The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 10 - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Results Reported

The air was rich with the smell of tea and sweet snacks. The host of this tea party had skin as smooth as a babe’s, and the room was suffused with pleasant chatter.

By this description, perhaps you’re picturing a tea party full of vibrant young women—but you would be wrong.

“Hullo, young lady! Welcome home!”

The host of this gathering was an older man—a eunuch at that. Namely, it was the quack doctor. He was chatting away with Tianyu, popping dried jujubes into his mouth in between bits of chitchat. Lihaku stood by the wall, keeping watch, but it must have been pretty quiet, because he had some walnuts and was discreetly cracking the shells when he had a chance.

Are those our medicinal walnuts? Maomao thought, but she decided to start by greeting the physician.

“Thank you. I’ve just returned. I see it’s starting to look like a real medical office around here.”

The office, really a converted building in Gyokuen’s annex, had more shelves and cots than it had before, and even partitioning screens.

Maomao had been away from the medical office for a good ten days visiting the village, and she was glad to discover that the others appeared to have been doing real work while she was gone.

“We got more furniture for your room too, young lady. Don’t worry, it’s right where you left it.”

“All right, thank you.”

Ten days earlier, her quarters had contained nothing but a cot. She hoped they had at least found her a desk and a bookshelf.

“Don’t worry, we didn’t touch any of your belongings,” the quack said. “I just straightened up a little. Your room did look so sad and empty. I think it should be much nicer to be in now!”

He sounded unusually motivated. The message Maomao got was that he’d had enough time on his hands to redecorate.

“The baby-faced wonder here really got into making the place feel like home,” said Tianyu, no more reverent than usual. Maomao was getting a very bad feeling about this.

“I take this to mean there were no serious issues?” she asked as she set down her baggage and started going through the drawers of the new medicine cabinet. It gladdened her heart to smell medicine that actually smelled like medicine for the first time in so long. She’d also successfully obtained the seahorse from Basen; she would have to process it later.

“Hmm, no, not to speak of,” the quack said. “We just kept conducting the Moon Prince’s exams. We saw a patient every once in a while...”

“Mostly just common colds. The temperature swings on the ship left some people weak.” Tianyu, frustrated by the quack’s relaxed, roundabout way of speaking, jumped in. Maomao was just as happy to get the story as directly as possible, so her gaze flitted between Tianyu and the medicine cabinet as she continued to check their inventory. “We had one person who got stung by a scorpion, but he was fine. A guy with him treated him right after the sting, so it sounds like he wasn’t going to die, even if he acted like he was.”

Tianyu related this like a secondhand story, probably because this field wasn’t his specialty. Certainly the quack hadn’t treated the man—so who had? Was it someone who knew something about scorpion venom?

“Do we have someone with us who knows about scorpion venom?” Maomao took some swertia from a drawer, tore off a piece, and licked it. She immediately regretted it: it was cringe-inducingly bitter, although the flavor certainly did say medicine.

“They deal with scorpion venom all the time around here. One of the ladies at the dining hall told us how to treat it. And, I might add, wondered aloud if we were really doctors.”

“Did you know they fry scorpions and eat them here?” the quack said. “What a frightening idea!” His brow creased.

“We’ve got to make sure we try that!” Maomao said, her morale jumping. She put the dried herbs back in the drawer. She was eager to find out if the grass she’d collected on the trip had any medicinal properties.

“What? No, no!” the quack said, shivering.

Judging by the two physicians, Maomao decided, everything looked all right. She wanted to spend a bit more quality time with the medicine, but a nagging doubt led her to go to her room. “I’m going to go put my stuff down,” she said.

Her room was right at the top of the stairs, and as soon as she entered, she understood why Tianyu had been snickering.

“What in the name of...”

Her formerly plain, unadorned chamber now boasted a cherry-pink canopy over the bed. It was far too cute to be bug netting, plus it was embroidered here and there. Her desk was covered with a tablecloth (also embroidered), and her chair had a western-style, openwork lace cushion. Curtains in much the same style hung at the window, and a flower-pattern tapestry decorated the wall.

She smelled incense too, a floral fragrance much too girlish for her. To top it all off, dried flowers had been scattered here and there around the room.

For a second she stared in absolute silence, then she began to shake. She would have liked to tear down the decor right then and there, but the quack had trailed up behind her and was looking at her expectantly.

“Ah! You’re appreciating the needlework, aren’t you? The merchant promised me it would be perfect for a young lady,” he said. And maybe it would. But this was Maomao they were talking about. Who, agewise, by the way, was practically an old maid. “What do you think, miss? Do you like it?” The quack came over to her, his eyes glistening with hope.

Maomao made a slight choking sound. She frowned mightily, and then her shoulders slumped. Behind them, Lihaku looked on sympathetically, while Tianyu grinned. Maomao resolved to put swertia in his tea that evening.

After dinner, Maomao returned to her room, feeling a little better since she’d been able to get Tianyu back good and proper. The way his face puckered when he drank the swertia tea—well, you didn’t see that every day.

What’s he so upset about? It’s medicinal!

In the pleasure district, they had mixed swertia into the eyebrow black; it was reputed to prevent hair thinning. It was also effective against indigestion, diarrhea, and stomach pains, but it was so bitter that it was rarely used at the court medical office.

Why did they have it with them, then? It had less to do with the gastric side of things and more to do with the hair-loss prevention. People liked that part of it.

We do get people who come in about hair matters once in a while.

Of course, Maomao didn’t give out personal information, unlike the quack, but she wasn’t above taking the opportunity to ask a patient for a favor in exchange.

Maomao could only sigh at the overwhelmingly girlish room. If she just put everything back the way it had been, the quack would be sad. She would have to change things a little bit at a time so he didn’t notice.

Maybe she would start tomorrow, though. It sounded like a lot of work right now. She was just changing into her sleepwear when she heard a knock at the door.

“Come in?” she said.

“And a very good evening to you!”

Chue appeared, now dressed in an ordinary lady-in-waiting’s outfit rather than the trousers she’d worn on their trip. “Our dear quack has done his exam, and now the ladies-in-waiting would like theirs!” In other words, Jinshi was summoning Maomao. Chue offered her pretext without batting an eye.

It’s been ten days...

Maomao wondered how Jinshi’s injury was doing. It should have been fine without her, as long as he wasn’t scratching.

“He’s very interested in how things went at the farming village,” Chue said.

“I would have assumed you’d already filled him in,” said Maomao. Between Chue and Basen, surely there wasn’t much she could add.

“Ah, but the Moon Prince likes to get all kinds of perspectives. Different standpoints bring different viewpoints!”

“I suppose you’re not wrong...”

It was a good philosophy, but in that case, Maomao thought he would be better off summoning Lahan’s Brother. Then again, unlike the rest of them, Maomao suspected Jinshi wouldn’t be able to tolerate him.

They’d probably have a whole conversation and never get anything said.

Anyway, if this was a direct order, then Maomao had no choice but to go. Looked like she was going to have to change her clothes again.

Chue bounced ahead of Maomao with a lamp, the light bobbing along with her, illuminating the space around them at weird angles.

“Creepy place, huh! Nothing like a big, old mansion in the middle of the night!”

“Too true...” Maomao thought back to her days in the rear palace, to the spooky stories and the consort who’d danced upon the outer wall. She’d found herself going out at night quite a bit, as a matter of fact.

“You know, they say there’s an apparition in this house,” Chue said, holding the lantern in front of her face.

“An apparition? Oh,” was all Maomao said.

Chue poked out her lower lip. “Aww, aren’t you even a little scared, Miss Maomao?”

“I’ve heard a lot of those kinds of stories.” No point being scared now. Chue, though, still looked like Maomao had spoiled her fun. So Maomao said, “Just for my reference, what kind of apparitions are they?”

“Ooh! Would you like to know? Would you like to know, Miss Maomao?” Chue’s eyes began to shine. “It shows up right here, it’s said!”

“What shows up?”

“A flying head!”

“Huh?”

That made no sense. A head was, you know, a head. They didn’t fly.

“There’s a feitouman around here!”

A feitouman—okay, yes, Maomao had heard of those. They were a kind of supernatural monster said to look like a head that flew around of its own accord.

“Aw, Miss Maomao. You don’t look like you believe me.”

“That’s because I don’t think there’s any feitouman around here. You were kind of hoping though, weren’t you, Miss Chue?”

They soon arrived safely at Jinshi’s chambers with no monsters in sight.

“Boo. Boring,” Chue said.

“I know, I know. Let’s do what we came here for.”

They bowed to the door guard, whose name Maomao didn’t know, and entered the room. By this point, the sumptuousness of the accommodations could be taken as given. Suiren and Gaoshun were inside.

“Good evening,” Maomao said with another bow. She looked around the room. Kind of lonely in here, she thought. Not many people around. She assumed Jinshi was within, but she didn’t see Taomei or Basen. Baryou might have been there or he might not. Chue was nudging a nearby curtain, so maybe he was over there.

“Taomei is busy giving Basen a talking to,” Suiren said, answering Maomao’s question as she prepared tea.

I didn’t even ask! The old lady-in-waiting was just that sharp. She knew exactly what Maomao was thinking. I don’t think he noticeably screwed up at the village, though.

If anything, she thought Basen seemed more mature than he had been before. He seemed to have developed a bit of a nervous streak, but she assumed he had a lot on his plate.

“Cute or not, he just can’t have a duck in his room,” Suiren added.

The duck? That’s what this is about?

At least she knew what was up now. It looked like Basen hadn’t succeeded in leaving the bird with Lahan’s Brother, who had stayed behind in the farming village to teach them some actual farming.

“Now, Xiaomao, would you be so kind as to take this to the Moon Prince?” asked Suiren, handing her the tray of tea with a bright smile.

“If it’s all right that I do so,” she said. Gaoshun nodded, indicating no problem. Jinshi’s put-upon attendant clutched a single white feather in his hand. Gaoshun always did like adorable things. The duck must have had a restorative effect on him.

All of the people in the room at that moment knew, basically, what was going on with Jinshi—except for the lackadaisical Chue. She was on her best behavior at the moment, presumably because Suiren was there.

“Very well, then.” Maomao turned toward the inner chamber. When she opened the door, the air carried a bracing smell of incense that tickled her nostrils. Jinshi often preferred sandalwood, but today he was using aloeswood.

I’m sure he’s got the best stuff money can buy. Aloeswood had medicinal properties and Maomao would have loved to get her hands on some, but the incense Jinshi was using was probably dizzyingly expensive. She couldn’t just beg him to share a bit of it.

“Is that you, Maomao?” Jinshi was bent over his desk, writing something. He was surrounded by papers.

“Yes, sir.” Maomao set the tray on the table and poured the tea. Suiren had used boiling water, so by the time Maomao got settled it was perfectly steeped. She poured two cups equally full and took one for herself. “If I may.”

She took a sip. She didn’t actually think Suiren would have prepared poisoned tea, but protocol was protocol. She discovered a richly fermented black tea that not only wet the throat but promoted blood flow.

“Here you are.”

“Thanks.” Jinshi put down his brush and gave a great stretch.

“How has your health been, sir?”

“Cutting right to the chase, are we? Ah, well, that’s all right. You can tell me about the trip while you do your exam.”

Jinshi shrugged out of the top of his robe. Maomao felt like he used to be a little slower to do that, but having been subjected to so many exams by now, he no longer hesitated. She couldn’t afford to stand on ceremony either, so she summarily removed his bandage.

“I see you’ve gotten good at changing the dressings,” she said.

“Well, do something every day...”

A perfect crimson flower bloomed on Jinshi’s flank. New skin was forming over the burn, turning it a bright red, like a rose or a peony. Maomao might even have admired the beauty of it, if she hadn’t known that it was politically motivated.

I’d say it’s just about better. The scar would likely never heal completely—it would fade from red to pink, but probably not much more than that. Man. I wish I could take some skin from his butt and stick it on this thing. She spared a glance at Jinshi’s haunches.

“You know, I can’t help thinking you seem to look as much at my back as my front during our exams lately,” Jinshi said.

“It’s your imagination, sir.”

Maomao put fresh salve on Jinshi’s side, less to treat the burn than to keep the skin from drying out. Eventually she planned to start adding some herbs that would remove blemishes.

“There, all done.”

She applied a fresh bandage, and that was the extent of Jinshi’s treatment. It was over so quickly that the tea was still steaming. Maomao helped herself to a sip.

“It does go so much quicker when you do it,” Jinshi said. He pulled his robe back on and drank down the tea on the table. When Maomao moved to pour him a second cup, he gestured for her not to bother. Instead he took a book from the desk and sat down on his bed.

“You seem very busy,” she observed.

“Mostly because I’m still figuring out what I’m doing here. A new land means much to learn.” So it was study rather than work that kept him occupied. “Give me your report,” he said. Apparently he meant to listen while he read his book. A necessary evil for the time-starved.

“How much detail do you want, sir?”

“I want every opinion and observation you can give me. Don’t skimp on the details just because I’ve heard from Basen and Chue already.”

“Yes, sir. In that case, I—”

Jinshi interrupted her, patting the bed beside him.

Maomao didn’t say anything.

“It would be tiring for you to stand there the whole time we’re talking. Have a seat.”

“Certainly. I’ll go get a chair...”

She was about to do just that, but Jinshi grabbed her wrist. He was giving her his bring-the-country-to-its-knees smile. “Have a seat.” Just when she’d thought he was behaving himself today.

Maomao was left with little choice but to sit down beside Jinshi. There, she began to relate the story of their visit to the village. Telling someone else about it gave her a chance to organize things in her own mind. She described how the bandits had attacked them on the road. She talked about the farmers who showed no particular desire to work. Explained the Windreader tribe and the serfs.

She even mentioned the Yi clan.

Jinshi seemed to be mentally comparing what she said with what he had heard from the other two. Often he nodded; sometimes he would give a tilt of his head, as if something seemed off to him.

“I think that’s all I can tell you, sir. Do you have any questions?”

“Mm. I think the thing that bothers me most would be the Windreader tribe.”

“I know what you mean. A tribe of ritual celebrants who wander the plains, controlling birds and plowing the earth?”

“Controlling birds...” Jinshi seemed fixated on the same thing that had gotten Maomao’s attention.

“Are we very sure the birds in question aren’t ducks, sir?” Maomao asked.

“Yes. I feel a bit bad, doing that to Basen...”

Basen was currently in his mother Taomei’s bad books on account of that duck. As it was Jinshi who had originally ordered him to raise the animals, he felt a certain measure of guilt. Moreover, it seemed he’d instructed Taomei to nudge her son now and again to get him to keep his distance during Jinshi’s examinations. Everyone was concerned that if Basen, not the most subtle of men, were to find out about the brand, he might not be able to keep the secret.

“What kind of bird do you think they used?” asked Jinshi. Basen had been convinced it must be ducks, but Maomao had another idea.

“Perhaps pigeons,” she said.

Maomao had been in the western capital before, a year ago. On that trip, former consort Lishu had been attacked, and the means of coordinating that attack had been messenger pigeons.

That’s how the White Lady did it.

She couldn’t help wondering if there was some connection.

“Yes, pigeons. I had the same thought.” Jinshi got up from the bed and disappeared behind a partitioning screen, from which he emerged carrying a birdcage with a bird sleeping inside.

“You have a pigeon right here,” Maomao observed.

“So I do. I’ve started using them for simple communications.”

Jinshi looked older than his twenty-one years, but he was still young enough to be adaptable in his thinking; he took in new things quickly.

“It’s been twenty days or so since we got here, and I’ve done nothing but attend banquets and make official greetings. But that’s provided opportunities to gather intelligence.”

Jinshi began to fill Maomao in on what he’d been up to while she was away. The bird was soundly asleep, ignoring the millet in its food bowl.

Jinshi told her about all his dinners with the western capital’s upper crust, how he had been shown every important site in the area, and even how some VIP had occasionally approached him on behalf of their daughter or a relative.

“We just missed Sir Gyoku-ou’s daughter—she was leaving for the capital when our party arrived,” he said.

“Ahh, yes.”

“He asked if I wanted her for my wife, but he pretended to be joking.”

“Of course, sir.”

Maomao studiously kept any emotion out of her voice. Jinshi responded by tugging on her cheeks.

“I meab, moth brazen, thir.”

“I agree.” He let go, and Maomao rubbed her cheeks.

“What do you mean to do?” she asked.

“I started by sending a letter to Empress Gyokuyou immediately. I have her response here.”

“Already, sir? I thought the round trip took at least a month.”

Jinshi took out a letter and showed it to her. It was in a pretty sad state for a missive from the Empress.

“You used a pigeon,” Maomao said.

“Only one way.”

It seemed Jinshi was willing to let her read the letter, so Maomao took a peek. “She says to let her handle things with her niece.”

That was the gist of it, anyway. If Gyoku-ou was indeed Empress Gyokuyou’s half-brother, then his daughter would be her niece.

What is she planning to do, I wonder...

The Empress didn’t exactly seem to be on the best of terms with her half-brother. She had her own designs, Maomao was sure. Meanwhile, Maomao and the others had to confront the problem that was in front of them.

“If the Windreaders were using pigeons, it would lend credence to that man Nianzhen’s story,” Jinshi said.

“You think the Windreaders were able to share information on the plains?”

“They would have to be. Insect plagues are like fires—the problem is getting to them the moment they start.”

Jinshi tossed Maomao the book he’d been reading—and she discovered it wasn’t text, but contained columns of numbers. Records of some sort.

“These are the plagues that have occurred over the last several decades. Lahan would have the numbers figured out in an instant, but it’s been harder for me.”

The records gave locations, followed by numbers relating to the swarms. It was enough to give anyone who wasn’t a specialist a headache.

“You think there’s some kind of pattern, sir? Something insidious?”

“I couldn’t be sure from the harvest records alone, but thanks to your inspection, I know now. I-sei Province is falsely reporting inflated harvest numbers.”

“Inflated? I don’t understand. Why would they do that?”

Normally, higher numbers would only mean higher taxes. If they’d been underreporting their harvests—that, she would have understood.

“I don’t know yet. But if natural disasters are occurring in places not mentioned in the records, then all these pages are useless.” Jinshi shook his head, hopeless. “The only way to know for sure is to go see it for yourself. Not just the village you visited; others too.”

It wasn’t easy for the Imperial younger brother, however. Though he was still within his own borders, in this far land he was less powerful than at home, and there were fewer people at his disposal.

“Anything else jump out at you?” he asked.

“Maybe one thing...”

“Yes? What?”

“There aren’t very many medicinal herbs around here, sir.” She looked straight at Jinshi, even allowing some of her annoyance to show on her face. “I’d like an encyclopedia of local plants. There will be a limit to how many medicines I can make using only what we’ve brought from home.”

The easiest thing would be for Maomao to go to a bookstore herself, but it didn’t look like she would have the chance. Surely she wouldn’t get in trouble for asking him to take care of a little errand.

“Very well. Any other questions?”

“May I ask something of a personal nature?”

“Go ahead.”

“Who were the Yi clan?”

This was pure curiosity on Maomao’s part. She knew the Yi had been annihilated seventeen years before on the orders of the empress regnant, but she didn’t know what they had done.

“The Yi clan... Hmm,” Jinshi muttered.

“What is it, sir? Is it something you can’t talk about?”

“It’s not so much that. I’m just not sure myself. I know that they served the throne alongside the Shi clan since the days of the Mother Royal. And I’ve heard that they followed a system of matrilineal descent.”

The “Mother Royal,” Wang Mu, was the woman who had founded Li, according to legend. She was sometimes said to be the mother of the first emperor.

“Matrilineal, sir?”

Maomao was surprised. Patriarchalism tended to be the order of the day in Li, and she would have expected that tendency to be even stronger in I-sei Province, which was home to so many nomadic tribes.

“Yes, that’s right. An informant revealed the Yi’s treachery, and so they were destroyed. One theory has it that they had unduly influenced the Imperial family...but Gaoshun tells me even he doesn’t know for sure.”

“Even Master Gaoshun doesn’t know?”

“No. I tried looking into records from that era, but they’re so compressed and superficial that there was no point.”

That seemed strange. Sloppy, even. Jinshi’s refusal to be definite might have suggested how much rumor and hearsay there was in what he was telling her.

“I see, sir.” She cleaned up the salve and gathered the used bandages.

“You’re going already?” Jinshi clenched his fists and looked at her like a sad puppy.

“Yes, sir. I’ve come almost straight from my trip, myself, and I’m very tired. I wish you would let me get some sleep.”

“In that case...” Jinshi started, but then he shook his head.

“What is it, sir?”

Maomao had a very good guess what it was, but she pretended not to know.

“No, better not. After a major violation of the rules, even a small transgression is looked upon harshly.”

A violation of the rules, huh? Maomao looked at Jinshi’s side. Maybe I’m not being very fair.

Jinshi was a man who could have had anything and everything he desired. And yet, he was such a straight shooter that it caused him to beat around the bush like this. He didn’t want to take the shortest route to what he wanted, but the one that would be best for the other person.

Too bad that doesn’t exist here.

So it was that Maomao pretended not to know, even though she did. Not fair of her at all.

“In that case, I’ll be going, sir.”

She tried to make herself smile a little, to take the edge off her unfairness.

Jinshi’s arm was still outstretched, but he didn’t get off the bed.

Chue walked Maomao back to her room. She didn’t tell any ghost stories this time; instead, she complained about the stern talking-to that Suiren had given her while Maomao was busy with Jinshi.

“Phew! Who cleans in the middle of the night? No one, that’s who! What do you think, Miss Maomao?”

Chue, Maomao found out, had been forced to polish the floor.

Sorry, Miss Chue...

It had probably been a convenient way of preventing Chue from bursting into Jinshi’s room. Suiren was, as ever, Jinshi’s ally.

Chue was respectful enough not to ask any questions about what had gone on while Maomao and Jinshi had been alone together, so apparently she knew something about where the line was for a lady-in-waiting. Even if the way she looked and acted suggested exactly the opposite.

“Once I drop you off, Miss Maomao, I’ll be going back to my room. Hanky-panky with my husband can wait for another day.”

“Miss Chue, we don’t share the intimate details of our conjugal lives with other people.”

“But this stuff isn’t anything new to you, is it?”

“It’s not; that’s true.”

Maomao had had to stand guard during the Emperor and Empress’s “hanky-panky,” not to mention everything the ladies of the pleasure district got up to with their customers. Frankly, she was more accustomed to human hanky-panky than insect copulation.

“Then why worry about—” Chue and Maomao were just turning the corner of the hallway when what looked like a white mask darted in front of them.

“Wha?!”

Maomao’s brain didn’t process it at first. It looked like a floating, grinning face.

“Miss Maomao?” asked Chue, who had been turned toward her. She quickly realized something was amiss and spun around, bringing the lamp to bear. Then she set off running after the white mask, with Maomao close behind.

When Maomao caught up with Chue, she was dangling from the branches of the big tree in the central courtyard. “I’m real sorry! I lost track of it!” she drawled. Then she hopped down, her hair full of leaves. “Wow! Who knew they really had ghosts here?” She looked downright intrigued. “So that’s a feitouman.”

Maomao had certainly never expected to witness one herself, but based on all the descriptions, that was certainly what they seemed to have on their hands. A genuine flying head.