang held onto fragmented knowledge, strictly following the legacy of former sages. In grand matters, they studied methods for self-cultivation, family regulation, state governance, and world peace; in minor matters, they investigated rites, music, archery, charioteering, calligraphy, and mathematics. Although occasional forced interpretations appeared, what they cultivated at home and presented at court were all substantial learning. When Song Confucians emerged, they dismissed these as crude traces, engaging in high-minded talk of human nature and heaven, advocating mystical enlightenment, claiming to have discovered the secret teachings of ancient sages hidden in old texts, thereby transforming scholarly trends. Yet their broad learning and earnest practice made them outstanding figures of their age. Later, with the rise of imperial examinations, the virtuous entered the confines of Song Confucianism only to become arrogantly empty, while the vulgar plagiarized rhetoric to cope with worldly affairs. What they learned was not what they used, and what they used was not what they learned. Once faced with sudden events, they were bewildered and helpless, allowing the world to rot like fish and rivers to burst their banks without being able to stop it—this is what causes men of ambition to sigh deeply. Medicine is no different. Han and Tang dynasties followed the models of Xuanyuan and Qibo, possessing established rules. Until the publication of *Heji Jufang* (Formulas of the Imperial Medical Bureau), which relied purely on acrid and dry substances, ancient methods changed. Nevertheless, the principle of treating according to symptoms remained intact. Virtuosos such as Danxi and Hejian rose to vigorously correct these abuses. However, when the theories of Xue Lizhai and Zhang Jingyue emerged, promoting warm tonification, the world unanimously revered them. They disregarded the ancient methods of examining symptoms and investigating causes, relying solely on tonic treatments, causing people to willingly face death without understanding why. Alas! Events multiply daily, scholarship becomes shallower, disease mechanisms grow more deceptive, and medical arts degrade. Is this truly due to inevitable calamities? Why are we so muddled? I believe that if one studies diligently, one need not worry about lacking skills; prolonged research brings forth intelligence, and extensive experience generates wisdom. Reading Gong’s work is indeed like a compassionate boat in the sea of suffering or a precious torch in a lost path. Previously, Miu Zhongchun wrote *Guang Biji* (Extended Notes), You Zaijing wrote *Yixue Dujilu* (Records of Reading Medical Books), and Xu Huixi wrote *Yixue Yuanliulun* (Discussions on the Origins of Medicine). All utilized superior talent and extraordinary learning to meticulously study medical principles, achieving precise judgment beyond the reach of specialized texts. Compared with Gong’s work, theirs are truly comparable. Though I am incapable of serving Gong’s scholarship, I lament that worldly physicians harm society by not reading, and mislead society by reading poorly. I wish to use this book to remedy these issues. I respectfully state my views here, placing them at the beginning, to express my endless admiration. Written with bowed head by Yang Zhaoli, junior scholar from Dingzhou, in the fourth month of the Yimao year of Xianfeng.