The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 14 - Chapter 14

Chapter 14: Two Good Friends

Basen’s job was to be Jinshi’s bodyguard. That meant he was typically to be found in Jinshi’s office, but today was different.

If I remember right, once every few days he spends a day training.

And since he’d brutalized an opponent this morning, today was probably that day.

At least as long as his superiors haven’t summoned him for anything.

Maomao headed to the training area, where she found a crowd of sweaty, smelly guys. They must have just been on break, because they were wiping away sweat with handkerchiefs and swigging water from bamboo flasks. Many were topless, and a few were wearing only a pair of underpants. It was hardly an unusual sight for Maomao, and she passed by without paying them much mind.

When she’d told Dr. Li that she was going to the training grounds, he’d given her a look as if to ask, Want me to come with you? But she’d turned him down. They couldn’t leave the medical office completely unattended, and anyway, the soldiers weren’t likely to try anything with her. Much as Maomao hated to be thought of as a blood relation of the freak strategist, she had to admit that it had fringe benefits at times. For example, even the burliest soldiers typically treated her with respect. As long as there was no one truly ignorant here, nobody would lay a hand on her.

All right, so it’s not exactly fair.

But Maomao was small and weak. She had to make use of the tools she had, or she would never survive.

As the soldiers caught sight of Maomao, they murmured and craned their necks, but soon looked away disappointed, or with better-be-careful expressions.

Those would be the ones assigned under the freak.

In point of fact, Maomao was perfect for Dr. Li’s request. The freak strategist tended to wander in to work just after noon, and he often stopped by the medical office to kill some time. If bumping into that old fart was the alternative, then Maomao was just as happy to be sent on an errand among the sweat and the reek.

Although most of the soldiers were taking a rest, there was one energetic fight going on. It involved one very large soldier and one comparatively small one—it turned out to be Lihaku and Basen.

The two were armed with wooden training swords and small shields. From the sweat pouring down their faces, it looked like they’d been at it for a while. In spite of the heat, they were clad in leather armor so as to protect themselves.

It certainly looks like Basen is at a disadvantage here...

Even Maomao, who knew nothing of the martial arts, could tell—the difference in size was just too great. Lihaku was some 192 centimeters tall, against Basen’s 171 or so.

And yet...

I guess it’s a good match?

Basen easily blocked Lihaku’s sword, catching it with his shield and letting it slide away from him. As Lihaku brought his sword up again, Basen swung at him.

Lihaku, not to be outdone, likewise blocked the blow with his shield.

I knew Lihaku was strong too, but this...

Against the bear in a man’s clothing, this man who looked like a bear was holding his own. He must be quite strong indeed. Maomao couldn’t follow the niceties of what they were doing, but she saw that they were using not just their hands but also their feet to control the situation, their torsos moving constantly as a distraction. Lihaku might look like a muscle brain, but he had quick wits. He didn’t simply trust his size to help him dominate opponents, but had obviously cultivated real skill as well.

Then again, the size difference between them should have been a decisive disadvantage for Basen—the way he made it seem like it didn’t exist was absolutely fearsome.

Normally you’d expect the little guy to be the one who’s full of fancy tricks, Maomao thought. Here, however, Lihaku was the one with refined style; Basen simply laid on with his strength. That was not to say that Basen was completely without technique, of course—only that he was a monster, making up for what he lacked in size with sheer muscle. A person would never get to be like him without being born that way—and then working on unique ways of building muscle.

Drink some darn water! Have some salt!

Maomao found a patch of shade nearby and sat down. A few soldiers looked at her but kept their distance. Finally one of them asked, “Can we help you?” Maomao suspected she had seen him before, probably several times; she didn’t remember his name, of course, but his deferential tone suggested he was being polite to her.

“Oh, don’t mind me,” she said.

“Very well, ma’am.”

Maomao drank some tea she had brought—she was ready to wait for a while if she had to. From the folds of her robe she also produced crunchy rice crackers for a snack.

Doesn’t look like they’re going to be done anytime soon.

Better to be ready with a drink and something salty. She assumed the combatants had something to drink, but she set some of the rice crackers aside so she could share them.

She was just settling in to observe the fight when someone approached her. It was a soldier, still young. “What’s a court lady doing here?” he growled. The other men appeared distraught.

Looks like someone here doesn’t know the story.

Maomao looked up at him—at them, in fact, for the man was with two companions. He scowled openly at her.

“This is no place for a girl to come have a picnic,” he said. “Or do you think you’re here to fish up a man for yourself? With those looks, I assume not.” The two men flanking the young soldier laughed.

From the way other soldiers nearby looked lost for what to do, Maomao concluded this young man must be fairly high-ranking.

I’m almost sure I’ve seen him before, she thought, but she couldn’t remember where. Had he come to the medical office at some point? Or maybe he’d been at the meeting of the named? Given that neither of them seemed to actually know who the other was, this must be their first proper meeting.

Maomao stood up and patted the dust off her behind. “Please accept my apologies. I’m here on an errand from the master physician. If I’m in your way, I’ll gladly move somewhere else.”

She was about to leave, but the young man grabbed her shoulder. “Hold it.”

“Yes, sir?”

Maomao braced herself, convinced that the soldier was about to start something.

That was when a wooden training sword came spinning through the air, arcing up and then down before planting itself in the ground.

“Oh! Gosh, guess that’s it for me!” It was Lihaku, holding up his hands. He wiped the sweat off his face and heaved a great sigh. “I think we should call it there, my good Basen.”

Basen didn’t say anything, but he still looked slightly dissatisfied.

“Oh! If it isn’t the young lady! Hullo, there!” Lihaku called, waving, when he noticed Maomao.

Did he really lose, or did he decide to lose after he spotted me? Or maybe he was letting Basen save face?

It didn’t really matter which it was. Lihaku and Basen, both still dripping with sweat, came over to Maomao.

“Hey there, little lady. What’s going on? You won’t find your father, Grand Commandant Kan, anywhere around here.”

At the name of the freak strategist, the young soldier quailed. “G-Grand Commandant Kan?!”

Much as Maomao felt a little sick doing it, she put a smile on her face. Lihaku himself normally referred to the freak strategist as “the old fart.” He’d used the man’s proper name now only to make sure this young soldier knew who he was dealing with.

“It looks like you were having a conversation with this court lady. Have you said all you want to say?” Basen asked. Still sweating, he undid the ties of his armor and took it off. The leather produced an overpowering stench even at a distance.

“Oh, I, uh, wasn’t saying much of anything at all,” the young man said, and he and his friends retreated, as quickly and as cleanly as a trio of fleeing hares.

“Hmph. There’s more and more of that going on recently. It’s trouble,” Basen said as the sweat dripped down his face.

“What are you doing in a filthy place like this, little lady?” Lihaku asked, looking genuinely concerned. He seemed to be warning her that she couldn’t always count on him to be there to protect her.

“I’ve come to interview Master Basen about this morning’s events,” Maomao said.

“Interview? Something happen?” Lihaku asked.

“You don’t know?” Maomao replied. She wasn’t eager to have to explain to him what had gone on.

“I was on desk duty all morning,” he said. “Turns out you have to do more and more of it when you get promoted.”

Maomao nodded; that made sense. Lihaku, she gathered, had risen in the ranks once again since returning from the western capital with the Imperial younger brother.

“It was no big deal,” Basen said.

“A soldier who had been in a fight with Master Basen was brought to the medical office. He had severe bruises and a cracked rib. Lately, there have been many more duels—such as they are. An extension of the factional strife among the soldiers. Because this is such a burden for the medical office, we’re now required to talk to both the patient and the person who injured him about the circumstances of the injuries. There. Now, if you would kindly cooperate.”

Maomao finished the entire taxing explanation in a single breath.

“Wow! That does sound like a pain,” Lihaku groaned, even as he continued to dab at his sweat. Maomao offered him a rice cracker, which he took eagerly and seemed to quite enjoy.

“It was nothing unusual,” Basen said. “I just met a soldier who had gotten his position on nothing but the strength of his family background, and I gave him a little training. It’s like those guys earlier—there are a lot of people here who are ‘foxes borrowing the wrath of the tiger.’ They have no real skill of their own, but they’re always happy to make up some excuse to attack an opponent. It also irks me how they think they can find strength in numbers.”

This appeared to be Basen’s opinion of factional conflict.

It’s certainly true that the young man seemed full of himself.

When you could do as you pleased so long as you found a plausible reason, it was all too easy to go off the deep end.

“Your training is rough stuff, I don’t doubt. Even I could barely catch my breath. Going after some pampered kid who’s hardly known trouble in the world seems like overkill,” Lihaku said.

“I held back on him. I fought him bare-handed, just like I always do.”

“A bear holding back is still enough to kill a person,” Maomao said.

“You think so?”

Interestingly, these two seem to be pretty good friends.

She didn’t know whether that was because they were both the bodybuilding type, or because Lihaku was such an accomplished reader of other people’s thoughts and feelings.

Much as she was sorry to interrupt this moment of bonhomie, Maomao had work to do.

“I heard the fight started when someone insulted Lady Lishu,” she said.

Basen flinched; he looked away and appeared shaken all over again.

“Well, well,” Lihaku said, grinning at him. “That true, buddy?”

“A-Ahem, yes, it is, but... But so what? Lady Lishu is a direct descendant of the U clan—not to mention she served among the very highest consorts, even if she no longer does so. Why must she suffer people saying she’s a vamp who was driven out of the rear palace for unchastity?”

“Gosh, is that what he said?” Maomao asked. Ujun and Mister Love Letters had certainly softened that part of the story.

“Lady Lishu was guilty of nothing except being at the mercy of those around her. Why should she endure such slander?!” Basen stamped on the ground.

“So first there was an argument, then it turned into a fight,” Maomao said.

“That’s right. If I did anything wrong, it was that I had him wear leather armor instead of metal.”

“You had him put armor on and you still cracked a rib?”

He really was a monster, Maomao saw.

As they listened to Basen talk, the three of them moved to an open-air pavilion. She needed some kind of table so she could write.

“What makes me madder than anything, though, is that guy Ujun. He’s supposed to be Lady Lishu’s family, but he just stood there grinning. It’s because you have guys like him standing around to see how the wind blows that the other guys get bolder.” Even once he was seated on a stone stool, Basen’s mood did not improve.

“Okay, buddy. Here, have one of these.” Lihaku tossed a rice cracker into Basen’s mouth. He looked shocked for a moment, but didn’t spit it out; instead, he started chewing.

They definitely get along.

Maomao didn’t really need Lihaku for anything, but he’d come with them anyway. Actually, it was helpful: She might have had trouble wrangling Basen on her own.

“Ujun probably couldn’t say anything under the circumstances,” Lihaku said. “If he’s not careful, a bunch of hot-blooded soldiers will turn him into a punching bag. The weak learn that sometimes you have to toady to get by.”

“You’re standing up for that coward?” Basen asked, glaring at Lihaku. Well, his glare was more of a pout at this point; he wasn’t really angry.

“You know Master Ujun, Master Lihaku?” Maomao asked.

“He does technically serve under me. He got stuck here even though he was originally in the civil service. I mean, after his family fell.”

“No wonder he looks so feeble.” Ujun wasn’t a bean sprout, exactly, but seemed more suited to holding a brush than a sword.

“Right? Toss a guy like that in with the soldiers, and he’s going to be in trouble. Worst-case scenario, he gets so cornered that he kills himself. They say that’s why they assigned him to me—even if it does mean more for me to deal with.”

Lihaku was good at looking after people; he would take the minimum of care for his men.

“His name’s Ujun, so he has that U character, but he hasn’t actually been acknowledged as a member of the main house of the U family. His dad was an adopted son and just went way too far. He brought a concubine into the main house and tormented his daughter who belonged to the main bloodline so badly that she had to abandon the world. And on top of that, he brought down the family name. No way they can let his concubine’s son inherit.”

“You know quite a lot about this.”

The head of the U clan referred to Ujun only as Jun.

“Got to know at least a little something about your subordinates. His dad, Uryuu—when his father-in-law retired early because he was sick, Uryuu took it as an opportunity to just do whatever he wanted, I guess. Even if Ujun didn’t do anything wrong, he was destined to be a lightning rod.”

Unlike Maomao, Lihaku was very put-together. He was physically strong and had a decent head on his shoulders. Leave out the fact that he was lavishing his money on a courtesan and he was nearly perfect—but for her sister Pairin’s sake, Maomao hoped he wouldn’t give up his brothel habit.

“Sounds like the head of the U clan, Lady Lishu’s grandfather, has adopted a boy from one of his relatives and is raising him. Tough job for an old body, but I guess he doesn’t think he can trust his son-in-law another inch.”

“I guess not.” Maomao nodded, impressed by Lihaku’s range of information.

“You know about that?” Lihaku asked.

“I saw him at the meeting of the named recently. A boy, less than ten years old, right?”

“Yeah, that’s him. At his age, I guess they’re not planning to marry him off to Lady Lishu.”

You can never say never...

The Ma clan was an example of that. Gaoshun and his wife Taomei were six years apart, and Taomei was the older. The leader of the U had said, however, that he had no such intentions. Basen’s face had gone from red to pale and now resumed its normal color.

“Y’know, I think he feels so bad about his granddaughter being so poorly treated for so long that the only thing he really wants right now is to make her happy,” said Lihaku. “I heard he was trying to find a decent family to match her with.”

That’s something else I know about.

Lihaku was licking the salt from the crackers off his fingers. Maomao only wished she had brought more of them.

Lihaku turned to Basen. “You know anything about this, buddy?”

“Wh-Who, me? No! Not a thing.”

“Oh, really?”

Basen was a terrible liar. Cornered by Lihaku, he fretted, then groaned, then started to squirm.

Looks like this could go on for a while.

Maomao wrote as she listened. She phrased her report carefully, mostly drawing on Basen’s account.

“I have to admit, I’m surprised, Master Lihaku. I always thought you would look down on weaklings.”

“I can’t speak for the U clan, but I can’t help but feel for the guy.”

“How can you say that?!” Basen burst out. “He did nothing but disrespect his half-sister, a full member of his family’s bloodline, until she had no choice but to retire to a convent, and even now he lets people speak ill of her without batting an eye! I should have given him a knuckle sandwich to remember me by too!”

“Okay, okay,” Maomao said without quite meaning to. “Ujun may be a bit evasive, but he didn’t do anything himself.”

“That’s the worst kind of man!”

By keeping things ambiguous, he gave his conversation partner the widest scope for interpretation. That way, even if someone got it into their head to cause a problem, Ujun would be a distant cause at best, not at fault and not in trouble.

“He’s just keeping his own hands clean,” Basen said.

“Hmm. I guess you’re right,” said Lihaku. As Ujun’s superior, Lihaku effectively found himself defending the young man, but he still had his qualms. “Maybe I’ll remind him not to try to play too many sides at once.”

“Good point. Though it might be his only way to get by.” It was a tough balance to strike, Maomao reflected.

Basen still didn’t look pleased. “You’re saying he has to do it to get by?”

“Ninety-nine point nine percent of people aren’t as strong as you, Master Basen. Give Lady Lishu any weapon you like; could she fend off a stray dog? Or do you think she should stand her ground no matter how weak she is, even if she might get injured or killed?”

“Urgh... But that guy is supposed to be a man!”

“Ujun is much more like Lady Lishu than he is like Lady Taomei—who, I remind you, is a woman. They share half their ‘ingredients,’ as it were.”

“Don’t go talking about ingredients, little lady,” Lihaku said grimly. Then he said, “Anyway, Ujun may not look like much, but he’s stronger than you’d think. He’s real good at not making enemies.”

“That’s true,” said Maomao.

“Weak folk have their own way of getting along.”

“You mean by ‘not making enemies’?” Basen asked.

Lihaku made a triangle with his fingers. “You’re half right, half wrong. It’s about making the other person think they can’t be your enemy. The little lady here does it all the time.”

“I do not do that.”

“There she goes again!” Lihaku pounded Maomao on the back. She quickly lifted her brush off the page lest her characters run every which way.

“He’s like Maomao? All the more reason we should be careful of him, then,” Basen said earnestly.

What do you mean by that?

Maomao was incensed but continued to write. Perhaps she should have stayed focused on one or the other: She found she’d miswritten a word.