The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 14 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: The Shin Heirloom

A bell rang to mark the time.

“All right, I think we should get going,” said Lahan, standing up. Maomao, resigned, stood with him, and the freak strategist followed vacantly after. “We’re counting on you, Brother!” Lahan said to his older brother.

“Yeah, sure,” said Lahan’s Brother, but he didn’t sound very comfortable about it. They left two bodyguards, with only one of them accompanying Maomao and the rest—it was the man who had been watching the strategist the entire time.

“Erfan, keep an eye on my father to make sure he doesn’t wander off,” Lahan said.

“Yes, sir,” said the man. His name, Erfan, meant number two and presumably implied that he was one of the people the strategist had plucked for himself. Maomao approved: It was a nice, easy name to remember.

Erfan was somewhere in his thirties and certainly built like a bodyguard. He had wide-ish eyes and lacked what one might call an obvious zest for life, but that would probably happen to anyone who spent every day looking after the freak strategist.

The occupants of the Shin table rose as they approached. The lady of the family, the aide, and one other young man left the banquet. This being Lahan, he had probably reached out to the Shin clan before this meeting in order to arrange when and where they should talk.

Indeed, he followed them into the same private meeting room. Several of the rooms were already in use; little tags indicating as much dangled on the doors.

Inside the room was a long table with three chairs on each side. They would converse three-on-three, with one guard each.

“Ah, my friends! I must thank you for accepting my most humble invitation, especially you, mistress,” Lahan enthused.

Will you listen to this asshole? Maomao thought. Lahan had his business face on even harder than usual.

The freak strategist was just being the freak strategist; Erfan, meanwhile, held a bottle of fruit juice and a bag that emitted a sweet aroma.

“Heh heh heh. Mistress indeed. Very cute. And to what do I owe the honor of an invitation from the ever-aloof La clan?”

Aloof? I think she means outcast.

Maomao, however, kept her thoughts to herself. Lahan was doing the talking because the freak strategist couldn’t be relied on to offer a proper greeting. Under any other circumstances, people would not have smiled on Lahan speaking directly to a social superior.

“Shall we sit?” the mistress said, and finally they were able to take a seat. (Erfan had already had to restrain the strategist from just sitting down when he felt like it.)

Maomao sat at the end of their row. She had no choice but to sit next to the freak strategist, but she tried to slide her chair over so she was at least sort of a bit farther away.

I’m gonna make Lahan buy me off in herbs the next chance I get.

Maomao was having to suck it up a lot at this meeting.

“Now, I gather you have some enticing offer for us,” said the mistress. She was an older woman, but retained her authority and some vestige of the beauty she must once have possessed. The kind of woman Lahan loved dealing with.

“What if I told you I would find the heirloom that the Shin clan lost forty years ago?”

“Hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo hoo!” The mistress hid her mouth with a fan and gave a very aristocratic laugh. Her aide, beside her, looked downright exasperated.

The mistress said, “Really, wherever did you hear about that? Surely it’s futile to try to find the heirloom now?”

“Perhaps so, but word is that your late husband, the former head of the clan, was looking for it until practically the day he died. Yes...three years ago.”

Lahan practically sounded taunting, and Maomao noticed the eyebrows of the Shin young folk twitching.

Please don’t get us into any fights...

“Indeed he was. Do you realize what shame it brought him that the heirloom had been lost on his watch? It drove my husband to distraction. It was so bad that it caused him to treat his dear friend, the head of the U clan, as a thief, and to part ways with him on the worst of terms.”

“It’s a very well-known story, yes. How he ran through the palace with his sword out, screaming that the U had taken it.” Lahan recounted the story briskly, but it sounded like it had been quite a scene. The man was lucky he hadn’t been cut down on the spot.

“The very memory shames me. My husband was an accomplished and brave warrior, but he also had his quirks. It was always such a help that the head of the U clan was there to talk him down when he needed it.”

The mistress cast her gaze to the ground, grieved. The gesture revealed that, while the hair on her head had gone all white, a bit of black remained among her eyelashes.

She seems awfully sympathetic to the U, Maomao thought.

Her sympathy, however, was evidently not shared by her entire clan. The young man beside her jumped to his feet. “Grandmother! Why do you insist on defending the U clan? Where else do you think the heirloom could have gone?”

The man was somewhere in his twenties. It looked like the Shin was a family of soldiers, much like the Ma clan, for the young man was well-built. He was handsome, as might be expected of the mistress’s grandson, but he was altogether too...manly.

“The heirloom is gone. Did your grandfather not say with his dying breath that we need no longer search for it?”

“Yes, but—”

“That’s enough,” the aide said.

Wait... That isn’t the guy who wrote the love letters, is it? Maomao thought, but Yao had said her paramour wasn’t there, so it must be someone else.

“Say what you will about the U clan, but it seems not everyone in your family has given up on that treasure,” Lahan said pointedly.

“Grandmother, the La clan is offering to help us. If, even with their help, we can’t find it, then so be it. But can we not at least try?”

“You certainly are a persistent boy,” the mistress said, frustrated.

“Honored Father? What do you think we should do?” Lahan asked.

“Hm?” The freak strategist was busy munching on some crunchy dough twists Erfan had given him. When those were gone, there was fruit for dessert on the table, so that should keep him busy for a while.

“It seems we’ve wasted your valuable time, Father. And to think, after you made room in your busy schedule because this was a special request. We even disguised it as our own suggestion to help everything go smoothly.” Lahan shook his head and looked very disappointed.

“Just what does that mean?” The mistress looked at her grandson.

“I had to, Grandmother! Or we would never find it!”

“You set this in motion?”

“Yes. Yes, I did.”

The members of the Shin clan stared at the freak strategist. Normally people treated him like he had a big sign around his neck that said DO NOT TOUCH. It was one thing if this idea had come from the strategist—but quite another if it was the Shin clan who had first made contact.

Lahan must have reached out to the grandson. The Shin clan had supposedly given up the search with the death of its former patriarch, but not all of its members were prepared to accept that. It was easy to imagine Lahan talking up a storm with the grandson as the young man sought desperately for something to do.

Lahan looked distraught, but no doubt under that great big mask he was smiling.

“Of course, this did happen forty years ago, so even my honored father might not know anything that would be helpful. Still, to be called out here only to find you won’t even talk to us—well, one can only take so much mockery. Perhaps you could at least tell us the story?”

Maomao was genuinely impressed by what a talker Lahan was. He had said it was the Shin grandson who had asked for their help, but it was presumably Lahan who had instigated him to do that.

The Shin clan members appeared conflicted. The aide and the grandson looked to the mistress.

Finally she said, “Very well. And if you never find the heirloom, it’s no trouble.”

“That’s very kind of you.”

“Let me tell you the story my husband always told, then—with a few of my own additions.”

She took a deep breath and began.

○●○

First, let me tell you about our family’s treasured heirloom. It’s a statue in the form of a golden dragon holding a gemstone. The reason our heirloom depicts such an auspicious beast is because the character we received was Shin, “dragon,” and also because of the origins of our house. The Shin clan was granted a name because it’s a branch of the Imperial family—so the dragon is most appropriate.

We received the heirloom six generations ago. Perhaps it would be fair to say that it wasn’t granted to the Shin clan itself so much as to a son who renounced his Imperial status and became a common subject.

The crown prince at the time was frail, and he had many brothers both younger and older. The prince petitioned his estimable father, the emperor, saying that it would be better if a certain, especially capable younger brother of his were to take his place.

Unfortunately, capable though this brother was, his mother was not of high estate. In order to avoid civil strife engulfing the court, the crown prince determined to leave his family. The emperor, however, did not approve.

The crown prince was firm in his resolution, and after many twists and turns, things were finally resolved when he was allowed to resign his Imperial status and become a commoner. He was sent to the Shin clan, whose main branch at that time had no sons of their own.

Though the prince, as I said, was physically weak, he had a sharp mind, and the emperor cherished him. His Majesty granted him a statue of a dragon clutching a gemstone, as proof that even though the boy was no longer an Imperial family member, he was still the emperor’s son.

Yes, that’s right. Although he had no right of succession, a young man of our family was indeed a male member of the Imperial line.

I think that should be enough background. You’d probably like to know why and how we lost this heirloom.

Forty years ago, our family’s storehouse caught fire. It was a great blaze—heroic firefighting work and a providential rainstorm kept it from spreading to the main house, but nearly everything in the storehouse was lost. The dragon statue was in there as well, and if it were to have melted in the fire, well, there wouldn’t be anything left to find, would there?

My husband, though, was absolutely convinced that the heirloom was not destroyed. He thought someone had stolen it—carried it off—and he fingered the U clan as the culprits. Why? Because their leader had happened to be visiting our house just at the time of the fire.

The leader of the U clan noticed the fire before anybody else—he put copious amounts of water on the blaze and tore down a nearby hut to help prevent it from spreading. It was very much thanks to him that the flames didn’t leap to our mansion just nearby, but so far from being grateful, my husband dragged his name through the mud. He claimed that the U clan had stolen from him under the cover of the fire, that they were jealous of the fortunes of the Shin and so had made off with the heirloom.

I do have some sympathy for how he felt. What he was probably trying to say was that it was the U clan who had been the first to betray.

At the time, the U were aligned with the faction of the empress regnant—if I may call her that. I mean the empress dowager of that era. My husband, who prided himself on having Imperial blood even if he couldn’t succeed, was defiant; he refused to bend the knee to some nobody from nowhere. Frankly, to say such things of the mother of the son of heaven went beyond rudeness and bordered on treason.

It gives me chills to remember it even now. I marvel that he didn’t arouse the empress regnant’s ire and cause the Shin clan to be destroyed.

Do you see now why I say there is no need to go looking for the heirloom? I believe it was destroyed along with the storehouse. It melted in the fire forty years ago, and won’t be reappearing now.

My husband thought differently; he continued to search for the rest of his life, and insisted to his children and grandchildren that the heirloom must still be out there somewhere. All of which has led to our current antagonism with the U clan.

○●○

The mistress finished her story and sipped her tea. There were no Chu servants in the private rooms, so their respective guards had prepared tea for them.

A former member of the Imperial family with no place in the line of succession? Maomao stroked her chin, made a thoughtful noise, and looked at the freak strategist.

“Yes, Maomao? What is it?” he said, instantly attentive.

For a second, she battled with the urge to ignore him, but she needed this conversation to keep moving, so she sucked it up and forced herself to whisper in his ear, “Were there any lies in that story just now?”

“Lies? Hmm...”

She took that to mean that there hadn’t been. She also didn’t like how the freak seemed weirdly pleased about all this, and she quickly resumed her distance from him.

There were just too many things about the story that nagged at her.

Lahan, of course, didn’t miss the look on Maomao’s face. He raised his hand. “If I may?”

“Yes? What is it?” the mistress asked.

“Ah, ahem. It’s not my own humble self but my younger sister who seems to have something to say.” He looked at Maomao and managed to wink rather deftly.

Son of a...

She had an urge to crush Lahan’s toes, but the freak strategist was between them, so she couldn’t reach. As a consolation prize, she stepped on the strategist’s foot instead. He looked like he was about to cry out, but when he realized it was Maomao who had done it, a gross smile came over his face instead.

Maomao ignored him and took a deep breath. “If you’d be so kind, perhaps I could ask you a few questions.” She mentally reviewed the features of the story that had caught her attention. “Can you describe the exact shape of the dragon statue?”

“The exact shape? The size was... Well, perhaps it would be quicker if I drew you a picture.”

The mistress’s aide passed her paper and a writing utensil, and she quickly produced an excellent sketch of a dragon.

“You’re quite the artist,” Maomao commented, and she meant it.

“Oh, I’m an amateur. I just do it to pass the time.”

The creature the woman had drawn was a basic dragon, about like what Maomao would have expected. It had a long body like a huge snake, and two horns. The claws of one of its front paws clutched the gemstone, and it had a flowing mane. Assuming the woman had drawn it to size, it rested on a base of about nine centimeters.

It’s smaller than I expected.

There was nothing particularly unusual about it—except for one thing.

“It has four claws on each paw?” Lahan asked. And indeed, the paw with which the dragon held the gemstone appeared to have been drawn with only four digits.

“That’s correct. I realize such a depiction would normally only be allowed to the Imperial family, but it simply goes to show how much the emperor at the time loved the crown prince. This was proof that even once he had reduced himself to a subject, he was still the emperor’s son. He was given a gemstone—an amethyst.”

Purple was second only to gold among colors considered to be noble.

I seem to remember the empress dowager liked to wear gold clothing.

The most noble of colors was called massicot, a reddish-gold hue that no one but the Emperor was allowed to use.

“Was the dragon statue made of pure gold?” Maomao asked.

“No, I think it had some silver mixed in.”

Pure gold was very soft—easy to work, but equally easy to damage or destroy. Combining it with silver would make the statue stronger.

Maomao closed her eyes and tried to mentally organize the information they had received.

Sometimes when two metals are mixed together, it can lower the melting point of the resulting combination. But I don’t think gold and silver lower it that much.

But if there was indeed no lie in what the mistress said, she evidently genuinely thought that the heirloom had been caught in the fire and melted down.

“Could you please describe once more in detail the scene of the fire?” Maomao asked.

The Shin grandson, however, jumped to his feet. “Argh! I’ve had enough of this! Grandmother, why are we wasting our time explaining when we could be settling things with the U clan right now? Let’s go!”

He pulled on his grandmother’s hand, but the aide dropped a knuckle on him. “Calm down.”

“Urk...” The grandson rubbed his head.

Huh! I feel like I’m getting déjà vu...

It was almost like she was looking at Gaoshun and Basen. Did all physically robust families talk with their fists?

“May we continue?” Lahan asked the mistress politely.

“Please do.”

“You heard her,” he said, waving to Maomao.

Maomao collected herself and asked, “What was the cause of the fire, ma’am?”

After a moment, the other woman responded, “It spread from a light in the archives.”

“Oh, I...see!” Maomao grabbed her side; the freak strategist had suddenly jabbed her with a finger.

The hell is he doing?! Maomao seriously considered smashing the strategist’s toes, not just to let off steam, but for real. She saw, however, that the monocled freak’s eyes were shining strangely, as though he were a dog who had brought an item he’d been told to fetch and was waiting to be told what a good boy he was.

Is he trying to tell me that what the mistress just said was a lie?

The freak strategist’s already narrow eyes narrowed even further. Maomao appreciated that he had alerted her to the deception, but it made her kind of sick to have him poke her, so she gave him a smack on the hand.

Why would she try to cover the cause of the fire?

Maomao considered carefully, then asked her next question. “Exactly how much of the storehouse burned?”

The mistress looked at the ground, searching her memories. “It didn’t fully collapse, but the inside was scorched black. It was full of books and other flammable items, and hardly any of them survived.”

“So the books were lost. That would imply any furniture went too. But a vase, for example, might have been safe, right? Then again, I suppose any artworks would have lost their value. Were there any swords or armor in there?”

“Several display pieces, yes. I also recall that the family’s trousseau survived—maybe it was far enough away from the source of the fire.”

The freak strategist didn’t react to that.

“One last question, then. You said the leader of the U clan was there and helped to put out the fire. Had he planned to visit that day? Or did he just happen to drop in?”

The mistress closed her eyes. “He had prior plans to visit our home.”

“So you were aware that he would be there?”

The mistress went silent for a long moment. Finally, she said, “No... His visit was a surprise for the Shin clan.”

The way she said it certainly seemed to invite more questions, but the strategist still didn’t react, so it was probably the truth.

“Why do you think he showed up so suddenly?”

Another pause. “I suspect it was on the empress regnant’s orders. I told you how they toadied to her at the time. Back then, my husband had only recently become the head of the Shin clan. He was still young and his blood was hot. Those who opposed the empress regnant worked him up, told him that even if he wasn’t an Imperial family member, his status was practically as good. And in the midst of all that, we got a visit from the U clan. Do you understand?”

“Had they come to suppress any evidence of rebellion?”

“Most likely.” Her tone was evasive, probably because the fire had claimed everything. “All our family treasures turned to ash, but personally, I thought that was well and good. When I considered the empress regnant’s force of will, it seemed a miracle that our clan hadn’t been extinguished long ago. The only thing I regret about that incident is that my husband never reconciled with the man who had once been one of his closest friends.”

The mistress began to weep a flood of tears; she swiped at them with her handkerchief as if trying to push them back.

“Are you finished with your questions?” the grandson asked Maomao, just managing to sound polite.

“Yes, thank you.”

“And have you figured anything out?”

“I have.”

“What?!”

Not just the grandson, but the aide and even the mistress herself were shocked at this reply.

“You cracked the whole case from what you were just told?” the grandson asked.

“I haven’t figured out everything. There are a few points I’m still not sure about.”

Lahan was nodding; he must have caught on to at least some of what Maomao had noticed. The freak strategist’s gaze, meanwhile, was fixed on the old woman to make sure she wasn’t lying.

“A few points like what?”

“You said that the books burned, but some swords and armor as well as your trousseau survived. The trousseau would have included a bronze mirror, yes?”

“Yes,” the mistress echoed, perplexed.

“That doesn’t make sense, does it?” Lahan piped up.

“No, it doesn’t,” said Maomao. They looked at each other.

“What about it doesn’t make sense?” asked the aide, mystified. The way he spoke sounded oddly like the grandson.

“Ahem. Well,” said Lahan, and Maomao decided that if he was going to explain, she would let him handle it. “A few minutes ago, we were told that the dragon statue melted and is gone. However, it’s hard to believe that the fire got hot enough for a gold alloy to melt.”

“Wh-What do you mean by that?”

“A bronze mirror, needless to say, is made of bronze. Bronze and gold have roughly the same melting point.” Lahan’s spectacles flashed. “If the mirror didn’t melt, then it’s unlikely that a gold object would have. Besides, when gold melts, it doesn’t disappear. Even if it had melted down to a lump, it would have been around there somewhere. And unprocessed gold is particularly valuable, so I seriously doubt it would have been left lying on the ground.”

“Is that right?” The mistress’s eyes were wide. The melting point of gold wasn’t something that the average daughter of a well-to-do family would know. It wasn’t even common knowledge in general. Maomao and Lahan just happened to know it—in her case because her old man had told her; in his because such knowledge could contribute to business.

In a trembling voice the mistress asked, “Th... Then where do you think the heirloom went?” Maomao could see how shaken she was.

Maomao held up a hand. “Before I answer that, let me confirm a few points.”

“Such as?”

“You said the U clan paid a surprise visit to the Shin estate. It was smack in the middle of the fire, which they helped extinguish, yes?”

“That’s right.”

“After the fire was out, they searched through the wreckage of the storehouse for any sign of rebellion, didn’t they?”

“I should think so.”

One assumed that they hadn’t found anything, which was why the empress regnant stayed her hand against the Shin clan.

But had there really been no proof of treason?

“Let’s find out whether there was any proof or not,” Maomao said. From the folds of her robe she produced a hair stick, one in...unique taste. It was the one the freak strategist had given her earlier, with the amethyst skull dangling from it. She plucked the skull off.

“Little sister,” Lahan warned. “No matter the circumstances, I really don’t approve of destroying a gift in front of the person who gave it to you.”

“Oh, Maomao! You only wanted the skull? Next time I can make a whole rosary of crystal skulls for you!”

“Please don’t!” Maomao and Lahan said in unison.

“Take a look at this,” Maomao said, showing the skull to the mistress. “The amethyst the dragon was holding—was it like this one?”

“Yes. I think it was a similar color,” said the mistress.

The skull in Maomao’s hand was a deep, deep purple. It was clearly an extremely high quality gem—a shame that it ended up as a skull, Maomao thought.

“All right.” Maomao looked toward the brazier burning in a corner of the room. It must have been for heating tea, because there was a teapot sitting on it. “Could you bring that brazier over here?” she asked Erfan. She could have asked Lahan or the freak strategist, but they were so weak that they probably would have spilled it on the way, and she wasn’t eager for that.

“Yes, ma’am,” said Erfan, carrying the brazier easily.

“Everyone, watch carefully, please.” Maomao took the fire chopsticks and put the skull among the coals, where she rolled it around.

“Hm?”

As they watched, the ash-covered skull began to change color. The beautiful, wisteria-like purple lightened until it became almost white, then suddenly took on a tinge of yellow.

“Done,” Maomao said and used the chopsticks to pluck the skull back out again. She blew on it a few times to get the ashes off, revealing that it was now a deep yellow hue.

The grandson goggled. “The color changed?”

“Just as metal melts at high temperature, gemstones can change color. Amethyst is particularly prone to such changes; even just being exposed to continual sunlight can cause it to lose its blue coloration. The exact color change depends on the stone, but this one has given us a lovely yellow, as you can see. I’m glad it was so amenable to helping me explain.”

Stone was not immutable—but many people didn’t realize that.

“Mistress. Did you ever show the dragon statue to any outsiders?”

“No, we would never stoop to parading our heirloom around. Sometimes people could see it on special occasions such as when the headship of the clan changed, but in my husband’s case the fire happened first.”

Even under those circumstances, someone might misinterpret things.

“A family that isn’t an official branch of the Imperial family possesses a statue of a four-clawed dragon—and it’s clutching a gem of a deep yellow color, one that almost looks like massicot. Would it be that surprising if someone took it as a sign of rebellious intent?”

“Wh-What would be the chances of that happening?” the grandson demanded, but he was pale. “I-If you’re right, if the heirloom survived the fire...then someone would have claimed it as proof of our treason, and we would have been dealt with by the empress regnant long ago, wouldn’t we?”

Indeed, Maomao thought he was right. The fact that they hadn’t been meant that someone must have quietly made off with the heirloom.

She looked at the mistress. “With all this in mind, I suspect you have some inkling of who must have taken it, milady.”

“Yes,” the mistress said slowly, as if unfolding a secret.

“G-Grandmother?” Her grandson blinked, confused.

“In fact, might that person not have told you about it themselves? Might they not have told you why the U clan visited?”

“Not the person himself. But you have the right idea.”

Maomao took a breath.

“No... His visit was a surprise for the Shin clan.”

The way the mistress had said that had nagged at her.

The visit was sudden for the Shin, but...

“You knew about the U’s visit ahead of time, didn’t you, mistress?”

“Yes.”

She’d also heard her husband speaking ill of the empress regnant at every opportunity. She must have dreaded the possibility that his actions would be taken as treasonous and her family be destroyed.

“In your mind, there was no telling what someone might try to adduce as ‘proof’ of your disloyalty.”

In order to hide the potential evidence, the storehouse had burned.

“It spread from a light in the archives.”

This was the remark that the freak strategist had picked out as a lie.

Which means...

“Mistress, when you received word that the U clan was coming...did you start the fire in the storehouse to hide the evidence?”

There was a great clatter as the grandchild jumped up from his chair. “Wh-What do you think you’re saying?! My grandmother would never do such a thing!”

“Pipe down,” said the aide, but he too was visibly shaken.

“She’s right,” the mistress said. She looked straight at Maomao and nodded. “I started the fire in the storehouse.”