I remember folks always talkin’ ’bout Zi Wan, you know, Aster root. Supposed to be good for coughs, the kind that just hang around, won’t let go. Sounded like a lot of talk to me, mostly. I’m one of those people, gotta get my hands dirty, try stuff out, before I believe much of anything you hear on the grapevine.
Then, a few winters back, I got this cough. Man, it was a beast. Just stuck with me, week after week. I went to the doctor, got the usual syrups, the lozenges. Temporary fix, if that. Most of the time, felt like I was just coating my tongue in sugar. I was getting seriously fed up. You know that feeling, when you’re just tired of your own hacking and spluttering.
Around that time, I was clearing out some old junk from my grandad’s place. He had a shed full of odds and ends, old books, tools, you name it. And I stumbled upon this little, beat-up notebook. Full of his handwriting. And there it was, a little note: “Purple aster for stubborn chest.” I’d almost forgotten he used to mess around with herbs and traditional stuff. He never really made a big deal of it.
So, I thought, what have I got to lose? Couldn’t be any worse than the stuff I was already trying, right? First job was finding the actual Zi Wan. It wasn’t like it was on the shelf at the supermarket. I remembered this old herbal shop downtown, one of those places that looks like it’s been there since the dawn of time, all dusty and smelling of a thousand different things. I drove over there one afternoon. The fella behind the counter, ancient looking chap, he just gave me a slow nod when I asked for Zi Wan. He shuffled to the back and came out with a paper bag. Inside? Looked like a bunch of dried, purplish-brown twigs.
I took it home. Grandad’s notebook wasn’t exactly a detailed instruction manual. Just said something like “boil and drink.” Fair enough. So, that’s what I did. I grabbed a handful of the roots, washed them under the tap – they were pretty earthy. Tossed them into a small pot with some water. I brought it to a boil, then turned the heat down and let it simmer. Must have been a good 20, maybe 30 minutes. The kitchen started to smell kinda… herby? Woody? Not bad, just different.
After a while, I strained the liquid. It was this dark, brownish tea. Looked pretty potent, I’ll tell ya. I let it cool down a bit so I wouldn’t scald myself. Then, the moment of truth. I took a sip. Whoa. Bitter. Really bitter. No sweet cherry flavor here, folks. But I’d come this far, so I downed a small cup.
I kept this up for a few days. A small cup in the morning, another in the evening. Choking down that bitter brew. And you know what? Slowly, and I mean slowly, that darn cough started to back off. The gunk in my chest, the really annoying part, it started to feel… looser. It wasn’t like some magic potion, didn’t vanish overnight. But after maybe a week of this routine, I was definitely coughing less. That constant tickle? It wasn’t so constant anymore.
Now, was it the Zi Wan for sure? Or was my body just finally kicking whatever bug I had? Hard to say, I’m no scientist. But I had stopped taking the other cough medicines when I started the Aster tea, just to see. And the change was real enough for me to notice. That persistent, rattling cough finally packed its bags.
So, that was my little dance with this Aster stuff. It ain’t some cure-all, don’t get me wrong. And that taste, phew, it’s somethin’ else. You gotta be ready for it. But for me, back then, it felt like it did something when other things hadn’t. Made me wonder, you know? ‘Bout all that old knowledge we just dismiss sometimes. Maybe those old-timers knew a thing or two after all.
