The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 12 - Chapter Ep

Epilogue

The salt breeze felt wonderful; Maomao savored the wind of the sea as she walked across the deck of the ship.

They’d left I-sei Province behind and were underway on a pleasant sea voyage. The vessel they were on reminded her of the ones they’d taken on the way here, though it was slightly, subtly different in shape. Once again, they had three large vessels, with some merchant ships accompanying them.

Things had changed dramatically in the western capital over the past several months. There had been a time when people had muttered that the Emperor’s younger brother had assassinated Gyoku-ou in order to take over the city, but with Gyoku-ou’s eldest son Shikyou now involved in the local politics, impressions had changed. For all the chatter about Shikyou’s delinquency, people seemed to regard him well enough. The fact that he was the spitting image of his father seemed to account for the lion’s share of his popularity, but maybe there was another factor: the heroic quality that had been a performance for Gyoku-ou felt perfectly natural coming from Shikyou.

There were still potential problems with provisions, but Jinshi, the Emperor’s younger brother, couldn’t stay in the area forever, so it was decided that he would go home. Vice Minister Lu would have his hands full, no doubt, but hopefully he would do the best he could.

Frankly, he might find it easier to work with Jinshi back in the central region.

Those who had begrudged supplies to the west would find they could no longer refuse with His Majesty’s brother close at hand. It wasn’t the sort of thing the Imperial family would normally get involved in, but Maomao could easily imagine Jinshi doing just that.

I can’t believe it’s been almost a whole year since we got here. She wondered how much the imperial city had changed. She hoped everyone she knew there was doing well. I forgot to buy souvenirs...but they won’t be expecting any by now, will they?

She hadn’t had time for such things. Well, she had one souvenir: the ambergris. She was sure glad to at least have something to give the cantankerous old madam. Otherwise, no excuse in the world would have spared her from the old lady’s discipline.

Much as Maomao would have liked to finally relax, the ship home hosted certain people around whom she definitely could not do that.

“Miss Chue, Miss Chue.”

“Yes? What is it, Miss Maomao?”

Chue was eating some raisins still on the vine, as if in wistful recollection of the western capital. With her left hand alone, she easily plucked them out of the bunch and popped them into her mouth.

“What is that old fart doing here?” Maomao asked, sending a glower toward the old fart—i.e., the freak strategist, who was at the bow.

“He’s here for the same reason you are, Miss Maomao—to go home from the western capital,” Chue drawled. “He was looking quite chipper at first, but the moment the ship got underway...well, he didn’t even make it to the head, the poor thing. Just emptied the contents of his stomach right into the sweet sea breeze.”

“Spare me the details. I can guess.”

The sick still glittered with sea spray; Maomao started to feel bad for the aide nearby. There was a younger person there, too, with a bucket. Junjie, that was his name—he’d helped look after Maomao in the western capital.

“Master Lakan was supposed to be on another ship, but oh, the tantrum he threw! ‘This time I’m going to go with Maomao! Wah wah!’ He looked ready to get some gunpowder involved if we weren’t careful, and—well, you’ve got to know when to fold them. But he’ll be lying low so long as we’re sailing, so I think you should be just fine.”

“Where was he going to get this gunpowder?” Maomao grumbled. She did not want anyone causing an explosion on any ship she was aboard.

Then she said, “I didn’t know Junjie was going to be with us too.”

So young, and already going abroad to work in order to earn money to support his family. How very filial of him.

“Yes, indeed. He was more surprised than anyone to find out that his name was on the list of passengers heading back to the capital. Perhaps we can have him stick with Master Lakan for a while—our dear strategist does seem to get along better with kids.”

So much for Certain Person No. 1 around whom Maomao couldn’t relax.

As for Certain Person No. 2...

“I’ve finished organizing the cargo. What would you like me to do next?”

There was a humble young man with baggage in both hands. On his bare skin were red splotches that appeared to be burn scars.

Maomao glowered at him.

“Oh, you have? Then maybe you could swab in front of our cabins,” said Chue. “Master Lakan didn’t quite make it to the deck before he let loose, and it’s not a pretty sight down there. Miss Maomao’s and my rooms could each use a touch-up. Be thorough, now!”

“Yes, ma’am. When I’m finished, may I pay a visit to the Moon Prince?” The young man, whose name was Hulan, bowed politely.

“Whatever are you talking about? There’s plenty more work for you to do after that! The moment you’re done by the cabins, you’ll need to start swabbing the deck.” Chue pointed to the freak strategist, who was still actively vomiting.

“Why is...this guy here?” Maomao asked with undisguised displeasure.

“‘This guy’ is so terribly harsh. Please, feel free to simply call me Hulan.” The young man was still grinning, the same as he always did. Maomao had found herself fleeing all over I-sei Province because she’d treated Shikyou after he was shot with a poison dart—but it was Xiaohong who had brought her to the injured man. And it was Hulan who had urged Xiaohong on.

Hulan was the one who had sought to subdue Shikyou on account of a succession dispute, and had dragged Maomao into it too. She’d had every intention of feeding him a knuckle sandwich when they next met, but somehow, seeing him covered from head to toe in burns, she didn’t quite have the heart.

“Miss Maomao, Miss Maomao!”

“Miss Chue. I don’t trust myself to stay calm around him.”

“Oh, won’t you let it pass this time?” Chue grinned as wide as Hulan and pointedly held up her crippled right hand. It was she who had been most grievously hurt in their adventure, and if she urged temperance, there wasn’t much Maomao could say.

“As you see, there’s nowhere left for me in the western capital. More importantly, the duty I must execute has changed,” Hulan said.

Maomao looked at him, puzzled. “I can see why they wouldn’t want you in the western capital, but what’s this about your duty?”

Hulan blushed slightly and looked down. “My duty now is to offer up my body for the sake of the master I ought to serve.”

“Sorry. I don’t follow.” Maomao was feeling sicker by the minute. Her expression somewhat resembled the one that “abacus-glasses” Lahan occasionally leveled at Jinshi.

“I know you don’t much care for me, Lady Maomao, but I ask you to trust me. I’ve accompanied this voyage in order to do my duty to the utmost. I offer and will offer up this body of mine for the sake of the Moon Prince at any moment he may ask, for it is by his grace that I live.”

That’s one weird-ass zealot.

Maomao looked at Chue, unimpressed. “Is it too late to trade him for Xiaohong?”

“The thought crossed my mind, but unfortunately, she’s underage, so it was a no-go. I couldn’t get Miss Yinxing to agree.”

Well, at least she’d tried.

“Xiaohong! Ah, you are most discerning. I’ve long thought that girl could be very useful indeed.”

“And why did you get this...useful girl wrapped up in your plot?” Maomao asked.

“Well, when I heard she was even more suitable than I was, how could I not want to meddle a bit? I never dreamed she would bring you of all people, Lady Maomao. I never meant for you to get involved. It’s true, I swear it. You must believe me!”

Hulan made it all sound unaccountably frivolous. He was starting to look like a screw had come loose somewhere in his head.

“Oh! So that’s the story.” Chue seemed oddly prepared to take what he said at face value.

Maomao wasn’t sure what it was Chue was taking from what Hulan said, but she had another question. “All right, Master Hulan, tell me: Could it be that you were testing me the entire time I was in the western capital?”

It was Hulan who had brought her the cases of food poisoning at the distillery as well as the sick VIP.

“Testing is such an unpleasant word. I simply brought you along wondering if you might be able to solve those problems, Lady Maomao.”

“That includes the food poisoning at the distillery?” She wanted to be sure.

Hulan didn’t answer, but only smiled.

“Oh, the distillery—I heard things were tough after that,” Chue said, neatly changing the subject. Maomao took her point: much as she might want to corner Hulan, she wasn’t to pursue this subject too deeply.

Chue went on, “A test sip is all well and good, but it turned out that they’d drunk their best wine dry. They just drank too much, until they didn’t have enough to fulfill their orders, so they mixed in watered-down, inferior stuff.”

“Inferior stuff?” Maomao asked. This story was starting to sound familiar.

“That’s right. This was just about when there was all that commotion about their wine. They thought they’d gotten away with it, but then the food poisoning happened and everything came to light.”

As if on cue, Chue and Hulan both grinned broadly. The two of them looked nothing alike, yet their smiles were identical.

“He’s not hopeless, you see, but he’s not very subtle. He’s got to learn somehow.”

“So now he’s working for you, Miss Chue?”

“You got it! And I’m going to work him like a dog. Feel free to make him do whatever menial tasks you want, Miss Maomao.”

“I look forward to working with you,” Hulan said, strangely upbeat for someone who had been exiled from his home. Maomao let out a long sigh and turned away, leaving Hulan to ponder what to do about the freak strategist, the contents of whose stomach were currently forming a rainbow in the sky.

Maomao was sick of looking at either of them, so she turned her mind to considering where else she could be at that moment—whereupon she spotted a lookout’s platform high up one of the masts.

“Excuse me, could I go up there?” she asked a nearby sailor.

“What would you do up there? It’d be dangerous for you, miss.”

“I was just curious.”

“Curious? Do all you central types like high places?” He gave her a dubious look, but what did she care? If he’d pressed the point, she might have thought better of the idea, but the sailor brought her a rope. “Here, a lifeline. It is dangerous, so make sure you tie it tight around yourself.”

“Oh, thank you very much.” She was actually surprised how readily the man went along with her request. She tied the rope around her waist and then started working her way upward until she arrived at the lookout, which was about halfway up the mast. She was about to climb onto the platform when she realized someone had beaten her to it.

“What are you doing here, Maomao?” he asked.

“I could ask you the very same question, Master Jinshi.”

There was Jinshi, sitting on the lookout’s platform.

“Me? I just... You know. I was trying to get away from someone rather troublesome.”

“Master Basen? No, that wouldn’t make sense... Is it Master Hulan?”

Jinshi’s expression darkened: bingo.

“And what brings you up here?” he asked.

“It’s just such a lovely day that I wanted to be outside, but I’ve been trying to find somewhere the freak strategist isn’t vomiting.”

In other words, they were both there for roughly the same reason.

“Anyway, have a seat.”

“It’s a bit cramped.”

“Live with it.”

Maomao sat down, effectively shoulder to shoulder with Jinshi. What else could she do? It was cramped. Maybe they’d only let her up here because someone else had done it first.

“We’re finally going home,” Jinshi mused.

“It’s been a most circuitous route,” Maomao said.

“Don’t say that. Not when I’m finally in a decent mood.”

Jinshi looked at the sky: blue with puffy white clouds. The picture of peace, as if nothing bad could possibly happen.

“Things are going to be busy when we get back to the capital,” Maomao said.

“That’s for certain. I’m sure work has been piling up there, and supporting a distant land like I-sei Province from the royal capital isn’t going to be easy.” Nonetheless, Jinshi’s expression conveyed that it would have to be done.

The profile of his face was nearly perfect, marked only by a single stroke, a single scar. It would probably never fade, but then again, Maomao recalled, Jinshi seemed oddly fond of it.

It makes me think of everything that happened with the Shi clan.

It must have reminded Jinshi, too, each time he looked in a mirror or touched his cheek.

Maomao knew very well that this man, Jinshi, felt his responsibilities keenly. He didn’t need her to remind him that there would be lots of work to do when they got home. What had moved her to say something so insensitive?

She couldn’t think of much else to talk about, however, so she ventured, “What do you most want to do when we get back to the capital, Master Jinshi?”

“What do I want to do?” Jinshi pondered. He pondered so hard that he began to frown, and tilt his head, and hrmmm.

I really don’t think he needs to think about it that hard. Maomao hadn’t meant that much by the question.

“Do you really need to think about it that hard, sir?”

Maomao could think of all kinds of things she wanted to do when they got back: pick medicinal herbs, compound some medicines, experiment with the effects of some new drugs. All kinds of things.

“Ah, it’s just... I’m sure there’s a panoply of things I don’t want to do waiting for me, and all I can seem to think of is how I’m going to deal with them.”

“Ahhh... You know, I do remember them saying something about there being a new potential consort.”

Who was she again? Gyoku-ou’s adopted daughter? Maomao couldn’t help feeling a bit bad for the girl now that Gyoku-ou, who had sent her to the rear palace, was dead.

“Empress Gyokuyou has been dealing with that matter on my behalf. Bringing her around, I don’t doubt.”

“Bringing her around, sir?”

“Didn’t you know? Empress Gyokuyou is famous—or perhaps I should say infamous—for her way with people. During her time in the rear palace, she practically redrew the power map among the Emperor’s women.”

Maomao thought back to her time inside the rear-palace walls. Now that Jinshi mentioned it, she did recall Gyokuyou frequently having tea with middle and lower consorts, drawing them into her faction.

“I don’t believe the Empress’s position is going to change,” Jinshi said.

Maomao had sent some letters while she was in the western capital, but she had naturally hesitated to send anything to such an august personage as the Empress herself. She had no idea what Gyokuyou’s present situation was.

“I’m told that both the young prince and the princess are doing very well,” Jinshi said.

“That’s good to hear.”

Maomao was closer to the princess than she was to the young heir apparent. The inquisitive little girl must be getting big by now.

“Would you like to pay them a visit when we get back?”

“Could I? Empress Gyokuyou has attempted to, ahem, ‘scout’ me several times already.”

“You know what? Forget I said anything,” Jinshi replied immediately. Then he said, “What do I want to do? You know, there is one thing...”

“What’s that, sir?”

Jinshi’s hand brushed Maomao’s, settling against it, emphasizing how much bigger his hand was than hers.

“Is this what you wanted to do?” Maomao asked.

“There are other things too.”

“Oh, is that so?”

“But I can’t.” His eyes drifted down to the spewing figure on the deck. “I’m restraining myself as hard as I can. It’s not easy.”

Maomao was by now well acquainted with Jinshi’s feelings—and she knew that he no longer had to pretend to be a eunuch. It made it slightly awkward to be perched up here so close to him. But at the same time...it wasn’t that unpleasant.

“I know you have your circumstances, Miss Maomao. It’s important not to get carried away by your emotions! But you can’t let that be an excuse either.”

Why was it that she seemed to think of Chue’s words whenever she was with Jinshi?

What she felt for Jinshi was not, she suspected, a burning passion. She couldn’t respond to him with the same feelings he brought to her, but at the same time, there weren’t that many people in the world with whom she could feel this safe.

She was starting to figure out what her own feelings were and had begun to believe that she ought to accept them. It might have been nice if it hadn’t been the clowning lady-in-waiting who’d given her that final push, but what were you going to do?

What am I going to do?

Maomao’s hand still sat against Jinshi’s. Nothing more had happened, which was fine by her, but now she wasn’t sure when to pull her hand away.

“Maomao,” Jinshi said.

“Yes, sir?”

At the same time she turned to look up into Jinshi’s face, she found Jinshi’s face coming down toward hers.

The touch of his lips was so light, so casual, that for a second she didn’t know what had happened.

At first, he didn’t say anything.

“What? Are you embarrassed?” she exclaimed, when she realized he’d flushed red at even this most chaste of kisses.

“No, ahem, I just... I’ve restrained myself, and I meant to continue restraining myself...”

Before she could stop herself, Maomao exclaimed, “Restraint! You didn’t restrain yourself so much before!”

“I didn’t...” Jinshi appeared to remember something, and turned grim. Presumably he was thinking of “before,” when he had forced a kiss on her, and she’d turned the tables and given him a taste of his own medicine.

“Don’t worry, sir. I won’t get you back for it this time.”

“Er... That’s not what I...”

“You’d rather I did?”

Jinshi pursed his lips and looked at Maomao. “I rather thought you despised me.”

This time it was her turn not to say anything. Instead, she glanced away from him.

I think I don’t despise him...do I?

If not, then of course she wouldn’t try to get him back. But even so, she couldn’t accept Chue’s words so wholeheartedly as to actually say it at this moment.

“Well?”

“Well what, sir?”

“You know perfectly well!”

“Please don’t shout. What if the freak strategist were to notice us? Do you want him to climb up here, retching as he goes?”

“Urk. No, I... I don’t.”

Jinshi went silent. Maomao, too, quietly looked down toward the deck. But she didn’t take her hand away.

There are a lot of people going back with us who weren’t here when we came out, she thought. For one thing, the freak strategist hadn’t been on their ship, but they also had several of the farming buddies Lahan’s Brother had recruited. Maomao sincerely felt for them; they’d been done a bad turn.

It was only then that she realized something.

“You know, I don’t see Lahan’s Brother anywhere,” she said.

“Lahan’s Brother? He should be here. All the people involved with farming were supposed to be on this ship,” said Jinshi.

Then Maomao thought back. Had she told Lahan’s Brother that they were returning to the central region?

No... I got distracted watching Xiaohong stand up for herself and it pushed the subject completely out of my mind.

It still didn’t make sense. Even if Maomao had forgotten to tell him, surely someone would have.

“Wait... Didn’t he say a few days ago that he was going to go check on the fields in the villages?” Maomao asked.

“He must have come back. We checked off everyone on the ship’s list of passengers.”

“That’s true; good point. I’m sure we didn’t leave him behind. But maybe we should check the list again, just to be completely certain.”

“Good idea. By the way, what is Lahan’s Brother’s name?”

There was a long pause. Maomao felt her hand start to sweat, and her only consolation was that Jinshi’s did too.

Jinshi and Maomao looked at the land, now far in the distance. The ship would not be going back to port now.

They heard gulls crying overhead. Maomao thought she saw, faintly, the image of Lahan’s Brother hovering in the air.

Some time later, they finally learned Lahan’s Brother’s name, at the same time as they learned he wasn’t on the ship with them. As for Lahan’s Brother, back in the western lands, he still hadn’t noticed that he had been left behind.