Chapter 12: A Veterinarian?

The injury to the ox’s hoof was indeed severe; upon closer inspection of the festering area, nearly half the hoof had been shaved away.

“Muke, is this hoof completely ruined? Will the ox be useless now?”

Sixth Aunt, unable to restrain herself after seeing the alarming wound, asked anxiously.

Li Mu shook his head. “No, the hoof will grow back eventually. But this half is indeed beyond use now… Third Grandpa?”

“Hmm?”

Third Grandpa had been watching intently, and when Li Mu called out to him, he paused and looked over.

“Third Grandpa, do you have any medicine for treating this kind of injury?”

Third Grandpa blinked, then frowned as he examined the hoof carefully. “I don’t have anything specifically for oxen, but I do have medicine for people… But an ox isn’t the same as a person. This…”

“It’s fine, we can try it first. If it doesn’t work, we’ll figure something else out. Now that the pus has been drained, at least the ox can walk. If it still doesn’t heal, we can take it to the county for treatment later.”

Li Mu hesitated, but given the circumstances, he could only make do.

Third Grandpa nodded. “Alright, I’ll go get the medicine.”

He left, and Li Mu turned to Ninth Aunt. “Ninth Aunt, do you have any clean cloth at home? Ideally something thin and breathable.”

“What for?” Ninth Aunt asked, puzzled.

“To dress the wound. Otherwise the hoof can’t touch the ground.” Li Mu explained.

Ninth Aunt thought for a moment, then bit her lip. “I do, just wait a moment.”

She hurried home, and soon returned holding a piece of silk.

“Will this do?”

“Ninth Aunt, you’re using fine silk? Just this piece must have cost several coins, isn’t it too wasteful?”

Sixth Aunt’s eyes widened as she saw the silk handed over.

“It’s nothing. Right now, the ox is more important. It’s just a piece of silk.”

Ninth Aunt shook her head.

Li Mu took it and saw that it was indeed very breathable. Without proper gauze, this was the best option. Now, all he needed was Third Grandpa’s herbal medicine.

He didn’t have to wait long; Third Grandpa returned with the herbs. He crushed them on the spot, and Li Mu spread them over the wound. The big blue ox pulled its leg back, but didn’t struggle.

Li Mu used the silk to wrap the hoof, binding it up.

Soon, the injured hoof was bandaged. Though it was a bit crooked and unsightly, it at least covered the wound.

“Is that all?”

Sixth Aunt and the others had been watching closely; seeing Li Mu stand up, they hurried to ask.

“Not yet. If the ox steps down now, the hoof will soon be dirty, and the wound will be injured again.”

He didn’t mention “infection,” since no one here would understand. After speaking, Li Mu walked into the woodshed and soon returned holding a block of wood. He began whittling it with his knife.

The villagers watched in confusion—what was he doing?

In a short while, he had shaped the wood into a crescent, then walked to the big blue ox lying on the ground and measured it against the hoof.

Only half the hoof was injured; the other half remained intact.

After a few more adjustments, Li Mu asked Ninth Aunt for a fire starter, trimmed the healthy half of the hoof, and then singed it with fire. Quickly, he pressed the wooden block onto the hoof.

The melted keratin dried fast, gluing the board to the hoof firmly.

Li Mu gave it a gentle shake and felt it was secure enough. For extra precaution, he asked Ninth Aunt for some rags—not caring about material this time—and wrapped the wood and hoof tightly together. Only then did he relax.

Recalling videos of hoof repair from his previous life… The process seemed about right.

Li Mu finally stood up.

The others quickly asked, “Is it done?”

Li Mu hesitated. “I think so…”

He walked to the ox, reached out to touch its head… and realized the distressed sounds had stopped.

He paused in surprise.

Still, he tried, “It’s done. Stand up and try walking…”

The big blue ox, hearing Li Mu’s words, was momentarily bewildered, but soon struggled to its feet.

Everyone stepped back in astonishment.

The ox stood tall, placing weight on the injured leg and walked a few steps.

Sixth Aunt, observing carefully, suddenly understood. “So that’s why Muke whittled the wood—he meant to pad the hoof.”

“It’s really healed?”

“It can walk?”

“It’s not crying anymore?”

“This is truly miraculous…”

One by one, the villagers expressed their amazement.

Then, instinctively, they turned their gaze to Li Mu.

“Muke, who would have thought you had such skill?”

Li Mu smiled wryly. “I just muddled through. Our old ox at home had a hoof injury before, and with no money for the county doctor, I had to figure it out myself. Didn’t expect it would actually work…”

Some explanation was necessary.

The villagers accepted his words without doubt, all nodding in agreement.

What else could they do but believe?

Muke had grown up before their eyes, living in the village since childhood. Who would suspect Li Mu had somehow changed souls?

Besides, though he was young, he’d raised oxen for years. Having such skills seemed reasonable.

For a moment, the villagers discussed animatedly, looking at Li Mu with newfound amazement, as though meeting him for the first time.

After all, Li Mu was young; though cared for, it was out of pity for his deceased parents.

But now…

“Haha, now our village has its own ox doctor. When we have trouble with livestock, we won’t worry anymore.”

A villager laughed heartily.

Li Mu hurried to protest. “Don’t say that, Uncle. I just got lucky this time—just fixing a hoof. If it’s anything else, I can’t handle it. And even now, the ox is only stable for the moment. Whether the injury heals is still uncertain.”

“Oxen are precious, and hooves are the most prone to injury. Regardless, your way of calming the animal is impressive, too. The ox was raging just now, but you had it lying down, then standing up—all at your command. That’s no ordinary skill.”

The villager laughed again.

Li Mu was stunned for a moment, then shook his head with a wry smile.

“Maybe it’s just because I’ve spent so much time with oxen, I’ve learned a bit about their temperaments…”

That was all Li Mu could say.

With Ninth Aunt’s ox taken care of, she breathed a sigh of relief, as did Li Gou.

Li Gou prepared to lead the ox home.

But at that moment, Sixth Aunt spoke up.

“Gou, the ox is just injured and we don’t know how it’ll fare yet. Don’t take it home for now. Let Muke look after it for a few more days.”

Li Gou was taken aback, then looked helplessly to Ninth Aunt.

Ninth Aunt was also surprised, but before she could speak, Sixth Aunt tugged her sleeve.

Li Mu, being close, heard Sixth Aunt whisper:

“Sister-in-law, your ox’s injury is serious. Gou’s family uses your ox to pull carts every day, always hauling goods to town. I reckon that’s why the hoof got so badly hurt.”

“It’s your ox, but he doesn’t care for it at all when using it. If you let him keep it, it’ll surely be used for hauling again. The hoof is only just getting better; if it’s hurt again, won’t it be ruined for good?”

“Now’s the perfect time. Muke is living with you, and he’s tended oxen for years, always calling them ‘Uncle Ox’—shows he cares for the animals. Now that Third Uncle and Third Aunt have gone, he’s just a child with no livelihood. You’re kind to let him stay, but it’s not right for him to live there for nothing. Besides, the boy probably feels uneasy about it.”

“So why not reclaim the ox, let Muke look after it? Your ox can rest, Muke will feel more at home, and it gives him something to do so he doesn’t dwell on his grief… Isn’t that sensible?”

Sixth Aunt’s words made Li Mu pause, warmth flooding his heart.

Ninth Aunt, after hearing her, was struck, and upon reflection, realized it made perfect sense.