导语 

In ancient mythology, there was a great ancestor who walked beneath clouds and over mountains, born with a transparent body through which every organ could be seen clearly. He was the Flame Emperor, Shennong. This "crystal stomach" allowed him to observe how the properties of herbs moved through the human body. Because of this divine gift, he took upon himself a mission greater than heaven itself: to taste every herb and save humankind from suffering. Today's story is about the life-and-death bond he formed with a humble wild plant during that journey.

In the distant ancient age, pestilence and disease spread across the land. People suffered endlessly, and Shennong could not bear their pain. He vowed to search the mountains and rivers for healing herbs that could save lives.

One year, Shennong and his followers arrived at the southern foothills of the Dabie Mountains. The region was covered in marshes and heavy dampness. Within days, many of his followers developed stomach pain, violent diarrhea, and icy cold limbs. Shennong recognized it as an invasion of cold and damp pathogens. If he could not find a cure quickly, lives would be lost.

He intensified his search for medicinal plants, but in the process accidentally consumed a poisonous herb. Instantly, his abdomen felt like a frozen cavern, and unbearable pain surged through his body. Through his crystal stomach, he watched the cold poison twist through his organs like black serpents. Collapsing into the grass, he thought to himself, "Am I to die here today?"

At that moment, his hand instinctively grasped several wild plants growing beside him. A powerful warm fragrance rushed into his nose, and the pain eased slightly. He quickly tore off the leaves and swallowed them. Through his crystal stomach, he saw the green juice transform into streams of golden warmth, driving away the cold poison wherever it flowed. Struggling back to his feet, he examined the plant carefully. Its leaves were thick, the undersides covered in pale silvery fuzz, and the entire plant carried a comforting aroma. Remembering the sigh of grief he had just uttered, he murmured, "Ai... Mugwort. That shall be your name."

Soon after, torrential rain forced Shennong and his followers to shelter inside a mountain cave. There they found an old woodcutter who had been bitten by a venomous snake. His body had turned purple, and deadly cold dampness had seeped deep into him.

Shennong immediately crushed fresh mugwort leaves and applied them to the swollen wound. Yet after waiting a long while, the old man remained cold and unconscious.

Shennong fell into deep thought. Looking at his crystal stomach, he saw the mugwort he had swallowed still radiating golden warmth within his body, driving out lingering poison deep inside his organs. The effect had been immediate. But why had the externally applied leaves failed?

He rubbed his cold hands together instinctively, and suddenly realization struck him. The human body itself carried warmth. When he swallowed the mugwort, it entered a warm internal environment. Perhaps the heat inside the body awakened the herb's true power, allowing it to penetrate deeply into the source of illness. But on the old man's cold skin, the herb's power remained dormant.

"What if... the herb itself is heated?" he whispered.

At once, Shennong took a burning branch from the fire and held several mugwort leaves near the flames. As the leaves warmed, they softened and released an even richer fragrance. Rolling the heated leaves gently between his palms, he found that they gathered into a soft wool-like mass. Thus, the very first moxa wool was born.

He placed the warm mugwort wool above key points on the old man's body and slowly heated it with fire. Thin streams of fragrant smoke rose into the cave, filling the air with warmth and dryness.

Before long, the old man's purple complexion gradually turned rosy. Warmth returned to his limbs, the swelling subsided, and he slowly opened his eyes. In a weak voice he murmured, "I... I'm alive again?"

Shennong was overjoyed. Though he could not see inside the old man's body as he could his own, he could clearly sense that the warm, pure energy carried within the mugwort smoke was penetrating layer by layer through skin, meridians, and organs. The transformation before him was undeniable proof.

At that moment, Shennong finally understood the deeper principle. Mugwort possessed a pure warming nature, but when used raw, its effects remained shallow. Only through the power of fire could its deepest warmth be awakened, allowing that vital energy to penetrate into the body, dispel cold and dampness, and unleash its true healing force.

News spread quickly, and people came from everywhere seeking treatment. Shennong freely taught them how to use mugwort to dispel cold, remove dampness, and restore circulation. He also passed down the "fire-and-mugwort method" through generations. From then on, this humble plant that restored yang energy and opened the body's pathways became honored as "the foremost of all healing herbs."

A single stalk of mugwort began its journey with Shennong's sigh thousands of years ago. Through all that time, its fire has never gone out, nor has its warmth faded. Shennong's crystal stomach was both myth and metaphor: the heart of a healer should remain transparent, devoted only to understanding suffering and bringing light to the world. Shennong tasted hundreds of herbs, yet among them all, mugwort came first. Those words remain a living flame passed down from our ancestors. May that pure warmth continue to burn from hand to hand, generation after generation.