The wet nurse sews old clothes deep at night,
Needle falls by the child's side, the granny unaware.
Child's skin pierced, mouth wails in fright,
Tossing sleepless, needle embeds in flesh there.
Next day cries worse than last night's sound,
Who can guess the child's pain profound?
Caressing, she touches the wound where needle lies,
Child wails near death, granny realizes.
Doctor glances, helpless in his view,
Neighbor mothers gasp, all come to see too.
Children eavesdrop secretly,
Shoulders hunched, hair stands on end.
Master Rui strides forth proudly,
Says he's cured this often, on him depend.
Reaching into his bosom, good medicine takes,
Fingers trace the needle's path, the procedure makes.
Soon the tip emerges free,
Skin and texture restored naturally.
Alas, this divine skill,
A small trial shows such will.
I've heard in old Chenliu market fair,
Knife-and-tweezers man, the world avoided there.
To this day, in valley and rear mountain's poetry,
Moonlight and night radiance shine on earth's glory.
Also heard a Song man had hands uncracked by chill,
Generation to generation bleaching cloth, no profit to fill.
A guest got his recipe, told the Wu lord's ear,
Defeated Yue army, thus granted land and cheer.
Now the northern border still full of worry,
Precious medicine worth ten thousand gold, needed in a hurry,
Why don't you go there, why hesitate and tarry?
Master Rui smiles gently, says:
Seeking luck and profit, I despise such ways.
Sighing at that Chenliu old man,
Different times, perhaps the same tune we span.