The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 13 - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: Yao and the Return of Lahan’s Brother

Yao had learned quite a few skills while Maomao was in the western capital.

“Forceps, now.”

“Yes, sir.”

She’d begun to assist during the doctors’ surgeries. This patient had shattered a bone in their arm, and they needed to extract the shards.

She was only standing by as a helper, but just being there was enough to make her stomach turn: the stench of blood, the man’s muffled screams as he bit down on the gag in his mouth, and the bone sticking out of his arm at an unnatural angle.

Covering her mouth and nose provided only the slightest relief. Still, Yao fought back the nausea and handed over the forceps.

After the surgery was finished, Yao retched copiously. En’en rubbed her back, while Maomao brought her some water.

“Thank you,” she said. “But the two of you should go back to work.”

“Understood,” Maomao answered and promptly left, but En’en hung around, looking concerned.

“Lady Yao, you mustn’t push yourself. I can do it for you,” she said. (Yao had admonished her not to call her “young mistress” while they were at work.)

“En’en, this is my job. Dr. Liu finally agreed to let me do this. Please don’t take that away from me.”

Yao had spent the past year industriously dissecting livestock. She’d experienced what it was like to kill them, and could separate out their internal organs.

Human bodies, though—those, she still wasn’t used to.

She cleared the contents of her stomach one final time, then went back to work.

Maomao was cleaning the implements that had been used in the surgery, taking care not to cut herself as she washed off the blood and fat and boiled the tools to disinfect them. The disinfection process was something the palace physicians did as a matter of course, but apparently it was a revolutionary idea. You could succeed in a surgery, and yet lose the patient because there was some “poison” on the tools you’d used.

Yao stood beside Maomao. En’en was off doing something else that one of the doctors had asked for. “Here, Maomao, I’ll help you.”

“All right. Could you cool and wipe down the boiled scalpels?”

“Sure.”

She had to make sure the tiny knives were completely dry. It was a very important job—the blades were prone to rust.

As Maomao washed each scalpel, she closed one eye and studied it, checking to make sure the blade wasn’t chipped. If there were any imperfections, the blade would be polished, and if that still didn’t do the trick, it would be swapped out for a new scalpel.

Maomao herself was beginning to be entrusted with not just helping with treatments, but doing them herself. She’d always seemed comfortable treating the wounded, but since her return from the western capital, she’d clearly taken a step up. Otherwise Dr. Liu would never have skipped over other physicians to have Maomao perform procedures. This was clearly well outside the bounds of a palace lady’s job description, however, and Maomao’s name was never actually recorded as the person wielding the knife.

This was as far as a palace lady assisting the medical officers could hope to go at this moment. No matter how good she was at her job, she would never be put forth publicly. That pained Yao, so she believed it must hurt Maomao even worse. But to all outward appearances, Maomao hardly seemed bothered. Yet here Yao was, her head constantly spinning not just with work, but with so many other things as well.

“Hey, Maomao?” she asked.

“Yes?”

“Do you ever, you know, worry about things?” Yao found herself being much more direct than she had meant to be. Would Maomao think Yao was making fun of her?

“Sure. Lots of things,” Maomao replied, unruffled.

“Lots of things? Like what?”

After a second Maomao said, “Like...human relationships.”

“Wha?” Yao’s heart skipped a beat. Was Maomao talking about...her? She wondered, but she was afraid to ask too directly.

Yao looked Maomao in the face, wondering who she could be talking about. Eventually Maomao said, somewhat awkwardly, “There’s...all these freaks around, you know?”

“Oh! Freaks! Right.”

Maomao wouldn’t say it in so many words, but she was referring to her birth father, Grand Commandant Kan. People often called him the freak strategist, and for a while he had gone virtually everywhere Maomao did. It certainly couldn’t have been easy, Yao reflected. Her uncle was always on her case, but at least she didn’t have strange folks chasing her hither and yon.

“It’s tough, huh?” Yao said.

“Yes. Very tough.”

Yao, feeling relieved, went back to wiping down the now cool scalpels. They’d just finished washing the blades when they heard footsteps approaching—distinctive, tapping, rhythmic footsteps.

“Hulloooo! Miss Chue is here!”

Striking a funny pose was, as she’d identified herself, Chue. She was a lady-in-waiting to the Moon Prince, probably a few birthdays past her twentieth, and during their time in the western capital, she had been attacked by bandits and seriously wounded. Her right arm was almost useless, and she’d broken her collarbone and even damaged some internal organs, but she seemed in high spirits just the same.

“Phew! Another day of intense pain, huh! I’d like to ask for an exam and some medicine, but pretty please mix the medicine with lots of honey. Oh! Yoo-hoo! You there—could you get me some hot tea?”

No sooner had Chue entered the medical office than she sat down as if it were the most natural thing in the world, demanding a drink from the nearest apprentice physician. She also helped herself to some of the tea snacks. Could she be any more audacious? Dr. Liu gave her a cold stare. Being the tough man of medicine he was, he probably wished he could chase her out, but he was forestalled by the Moon Prince’s orders.

Recently, Dr. Liu had been keeping the medical office assistants close when doing his work. Maybe it was because of Chue’s frequent visits—he may have hoped that having other women around would set her at ease. Yao frankly wondered whether such consideration was necessary at all in Chue’s case, but there was certainly no avoiding the reality that the woman would bear this wound for the rest of her life.

“Miss Maomao, Miss Maomao, share a cup of tea with me? And you, the young lady over there, you come too,” Chue said, indicating Maomao and Yao.

Yao could see at a glance how close Maomao and Chue were. That was only natural when they’d spent a year together in the western capital, but Yao had the sudden urge to point out that she had known Maomao longer than Chue had.

“Miss Chue, Miss Chue, I’m at work now, so I’m afraid not. And so is Miss Yao.”

“It’s true. We’re working.” The diffident answer was the most Yao could muster. Chue might think her rather boring, but Yao had never had much of a gift for humor.

“Goodness gracious, that is such a shame!” Chue said.

“More importantly, how have you been feeling?” Maomao asked, and Yao could hear in her voice that it wasn’t just a polite question; she was really concerned.

“Oh! I can’t laugh with a broken collarbone! And when I try to sleep, the pain is just awful.”

“Boil some medicine for her, Maomao,” Dr. Liu said brusquely. “And give her some painkillers for bedtime.” For the most part, he left Chue-related matters to Maomao—who, rumor had it, had been the first one to treat the injured Chue.

“All right, Miss Maomao. Please give me lots of honey, lots of citrus, and as little medicine as possible.”

“I’m afraid I only have huge, heaping helpings of medicine.” Maomao ground up some herbs in a mortar, then put them in a cup and mixed in plenty of honey and citrus.

“Oh, you’re no fun.”

Maomao, looking as if she were finding this a great deal of trouble, topped the green sludge with the tiniest excuse for a wolfberry and put a straw in it.

Chue drank it down, making a sour face.

Was it inappropriate if Yao felt a twinge of jealousy at their easy back-and-forth?

“These are painkillers for before you go to bed,” Maomao said, handing Chue a paper packet. “If you’re not in any pain, you don’t need to take them.”

“That’s a big help! I can’t even turn over in my sleep.”

At first, Yao had thought Chue must be exaggerating, but when she saw the bandages on her hand and the wounds that ran all the way from her chest to her belly, she began to wonder instead what manner of beast had attacked the woman.

For a mere lady-in-waiting to be seen by one of the most highly ranked physicians in the palace would normally have been unconscionable—the fact that it was happening anyway attested to just how great Chue’s achievements must have been. Nonetheless, as someone who didn’t know Chue very well, the best thing Yao could think was Who is this weirdo?

“Oh! That reminds me, Miss Maomao.” Chue fished two letters from the folds of her robes. “I have letters for you! Miss Chue is not a goat, so don’t worry, she wouldn’t eat them!”

“And neither would your goat, because you left it back in the western capital, didn’t you?”

“Yes, yes! Much like how we forgot your poor brother.”

“We don’t talk about that.” Maomao made a big X with her hands.

“Oh, don’t worry! He’ll be home very soon. His ship should arrive any day.”

“I’m glad to hear that.”

Yao, who had no idea what any of this meant, started to feel a little left out, but at the same time, she didn’t have it in her to simply jump into the conversation.

Maomao studied the letters intently. They didn’t say who the sender was, but the handwriting and paper seemed to give her a good idea. One of the letters she regarded with a scowl; the other, with what Yao took to be steeled resolve.

“You, come here when you’ve had your medicine. I’ll change your bandages,” said Dr. Liu.

“Yessir! Right away, sir!” Chue said and trundled into the exam room.

“You too, Maomao.”

“Yes, sir. Yao, could you take care of the rest of these?”

“Yeah, sure.”

The doctor had summoned Maomao too, so only Yao was left to finish wiping down the scalpels.

When Yao’s shift was over, she went back to Lakan’s estate. And someone was waiting for her.

“Lady Yao, welcome. I’ve found a new place you might like. What do you think?”

It was the servant called Sanfan, who approached Yao holding the blueprints of a house. Sanfan looked like a handsome young man at first glance, but in fact she was a woman in men’s clothing. It was notable that she greeted Yao not with “welcome home” but simply “welcome.”

“You could move here, just to try it out. If you don’t like it, you could move again. I’ll find as many places as you need.” Sanfan sounded very solicitous, but this was a roundabout way of saying Get the hell out.

At that point, En’en appeared, putting herself between Sanfan and Yao. “Young mistress, you must be tired. How about a bath?” she said. Then she turned to Sanfan. “Sanfan, the young mistress is tired. Perhaps we could talk about this later.”

“But of course. I can have everything prepared at a moment’s notice. You have but to ask.”

“Heh, how kind of you. It looks like you’re going somewhere yourself. Sure you don’t need to hurry?” Yao said. She had grown up a little herself. Instead of getting openly angry, she responded with her own equivalent of Hurry up and leave.

“Ah, yes. We’ll be having visitors today. The two of you can feel free to relax in the annex,” Sanfan told them. Then she left, the resentment practically radiating off her. En’en watched her go, a conflicted expression on her face.

“What’s the matter?” Yao asked. Normally, En’en would have hissed and spat at Sanfan as she left, but today she did nothing. In fact, she’d been acting a bit unusual ever since her recent day off.

“Ugh, such bad taste,” En’en was mumbling.

“Who has bad taste? What kind of taste?”

“Oh, it’s nothing.” En’en prepared a change of clothes and a towel.

The annex on Lakan’s property where Yao and En’en were currently living had no bath of its own. Instead, they’d been given a particularly large bucket that they could use in lieu of a tub. At first they had borrowed the bathtub in the main house, but that servant, Sanfan, had gone out of her way to give them the bucket. Once again, it seemed like an act of kindness on the surface, the message seemed to be that they should not use the house’s bathtub.

Sanfan clearly felt hostility toward Yao, and Yao was none too fond of Sanfan either.

“Come on, young mistress. Let’s wash up,” En’en said.

The hot water was already waiting for them. Sifan, another of Lakan’s servants, was still young, but he was sharp. He’d judged when Yao and En’en would get home and had made sure the water was ready.

En’en added some cold water to the hot so it would be the perfect temperature. Yao took off her clothes and got in the bucket. She wished she could scrub herself down before she got in the bath bucket, but they didn’t exactly have the facilities, so it would have been tough.

En’en began to wipe Yao’s arms and legs with a soft cloth. No matter how many times Yao told En’en that she could bathe herself, she never seemed to listen.

“Lady Yao? Young mistress?” En’en said.

“Yeah, En’en? What is it?”

En’en wet down Yao’s hair and began massaging her scalp. “Now that Maomao is back, I wonder if it might be about time for us to think about moving out.” She sounded like she was gauging Yao’s reaction.

“Maybe... But moving is so much work. We can take our time and think about it.” Yao found that the pleasantly warm water was making her drowsy.

It was going on a year since Yao and En’en had taken up residence at Lakan’s mansion. At first, it had just been a way of escaping the various marriage proposals her uncle brought her—but then her uncle had gone to the western capital. So why was she still here?

She was worried about her friend Maomao, that was why. She’d extended her stay hoping to get some word of her.

Well, now Maomao was back. What reason could she come up with next?

Yao was perfectly well aware that her pretexts were flimsy in the extreme. Not to mention they kept changing.

“Say, when do you suppose Master Lahan will get home?” Yao asked.

“Not for a while yet, I would guess,” En’en replied, but Yao could hear a tremble in her voice at the mention of Lahan’s name.

“If we’re going to move, I think maybe we should consult with him first.”

“I really don’t think there’s any need,” En’en said firmly. She did not like Lahan, probably because he could be quite short with Yao.

En’en frequently spoke ill of Lahan. He had a thing for older women and especially spent a lot of time with widows. He was obsessed with money, and in spite of being a public servant, he used his household help as proxies to do commercial business on his behalf. Not to mention that he’d conspired with Lakan to help the old man take over the family headship, chasing out his own parents and grandfather in the process.

En’en always peppered these accusations with plenty of personal animus, but they weren’t untrue. Yao understood that Lahan was not a good person in the strict sense—but his actions weren’t those of a villain.

Lahan was shorter than Yao, and it was hard to call him very handsome; he was quite smart but athletically hopeless. He always acted kind to women, but ultimately it was only on the surface; if you tried to go any deeper, he would promptly rebuff you.

So, viewed as a man, was he attractive? The answer was absolutely not. At least, not by Yao’s standard. So why couldn’t she get him off her mind?

Yao knew very well that Lahan thought of her as nothing more than Maomao’s colleague. He was decent to her as he would be to any acquaintance of his younger sister, but if she sought more than that, he immediately distanced himself.

Yao knew very well that her attempts were hopeless. The closer she got to Lahan, the farther away he would move himself. Yet she had the distinct sense that if she distanced herself now, she would never be able to approach him again, and it left her unable and unwilling to draw back. Call it shameless, ugly, or pathetic; Yao couldn’t hold her peace.

“Say, En’en.”

“Yes? What is it?”

“Are you ever going to get married?”

“G-Goodness, what brought this on?” En’en asked as she dried Yao off.

“Well, I know you’re perfectly popular. You could have your pick.”

Certainly, En’en was the right age to be getting married.

“I serve you, Lady Yao. I have no intention of getting married until you’re safely matched yourself.”

“Which you have no intention of ever letting me do, it appears.”

“P-Perish the thought, milady,” En’en said, clearly shaken. Her hands quivered slightly as she passed Yao her clothing. “If there should ever be a gentleman worthy of you, Lady Yao, I would gladly sew your wedding garments myself.”

“Great. And what kind of man, exactly, would be worthy of me?”

“Wha?” En’en was shocked again.

Yao tied her sash and ran a comb through her damp hair.

“W-Well...” En’en said.

When they went to the annex’s living room, dinner was already set out for them. This was another act of consideration on Sifan’s part; on days when En’en had work, he would make sure dinner was prepared. En’en oversaw the menu, so there was no question of the meals’ nutritional balance.

“He would have to be...” En’en took a deep breath. She started speaking, slowly at first, but then faster and faster, picking up steam as she went along. “An adult man who had his act together. He couldn’t be too much older than you, however; I think something less than ten years your senior would be ideal. We would have to know where he came from, and his family would have to be at least as good as yours. He would have to be about 180 centimeters tall, well-built, and of course healthy. It would be wonderful if he were intelligent, but only if it didn’t give him a big head—it should simply make him quick-witted and adaptable. He would tackle difficult situations, never giving up and never losing hope. He would help the helpless, and never simply resort to violence for its own sake. Hopefully he would be halfway good-looking, but the most important thing would be what’s inside. I would much rather he be innocent and naive than a womanizer. He should be tolerant, not restrictive, and humble in all things. That’s most important of all!”

“Does a man like that even exist?” Yao asked. She thought maybe En’en was setting the bar a bit too high.

“He must be out there! You only have to look!”

Yao wasn’t convinced. She thought En’en didn’t want her to get married and was deliberately setting an impossible standard. Still, Yao herself didn’t want to get married while she was still learning her trade. If anything, she thought it would be perfect if En’en would find someone who would bear children in Yao’s place.

“And another thing. That’s not my ideal, that’s yours, isn’t it, En’en?”

“Yes, for of course your husband will become my master as well, Lady Yao. I’m simply telling you about my ideal master!” En’en dished some congee into a bowl and set it in front of Yao.

“Well, if we do find a man like that, maybe you can marry him, then.”

Yao was just taking a sip of congee when they heard a voice in the distance.

“Heeey! Is anyone home?” It sounded like a young man. “Lahaaaan! Are you here or what?”

Whoever it was, he was looking for Lahan.

“Master Lahan isn’t back yet, is he?” Yao said. The estate didn’t have many servants to begin with, and by this hour there were fewer still. Meanwhile, Sanfan had just gone off somewhere.

“I can’t just let you in! Tell me your name!” someone challenged him.

“What?! Don’t you know who I am?!” the newcomer shouted back.

Something was very strange. Curious, Yao put down her spoon.

“There’s no need for you to get involved in this, young mistress,” En’en said.

“I’m just going to take a quick look.”

En’en didn’t look eager to come along, but she also didn’t seem like she was going to stop Yao; instead she brought some overwear and placed it over her mistress’s shoulders.

Meanwhile the visitor was saying, “You must be new here! You ought to have some idea who lives in the house you serve, you know!”

“Sounds to me like a suspicious character trying to talk his way inside!”

“How dare you!”

At the gate, a man in his twenties was arguing with the door guard. He was on the tall side, well-built, and tanned enough that for a moment Yao thought he must have been a southerner, but his facial features were very much those of someone from the central region. Nothing about his face really distinguished him, but he could still be called handsome in his own way.

The commotion had attracted not only Yao, but also Sifan and the other servants, as well as Junjie, the boy who’d come home with Lahan.

“What’s going on here?” Sifan asked. Behind him, Wufan and Liufan stood looking uneasy.

“There’s someone here who claims he’s a member of the family and is demanding to be let in,” the guard said.

“Wh—Why, that’s—!” Junjie went toward the guard and the suspicious newcomer.

“Now, you listen! My name is—”

“Mister Lahan’s Brother!” Junjie exclaimed.

“Guh?”

“It’s been much too long,” Junjie said to the suspicious character—ahem, Lahan’s Brother. “What happened to you? I was told you stayed behind in the western capital to take care of some unfinished work.”

“Er... I did stay behind, but it wasn’t...” Lahan’s Brother started to trip over his own words. From his name Yao guessed that the man was, well, Lahan’s brother, but the two of them seemed nothing alike.

“My respect for you runs so deep!” Junjie said. “I heard afterward about how the locust swarm didn’t do more damage than it did because you went all over I-sei Province sounding the alarm. Without you, Lahan’s Brother, hundreds of thousands of people might have starved—that’s what Mister Lahan told me. I was speechless. The fact that me and my family are alive today is all thanks to you!”

Junjie looked at Lahan’s Brother with sparkling eyes. Lahan’s Brother appeared overpowered by his innocent gaze.

“Junjie, sweetheart, I’m sorry to interrupt, but could you introduce me to this person?”

“Oh! Of course, Lady Yao, my apologies. This is Mister Lahan’s Brother. He’s Master Lahan’s older brother.”

Yes, she’d gathered that much. But she couldn’t help noticing that “Lahan” was a “Master” while “Lahan’s Brother” warranted only a “Mister” at best.

Sanfan must have gone to meet this Lahan’s Brother, and they must have somehow missed each other.

“You’re Master Lahan’s honored older brother?” the door guard said, looking distinctly unhappy. He’d just been treating this man like a complete stranger. “I b-b-beg your pardon!” He knelt in the dirt and bowed his head. If this person was Lahan’s older brother, then he, too, was a member of the La clan.

“Oh, it’s fine. You’re fine. I’m used to it by now.” Lahan’s Brother took the guard by the arm and pulled him to his feet. “I don’t need anyone bowing their head to me. It’s my bad for coming home without waiting for someone to come and get me. Really, you don’t have to give it another thought. Go back to whatever you were doing.”

He shooed the guard away, evidently uninterested in meting out any punishment.

“Pleased to meet you,” said Sifan. “I’m Sifan, a servant at this house, and behind me are Wufan and Liufan. Sanfan went to meet you at the dock, but it seems she was too late. I can’t apologize enough.”

“You don’t have to apologize at all, really. It wasn’t that far. It’s been so long since I was back in the royal capital that I appreciated the walk.”

“The walk? It’s really quite a ways from the port to the house...”

“Ah, but paved roads make everything so easy, don’t they?”

“Are you not tired, sir?”

“It was fine exercise! Goodness knows I didn’t have anything to do on the ship.”

Apparently, despite being a member of the La clan, he was the outdoorsy type.

Yao pondered what to do, then took a step forward. Self-introductions, she was convinced, were an important place to start. “It’s a pleasure to meet you, sir. My name is Lu Yao, and this household has been showing me its hospitality. This young lady with me is En’en.”

“Er... Oh,” said Lahan’s Brother. He seemed shaken when he looked at Yao and En’en.

“Might I ask your name, sir?” Yao said. It seemed altogether too rude to go around calling him Lahan’s Brother. Some might say it was forward of a woman to ask a gentleman’s name, but Yao was a woman with a job. She didn’t survive by being passive and receptive.

“Ahem. Well, I’m...” Lahan’s Brother sounded lost again, and he kept shooting glances at Junjie, who continued to regard him with a shine in his eyes. “You can just call me Lahan’s Brother.”

“L-Lahan’s Brother?” Yao repeated.

“Ahem. Yes. I’m the brother of Lahan, ergo, Lahan’s Brother.” He looked toward the setting sun, and his eyes were clear, filled with what might have been enlightenment or might have been sheer resignation.

He was certainly unusual enough to be a La clan member, Yao thought. She also thought—although she didn’t say—that Lahan’s Brother was very close to En’en’s “ideal master.”