OBS Chapter 4740 X Royal Newcomer (9)
Chapter 4740 X Royal Newcomer (9)
Chapter 4740 X Royal Family: New Life (19)
Schiller remained unfazed: "Herbal medicine is inherently bitter. Do you expect modern seasonings to flavor it? There's an old Chinese saying, 'Good medicine tastes bitter.' Drink it quickly."
Stark coughed violently: "What do you mean 'it's inherently bitter'? The one Steve gave me was clearly sweet..."
Schiller turned to look at Steve, who pulled out a bag from the side, its contents already emptied. Schiller glanced at the Chinese writing on it and thought: S.H.I.E.L.D. is quite thoughtful; knowing that mutants aren't very mature, they even sent children's cold medicine.
"I haven't offended you, have I?" Stark sounded even weaker. "Wait, who did you say prescribed this medicine?"
"Stephen. But he knows absolutely nothing about Traditional Chinese Medicine. Do you really think he'd bother identifying the herbs for you and then specifically pick out the bitter ones to put in your medicine?"
"Is he incapable of doing it?"
"Don't slander me." A portal appeared in the center of the room, and Strange walked out, saying, "This wasn't something I went to catch on my own; it's a ready-made medicine packet sold in a Hong Kong pharmacy. It tastes the same no matter who drinks it."
"Then you drink it and let me see!" Stark retorted, "Is something this bitter even fit for human consumption?!"
Strange, expressionless, took the glass in front of him and gulped it down. After finishing, he merely frowned and said, "What do you think we're using to treat illnesses in Kamar-Taj? Antibiotics?"
Stark stared in disbelief, exclaiming, "You have no sense of taste?!"
“This isn’t considered bitter in traditional Chinese medicine,” Schiller said. “After all, this is a cold medicine, not a medicine to clear heat, otherwise they would have shown you the limits of bitterness.”
"Any more?" Stephen asked curiously. "The weather's been so unpredictable lately, I'm worried I might catch a cold too. A pack would be fine with me."
“I just happened to have a few extra packets,” Schiller said. “Go outside and go around to the back door; the jar hanging above the fireplace is it. Pour it out and it should make exactly two bowls. If there’s too much, just fry it a little longer.”
Steve went to get his medication. Stark sat beside him, looking like a criminal awaiting execution, utterly restless. Strange snorted, wanting to make a sarcastic remark, but then realized Stark was still ill, so he kept quiet and went to find Matt to review the case files.
“If you hadn’t resisted using antibiotics, none of this would have happened,” Schiller said, shaking his head. “While antibiotic overuse is bad, we can’t throw the baby out with the bathwater. If you can’t stand the taste of herbs, how are you going to drink the herbs made from Krakia flowers?”
“I’m starting to seriously consider using antibiotics,” Stark said with great distress. “How did the Chinese manage to select these awful-tasting medicinal plants from among so many plants? If they’ve been drinking this to treat their illnesses for so many years, their sense of taste might have deteriorated…”
“You’ve got it backwards. People can tolerate the taste of these plants because they’re useful. Your body has almost no tolerance for drugs; after this bowl of Chinese medicine, you’ll definitely be cured.”
Stark knew Schiller was telling the truth. On one hand, he was always in good health and rarely got sick, even seldom catching a cold. On the other hand, he almost never used any modern medicines, including herbal remedies. The last time he used antibiotics was when he returned from Afghanistan to replace his Arc Reactor, to treat inflammation.
This is why he has no drug resistance. At this point, just taking two anti-inflammatory pills would naturally cure him. But he still resists doing so.
He knew that many of his counterparts were addicted to alcohol and drugs. They had even had episodes of illness within the fighting world. That looked so pathetic and unsightly; he absolutely could not become such a monster.
Not long after, Steve returned, carrying two bowls of dark, murky liquid. Perhaps because it had been decocted to a very concentrated consistency, it looked even more terrifying than before. As soon as he brought it over, Stark began to swallow frantically.
Steve chose one of the bowls and said, "Want a toast?"
Stark shook his head vigorously, saying, "You drink first, Uncle Rogers."
Steve burst out laughing. He could tell that Stark was terrified; he was even calling him "uncle," though it didn't sound so sarcastic anymore. If he had known this stuff could cure him, he would have stayed up all night brewing medicine for Stark.
Steve picked up a bowl and drank it all in one gulp. Halfway through, his brow furrowed; when he finished it, his facial features twitched slightly.
This is a completely new experience for those who haven't tried it before. It's not just bitter; it's also a bit sour and astringent, and even slightly spicy. All these flavors combined feel like a shot of anesthesia to the brain. You only taste it during the first sip and the last swallow; in between, the intense stimulation might trigger the brain's protective mechanism, causing you to completely forget it.
Steve pursed his lips and said, "Actually, it's alright. It's similar to the coffee in the military rations I drank on the battlefield before, which was so runny that only a little bit of water was left after evaporation, and it was also expired and spoiled. It's a bit stronger than that."
"It tastes even stronger than expired, spoiled espresso?!" Stark nearly jumped up.
“Don’t talk like you’ve actually drunk it,” Steve shook his head and said. “It’s just a metaphor, not entirely accurate. After all, it’s been a while, and I’ve almost forgotten about it myself.”
Looking at Stark's grimacing face, Schiller said to Steve with a hint of helplessness, "Don't scare your nephew. He'll be your grandson in a minute."
Stark was completely oblivious. His soul had been largely drained by the black potion. After a long pause, he shook his head and said, "Give me two anti-inflammatory pills, I'm serious."
“I’m afraid that won’t work,” Schiller shrugged. “Antibiotics are important strategic resources in any country. If S.M.A.R. could provide them on a large scale, we wouldn’t need these cold medicines. Mutants are in dire need of antibiotics, and we probably can’t get our hands on anti-inflammatory drugs.”
“Nonsense, you just want me to drink this.” Stark leaned back in despair, looking like that crying cat emoji.
However, feeling weak and powerless, with his throat starting to ache again and his body temperature gradually rising, Stark gritted his teeth, stamped his foot, picked up the bowl, and poured the contents into his mouth.
He shut his mind and gulped down several large mouthfuls until the bowl was empty. He instinctively felt like vomiting, but Steve quickly rushed over and covered his mouth, while Schiller helped hold him down. After a while, Stark finally got up from the sofa.
"You two bastards! Get me some water right now!"
“No, you can’t drink water,” Schiller shook his head and said. “Drinking water now will dilute it and make it useless. If you don’t want to have to do it again later, then just bear with it.”
Just then, Strange walked in, handed over a paper package, and said, "I bought this outside the pharmacy, but I forgot to give it to you."
Schiller opened it and found it contained candied fruit. Hong Kong does indeed have many long-established pharmacies that sell candied fruit outside. Because many Chinese medicines and herbal teas shouldn't be taken with water afterward, rinsing the mouth isn't enough to mask the bitterness in the throat. Therefore, many people buy candy and candied fruit along with their medicine. Strange, as expected of the Sorcerer Supreme who lived in Kamar-Taj, did have some knowledge of Chinese medicine and was quite meticulous.
Stark picked one up and examined it, his expression clearly conveying distrust. Schiller, however, ignored him, picked up a dried apricot and popped it into his mouth, saying as he chewed, "Not bad. But a little too sweet; I prefer something a bit sour."
"Are you sure this isn't sour?" Stark asked, his soul seemingly piercing the air. He looked at Strange and said, "None of the souvenirs he brought back from Kamar-Taj were any good. Those barley things and the salty milk tea—I couldn't stomach any of them. Are you sure this is sweet?"
Steve couldn't stand him anymore, so he grabbed a jujube and shoved it into Stark's mouth. Stark was about to spit it out when he stopped, chewed it a few more times, and finally swallowed it.
“Not bad at all.” Stark nodded, looking at Strange and saying, “At least you have some conscience.”
Strange rolled his eyes and left. Schiller smiled; despite their constant bickering, they actually had a good relationship. It was just that the Kamar-Taj specialties Strange brought weren't to the Western palate. Schiller himself wasn't a big fan of barley products either; while the milk tea and cheese were good, the regional flavors were too strong, so he could only try them occasionally.
Stark was about to pick up the dried fruit and put it in his mouth again when Schiller quickly stopped him: "This stuff is too sweet. You can't eat too much, or you'll hurt your teeth."
Stark was truly on the verge of a breakdown: "Why should I live with you cyborgs? I want to go back to normal society, to get sick like them, instead of acting like a weakling in front of you!"
"Why would you think that?" Steve said, somewhat surprised. "I already told you I'm afraid of catching a cold and need to take some medicine to prevent it. Otherwise, why would I drink those terribly bitter herbs?"
You catch a cold too?
Steve struggled to suppress the urge to roll his eyes: "You could throw cyborgs into the sun and they'd still die. Any carbon-based life form will experience various adverse reactions due to changes in body temperature. If the temperature is low enough, any carbon-based life form will catch a cold."
Fearing Stark wouldn't believe him, Steve gave an example: "On that stormy night the other day, I went out and stood all night, and I still caught a cold. The only reason we laugh at you is that you have a daughter and you still don't know to close the windows tightly when you sleep."
“Don’t look at me,” Schiller said. “I have a thermoregulatory Outer God within me, so of course I won’t catch a cold. But if the gray fog isn’t there, I’ll get sick just like any other person.”
“Stephen is even more so,” Schiller explained. “You think he doesn’t get sick because magic has altered his body, but that’s not the case at all. It’s because he eats a light diet, keeps warm, practices martial arts to stay healthy, and pays great attention to health. But he must have been sick before, otherwise how would he know the taste of Chinese medicine?”
"It seems like no one in the entire Avengers has never caught a cold... Oh, wait, there is one. Natasha has never caught a cold, but not because she's a cyborg, but because she's resistant to the cold."
“But she has menstrual cramps,” Schiller said. “Last time she had a stomachache and didn’t want to go out on fieldwork, she lied and said she had a PTSD attack and stayed in my office for half a day.”
"Then why doesn't she just say so?" Stark was easily swayed by the change of topic.
"Then you should ask why, according to US labor law, menstrual cramps cannot be taken on paid leave."
"But PTSD isn't allowed either?" Steve asked, somewhat curiously. "I applied before, but Nick wouldn't approve it."
“If she says she has a relapse, I can rush over to treat her and get my travel expenses reimbursed, plus overtime pay. We can split the expenses 50/50, and consider it her salary.”
Steve and Stark both cursed. But they weren't cursing at themselves; they were cursing American labor laws.