The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 12 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: The Sheltered Wife

The next day, Maomao went to see Gyoku-ou’s granddaughter, just as she’d told the quack doctor she would.

What was her name again?

Maomao, as we’ve established, was not excellent at remembering people’s names. But she got by okay, so it was fine—right?

As so often, Lihaku and Chue were with her. And one more person...

“Oh, please, don’t mind me.”

For some reason Gyoku-ou’s third son, Hulan, was there too.

“I just thought I might tag along. I like to see my elder sister and my niece once in a while.”

Gee, and here I thought your honor was serving the Moon Prince.

“Are you sure you don’t need to work?” she asked, careful not to let her skepticism show on her face.

“You needn’t worry—this doubles as work. I thought it would be a good chance to ask for some details about the job my father was doing.”

“You’re going to have a chat with your sister?” That didn’t sound like work to Maomao. She gave him a quizzical look.

“No, my mother. She lives with my sister; she says there’s too much commotion at the main house for her.”

Ah, the much-discussed mother.

So she retired from the “main stage,” but was still supporting Gyoku-ou in the background. It would make sense, then, to ask her about his business.

At the entryway to the house, they were greeted by the young patient and her mother, as well as a woman somewhere past forty.

Is that Hulan’s mother? Maomao wondered. She’d visited this house several times, but this was the first she’d seen of her. Maybe she was there waiting, not for Maomao and her band, but for Hulan. I think I’ll call her Hu’s Mom for the time being.

She didn’t know if Hulan was even going to introduce them, but if he did, knowing how rarely she was likely to encounter this woman left Maomao without much desire to remember her name. In the same vein, she dubbed Hulan’s older sister “Hu’s Sis.” She did indeed resemble Hu’s Mom, as one might expect of a mother and daughter, but Hu’s Mom possessed a beauty of a kind that might make a person possessive. No doubt she had been a popular woman in her younger years.

“Mother, Sister,” Hulan said, bowing deeply to each of them. “It’s been much too long.”

“Yes. Too long indeed,” Hu’s Mom said, and then she looked at Maomao and the others and slowly dipped her head.

Her features resembled those of Hu’s Sis, but she had a retiring quality and a calmness in her eyes. Physically, her eyes were more downturned than her daughter’s, but she exuded a unique loveliness.

“Hulan, I think that’s enough of a greeting when we have visitors.” She turned to Maomao and her group. “You must accept my apologies for my son’s thoughtlessness.”

Apparently this was where Hulan got his modesty. Her voice was as reserved as her appearance.

“Not at all,” Maomao said, then glanced at the granddaughter. “If I may, perhaps I could examine the patient’s scar now?”

“Yes, please do take good care of Xiaohong.”

The girl gave her best bow. Xiaohong, “little red,” was presumably a pet name, but Maomao had never heard her actual name.

She looked quite different now from how she had before; her hair, once dark, was now mostly light, and evenly trimmed. The roots were a light brown that verged on golden, while the ends were still black, giving the impression of a brush that had been dipped in ink.

“All right, I’ll see you later,” said Hulan. He and his mother would hold their own conference while Maomao did her exam.

Maomao and the others entered the room where she always did her exams. Well, maybe “exam” was a strong word. Mostly she just inspected the scar, then applied some salve in hopes that it wouldn’t be too visible in the long run.

There were no servants in the house. The scar on her abdomen might not have been very obvious, but the family didn’t want it to be public knowledge that the girl had had surgery. If the scar vanished more or less entirely by the time she was grown up, that would be the best of all worlds.

“I’m finished for today. If you find you need more salve, please don’t hesitate to come to the medical office and I’ll prepare some. But common stuff from the market would be fine too.”

“Thank you so much,” Hu’s Sis said, bowing deeply.

Although it wasn’t really that kind of visit, she’d set out tea and snacks on a table. Chue’s eyes gleamed as if to say Let’s have a bite before we go home.

“Hulan isn’t back yet, anyway. Why don’t we take it easy?”

“I don’t think there’s any special need for us to wait for Master Hulan to leave,” Maomao said. What were they, a bunch of adolescent girls who had to do everything as a group? They had Lihaku there as a bodyguard; it would be fine.

“Miss Maomao, are you telling poor, starving Miss Chue to walk right past these beautiful, delicious-looking treats and not eat them?”

“Go ahead and eat them, Miss Chue.”

“Woo-hoo! I knew you were one of the good ones, Miss Maomao. I could kiss you!” She came at Maomao with her lips puckered, but Maomao shoved her away. “Aww, don’t be like that!” Chue said.

“Uh-huh,” Maomao said, and set a glass of milk tea in front of Chue. Chue promptly mixed in some honey and stuffed a baked treat into her face. It was a cookie with dried grapes and walnuts worked into it; it smelled richly of butter. Maybe there was wheat germ in there, because the color was pale, but it would be very nutritious. It was certainly enough to pass for a luxurious indulgence with ingredients so hard to come by.

Maomao nibbled on one of the cookies herself. As for Lihaku, he had his guard duties to think of; he only stared intently at the sumptuous-looking treats. Yes, he was doing his job, but Maomao still felt a little bad for him.

“Ahem, excuse me?” Maomao said to Hu’s Sis.

“Yes? What is it?”

“Would it be possible to take a few of these cookies back with us?”

A souvenir for the quack doctor.

Maomao worried that maybe she was out of line, but Hu’s Sis smiled faintly and nodded. She no longer seemed on edge the way she had when they first met; in fact, she seemed very collected. “Very well,” she said. “I’ll get some for you right away.”

Just as she was about to leave the room, Xiaohong tugged on her sleeve. “I can get them.” Xiaohong went out, looking happy—she, like her mother, seemed to be feeling much better than before.

Chue watched the mother and child with a smile as she munched on her snack. Maybe she was silently willing them to bring back lots and lots of goodies for them.

“I gather the lady of the house is staying with you,” Maomao said. If there had been nothing to talk about, she would have stayed silent, but since she had a subject she could bring up, she did. Hu’s Sis had been kind enough to give them these treats; Maomao wanted to repay her by trying to be at least somewhat sociable.

“Yes, that’s true. She feels there’s rather too much commotion at the main house, so she lives here instead. Although she’s also worried about Xiaohong.”

This was Hu’s Sis’s own mother they were talking about, yet somehow she didn’t look entirely happy.

Maybe the two of them don’t get along? Maomao wondered—and that was when they heard the “Eek!” from outside.

Hu’s Sis jumped up and rushed out of the room, Maomao and the others following close behind.

The shout had come from Xiaohong, who was in the garden of the mansion with someone pulling on her hair. Namely...

That obnoxious brat?!

The little monster, Gyoku-whatever-it-was, was pulling Xiaohong’s hair. His minder was nearby, but she only looked on apprehensively and gave no sign of trying to stop him.

“Gyokujun! What in the world are you doing?!” Hu’s Sis ran over to separate Xiaohong and the little monster—er, Gyokujun. She stood protectively in front of her daughter and glared at her nephew.

Gyokujun, meanwhile, tossed aside a few stray strands of Xiaohong’s hair that had gotten wrapped around his fingers. “What was I doing? I was just trying to help her get rid of that filthy hair.” He didn’t sound like he felt the least bit guilty. In his left hand he held a mud ball that he was preparing to smash into Xiaohong’s hair.

“It is not filthy!” Xiaohong sniffled.

Hu’s Sis looked somewhat uncomfortable, even though she was defending her own daughter. “Xiaohong is not filthy,” she said. “She’s your cousin.”

“Cousin? But her hair, it looks like an outlander’s hair!”

“That’s just how it happens to look. There are lots of people in the western capital with light hair—you know that.” Hu’s Sis was acting very calm with her not even ten-year-old nephew, but it was obvious she was working hard to control herself.

“But Auntie, you used to throw stones at outlanders when you saw them! My father told me so.” Gyokujun was scowling.

Xiaohong studied her mother’s expression; Hu’s Sis looked even more uncomfortable than before.

Ahh. She remembered, Maomao realized. Gyokujun was doing things that Hu’s Sis had once done herself.

You can’t change the past, so it only makes you feel more and more guilty.

“No, don’t!”

Gyokujun had chosen that moment to let fly with his mud cake.

But it never left his hand. “All right, that’s enough pranks.” Chue had stopped his small fist cold.

When did she...

Chue had gotten behind Gyokujun in the blink of an eye.

“Hey! What d’you think you’re doing?!”

“Now, now. Water is a precious resource here. Just think how hard it would be to wash if someone got all messy with something like this.” Chue smiled pleasantly as she crushed Gyokujun’s hand, mud ball and all. It must have hurt, because when she finally released him, his face twisted and he rubbed his hand.

“What d’you think you’re doing? Do you know who I am?!” Gyokujun demanded, tears threatening to form in his eyes.

“I certainly do. You’re Master Gyokuen’s great-grandchild, Master Gyoku-ou’s grandchild, Master Shikyou’s eldest son, the honorable Master Gyokujun.”

“Well, if you know all that, then—”

“However!” Chue continued. “They say a woman’s hair is her very life. I don’t know if that’s true exactly, but I can guarantee that acting this way won’t make you popular with the ladies for one second!”

Chue looked at the hair-pulling victim, Xiaohong, who was hiding behind her mother with tears in her eyes and sniffling.

Lihaku kept a respectful distance; as a bodyguard, he couldn’t get too far from Maomao and the others, but he showed no sign of intervening. He seemed to consider this just a spat between two kids. Maomao took the same tack; Chue was handling this, and she wasn’t going to gang up on some kid. Having said that, Gyokujun still didn’t look like he had learned anything from this moment, and Maomao’s impression of him as a little beast only grew.

“Huh, fine. I don’t care about her dumb hair. But did you know they were dyeing it all this time? That proves she’s an outlander. She’s an outlander changeling who’s here to hurt our family.”

“Changeling?” Maomao cocked her head. She hadn’t meant to jump into the conversation, but it was such an unfamiliar word that she’d opened her mouth before she could stop herself.

“A changeling is a child born to fairies or the like and then swapped with a human child,” Chue explained helpfully.

“Just look at her! You can tell,” Gyokujun said. “Both her parents have black hair. But hers is...like that! Anyone can see there’s something wrong with her. They say she’s my cousin, but that’s a lie!”

So a changeling is like a “devil’s child”? The term referred to a child who didn’t resemble her parents; as the expression suggested, it was considered an ill omen.

In any case, there was something Maomao felt obliged to correct. “Two parents with black hair can still have a child with a different hair color, you know. It’s like how some cats might be black and white while their siblings are striped, even if they come from the same litter.”

Maomao thought she was putting it in a way that a child could understand, but the little monster called Gyokujun wasn’t even remotely listening. Maomao glared at the lady-in-waiting who was supposed to be watching him, willing her to do something, but the woman only looked away.

He hasn’t learned a thing since he injured the quack doctor.

She thought a good whack would be the quickest way to administer a lesson, but when she glanced back again, she found Chue talking to the boy.

“Master Gyokujun,” Chue said. “Are you very important?” She wore her usual indolent smile and clapped her hands a couple of times to brush the mud off them.

“You better believe I am! For I am Gyokujun!”

“Yes, I know. So, why are you important?”

“Because I’m the oldest son of the oldest son of this house. Someday I will lead the western capital.”

“So you’re important because you’re Master Shikyou’s child?”

“That’s right!” Gyokujun puffed out his chest.

Nothing like borrowing daddy’s authority.

It was one major reason Hu’s Sis couldn’t take a firmer hand with Gyokujun. Maomao glanced at Xiaohong’s head as she clung to her mother. The woman must have heeded Maomao’s warning to stop dyeing the girl’s hair, because there was a good stretch of light color there now. But there were specks of blood by the roots; that must have been a pretty good pull. Maomao felt any possible sympathy for Gyokujun wither and die.

“All right, next question,” Maomao said, taking over from Chue. “Why is Master Shikyou important?” Chue stepped back, allowing her to lead the conversation.

“That’s because he’s Grandpa’s son...”

“Oh, I see, I see.” Maomao’s lips twisted. “Even though Master Gyoku-ou is gone now?” By this point she was grinning outright.

It was not a very nice way to put the matter to a child. She was using the words like a blade to eviscerate him.

Gyokujun’s face went blank. Whatever the central government might or might not have thought of Gyoku-ou, there were many who loved and admired him in the western capital, and to speak of his death here was perhaps not the smartest move.

Maomao knew it was petty and mean, but she was determined not to feel any remorse. Xiaohong’s mother couldn’t say anything, so she would.

“Master Shikyou is still around, I guess. But I hear he lives quite at his leisure. Do you still believe he’ll ultimately lead the western capital? Or are you saying you’re the appropriate instrument to rule this place?” Again, a harsh way to speak to a child not yet ten years old—but she wanted him to get this through his head. “Are you yourself important?” she asked.

If no one ever disciplined an obnoxious brat like this his entire life, he was never going to grow up to become a decent politician. If he coasted along, learning nothing, on the assumption that his bloodline would land him in the same position as his father, he would eventually be sorely disappointed.

Gyokujun paled before her eyes. Maybe he was beginning to understand, in his own childish way. He might be descended from the son and grandson of the undisputed most powerful man in the western capital, but even the most powerful protectors could die at any time—and a child with no protector would end up as a puppet at best, banished at worst.

“M-My dad would never die!” Gyokujun exclaimed.

“Nobody knows when they’re going to die; that’s what it means to be human. Now, you don’t mind if I treat Lady Xiaohong’s head, do you?”

Maomao took Xiaohong by the hand, intending to lead her back to the room, but a clear, commanding voice said, “Wait just a minute!” Maomao turned to find a middle-aged woman standing there—Hu’s Mom.

“Grandma!” Gyokujun cried and hugged his grandmother, clinging to her. Hulan was there too, just behind her. “These people! These people, they said the worst things!” Gyokujun said, clutching his grandma with his muddy hands. There was no trace of the smart-ass from moments before; now he was all sweet grandchild.

Hulan smiled wryly at his nephew’s antics, then put his hands together in a gesture of apology to Maomao and the others.

As for Hu’s Mom, she looked down at Gyokujun, then at Maomao, then let her gaze drift over Hu’s Sis and Xiaohong before it finally settled on Chue. “There was quite a bit of commotion out here. Whatever is going on?” she asked, her voice gentle to placate her grandson.

“They said... They said father is going to die!” Gyokujun yelped.

Dumb kid. Twisting what they’d said so that it wouldn’t look like it was his fault.

Hu’s Mom’s face darkened, and she shot a glance at Hulan to see his face. Hulan didn’t say a word, but it was clear from his expression that he didn’t intend to serve as his nephew’s ally.

“Gyokujun. Is this true?” Hu’s Mom asked.

“Of course it is!”

“Really?”

“Y-Yes...”

“I was watching the whole time, you know.”

At that remark from his grandmother, Gyokujun’s expression did another flip. He turned to his uncle, Hulan, but the young man made no move to help him.

Kid’s a master of the quick change, huh? The boy had yet to develop his uncle’s force of personality.

“What were you doing to Xiaohong? Why are your hands all muddy?”

“Uh, it was all a...a misunderstanding...” Gyokujun started to stumble through an excuse, but if they had seen the whole thing, there was really no point. At the same time, though, Maomao started to sweat too.

A few seconds later, Hu’s Mom gave an exasperated sigh. “Gyokujun, go back to your room. Take him, please,” she said to the lady-in-waiting. The attendant led him off, although he didn’t neglect to stick his tongue out over his shoulder as he went.

“You must forgive such rudeness in front of our visitors,” Hu’s Mom said, bowing to Maomao and Lihaku in turn. She seemed to understand that her grandchild was a bit of a lout. Maomao had worried she might get a piece of the woman’s mind for bringing up Gyoku-ou’s death, but Hu’s Mom didn’t say anything about it.

Instead she turned to Hu’s Sis and Xiaohong. “Xiaohong, would you come here for a moment?”

Xiaohong left her hiding place behind Hu’s Sis and went over to her grandmother. Hu’s Mom began to run a comb through Xiaohong’s hair. “It doesn’t look too bad. I’ll give Gyokujun a serious talking-to later.”

“Mother!” Hu’s Sis said, indignant.

“Yes?”

“That’s it? You know how cruel Gyokujun can be to Xiaohong—so why did you bring him here?”

She brought him?

Ordinarily, Gyokujun would be in the main house. Maomao could see why Hu’s Sis wouldn’t want her mother deliberately bringing her nephew here when they both knew what he would do to her daughter.

“Things aren’t easy for Gyokujun at the main house, you know. I wish you would understand that.”

“Understand that!”

“His mother can’t protect him by herself. What else are we supposed to do?”

What’s this about his mother? She can’t protect him?

His mother, presumably, was the woman who had come to apologize for Gyokujun injuring the quack the other day. The one who had tried to force Gyokujun’s head down, weeping herself the whole time. One heard much talk of Gyoku-ou’s no-account eldest son, but one didn’t hear nearly as much about his bride.

“This isn’t the time. We still have visitors,” Hu’s Mom said.

Not the time? Maomao understood what she was saying, but didn’t much like the way she said it. Hu’s Sis bit her lip and glared at Hu’s Mom.

Hu’s Mom simply walked away as if nothing had happened. Hulan followed, bowing to them as he went. Hu’s Sis had an uneasy smile on her face; in spite of all that had happened, she seemed to want to put on a brave front for Maomao and her companions.

“I’m sorry you had to see that. Shall we go back?” she asked. It was clear how much effort she was expending.

“U-Um...” Xiaohong sniffled and tugged on Maomao’s skirt. “Please don’t talk bad about Grandpa.”

Gyoku-ou wasn’t just Gyokujun’s grandfather—he was Xiaohong’s too.

After a second, Maomao said, “You’re right. I’m sorry.” She had to admit that she had been wrong this time, and apologizing was the right thing to do.