The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 12 - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: Junjie

After more than six months in the western capital, there was a fairly stable group of servants attached to Maomao and the others.

“Lady Maomao, I’ve brought the materials you requested.” A boy, not yet old enough for his coming-of-age ceremony, appeared at the medical office. He was too old to think of him as a child but too young to think of him as a man. Maomao had heard he was thirteen, but he was still a good fist shorter than her. Regardless of his size, though, he was polite and dedicated. He mostly did menial tasks for Maomao and the other occupants of the medical office. They valued him very much, because he was polite and listened well.

“Thank you,” she said. She began to sort the materials he’d brought her, and was going to hand him some dried fruit in lieu of a tip, but he said—

“Thank you, but I can’t accept that. I’m receiving a salary.”

Gosh, he’s so mature! In her admiration for the young man, Maomao couldn’t help thinking of the little brat at the Verdigris House back in the capital. Chou-u was almost the same age as this boy, but he could stand to learn a thing or two from the kid’s attitude. Unfortunately, changing a personality wasn’t that easy.

It’s been a while. Maybe I should write to him.

Maomao didn’t have much time to think about it, though, because someone shouted from outside the office, “Heeey! Is anyone there?”

“Yes,” Maomao answered. She looked outside, wondering who it could be, to find Lahan’s Brother. He set down a basket he had been carrying. “Oh, hello there. Welcome home.” Maomao went over to him.

Lahan’s Brother was very busy. He was going here, there, and everywhere to the areas around the western capital, setting up farm fields, and coming back again. He might deny it, but Lahan’s Brother was doing more and taking more initiative than anyone to plow the earth.

Maomao looked into the basket to find some sad-looking sweet potatoes.

“These are hardly potatoes. They’re just roots.” Lahan’s Brother looked crestfallen.

“Don’t worry, we can eat them...if we have to,” Maomao said. They could steam them and consume them with the skin still on. They were so puny that they would cook nice and quick.

“At least we were able to harvest a halfway decent amount of these.” Lahan’s Brother tossed a white potato to her.

“Maybe white potatoes do better in this climate.”

“Probably. The harvest would’ve been better without those grasshoppers, but, well, here we are.”

It was best not to count your eggs before they hatched. Lahan’s Brother had a deep furrow in his brow; maybe he was contemplating the harsh reality of the situation.

“You don’t look very happy,” Maomao observed. Lahan’s Brother was holding up one of the potatoes and studying it with a grim expression.

“Look at it. It’s tiny. I don’t think we did enough sprout removal or fertilizing when it was growing.”

Maomao hadn’t heard of sprout removal before, but she guessed it was something like culling.

“It’s no use harvesting a bunch of potatoes when they’re this size,” Lahan’s Brother groaned.

“Ahh. Is that what you’re worried about?” Maomao saw what Lahan’s Brother was trying to say.

“But why is it such a problem if the potatoes are small?” asked the servant boy. “If there’s enough of them, it shouldn’t matter how large they are, right?” So he wasn’t just dedicated, but curious, as well.

Lahan’s Brother showed the boy the potato he was holding. “You see how this potato looks a little green?”

“Now that you mention it, yes, it is a bit greenish.”

“That green part is poisonous.”

“Poisonous?!” The boy blinked. “B-But you’re supposed to be able to eat potatoes, right? That’s what we grow them for.”

“Yes, it’s edible. Just peel the skin off, and there’s no problem at all. But these sprouts are poisonous, too, so you have to make sure to cut them off when you’re cooking it. A potato this small isn’t very ripe, and there are a lot of green spots on the skin.”

“If you accidentally eat the green stuff, you’ll find it’s very bitter and gives you a tingling sensation,” Maomao volunteered. Without a word, Lahan’s Brother dropped a knifehand on her forehead. The message seemed to be: What are you eating? She’d always been told to be especially careful of food poisoning when dealing with potato dishes.

“As long as it’s prepared correctly, you’ll be fine. Not even a stomachache. So don’t worry. But if you experience any funny sensations while you’re eating a potato, stop right away, hear?”

“Yes, sir.”

While Lahan’s Brother was busy instructing the young servant on potato safety, Maomao took a closer look at the sweet potatoes.

“Not to get ahead of ourselves, but could I steam the sweet potatoes now?” she asked. The quack doctor would be wanting a snack soon.

“Hmm... Let’s wait on those. They’re not at their best right after being harvested. They’ll be sweeter if we let them sit for a couple of weeks.”

“Even...root-y ones like these?”

“You want them to taste as good as they can, don’t you? Even if it’s not by much.”

Maomao had to agree with him.

“U-Um,” the kid said, hesitantly stepping forward.

“Yeah? What?”

“Well, sir and ma’am... I know it’s a little late, but perhaps I could introduce myself?” He was a humble enough young man to want to greet them properly.

“Introduce yourself? Yes, good idea. That’s a good attitude!” Lahan’s Brother’s eyes were shining, as if he had spied a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Might he, at last, have here a chance to offer his name?

“Thank you, sir. I’m called Junjie. I’m told it’s a very commonplace name, so I hope it may be easy for you to remember.”

Maomao had heard it before, but she always forgot—today she decided she would try to remember.

“J...Junjie, you say?” Lahan’s Brother was frowning. For some reason, the young man’s name seemed to bother him.

“And what was your family name, again?” Maomao asked the young man—ahem, Junjie—as if to say Of course I remembered your name.

“Ma’am. It’s Kan. Another quite common name—indeed, I believe I share it with the honored strategist currently residing here.” The young man—ahem, Junjie—seemed somewhat reluctant.

Lahan’s Brother, meanwhile, was shaking like a man struck by lightning.

“Kan? Yeah, that is the same name as our strategist, and it is pretty common. Not that I’m one to talk!” Lihaku had wandered in at some point and now joined the conversation. He must have been helping Lahan’s Brother, because he was holding a basket of white potatoes.

“Yes, a very typical name indeed. I think I know three different Kans myself,” said the quack doctor, who spotted the basket and seemed to be contemplating whether it could be put to the service of some kind of snack.

“Yes, sirs,” the young man—Junjie!—said. “My only concern is that there might be some honored personage here who shares my name. At the last place I worked, I had the same name as someone else, and he decided he didn’t like it. I must say, I’m a little worried.”

Lahan’s Brother spasmed again. He was as pale as if he’d seen a ghost.

“Huh! Some guys have a real stick up their ass about that kind of thing, don’t they? So what did you do about it?” Lihaku asked, setting down the basket of potatoes.

“As I’m the eldest son, I asked people to call me Haku’un.” That was to say haku, meaning “eldest son,” and un, meaning “cloud.”

“That seems innocuous as nicknames go.”

“It is, it is! Junjie is just such a common name, and once I found out it would be a problem...”

Lahan’s Brother had a look on his face so deathly grim that it was hard to put into words. He was pale and sweating profusely; Maomao wondered if he was feeling sick.

“Oh, but if anyone else here already has my name, please, by all means, forget it’s mine. I don’t mind if you simply call me whatever you please.” Junjie gave them a smile, but it was clear he’d been through a lot.

Lahan’s Brother stood there with his face squinched up, looking like he wanted to say something. For some time now he had been silent, only reacting physically.

“I’m overjoyed simply to be allowed to work here. Everyone is so kind, and there aren’t many places where you can receive a steady salary at this difficult moment. If all I have to do to stay here is change my name, that’s no problem at all. By all means, call me anything.”

Junjie pounded his chest. As the oldest son—not that old, but still—he would do whatever it took to support his family.

“My goodness, but life has been harsh to you, hasn’t it? Well, don’t you worry. There are no nasty people here who will tell you to change your name. Come now, how about a snack?”

The quack offered him a mugwort mochi, filled out with plenty of mugwort.

“Oh, no, sir, I couldn’t...”

“Please, I insist! You have to eat if you’re going to grow big and strong!”

Junjie tried to politely decline, but the quack turned out to be a hard man to refuse. It was Junjie who caved first.

“Thank you very much, sir. A-Ahem, I’m not very hungry at the moment, so perhaps I could take this home to my younger brothers?”

“Oh! Siblings! Well, you should take plenty, then!”

Quack doctor! Our food supply isn’t unlimited, you know! Maomao thought. Nonetheless, no one else seemed inclined to stop him, so she didn’t make a big deal out of it.

Having gone through an extensive medley of different expressions, Lahan’s Brother was now simply looking at the ground.

“What’s the matter, Lahan’s Brother? Have you caught a cold?” Maomao asked. He was indisputably one of those who had worked the hardest since they’d arrived in the western capital. It wouldn’t do anyone any good if he collapsed.

“Oh, sir! Please, pardon me. How rude of me to introduce myself without asking your name,” Junjie said. “What is your name, sir?”

There they were—the words Lahan’s Brother had waited six months to hear.

Everyone turned toward him expectantly. At last!

After a long moment, he spoke. And he said...

“Lahan’s Brother.”

“Er... Is everything all right?”

Wasn’t his catchphrase supposed to be “Don’t call me Lahan’s Brother!”?

“My name is...Lahan’s Brother!” Lahan’s Brother said, and then he spun on his heel and stalked off.

“So he’s...Master Lahan’s Brother?” Junjie was as confused as any of them, but they’d had it straight from the horse’s mouth.

As he walked away, Lahan’s Brother had never looked more melancholy.