Smith learned the news during dinner that evening.
At the time, however, he was quite distracted, as if he hadn't heard a thing. His mind was preoccupied with poring over the medical notes left behind by "Smiling Willi," searching for anything that might help treat his speech impairment. After all, he didn't want to spend the rest of his life unable to speak.
Unfortunately, most of the medical knowledge Smiling Willi had left behind focused on antibiotics, anesthetics, and surgical techniques. There were even extensive notes on cesarean sections and dealing with difficult childbirths.
It was clear that the former Kaiser was still haunted by the trauma of his birth injury, unable to let go even after all these years.
Yet, after searching through all the notes repeatedly, Smith couldn't find anything remotely useful for his condition, leaving him rather disappointed.
By the time he snapped back to reality, the first words he heard came from his adoptive mother, Victoria:
"Can we really trust the medical skills of the Khitans, a nation far less advanced than ours?"
This immediately caught Smith's attention. The sentence contained two elements he cared deeply about: the Khitans and medicine. Even though he had ignored the earlier conversation, he could more or less piece together the topic just from this one sentence.
"Wait, are they planning to have a Khitan doctor treat me?" Smith's thoughts raced as his mind began to work overtime.
"I heard from your father that the doctor set to treat the child is the imperial physician of the Khitan emperor—probably one of the most skilled doctors in their nation," said Frederick, gesturing with his knife and fork. His response confirmed Smith's guess. Yet, his tone carried a hint of uncertainty and reluctance.
"I think it's worth a try since our best doctors haven't been able to come up with a viable solution. Who knows? Maybe the Khitan doctor can bring about a breakthrough—after all, we don't have a better option right now, do we?"
"At least our doctors haven't made Willi's condition worse," Victoria said sharply, her maternal instincts on high alert.
"Yes, they haven't cured him, but they haven't caused harm either. Handing Willi over to a group of Khitans we've never even met? I can't trust that!"
"You make a good point, my dear," Frederick agreed. "That's also why I'm hesitant. We're familiar with our current doctors, but these Khitans are complete strangers. I think we should at least meet them first and hear their treatment plan before making a decision. What do you think?"
Victoria nodded but remained silent, her apprehension evident. Still, given the circumstances, she wasn't willing to dismiss any glimmer of hope. After all, these Khitan doctors might just perform a miracle.
Smith, though unable to speak, was similarly torn.
It seemed Western medicine of the time had no solution for his speech impairment. Hoping for spontaneous recovery was as unrealistic as expecting divine intervention. Perhaps trying the Khitan imperial physicians wasn't such a bad idea.
Yet, even with Smith's limited knowledge, he knew that contemporary Chinese medicine was far from reliable. Even renowned doctors of the time could make critical errors in diagnosis and treatment. What methods would these "imperial physicians" use to treat him? He had no idea. The only consolation was that being selected to serve in the Khitan imperial medical court likely meant they had genuine skills and weren't mere quacks.
He hoped to meet these "imperial physicians" soon to find out what remedies they had in store.
Smith didn't have to wait long. The following afternoon, he was startled by the clatter of wheels and the neighing of horses. Peeking out the window, he saw a grand procession of carriages arriving at the gates of the Crown Prince's Palace. From his vantage point, he couldn't make out the details, but the sheer scale of the entourage suggested something extraordinary was about to happen.
Sure enough, his adoptive mother, Victoria, soon carried him into the dining hall in his stroller.
The dining hall of the Crown Prince's Palace was a spacious venue, rarely used unless for large gatherings like Smith's first birthday banquet. Today, the tables and most of the chairs had been removed, leaving the room unusually open. The remaining chairs had been rearranged into neat rows. From a quick glance, Smith estimated there were about thirty chairs—clearly, quite a crowd was expected.
As he pondered this, the double doors of the dining hall swung open, and a group of people strode in.
Smith focused his gaze and noticed that the group seemed to revolve around a central figure: his grandfather, King William. Walking beside the king was an elderly man with yellow skin, black eyes, and white hair. Though advanced in age and requiring a cane to walk, the man exuded an extraordinary aura of vitality despite his frail appearance.
Taking a closer look, Smith recognized the man immediately. Who else could it be but Lin Zexu?
"So, I've finally met him…" Smith couldn't help but feel a surge of emotion, as though he were witnessing history come to life. His gaze lingered on Lin Zexu, filled with genuine reverence.
Lin Zexu, noticing Smith's stare, turned to look at him with curiosity.
"Ruizhi once said the Prussian prince is no ordinary child. Seeing him today, I must say, he is indeed remarkable," Lin thought to himself.
But this was merely a brief interlude. Once everyone was seated, Smith noticed that apart from the figures he had already seen—his adoptive father Frederick, several senior Prussian court officials, and his entire medical team—there were four Eastern men among the crowd.
These four were clearly older, each middle-aged or above, with one appearing to be about the same age as Lin Zexu. Smith guessed they must be the Khitan imperial physicians mentioned earlier.
Once everyone had settled, King William exchanged a few quiet words with Lin Zexu, who then gestured lightly to the young interpreter beside him and addressed one of the imperial physicians in fluent Fujianese:
"Daoxin, you may begin."
The physician, addressed as Daoxin, stood and bowed respectfully. He led the other physicians over to Victoria and Smith, while the young interpreter quickly took his place by their side.
Traditional Chinese medicine relies on the four diagnostic methods of observation, listening, questioning, and pulse-taking. In this era devoid of X-rays or ultrasounds, these methods were considered the most scientific approach available. Since Smith couldn't speak, the "listening" and "questioning" steps had to be handled by Victoria instead.
In the past two years, Victoria had hardly left Smith's side, becoming intimately familiar with every detail of his daily life. As a result, she could answer the court physicians' questions with perfect accuracy and without hesitation.
Smith, however, found the questioning rather dull. His attention wandered to the nearby seats, observing the reactions of those present. Since the physicians' questions were translated into German by the interpreter, everyone in the room could understand them. King Frederick and King William were naturally listening intently, given the subject was their own flesh and blood, afraid to miss a single word. The guards maintained a professional demeanor, sitting upright and motionless like statues, their expressions unreadable.
As for Smith's medical team, their reactions were far more colorful. Smith scrutinized their faces carefully: some showed disdain, others harbored concealed hostility, and still others feigned disinterest while secretly straining to catch every word. Regardless of their stance, none of their attitudes could be described as particularly positive.
Amused by their performances, Smith silently mocked them:
"They say scholars are envious of one another, but doctors are no different. Rivals in the same trade are always enemies, it seems—no matter where you go."
Before long, the court physicians approached Smith, examining him closely. Through the interpreter, they requested Victoria to have Smith perform some cooperative movements. This was necessary because two of the physicians spoke with such heavy accents that even Smith struggled to understand them. Ironically, their words were much clearer after being translated into German, making Smith appreciate the importance of a "universal language" even more.
After these examinations, the pulse-checking began. The four physicians took turns feeling Smith's pulse, then stepped over to the window to quietly discuss a treatment plan. Within minutes, they seemed to reach a consensus. The physician referred to as "Daoxin" turned to King William and Lin Zexu, bowing deeply:
"Your Majesty, Lord Lin, my colleagues and I have concluded that the young prince's condition is due to nerve compression caused during a difficult birth. Acupuncture may yield remarkable results!"
"Ah, acupuncture!" Smith felt a wave of relief upon hearing this.
Acupuncture, a jewel of traditional Chinese medicine, was known for its surprising efficacy in treating ailments that modern medicine often found perplexing. Though Smith couldn't claim to fully understand his own condition, the diagnosis and proposed treatment struck him as credible.
However, the suggestion caused an uproar among the Western doctors present. Unlike Smith, they had no faith in such methods!
King William, listening to the commotion, grew increasingly irritable. To be fair, the medical team he had assigned to Smith was composed of the most skilled and reliable doctors he could find. Although their efforts had yet to yield significant improvement in Smith's condition, these were still the people the royal family would rely on for future medical needs. Their opinions couldn't simply be dismissed. On the other hand, the court physicians represented the distant yet powerful Eastern empire. At this critical juncture, offending them would bring no benefit to Prussia.
Sensing King William's dilemma, Lin Zexu stepped forward and addressed him through the interpreter:
"Your Majesty, I have a suggestion for everyone here. May I speak?"
"Of course!" King William's voice rose with gratitude. "Anything you wish to say, please do!"
His words were directed not only at Lin Zexu but also at everyone in the room. As expected, the chatter immediately died down.
Lin Zexu slowly stood and said, "Gentlemen, I am but a layman in the field of medicine, possessing only a superficial understanding. However, I can vouch for the sophistication of our acupuncture techniques—they are truly remarkable and far from mere superstition. The human body relies on smooth blood circulation and unimpeded meridians to function properly. If the meridians are blocked, circulation is disrupted, and the body cannot operate as it should. If anyone doubts this, I propose a simple test: allow the physicians to use silver needles to temporarily block one or two meridians, and then judge for yourselves."
"The wisdom of age, indeed!" Smith thought, impressed.
Lin Zexu's words, though tactful, boiled down to a single challenge:
"Our methods are scientific. If you doubt them, try it yourself!"
This approach preserved the court physicians' reputation, respected King William's position, and offered the Western doctors a graceful way out. If they agreed to the test, the blocked meridians would prove the validity of acupuncture, making it a matter of accepting truth rather than admitting defeat. If they refused, they would appear unreasonable.
Sure enough, once the interpreter finished translating, the Western doctors exchanged hesitant glances. After a moment, one of them, a "true brave soul," stepped forward and said:
"If the Khitan acupuncture is truly so miraculous, I'm willing to give it a try!"
All eyes turned toward the speaker. Smith looked closely and recognized him as his newly appointed attending physician. However, given how frequently his attending physicians had been replaced, Smith couldn't recall the man's name. The doctor's burly physique and resemblance to Arnold Schwarzenegger had earned him the nickname "Governor."
The "Governor" strode confidently to the court physicians and declared, "So, gentlemen, how do we proceed with this test?"
The physicians exchanged glances before Daoxin gestured to a chair and said, "This way, please."
The "Governor" sat down, crossing one leg over the other. Daoxin addressed the audience:
"If you strike the tendon below the knee, the lower leg will reflexively kick forward. In Europe, this is called the 'knee-jerk reflex.'"
With that, he struck the tendon beneath the "Governor's" knee. Sure enough, the man's leg kicked forward as expected.
"But if we use a silver needle to block the meridians here, the outcome will be quite different!" Daoxin continued, producing a fine, gleaming silver needle from an ornate box.
"This needle is made of pure silver and is harmless to humans. Its slender and flexible design allows for precise treatment without affecting other areas. Now, I shall use it to block this gentleman's meridians!"
All eyes were fixed on Daoxin as he deftly inserted the needle. Even Smith, unfamiliar with acupuncture, could tell this man was an expert, deeply knowledgeable about human anatomy. Remarkably, he inserted the needle through the fabric of the "Governor's" trousers without hesitation.
In no time, the needle was in place. The "Governor" showed no signs of discomfort, his expression unchanged.
Daoxin then stood and announced, "Now that I've blocked the meridian, let's see what happens when we strike the same tendon again!"
He struck with even greater force than before, yet the "Governor's" leg remained motionless, showing no sign of the knee-jerk reflex.
"This… this is…"
The "Governor" seemed baffled by what had just occurred. He repeatedly struck the tendon himself but to no avail. When he tried to stand, his leg felt unresponsive, as though it no longer obeyed him. Defeated, he slumped back into the chair, muttering, "What's going on here?"
The interpreter relayed his words, and Daoxin smiled. "This is the marvel of meridians!"
With that, he withdrew the needle. The moment it was removed, the "Governor" sprang to his feet, pacing back and forth to confirm his leg had returned to normal. Amazed, he looked at the court physicians, then at his colleagues, and exclaimed, "This is incredible! A mysterious power from the East!"
The room erupted in chaos once again.
"Marvelous Khitan medicine!" King William sprang to his feet, waving his hand as he declared:
"Quickly, have them treat my grandson!"
And just like that, the decision was made—Smith's speech impediment would be treated by the Khitan physicians!
What followed proceeded methodically. The four royal Khitan doctors surrounded Smith and began their treatment. King William and Crown Prince Frederick, brimming with nervous excitement, stood anxiously nearby. Victoria, who had been by Smith's side all along, stayed even closer now, not leaving him for a moment. Hope flickered in everyone's eyes, mingled with a trace of apprehension for the unpredictable future.
Smith himself felt it too. As the silver needles pierced his skin, there was a slight sting, followed by an indescribable sensation—a tingling, rippling feeling, as though some sprite was dancing within him.
The sensation lingered for a while, then vanished in an instant, leaving Smith with an unprecedented sense of ease.
Startled, Smith looked up and saw that the doctor, addressed as "Dao Xin," had already withdrawn the needles.
"I think I can speak now..."
Smith's lips parted slightly as he uttered the first complete sentence of his life. Though his voice was still soft and childlike, and the tone was not loud, it was clearer than ever, resonating distinctly even in the spacious room.
"My God!" Frederick, tears streaming down his face, rushed forward and scooped Smith up in his arms. His voice trembled with every word:
"My son can speak! My son can speak!"
Beside him, Victoria's tears flowed instantly. One arm wrapped around her husband, while the other lovingly stroked Smith's cheek. Her gaze overflowed with joy and happiness.
Even King William's eyes reddened with emotion as he showered Lin Zexu and the Khitan doctors with endless gratitude.
As for Smith, he murmured to himself, as if to confirm it, in a voice so soft only he could hear:
"I can really speak now!"
Yes, it was true. Unlike his family, who were overwhelmed with tears of joy, Smith didn't shed a single tear. He looked out the window at the sky, feeling as if Berlin's weather was particularly clear today. For the first time since his transmigration, he felt completely at ease. He now had good control over his body, sharp senses, and, at last, the ability to speak. Though he didn't know why, it seemed the Temporal Management Bureau wasn't keeping such a tight watch on him anymore.
Thinking back, when in these past two years had a day been as wonderful as this one? On such a beautiful day, a smile seemed more fitting than tears!
So Smith laughed out loud.
The days ahead would surely not be easy, but at this moment, Smith firmly believed he could face them with a smile.