The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 14 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Meeting of the Named (Part One)

The day after she had visited Jinshi, Maomao found herself shaken awake by someone most unexpected.

“Maomao, wake up!”

“Huh? En’en?”

Maomao was tired from everything that had happened the night before. She hadn’t even managed to brush her teeth before sleep had taken her. Even her leftover food and drink still lay scattered about.

“Quick, get changed!”

“Why? Were we doing something today?” Still looking a bit vacant, Maomao got out some clothes. She was pretty sure she’d left today open, after planning to visit Jinshi last night.

“We weren’t, until the biggest thing happened and now I need you to come with me.” En’en looked deadly serious.

“Aren’t you going to ask if I’m free?”

“What are your plans for today?”

“Nothing much.”

At least, there hadn’t been.

“And you have work tomorrow, right?” En’en asked.

“Yeah...”

“Don’t worry, I took the liberty of telling them you’d be out.”

“What? Why?!”

Maomao was still trying to catch up with what was happening as En’en stripped her down and hustled her into her clothes.

“Where are we going? For that matter, where’s Yao?”

“My mistress is in the carriage outside. I’ll give you the details once we’re en route.”

In other words, she would not be taking no for an answer. Maomao could be surprisingly generous—but there were limits. Yao and En’en weren’t as bad as Lahan, but she still thought they were going a bit overboard.

“What if I refuse?” she asked. You had to know where to draw the line in your relationships. She couldn’t have En’en thinking she could just be pushed around.

“I have one good reason you won’t. Something you love.”

I’m not sure what she takes me for.

Maomao wasn’t going to remain pleasant and friendly forever. A lot had happened last night, and she was still tired. She was very eager to spend today in quiet relaxation.

“Here.”

En’en placed a thick book in front of her. It had a luxurious vellum cover decorated with pictures of flowers and bearing a title in a foreign language.

Maomao’s sleepy eyes snapped open and she swallowed hard.

“May I...open it?”

“Be my guest.”

“Hoooooohhhhhh!”

It was a botanical encyclopedia. Maomao was struck by the detail of the illustrations in spite of the fact that the book appeared to be printed. She’d never seen this book before, and many of the plants within were unfamiliar to her. Even if it took time to translate, the result would be well worth the effort.

“All right, that’s it for your test read!” En’en announced.

“Ahhh!”

En’en snatched the book away from Maomao, who was clinging to it and quivering.

“A few more pages! Let me see just a little more!”

“It’s a very valuable book—a trader seems to have stocked it on a whim, then sold it to a bookstore. I doubt we’ll see another copy for a good long while.”

“How much? How much do you want?! I’ll pay! I’ll give you my whole salary, and if that’s not enough, I’ll go into debt!”

“You sound like a desperate gambler,” En’en grumbled. Then she gave the book to Maomao. In exchange, she clasped Maomao’s wrist firmly, so she couldn’t get away. “I promise I’ll tell you everything. But for starters, would you join me in the carriage?”

“Absolutely!” Maomao said, hugging her encyclopedia close.

As promised, Yao was in the carriage outside the dormitory, dressed to go out. En’en sat beside her, while Maomao sat across from them. The carriage started off.

“So where exactly do you plan to take me?” Maomao asked Yao, still clutching her book.

“Maomao, do you know about the meeting of the named?”

“The meeting of the named?” She cocked her head.

“I can’t believe you,” groused Yao.

“Positively ridiculous,” said En’en.

“Why? What’s wrong?” Maomao asked, giving them an annoyed look.

“Didn’t you get a letter from Master Lahan?”

“Yes, and it made excellent kindling.”

Long pause from the other girls.

Lahan’s letters were inevitably filled with prying questions about how things were going with Jinshi and other obnoxiousness, so these days Maomao threw them right in the trash.

“No wonder you don’t know.”

“What is this meeting of the named? Is that where we’re going now, by any chance?”

“Correct,” said En’en, giving her an okay gesture.

“When you say ‘named,’ you must be talking about—you know. The Ma clan and the U clan and all those.”

“That’s right. It’s a meeting of all the clans who have been granted a name by the Emperor. We, however, are not among them. I’d love to go myself, but of course I’m not qualified. So we’re attending as your attendants.” En’en didn’t look thrilled by this premise.

“Why would you want to go? I don’t think it will be that interesting. Besides, even if you say I brought you, I bet they’ll just chase you right back out.”

Maomao didn’t think of herself as a member of the La clan, and didn’t expect to be admitted to some assembly she knew nothing about just because she’d shown up.

“This was Master Lahan’s condition. He said he would take us as long as we brought you.”

“Huh! So that four-eyed bastard is behind this.”

“Maomao.” En’en glared at her, reminding her not to use foul language in front of Yao. Unfortunately for her, Maomao was well used to being glared at by now and thought nothing of it—but she did decide to be more careful of her words.

“If it’s some kind of gathering, then I guess it’s very formal and everything. Are you sure I can just go bringing random people?”

“It doesn’t sound like it’s actually that serious. More of a meet and greet. It’s the perfect opportunity to make new connections, so sometimes people bring folks they want to introduce,” En’en said—proving her worth as a gatherer of information once again.

“But why does Yao want to go to this meeting of the named? Is there some sort of connection you want to make?”

“Exactly the opposite!” Yao said, and produced a sheaf of letters. The cloying stench of perfume immediately filled the carriage confines.

“That reeks!” Maomao exclaimed. “Don’t tell me... Are those love letters?”

“Yes, they are!”

Even for love letters, they were in bad taste—both in whatever perfume that was, and how much of it was on them. Maomao became acutely aware of how high-class the letters she ordinarily received were.

“May I?”

“Go ahead.”

Maomao took the sheaf. She knew it wasn’t polite to read someone else’s love letters, but the outrageous fumes gave her a bad feeling about this.

“Yikes...”

“Yikes is right,” Yao groaned. En’en nodded.

Love letters were usually rife with unctuous praise for the recipient, but this author talked extensively about how great he was and how prominent his family was. Self-confidence wasn’t a bad thing, but this was out-and-out narcissism. The handwriting was lovely, if nothing else—suggesting that the writer’s real skill was in finding a good scribe.

“While you were in the western capital, Maomao, somebody seems to have taken a fancy to my mistress. These letters have been arriving nonstop, and I can’t stand it!” En’en gave the letters a look of absolute contempt. It was such a familiar expression, it almost made Maomao nostalgic.

“He showed up when I was at work, and wouldn’t give up even after the doctors chased him out,” Yao said. “Even worse, it sounds like he’s told his family he’s actually seeing me already...”

It seemed the past year had been as eventful for Yao and En’en as it had been for Maomao.

I had no idea.

When Yao had been fretting about “relationships” the other day, maybe this was what she had meant.

“Huh! That sounds like a tight spot,” Maomao said.

“Don’t be flippant,” replied En’en, her face grim.

“Yeah,” said Yao. “And you know what? This moron said he’s going to go talk to my mother! I never imagined things would be worse without my uncle here!”

Yao’s father had already passed, leaving Vice Minister Lu as her guardian. When Maomao and the others had returned to the royal city, the vice minister had stayed behind in the western capital.

“My mistress’s mother isn’t the most worldly woman, and there’s a good chance she’ll swallow whatever this guy says hook, line, and sinker. She believes that a woman’s greatest joy is to marry into a good family.”

Maomao had only heard snippets about Yao’s mother before—evidently, she was Yao’s polar opposite.

“And if her mother is taken in by this guy, then Yao could be forced to marry him because the two families agree, huh?” said Maomao.

“I’d rather have one of my uncle’s matchmaking meetings!”

At the very least, Yao’s uncle seemed to choose potential suitors with his niece’s best interests in mind. He seemed to be a competent man himself, and unlikely to simply pass his niece off to some shady opportunist. The only thing was that Yao was eager to work, not get married, and she and her uncle never saw eye to eye on the subject.

“We want to go to the meeting of the named because the author of these love letters is one of them. We want to tell his clan leader to his face that my young mistress has no intention of marrying this clown. And we need these obnoxious letters to stop,” En’en said.

“Urgh...” Maomao groaned.

That’s reckless. It’s beyond reckless!

En’en was usually calm and rational, but when it came to Yao, nothing could stop her.

She was right that this love-letter guy was being ridiculous. But in Li, which particularly prized men, there was a distinct possibility that his ridiculous behavior would end up forcing Yao into a marriage. However, Maomao questioned the logic of gate-crashing the meeting of the named and confronting the guy.

She tried to read En’en’s expression. En’en was no fool; no matter how crazed she might be on Yao’s account, she would only be doing this if she thought there was some hope of success.

And Lahan is...well, Lahan.

He would never have agreed to bring Yao and En’en along if he knew their true objective. Even if Maomao offered a pretext for them to be there, Lahan was still a man who operated on a strict basis of cost-benefit analysis. He wouldn’t want to earn the ire of the other families.

The real question in Maomao’s mind was, why was he trying to get her to be part of this meeting?

“Is it possible the freak strategist is going to be at the meeting?”

“Well, yes...”

“You know what? I think I’ll go home.”

Maomao got up and made to jump out of the already moving carriage, but she was still clasping the precious encyclopedia.

“You’re welcome to go, Maomao, but I’ll have to ask you to leave that book,” En’en said, taking a firm grasp of Maomao’s sleeve.

Maomao didn’t say anything.

“Put the book down, please.” En’en didn’t let go of Maomao’s sleeve—and Maomao didn’t let go of the book.

In the end, Maomao sat back down, but she made sure to scowl as she did.

They bounced along in the carriage for a couple of hours until they found themselves at a large mansion not too far from the capital.

“That’s the meeting place. It belongs to the Chu, or Ox, clan.” Yao looked out the window. They could still just see houses in the distance, but near at hand there were rivers and forests, and even a farming village. A generous soul might have called it idyllic; a less generous one, countrified.

“Hmm,” Maomao said without much enthusiasm. She’d been woken up early that morning and frankly, she was tired.

“I’m going to explain now, Maomao, just so you know what’s going on,” En’en said. “The meeting of the named began long ago when the head of the Chu clan suggested everyone get together for a pleasant drink. Since it was their idea, the Chu host the meeting to this day.”

The law of You say it, you do it.

“Sounds like a real pain in the neck for their descendants.”

“According to the records, it used to happen every year. Then it was every other year, and now they host the meeting once every five years.”

“How cheap of them,” Maomao said, but admittedly, given how many people seemed likely to attend, doing this every year probably wasn’t feasible from a budgetary perspective.

“What’s more, this is supposedly the first time the La clan has participated in fifteen years.”

Presumably meaning since the freak strategist had become head of the family.

Maomao joined Yao in looking out the window. There were carriages ahead of and behind them, Lahan in the former and the strategist in the latter.

Stupid Lahan, paying for a whole other carriage just because he doesn’t want to ride with that freak.

There should have been plenty of room for two people in a single carriage. Normally Lahan abhorred waste, but it hadn’t stopped him this time. Maomao resolved to give him a piece of her mind when they got out of their respective rides—though she would have to dodge the strategist while she did so.

The carriage stopped in front of the mansion. A crowd of other guests was already there, along with any number of ornate carriages.

I guess this is a fine estate, as far as it goes, Maomao thought. In the time she’d spent among the noblest of the noble, she seemed to have become rather picky. She was on the verge of comparing this place with the Emperor’s palace.

Not a habit I want to be in.

In truth, this estate was of a quality boasted by only a few of the richest merchants in the capital, yet Maomao found herself unable to be particularly impressed by it. So instead of worrying about how ornate the house was, she started to evaluate whether it displayed good taste.

A flagstone path met Maomao and the others as they walked through the gate, and gardens spread out on either side.

The building itself is pretty old, but it’s been kept up well, so it doesn’t feel old.

It was also very large, suggesting that maybe it had been built specifically to accommodate these meetings. It contained a series of similar-looking rooms, and Maomao could see servants leading guests to different chambers. There was no ostentatious furniture, but there were detailed carvings on the posts and walls. The house was very open and probably got excellent airflow. The architecture seemed to prioritize summer livability.

A stand of bamboo in the garden gave the place an elegant atmosphere. Bamboo was far hardier than it looked, and if left to its own devices would sprout up just about anywhere—including straight through the floor—so it took a lot of minding. There were no piles of fallen leaves around, showing that the gardeners were doing their jobs.

The garden had been divided into areas evoking different seasons, and at the moment the peach trees were in full bloom. If only a rain shower would come through, it might be even more beautiful. The rest of the garden was a riot of colorful flowers, yet it was clear that they’d been planted with some thought for overall visual harmony.

“Maomaaaaao!” cried the freak strategist, tromping toward her the moment he got out of his carriage. Maomao gave him a very annoyed look, her hackles rising as if to say Don’t get any closer. She’d meant to hide behind Yao and En’en and just ignore him, but then someone caught her eye. It was Lahan’s Brother.

“Elder Brother!” she said.

“Yes, it’s me,” he replied bluntly.

“Lahan’s Brother!”

“Who are you calling Lahan’s Brother?!”

Apparently, Lahan’s Brother would permit “brother,” but no more.

“I see you’re home safely, Lahan’s Brother,” Maomao said. She hadn’t seen him since he’d gotten back, and she was relieved—after all, she was part of the reason he’d had so much trouble getting home. She’d plum forgotten to tell him they were leaving. She’d been dealing with a lot at the time, but still.

“Elder Brother” gave Maomao a good glare, then looked pointedly away.

He’s mad.

Should she point out that it was such a sullen-little-girl thing to do that it wasn’t intimidating at all?

“Maomaaao! They say the food at this inn is really good. Let’s eat plenty!”

The freak strategist seemed to be in very high spirits. This, Maomao presumed, was why Lahan had wanted her here.

“Come on, let’s go. They should already have rooms prepared for us.” Lahan clapped his hands, urging them all inside. Even the three carriage drivers came along. They were all large men, since they doubled as bodyguards.

Maomao was a little nervous, because she’d been expecting Sanfan to come along, but even Lahan wasn’t willing to stoke that fire further. She didn’t want to think about a standoff between Sanfan and Yao. Most importantly, though, if Sanfan had come, there wouldn’t have been anyone to watch the house back in the capital.

“We’re not kids. Don’t summon us with your little clap-clap,” Lahan’s Brother snapped. In Maomao’s opinion, it was understandable—since some of their number were emotionally children. Lahan’s Brother kicked a pebble at his feet, another girlish gesture.

There was a line of servants in front of the entryway, all bowing their heads. “Welcome, welcome!” said a plump, jovial older man who came out to greet them. He must have been easily 110 kilograms, and his cheeks glistened. He was no servant, but the master of the house.

“Ahh, to have the La clan here! The records tell me it’s been some fifteen years since we saw you last. I am Chu Ki. I’m technically retired—already handed the clan headship over to my son, you see—but it still behooves me to be hospitable to our guests. Please, make yourselves at home.”

The jovial old Chu Ki extended his hand to Lakan, but Lakan simply stared around the house and dug around in his ear with his finger.

There was an uneasy moment of silence, until Lahan took the old man’s hand instead. “We humbly thank you for your invitation. I’ve heard that our family participated in this meeting many times in my grandfather’s day. We hope only that we might spend a few profitable days with everyone here.”

“Ha ha ha! Sir Lakan is a rather birdlike character, isn’t he?” The old man didn’t appear especially bothered, skipping right over Lakan and clasping Lahan’s Brother’s hand. He even went over to offer a polite hello to Maomao and the other women, but didn’t go so far as to shake their hands. “I would so love to shake the hands of such fine young ladies, but we can’t go provoking unwanted jealousy! Let me decline the honor, though I weep for it!” he said.

The Chus’ ancestor had apparently been quite a charmer, and his descendants seemed to have inherited his gift of the gab.

“Now, come! There’s a room all ready for you to relax in. Take it easy and enjoy yourselves this evening.”

Servants led Maomao and the others from the front door through a hallway that ran beside the courtyard garden. The guests who had already arrived were enjoying tea in an open-air pavilion or feeding the carp in the pond.

One of them noticed Maomao’s party coming down the hallway and turned toward them—then promptly paled and hid behind one of the pavilion’s posts. Why? It could easily have been either the freak strategist—who was idly watching a butterfly flutter by—or Lahan, who was walking along with a very forced smile on his face.

“Yao,” Maomao said, glancing at the other woman.

“Y-Yes?”

“I understand your anxiety, but could you please not grip my arm quite so hard?”

Because En’en is glaring at me and it’s scaring me.

Somewhere along the line, Yao had taken a very firm hold on Maomao’s hand.

“Oh!” She quickly let go and walked a few steps ahead, looking awkward. She seemed to be nervous, in her own way.

One thing’s for sure: The freak strategist does make a good deterrent.

In the same way insects avoided malodorous plants, this man helped keep bugs at bay. The catch was, those using such plants as bug repellent had to put up with the stink themselves.

The servant moved down the hallway at a good clip. The group passed door after identical door of what were evidently guest rooms, until they found themselves in a completely separate building.

“Here you are,” the servant said.

“Here, sir?” Maomao asked. This was obviously nothing like the rooms housing the other clans. It felt less like special treatment and more like quarantine. When something stinks, you put a lid on it.

“Ah, a separate building, yes. Here my honored father won’t cause trouble for the other guests if he starts singing or dancing, and even if the place catches fire, it won’t spread to the main house.”

Lahan’s visions of what might happen were troubling, but one had to admit they couldn’t be ruled out. The freak strategist was a man with a history of trying to smash his way into the rear palace, after all.

“Which room should my young mistress use?” En’en asked. The annex had only one living room and three individual chambers.

“I wanna stay with Maomao!” said the freak. He was already lying back on the couch in the living room like he was in his own home.

“You, Honored Father, are the eldest, so you get a room to yourself,” said Lahan, deflating the old fart.

Lahan’s Brother looked all around like a true country mouse. “Maybe the three women could share the largest room,” he suggested.

“Fine by me,” Maomao said.

“Yeah, I don’t see a problem with that,” added Yao.

“Yes, that’s fine,” En’en said.

There would be no room for their three bodyguards, but the living room was big enough that it should serve.

The party split up into their assigned quarters and put down their luggage. There were four beds in the room, with freshly changed sheets that smelled lovely.

I guess the assumption is that people are going to stay overnight.

Reasonable enough; the banquets probably went into the wee hours.

“This is pretty laid-back for a formal meeting,” Yao observed.

“They said there’s going to be a meal in the banquet hall at noon, so we should get changed,” En’en said. She produced some clothes for Yao from the luggage. There was also a complete makeup set, along with a batch of hair sticks so heavy it jangled.

“En’en, one question,” Maomao said, raising her hand.

“Yes, Maomao?”

“You seem very...into this.”

“This is a chance to formally present Lady Yao to a whole host of people from famous houses. There can be no shortcomings in her outfit.”

“Don’t you think pretty much any outfit would do? You’ve made me change clothes so many times since last night that people hardly knew it was me. It was awful!” Yao complained.

En’en was a supremely competent lady-in-waiting, but she seemed to be missing one thing.

“If you dress Yao up too nicely, won’t that just make more people want to marry her? What’s the point of getting all fancied up?” said Maomao.

Yao’s whole reason for coming here was supposedly to turn down the man who wanted to marry her. Dressing up would only emphasize what a lovely young lady she was and what a fine family she came from—and wouldn’t that attract the wrong kind of insect?

En’en paused for a long moment, looking from Yao to the outfit and back, obviously agonizing about it. En’en was very competent, yes, but when it came to Yao she could go a bit crazy. After long deliberation, she removed one hair stick from the bundle with which she planned to decorate her young mistress.

“You ought to dress up yourself a bit, Maomao,” she sniffed.

“This is plenty.”

Maomao’s ordinary outfit was easy to move in and kept her cool. Even if it probably did make her look like one of the servants to everyone else.

Still...

That old man earlier hadn’t greeted the bodyguards but had nonetheless said hello to Maomao, En’en, and Yao. He certainly hadn’t thought Maomao was a servant. He’d probably looked into her background ahead of time.

Maybe he’s more than just a charmer.

Maomao scratched her chin thoughtfully.

“I have clothes here for you too, Maomao. There’s no need for you to say something like ‘As you can see, I’m not in a fit outfit to present myself before everyone else, so you all go enjoy the banquet without me’ and hide in your room—so don’t worry!”

That left Maomao silent.

“Come on, it’s almost time! Let’s get ready,” En’en said. She shoved the outfit at Maomao and helped Yao change.

“What a pain,” Maomao grumbled, but decided to get changed. It didn’t look like En’en was going to give her any choice.