The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 12 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Gyoku-ou’s Children

When Maomao and the others got back to the medical office, they heard voices talking inside.

Is there a patient here? Maomao wondered. If the quack doctor was examining them, then she’d better get in there and trade off with him, quick. She opened the door.

“Hello, we’re back,” she said.

“Oh, hullo, young lady! Welcome back, everyone.”

The doctor was chatting with a young man Maomao didn’t recognize.

Who’s this?

He was probably younger than Maomao, a smallish man with kind eyes. His face was attractive enough, but perhaps didn’t look like much in the western capital, where there were brawny men to spare.

“Is this a patient?” Maomao asked.

“Oh, no. He’s a visitor. He came to say a polite hello,” the quack answered, his injured leg resting on a chair.

“You must pardon the intrusion,” the small-built young man said, giving her a carefree smile. “And you must pardon me for failing to introduce myself sooner. My name is You Hulan, and I’ll be serving the Moon Prince.”

“Oh, I see. I’m Maomao.” She met his polite bow with a deep one of her own.

“You,” huh? That was a name she seemed to be hearing a lot lately.

“This young man, you see, he’s supposed to serve the Moon Prince,” the quack offered. “He’s Master Gyoku-ou’s son.”

“Indeed. I’m still quite young; I beg your indulgence with me.”

Gyoku-ou’s son? Maomao tilted her head, perplexed. He seemed like the polar opposite of his father. Where was the resemblance?

Chue spared the boy only a brief dip of her head. Maybe she knew him already. “Master Gyoku-ou’s honored son, you say?” she said.

“Yes, ma’am, his third and youngest. I never dreamed I would have the honor of serving the Moon Prince.” Hulan was beaming.

Maomao had heard that Jinshi and Rikuson would each have one of Gyoku-ou’s sons assigned to help them—one would get the second son, the other the third. This young man, however, was not quite what she’d been expecting, and she was a little taken aback.

I just figured he would be more...full of himself.

This was the son of the man who had attempted to use Jinshi like a pawn? At a glance, anyway, he looked perfectly humble. He was sipping tea with the quack doctor—a eunuch—and didn’t hesitate to act polite to Maomao. He was nothing like she would have imagined. Certainly not the raging tempest of a man that might have been suggested by the name Hulan, which meant “tiger and wolf.”

“My next-eldest brother is serving Master Rikuson. I do hope you’ll look kindly upon each of us.”

If the second son had been assigned to Rikuson, and the third to Jinshi, perhaps it was in deference to their respective ages.

I wouldn’t be surprised if the second son is older than Jinshi. And when you had to order someone around, it made things easier if they were younger than you.

“I’ve come for more than just greetings today. I’m also here to offer my apologies,” Hulan said.

“What for?”

“My nephew injured the master physician, and I am deeply sorry for that. He’s still young, and as my father’s first grandchild he’s been rather spoiled. I will accept any punishment on his behalf, only please look generously upon my nephew.”

Who the heck is this guy?

He sure didn’t seem like Gyoku-ou’s child. He had the deferential attitude of someone who had already spent decades as a buffer between a superior and their subordinates.

“Hulan was kind enough to bring snacks and wine. And it’s so hard to get snacks these days! I can’t thank him enough,” the quack doctor said. He held up a basket of steamed buns. There were two bottles of wine beside it.

Well, now!

“This is special grape wine from the western capital, although I fear I don’t know whether it will be to your taste. In hopes of finding something you’d enjoy, I brought two varieties—one more alcoholic and one less.”

What an excellent choice of gift. Maomao felt an urge to cling to the wine bottles, but resisted.

“Now, then. If you’ll excuse me, I must get back to work,” Hulan said.

“Oh, please, stay a moment longer, Hulan. You’re still young, and youth should take its time to relax,” said the quack, who by now had adopted an air of total informality with the young man.

“I’m afraid I couldn’t. My uncles and aunts told me to make sure I studied diligently at the foot of the Moon Prince. I’ll work as hard as I can to catch up to everyone else, and meanwhile, I do hope you’ll look favorably on me.”

Hulan gave another elaborate bow and left the office.

“I have to say, I don’t see any wolf in him,” Maomao remarked. The tiger and the wolf of Hulan’s name suggested someone greedy and violent; it was a strong name, yes, but not a very good one.

“Yeah. He seems more like a loyal mutt,” Lihaku added, and Maomao agreed with him completely.

After Hulan had left, the quack told them about Gyoku-ou’s children.

“They say Master Gyoku-ou had four children. Young Hulan is the youngest of them.”

Maomao and the others lost no time turning Hulan’s gift of steamed buns into their snack.

Got to make sure there’s nothing in them, Maomao thought, her old habit of checking food for poison rearing its head. They were filled with meat, and she was perfectly happy to make them her lunch. She was only sorry she couldn’t have the wine with them—but she was on duty, after all.

“The oldest is twenty-five, and then the rest of the children were born in successive years—except Hulan; he’s a little younger. About eighteen. Isn’t that right, Miss Chue?” the quack asked as he poured tea into some cups.

“Oh, yes, very right. Master Gyoku-ou’s children go: eldest son, eldest daughter, second son, and then the third son bringing up the rear at eighteen years old.”

Chue was putting out some soup she’d reheated. Maomao took a bowl and passed it to Lihaku, who stood slightly apart from the quack doctor. The quack prepared the tea without getting up, while Lihaku was as vigilant as ever. After spending more than six months in each other’s company, each knew their role.

“That’s an odd collection. Do they perchance have different mothers?” Maomao asked, sitting in a chair and breaking open a bun. The filling spilled out, meat and mushrooms and bamboo shoots.

“Not at all. Unlike his father, Master Gyoku-ou only had one wife.”

“Huh! That is quite different from Master Gyokuen,” the quack said, sounding surprised. It wasn’t unusual for men in Li to have more than one wife, but eleven was enough to make Gyokuen the subject of talk. Even the Emperor only had enough wives to count on one hand. Yes, there were two thousand consorts and ladies in the rear palace, but between considerations of family background and resources, they weren’t necessarily all people His Majesty could easily take to bed.

Lihaku spoke up. “You know, I heard a rumor. About Master Gyoku-ou’s wife.” His ears and mouth were participating in the conversation, but his eyes continued to scan the area outside the medical office.

“What kind of rumor?” Maomao, having carefully studied the bun, now popped it into her mouth. The seasonings were characteristic of the central region, and she was surprised to realize it made her a little bit homesick.

“I heard she’s always had good business sense, that she used to be a real go-getter. After the birth of their second son, she boarded a foreign trading vessel for a business venture, except it was involved in a shipwreck. Unluckily for her, things weren’t very good in the country where she wound up, and she had to stay there for several years.”

“That’s quite a story. I’d expect to see more of someone like that, though,” said Maomao. So far, she hadn’t seen Gyoku-ou’s wife even once. She’d assumed that meant she was just a chaste, retiring woman who spent her time supporting her husband, but it seemed strange that Maomao hadn’t so much as seen her face since Gyoku-ou’s death.

Chue picked up the story. “She came back years later, but rumor has it she wasn’t the same woman. She’d become someone who supported her husband from the shadows, where nobody would see her. I’m sure a lot happened to her in those farmlands.” When Maomao looked closely, she saw Chue’s plate, and hers only, had one extra bun on it. She would have to watch out for her.

“Do you think that played into why Master Gyoku-ou hated foreigners so much?” Maomao asked.

“Who can say? We’ll sure never know now.” Chue didn’t sound very interested, happily munching on a steamed bun instead.

Lihaku had returned to his food as well, apparently having shared everything he knew about the wife. Maomao didn’t have any follow-up questions to speak of either.

“You know, wasn’t that girl you examined Master Gyoku-ou’s granddaughter?” the quack asked.

“That’s right. His oldest daughter’s daughter.”

The girl had developed an intestinal blockage because of her habit of eating her own hair. Tianyu had performed the surgery, but Maomao had attended to her care after that. The stitches had already come out cleanly.

“It must have hurt so much, having her stomach cut open. How’s the wound? Is it all right now?” the quack asked, his brow furrowed in genuine concern.

You can hardly even tell it was there, Maomao thought. She hated to admit it, but Tianyu was an excellent surgeon. Maybe you had to be a little crazy to be so good; heaven, the saying went, did not give two gifts to one person.

“Yes, it’s much better,” Maomao said. “I visit her periodically to check on the progress of the scar, but that’s all. In fact, I’m going tomorrow.”

Treatment was coming along nicely. She wished a certain abdomen-scorching noble would be such a good patient.

“Oh? That’s good, that’s good. I’m glad to hear it.” The quack looked relieved; Maomao, though, thought he should worry more about his own leg.