The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 12 - Chapter 5

Chapter 5: Third Son, Second Son, Eldest Son

Hulan’s work often brought him into the orbit of Maomao and her companions.

“I’m terribly sorry, but perhaps I could ask you to arrange a carriage for me?” he asked a servant in a hallway of the main house. The servants seemed used to Hulan’s humble demeanor; apparently it wasn’t just an act he put on for Jinshi.

“You think he’s really Master Gyoku-ou’s son?” Lihaku asked, squinting as he watched Hulan walk down the hall. The hulking soldier had a hoe in hand and was working a field. It was no longer just the annex; they had received permission to turn the garden of the main house into farming fields as well, and Lahan’s Brother had wasted no time beginning cultivation. Lihaku helped, on the grounds that just standing around as a guard would cause him to go soft and this work doubled as exercise.

Then there was the main house’s gardener, watching the field come together with tears in his eyes. The greenhouse gardener was giving him a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Maomao was no longer the gardeners’ only enemy.

“Plenty of kids are nothing like their parents,” said Maomao. She was drying cucumber slices in the sun. The greenhouse gardener was glaring especially hard at her, but she contrived not to notice.

With Gyoku-ou gone, the political face of the western capital had changed substantially. With Jinshi now taking a more public role, the move toward military expansion was much slower, and the main focus of attention had become how to stabilize the food supply.

The hated grasshoppers had assailed the western capital repeatedly in the past several months. Humans, however, can get used to almost anything, and as the episodes went on, they learned to live with the insects.

They’re growing numb, Maomao thought. Still, whenever she saw a grasshopper, she tried to kill it, and it sounded like the people were trying to plow the areas where grasshoppers seemed likely to lay eggs. There was even a suggestion that the plains should be torched while the larvae were still young and couldn’t fly, but unlike in the royal capital, there was scant rain here and no way to know how far the fire might spread. It was deemed too dangerous.

Instead, a simple battle of attrition proceeded. Cultivation of fields went on, complete with “fall plowing.” The past months had seen a number of merchants go out of business, and priority was given to hiring them.

I wonder how much we can actually harvest before winter.

That would be the real question, Maomao suspected. She touched each of the cucumber slices, picking up the ones that were dry. That was when she saw someone rushing through the hall of the mansion.

“Lady Maomao!” It was Hulan. Maomao always felt weird being addressed with such high respect. “And Master Lihaku. You must pardon me.”

“Oh, you’re Master Hulan, aren’t you? You don’t have to use a title of respect with me; I’m just a bodyguard. In fact, it makes things a little awkward.”

Ah, Lihaku, always saying exactly what Maomao wished she could.

“Not at all. I’m still not much more than a glorified gofer, and I know all too little about politics. I know all too little about anything, really. Meanwhile I hear that Lady Maomao, a woman, has already served as a medical assistant for some years now. And you, Master Lihaku, I gather you’re here by the personal request of the Moon Prince. You are certainly both worthy of respect, and it would never do to be rude to you. Above all, I myself am nothing more than a lackey, not even an official in my own right. I can do no other than show you courtesy; please understand.”

Hulan was practically snorting with certainty, and his eyes were truly shining; if this was an act, he was doing a very good job.

It’s going to be way too much work to get him to stop, Maomao thought, so she decided to live with it.

“All right, Master Hulan. Did you need something from us?” she asked.

“Yes, ma’am. I’ve brought a paper from the Moon Prince. I intend to give the same one to Dr. You and Dr. Li. He seeks the opinion of those doing medical treatment here. Would you be so kind as to look at this?”

He passed Maomao a sheet of parchment, which she opened and inspected. The text was written in pen—the western equivalent of a brush—but it wasn’t Jinshi’s handwriting. It had clearly been written by someone used to handling a pen, presumably someone from the west. Maybe Hulan had written it out himself.

It was a list of symptoms.

Swelling, bleeding, anemia, diarrhea, vomiting...

“These are symptoms observed in the areas where there are no doctors or apothecaries. The Moon Prince realizes you might not be able to treat these things from afar, but if there are ways to prevent them or cope with them, he requests that you write them down in as much detail as possible.”

It was hardly unusual for there to be no doctors or apothecaries out in the country. When people in those areas got sick, they treated their problems with folk remedies, and in especially serious cases, the sufferer might go to a folk healer to have prayers said, but that was the extent of what people could do. There was no proper medical treatment available.

“You should make your instructions as specific as you can. Moreover, resources are limited, so the Moon Prince would be grateful if you would suggest possible substitutes. Whatever one seeks in I-sei Province these days, one can assume it will be in short supply.”

That was true enough, Maomao agreed. But they were asking for more than she could simply jot down right here and give back to him. “I’ll see that the master physician gets this. Could we have a little while to work on it? I think he should be done by this evening.” She stuck to the pretense that the quack doctor would fill out the paper. “We just need to give it to the Moon Prince, yes?”

“No, I’ll come by again this evening to collect it.”

“I really don’t think you need to worry about it...” She suggested that she might give it to Chue when she inevitably came passing through.

“No, I’d like to see it for myself,” Hulan said firmly. “To be quite honest, this was my suggestion, so I’d like to be certain.”

“I see.”

Quick thinking. Maomao was impressed. She might have known that a wife renowned for her own capabilities would raise a son fit to be someone’s aide. But not more than an aide.

“In addition, if I may ask, is there anything to be careful of in regions where there are no official medical personnel?” Hulan asked.

“That’s a big question,” Maomao replied, crossing her arms and thinking. “Places without doctors have a tendency to be dominated by superstition. Sometimes, folk healers regard medical personnel as a nuisance and will actually chase them away.”

Maomao pictured someone who had experienced that firsthand: Kokuyou, the man with the half-bandaged face.

“Also, when the body is weakened, there can be outbreaks of communicable diseases. Keep an eye on the health of any of the personnel near those areas to make sure they aren’t unwittingly carrying a disease.”

“Understood,” Hulan said.

Maomao had a few more ideas, but she could write them down in detail later.

“All right. I appreciate you taking the time,” Hulan said, and with another bow, he left.

“Boy, they really don’t resemble each other,” Lihaku said.

“Not a bit,” Maomao agreed.

So Gyoku-ou’s third son, Hulan, didn’t resemble his father. What then of the second son? He, too, was different, in his own way.

With his fastidious outfit, the second son, Feilong, looked every inch the bureaucrat. Unlike Hulan, his presence could be somewhat imposing. If anything, he most resembled Gyoku-ou’s oldest daughter in that respect.

The main house and the administrative office sat next door to each other; there was even a hallway connecting the two. So although Feilong spent most of his time in the administrative building, Maomao spotted him every once in a while.

Feilong was officially assigned to Rikuson, but he often came to bring papers to Jinshi. Maybe that was a bit of kindness on Rikuson’s part, giving Feilong a chance to see and be seen by a member of the Imperial family. Or maybe he just wanted to foist that much work on Jinshi. Maomao didn’t know.

“I’ve brought some papers, sir,” Feilong said, appearing during one of their exams.

Maomao pulled the quack doctor back so he wouldn’t get in the way. Even as he greeted Jinshi politely, Feilong gave the papers to Jinshi’s aide, Basen. The pile was separated into three parts by dividers.

“The red divider is new business, the blue one is items which warrant reconsideration, and the yellow signifies formerly rejected proposals that have been revised.”

Huh, not bad.

Feilong was quite a capable man in his own right. Polite and proper though he was, however, there was no warmth to him. That, too, differentiated him from his father. Maybe Gyoku-ou had concerned himself mostly with his oldest son because the other two had each fallen farther from the tree.

They look similar enough, but it’s the attitude. Feilong and Hulan were both perfectly competent, but had the distinct air of bureaucrats. That was well and good, since they were training to be aides at the moment, but picturing either of them ultimately standing astride the western capital as its leader—well, it made one shake one’s head. Jinshi seemed like he was planning to go home as soon as possible once their political instruction was over, but I don’t know.

At this rate, it looked like they might be here for years to come.

Speaking of Gyoku-ou’s sons, the eldest showed up surprisingly quickly.

Maomao heard Gyokujun’s joyous cry outside her window. “Father! Father, Father!”

She looked out to see father and son in the garden—or perhaps we should say the former garden, since half of it had been converted to farmland.

So this was the man that brat—er, Gyokujun—was so attached to. He had hair scruffy enough to make a lion proud, and tanned, rugged limbs. Around his hips he wore the pelt of a deer he had presumably killed himself.

Wow, they look just like each other.

The newcomer looked exactly like Gyoku-ou if someone had turned back the clock to his younger days. The lady-in-waiting with Gyokujun looked positively anxious. The boy’s mother was nowhere to be seen. Maomao was given to understand that it had been a political marriage; maybe husband and wife didn’t get along that well.

The best thing I can do is stay out of it, she thought—but she was at least interested enough to steal a glance out the window. The quack and Lihaku felt the same way; they joined her.

“That’s my boy! Have you been good? Of course you have. Here’s a gift!” The man gave Gyokujun a heaving sack. Excited, the boy looked inside—but the moment he did so, he burst into tears.

What’s in there? Maomao wondered.

She soon found out, for tumbling out of the bag came a deer’s head. Yes, maybe that was a bit too stimulating for a child’s gift.

“Ha ha ha!” the eldest son laughed. “Say hello to tonight’s dinner!”

“W-We’re going to eat this?!” Gyokujun exclaimed through the tears and snot. Just when he looked like he was getting it under control, he burst out crying again.

“Sorry! I’m sorry. Come on, don’t cry. Hey, it looks like a lot happened while I was away. What’s going on?”

Gyokujun whispered in his father’s ear and pointed toward the medical office. His attendant paled.

I’ve got a bad feeling about this.

And she was right: the eldest son soon appeared at the medical office.

“Can we help you?” Lihaku asked, standing squarely in the man’s way. He was usually so affable, but at this moment he had put on his best soldier’s glare.

“My son told me all about you. He said the visitors from the central region have really been throwing their weight around. I thought I’d come say hello to you myself.”

Gyokujun, hiding in his father’s shadow, stuck out his tongue at them.

That little shit!

Maomao scowled at him; if she had ever wondered whether he might have learned his lesson, she certainly didn’t now. The quack had tucked himself into a corner of the office, openly terrified.

“I sincerely apologize if we seem to have been throwing our weight around,” Lihaku began. “However, that insect swarm ravaged the western capital, and we’re groping around trying to find something, anything, to help make things better. Or would you prefer that visitors not do anything to help, but only stand by, eat your food, and watch?”

Lihaku was a good 190 centimeters tall, maybe even a little more. He had some six centimeters or so on Gyoku-ou’s son, although the other man was still plenty burly. No wonder a diminutive eunuch like the quack doctor was afraid.

As for Maomao, she was looking around and pondering, hoping for an opening to knock some sense into the little shit.

If things get physical here, it’ll only waste what little medicine and supplies we have left.

She gave Lihaku a look, pleading with him that if they were going to start throwing punches, they should do so outside.

“Hah! You government bigwigs are something else, you know that? Even I know I have to watch my mouth around the real nobles—but now even their lackeys think they can push me around? How am I supposed to hold my head up? Eh?”

“Surely you jest, sir. I’m only a soldier myself—an underling, as you say. All I do is follow my orders. Now, this is the physician’s office. If you’d still like to talk, perhaps we could do it outside?”

Perfect! Nice work, Maomao thought. More than anything, she wanted to avoid the medical office ending up in shambles. Lihaku understood that and was trying to move the encounter outdoors. If the son decided to throw down with him, well, Lihaku could probably hold his own at least for a while. Long enough for Maomao to run and call someone.

I guess the ideal outcome is that they don’t fight, she thought, but the situation looked like it was ready to explode at any moment. Lihaku understands his position. He was a bodyguard, and if the eldest son decided to turn violent, he would respond in kind to protect Maomao and the quack. But he would understand that he couldn’t throw the first punch.

As for the little shit who was the cause of the dispute...

He’s quaking!

Gyokujun was clinging to his lady-in-waiting. Unfortunately for him, he couldn’t go after the quack doctor like he had before—there were two guards aside from Lihaku standing there.

If he starts anything, those guards will turn him into a punching bag.

The thought had hardly crossed her mind, however, when someone came rushing up.

“Shikyou! Brother!”

It was Hulan. The eldest son’s name, Shikyou, was actually another word for “owl,” and like Hulan’s own name, the connotations were not very positive.

Something else suddenly struck Maomao: His name doesn’t include Gyoku?

“Brother, what are you doing?” Hulan asked.

“What does it look like I’m doing? I hear our visitors are too big for their britches! That they treat the members of our household like their servants!”

Servants, huh?

True, Gyoku-ou’s second and third sons had become aides, and from a certain perspective it might look like they were being put to menial uses. Maybe it wasn’t just the little shit Gyokujun; maybe some of the actual servants of the household had their grievances with the people who had come from the royal capital.

“Please, Brother, make sure you hear all sides before you do anything rash. Are you sure you’re not just swallowing what Gyokujun says wholesale?”

“Why, I was just here trying to find out the truth, and they asked me to step outside!”

Whoa, hey, uh-uh!

The son had obviously been looking for a fight from the moment the conversation started. Even Lihaku seemed unsure how to respond.

“Brother Feilong and I are learning from the Moon Prince at our own request,” Hulan said.

“Really?”

“Moreover, it was Jun who was offensive toward our visitors.”

“Hoh...” Suddenly Shikyou’s glare settled on his son. Gyokujun tried to make himself smaller, tearing up once again.

Maomao seized her chance and stepped forward. “He injured the honored physician here. The poor man was unable to walk for several days.”

“Is that true, Gyokujun?” Shikyou was giving the boy a really hard look now.

“I... I just...”

“I’m not interested in excuses,” Shikyou said, his voice like the low growl of a beast. In his corner of the room, the quack doctor commenced quivering.

Gyokujun simply nodded.

Shikyou scratched the back of his neck, exasperated, and then he grabbed the gift for his son and brought it over.

“Here.”

The sack with the deer head flopped at Lihaku’s feet, spilling its contents. The deer’s glassy eyes stared vacantly at the sky.

“I’m sorry for my son’s disrespect. Take this as repayment, if you’d be so kind.”

With that, Shikyou left.

I guess there was something to those stories about him, Maomao thought. The word that came to mind was ruffian.

“I’m sorry. It seems my brother caused a great deal of trouble,” Hulan said.

“Don’t apologize. You saved our necks,” Maomao said gratefully.

The quack doctor hesitantly emerged from his corner, looking around as if to make sure everything was quite all right.

“Once he realizes his own father won’t even back him up, I expect Gyokujun will start to behave a little better,” Hulan said.

“I can only hope so,” Maomao replied. As far as she was concerned, the kid showed no sign of having learned anything from his recent travails. She strongly suspected he was going to try something again. Then she looked at the reeking sack and asked, “By the way, how are you supposed to eat this thing?” She was glad enough to have it, she supposed, but as an ingredient, she wasn’t sure what to do with it.

“Hmm. Sometimes people stew them to make soup stock, or boil the brains and eat those. Some people also carefully remove the skin and make a decoration of it, if they have a taste for that sort of thing.”

Unfortunately for them, they had nowhere to display a deer’s head.

“The brains, huh? I have to admit, I’m curious.”

An unknown ingredient? She had to try it!

“You’d eat its brains?!” the quack exclaimed, looking at her incredulously.

“We might as well. This head’s ours now.”

“I’m not sure I want...any brains...” The quack doctor drew back.

“Just a small taste for me,” Lihaku said, not looking very eager either.

Maomao regarded the glassy-eyed head and wished that Shikyou had at least given them the antlers as well. Velvet antler could be turned into an excellent energy tonic.