The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 12 - Chapter 26

Chapter 26: Man and Wife

When Baryou was sixteen, he was summoned by his mother Taomei. “What I’m about to say to you, you must commit to memory,” she said.

His mother ran the Ma clan. The clan’s purpose was to protect the Imperial family—which was another way of saying that its men put their lives on the line, and sometimes they died. Thus, a woman was always left behind, so that whatever else happened, the brains of the clan might remain.

Normally, the wife of the family chieftain would fulfill that role. Due to exceptional circumstances, however, Baryou’s father Gaoshun would not become head of the family. Yet nonetheless, because there was no one else who was qualified, the role fell to Baryou’s mother.

Taomei proceeded to tell Baryou about another of the named clans, the Mi, or “Snake,” clan. Outwardly, it was the Ma who protected the Imperial family. But in secret matters, it was the Mi who looked after Imperial interests.

“Although we refer to them as a clan, the Mi are not constituted by simple blood ties, like we are.”

The Mi were experts at gathering intelligence. For exactly that reason, however, they never identified themselves publicly.

“And although we refer to them as a single clan, the Mi are many, each having what you can think of as a hereditary system.”

“Hereditary, mother? Meaning what?”

“The Mi... How do I explain this? I know. Say there were ten of them. Each of those ten would pick one person to be their successor. Often they choose family members, but if there’s no one quite right for the job, they sometimes turn to outside sources. Those successors constitute the next generation of the clan. Moreover, those not chosen to succeed are no longer considered part of the clan, and are very rarely taught its secrets. In fact, they may well not even know that their relatives are part of the Mi clan.”

“Mother, may I ask a question?”

“Yes, what?”

“What you are telling me is that the Mi clan could just as easily insinuate itself into one of the other named clans, is it not?”

Taomei smirked: it was clear that Baryou had hit the nail on the head. “Precisely. This is the most important thing of all. The Mi clan is the twin of the Ma, and as such, only I and a small handful of others know about it.”

Baryou began to feel an unpleasant gurgling in his stomach. A clan specialized in spying? Yes, that would certainly be appropriate for finding out what subjects and advisors were thinking.

“Another question, if I may?”

“Yes?”

“This woman who is to be my wife—would she, perchance, be a member of the Mi clan?”

The offer had come via his older sister Maamei a few days before. It couldn’t be coincidence that his mother had chosen this moment to speak to him of this matter.

“That, I don’t know. But understand this: this is a match you can’t refuse.”

Taomei spoke firmly, and her retiring son was not about to talk back.

The woman arrived several days later, and Baryou found he couldn’t make heads or tails of her.

“Hullo! Maachue’s the name! But you can just call me Miss Chue!”

She was certainly enthusiastic, Baryou observed. Almost the polar opposite of him.

“Miss Chue, you’re standing extremely close...but, well, you seem to be that sort of person, so I suppose we’d best get used to it. Anyway, Miss Chue, this is my little brother Baryou. He has a tendency to faint periodically, but you can simply call one of the menservants to carry him to his bedroom.”

“Roger that!”

Chue dashed off a bow to Maamei, then trotted over to Baryou. In a panic, he tried to tuck himself into a corner of the room, but found Chue was already behind him.

She whispered in his ear: “Ooh hoo hoo! Think you can run? How very naive. But then, Miss Chue doesn’t dislike that kind of person.”

“Eeyikes!” Baryou cried and promptly fainted.

His first impression of Chue was that she had no sense of personal space and that he was never going to survive with her.

“Hellooo! Miss Chue is here!” Chue drawled. “I made a nice cotton jacket for you—try it on!”

“Hiii! I made some bean buns. Oops, you’re studying? Well, eat them while they’re hot!”

“I got this bamboo screen for you so it will be easier for you to talk! If we put this between us, can we have a conversation?”

Chue seemed to be visiting Baryou all the time, and about virtually anything. Just when he thought maybe she was simply a loud person, she brought him bean buns while he was studying for the civil service exam; no sooner did she seem to be too close than he found her at a carefully measured distance.

This young woman, Chue, was indeed somewhat noisy—but also highly capable. Each batch of bean buns was a little closer to the size and flavor Baryou preferred. His cotton jackets always seemed perfectly suited to the season and fitted to his body. And the bamboo screen? Honestly, it was a huge help.

“Hoo hoo hoo! Oh, Miss Chue, you’re so useful!” Chue said.

“Does one normally say that of themselves?” Baryou mused from behind his screen. He didn’t remember how long it had been since they’d started talking through the bamboo divider. Not being able to see the other person’s face made him so much more comfortable.

He went on, “I can’t say I think you gain much by marrying me. To be perfectly frank with you, my younger brother is going to inherit the clan. Even if you and I had children, they might well simply be adopted by him, with no special regard for you. I suppose my older sister might raise them.”

How many years had it been since he’d spoken for so long with someone other than a blood relative?

“Adopt them? So Miss Chue wouldn’t have to do any child-rearing! Well, that sounds like the best of all worlds!”

“That’s what interests you here?”

Baryou couldn’t believe his ears. They were talking about what would happen when the children were born, but there remained the looming question of whether they could produce any to begin with. Just thinking about it made him flush red.

“If Miss Maamei brings them up, I’m sure she’ll do a good job. It’s certainly safer than having me raise them! Miss Chue expects to be a very hardworking woman.”

He didn’t think she was simply putting on a brave front—she really meant that.

Baryou thought back to what his mother had said. If Chue was a member of the Mi clan, she might take her child as her successor. In which case, letting Maamei raise and educate the child would be very appropriate.

Baryou was a weak person. He didn’t have it in him to go against somebody. So when a match had come to him, he’d really had no choice but to accept it, even if it was purely a strategic marriage.

“What do you say, Baryou? Am I a little bit helpful?”

“Certainly, in your way.”

He had started to become accustomed to this unusual woman, just the slightest bit.

“May I douse the light? Don’t worry, I know what I’m doing.”

Perhaps those words left something to be desired as a sweet nothing on their first night together. The bit about the light, sure—but the rest? Wasn’t that the kind of thing the man usually said?

Then again, Baryou, with his near-pathological mistrust of other people, had never and would never have practiced elsewhere so as to ensure he’d make no mistakes on his first night. Even worse, he had to let his partner do absolutely everything, a most dishonorable situation for a man.

“It doesn’t tickle, does it?”

“Of course it does,” he grumbled.

His wife gave a giggle that sounded much like the twittering of the sparrow she was named for—Baryou could never say no to that.

“You have such nice, smooth skin. I’m downright jealous!” Chue drawled, but somehow she sounded more sultry than usual.

Baryou did the only thing he could do: he closed his eyes.

Even after the child was born, Chue was still Chue.

“It really is just like a monkey, isn’t it? Everyone says it takes after you, Baryou, but I’m not sure how they can tell. Hoo boy, did giving birth tire me out, though! It was probably the third most painful thing that’s ever happened to me. You can handle the next one, Baryou.”

“I keep telling you, that’s not how it works...”

Baryou had eventually reached a point where he could talk to her without the screen between them, and now he accepted the snotty, red-faced infant from Chue.

“Don’t be shy of your own baby, okay?” she said.

“Now, that’s just rude.”

In point of fact, he found it difficult to hold the child, which flopped around as if it had no bones. Baryou grew uneasy and was about to give it back to Chue, but she rebuffed him.

“I don’t want it anymore. What if I held it for too long and it remembered my face or something?”

“Are those the words of a mother? Anyway, it hasn’t even opened its eyes yet.”

“Miss Chue is not going to raise it. That was the deal, wasn’t it?”

After not very long at all, Chue said she had some work to do and left the house.

By that point, Baryou was already convinced that she was indeed a member of the Mi clan. Often, he recalled, members of the clan didn’t even know of each other’s existence. They simply followed and obeyed their respective Imperial family members, and that was what gave them their hierarchy. To gain greater rank was an honor within the clan, one that also applied to successors.

Chue, too, would one day choose someone to follow in her footsteps. Baryou decided to assume, or at least pretend, that distancing herself from her child was, in its own way, an expression of a mother’s love.

Chue was always a lively presence, never quiet except perhaps for when she ate and when she slept. Then again, was she really sleeping when she was sleeping?

That was the Chue he remembered. Now here she was, covered from head to toe in bandages and lying in bed.

He’d been told that on her way back to the western capital, Chue had been in a battle with a bandit, and that was when she had received these injuries. Normally, the best thing might have been to let her lie quietly and not move her, but her work didn’t allow that. After the surgery was over, they’d loaded his battered wife into the wagon and carted her home.

Council had been in session when Chue got back to the main house, so Baryou didn’t hear about her until afterward. Just moments ago, in fact.

There was a young woman sitting by the bedside, an apothecary. It was Maomao.

“Oh!” they both said.

Baryou wasn’t sure how to follow that up. He’d hardly ever met Maomao face-to-face. Usually there was at least a screen or curtain between them.

It was Maomao who broke the silence. “Chue is very badly hurt. Please, don’t overstress her if you can avoid it.”

Maomao hardly looked like she was in a much better state: her own face was covered with scratches. She must have fought as hard as she could to treat Chue. Baryou could only bow his head.

He understood Chue had let this happen to herself on account of her work. He didn’t know what that work was. All he knew was that there was nothing he could do.

Almost absently, he brushed her undamaged hand, the left one. The fingers were cold.

“Mmr...” Chue mumbled. Baryou almost jumped.

His wife’s eyes drifted open. They looked puffy, maybe from sleeping for so long.

“Well... It’s my husband,” she drawled. “You look ready to keel over and die.”

“I daresay that’s my line.”

“Hoo hoo hoo. I made a little boo-boo. Shouldn’t have been so soft...”

Baryou felt better just hearing her voice. At the same time, he couldn’t help noticing how thin and frail she sounded.

“Question...okay?” she said.

“Yes, what?”

“You know, I... I won’t be able to move as well as I could before. What do we do?”

I. She’d said I, not Miss Chue.

“You think maybe I’m all washed up? No more use? Maybe you should go ahead and divorce me?”

The sudden mention of divorce brought Baryou up short. “You’re asking me what to do?”

“That right hand isn’t going to be any use to anyone,” Chue said, drawling again.

Yes, it would certainly make some daily tasks harder. But then again...

“Aren’t you ambidextrous, Chue?”

Baryou knew: he’d seen her wield chopsticks perfectly well in both hands. Plus there were all those flags and flowers and doves, which she produced as capably with the left hand as the right.

“You were always ten times as agile as I am,” he said. “With just one hand, you’ll still be five times as quick.”

In the time it took Baryou to roll one bean bun, Chue could make ten.

“My! Hoo hoo hoo. You’ve scored a point on Miss Chue. Three times is probably the limit, if you ask me—hoo hoo hoo!”

“Don’t laugh. You’ll aggravate your stomach injuries,” Baryou said, slightly frantic.

“Fwoo hee hee! How very rude.”

“I see your injuries haven’t stopped you from chattering as much as ever. Or did you take a blow to the head that knocked all the foreign languages out of it?”

“Nope. I still remember them, I think.” Oddly enough, Chue seemed to be enjoying this.

“Then there’s nothing to worry about, is there?”

“That’s a fair point. All right, then, perhaps the very helpful Miss Chue could make one request of you?”

“What is it?”

“You see, Miss Chue is very hungry...”

At that moment, her stomach gurgled mightily.

“Listen, you...”

When, he wondered, had they started to share such familiar conversation?

It would certainly be a great deal of trouble to fill the gulf between himself and a new wife one little bit at a time.

He’d done it once, and that was enough for him.