The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 1 - Chapter 27

Chapter 27: Honey (Part One)

Holding tea parties was legitimate business for the consorts. Gyokuyou had them seemingly every day. Some were held at the Jade Pavilion, while other times she was called to the residence of another consort.

Excellent chance to sound each other out and play politics, Maomao thought. She wasn’t a big fan of the tea parties herself. The subjects of conversation were mostly limited to makeup and trends in fashion. Boring talk interspersed with probing questions: a veritable microcosm of the rear palace. They look pretty comfortable with all of it... Guess that’s what makes them consorts.

Gyokuyou was talking to a middle-ranked consort who also came from the west. Their shared homeland seemed to be spurring real conversation between them. Maomao didn’t know the details, but it seemed the main subject had to do with future relations with Gyokuyou’s family.

Gyokuyou was a cheerful and engaging talker, and many consorts would tell her little secrets before they knew what they were doing. One of Gyokuyou’s jobs was to write these things down. Consort Gyokuyou’s home was a parched land—but it also sat at a nexus of trade, and the ability to read both people and the shifting of the times was paramount. In addition to what she earned as a consort, she helped her family by communicating tidbits of information to them.

She was up awful late last night, but she doesn’t look tired at all. The Emperor was visiting his beloved Gyokuyou once every three days, or even more often. Ostensibly, it was to see his daughter, who was starting to grab onto things and pull herself up to standing, but needless to say, admiring the princess was not the only thing he did on his visits. Maomao was aware that the Emperor no more neglected his daily than his nightly business, suggesting a man of tremendous energies. From the perspective of helping the country to prosper, it was a praiseworthy thing.

At the conclusion of the tea party, Maomao received a bevy of tea candies from Yinghua. She was willing to eat some of them, but it was really too much for her to handle alone, so she made her customary visit to Xiaolan. Xiaolan’s stories weren’t always articulate, or even completely coherent, but she obligingly shared her latest crop of rumors with Maomao. Today she had talk about the serving woman who had killed herself, the attempted poisoning, and for some reason, something about the Pure Consort.

“They can talk about the Emperor’s ‘four favored ladies’ all they want, but there’s no getting around the fact that she’s getting older.”

Consort Gyokuyou was nineteen, Lihua was twenty-three, and Lishu just fourteen. But the Pure Consort Ah-Duo was fully thirty-five, a year older than His Majesty. It might still be possible for her to bear a child, but under the system operating in the rear palace, she could soon expect to be moved aside in a process they sometimes called “being slid from one pillow to another.” In other words, Ah-Duo could not hope to become a mother of the nation.

Talk was already going around about her possible demotion and who might be elevated to the rank of high consort in her place. Such chatter was nothing new, but because Ah-Duo had been the Emperor’s consort since before his accession, and because she had in fact borne him a son at one time, the talk had rarely gained much traction.

Mother of a dead little prince, Maomao thought. It was the same fate Lihua had to look forward to if she didn’t become pregnant with another child for His Majesty. And she wasn’t really alone: Consort Gyokuyou couldn’t assume she would hold pride of place in the Imperial affections forever.

For every beautiful blossom faded in time. The blossoms of the rear palace had to bear fruit, or they were worthless. As familiar as this logic was to Maomao by now, it never ceased to remind her that the palace was also a prison.

She brushed a few stray crumbs of mooncake from her skirt and looked up at the overcast sky.

Gyokuyou’s partner for today’s tea party was somewhat unusual. It was Consort Lishu, another of the four favored ladies. It was uncommon for consorts of the same rank to hold parties for each other; still more so when it came to the highest-ranked women.

The nervousness was clear on Lishu’s childlike face. She was attended by four ladies-in-waiting, including the notorious food taster. Apparently the woman hadn’t been punished as severely as Maomao had feared she might be.

It was cold out, so the tea party was being held indoors. Some eunuchs were put to work setting up chaises longues for the ladies-in-waiting in the sitting room. The table had a mother-of-pearl inlay, and the curtain was changed for a new one with elaborate embroidery. To be perfectly blunt, they hardly put this much care into receiving the Emperor himself—but it was the way of women to want to put their best foot forward for their peers.

Makeup was likewise applied with gusto, and Maomao was summarily deprived of her freckles. The girls accented the corners of their eyes with red lines. It was a level of makeup men might have considered ostentatious, but that didn’t matter; here, the more gaudy of the two parties would be the victor.

In their conversation, Consort Gyokuyou seemed to do all the talking, while Lishu nodded along meekly. Perhaps that was just what came of the difference in their ages. Behind Lishu, her attendants seemed less interested in their lady than in the accoutrements of the Jade Pavilion, glancing this way and that at the ornaments and furnishings. Only the food taster stood dutifully behind Consort Lishu, across from Maomao, eyeing her erstwhile tormentor watchfully.

What’s the story, here? First the women from the Crystal Pavilion, now this girl. Maomao wished people would stop treating her like some sort of monster. She wasn’t a stray dog, and she wouldn’t bite.

Offhand, they look like perfectly ordinary ladies-in-waiting, Maomao thought. She’d once told Gaoshun that they bullied their consort. It might be a little awkward if the allegation turned out not to be true, but she would have been just as glad to be wrong.

Compared with the few, the proud ladies-in-waiting of the Jade Pavilion, Lishu’s women seemed a bit slow to act, but they did their jobs. At least, such as they were: since Gyokuyou was the hostess of today’s tea party, they didn’t have that much to do.

Ailan appeared with a ceramic jar and hot water.

“Are you partial to sweet things? It’s so cold today, I thought this might be comforting,” Gyokuyou said.

“I like sweets,” Lishu answered. It seemed to make her feel a little more at ease.

Inside the jar was citrus rind that had been boiled in honey. It would warm the body and soothe the throat, and could even help prevent colds. Maomao had made it herself. Gyokuyou seemed to like it, and had frequently served it at her tea parties lately.

Hmm? Despite her pronouncement that she liked sweets, Consort Lishu suddenly looked distinctly uncomfortable. The food taster likewise seemed as if she wanted to object to what was being poured into her lady’s drinking cup. Can’t take honey, either? Maomao thought.

None of the other ladies-in-waiting lolling about seemed prepared to say anything. They just looked at Lishu in annoyance. Get over it, they seemed to be saying. They still thought it was just childish pickiness.

Maomao gave a little sigh and whispered in Consort Gyokuyou’s ear. Her eyes widened slightly, and she called Ailan over. “I’m terribly sorry, but it seems this needs to steep a little longer. I’ll serve something else. Do you take ginger tea?”

“Yes. Thank you, ma’am,” Lishu said, sounding a little more upbeat. Changing teas had evidently been the right move.

As Maomao glanced up, she saw Lishu’s ladies-in-waiting. She almost thought they looked disappointed. The impression only lasted for a second, and then it was gone.

Come evening, that loveliest of eunuchs appeared, as ever. Nymph-like smile in front, Gaoshun behind. Maomao had the feeling lately that there were more furrows in Gaoshun’s brow than before. Perhaps he had new troubles to contend with.

“I hear you had a tea party with Consort Lishu,” Jinshi said.

“Yes, and it was lovely.”

Jinshi made regular rounds of the Emperor’s most prominent consorts, almost as if it was his business to keep things together in the rear palace. He seemed to sense something unusual in the day’s get-together, and so felt compelled to involve himself. Maomao tried to make her exit before she got sucked into anything, but naturally, he stopped her.

“Would you be so kind as to let go of me?”

“I wasn’t done talking.” When the sublime young man turned his gaze on her, Maomao could only drop her own eyes to the ground. She was sure she was looking at him as if he were a dead fish. Not a pretty fish, either. Probably one of those bottom-feeding ones.

“Ah, such friends you are,” Gyokuyou said, laughing merrily. A little too merrily; and Maomao found herself replying, “Lady Gyokuyou, a bit of acupressure around the eyes may help prevent wrinkles.”

Oops. Can’t be talking like that. She had to be careful not to be rude to anyone but Jinshi. Er... Guess that’s not such a great idea, either. She’d already upset him just the other day. Too many little missteps like that, and she might find herself out of the eunuch’s good graces, and perhaps meeting a prompt end by strangulation directly after that.

“Have you heard that the serving woman who killed herself is allegedly the perpetrator of the poisoning the other day?”

Maomao nodded—for it seemed by Jinshi’s tone that he was asking her and not Gyokuyou. As for the consort, she seemed to sense that this conversation would best be held in private, and left the room. Maomao, Jinshi, and Gaoshun were left alone.

“Do you really believe the culprit committed suicide?”

“That’s not mine to determine.” To turn a lie into fact was the prerogative of the powerful. She didn’t know who had made the determination, but she suspected Jinshi was connected somehow.

“Would a mere serving woman have reason to poison the food of the Virtuous Consort?”

“I’m afraid I wouldn’t know.”

Jinshi smiled, a seductive look he could use expertly to manipulate people. Unfortunately for him, it didn’t work on Maomao. She was sure he knew he didn’t have to leer at her to get what he wanted; he simply needed to give her an order. She wouldn’t refuse.

“Perhaps I could dispatch you to help in the Garnet Pavilion, starting tomorrow?”

What purpose did the question mark serve? Maomao gave the only possible answer: “As you wish.”

A house, they say, comes to reflect its master. Just so, Consort Gyokuyou’s Jade Pavilion was homey, while Lihua’s Crystal Pavilion was elegant and refined. And the Garnet Pavilion, where Ah-Duo lived, was eminently practical. Nowhere in the decor was there anything unnecessary; there was a conspicuous lack of interest in extraneous ornamentation, which itself achieved a kind of sublime refinement.

It spoke directly to who the mistress of the house was. Every bit of waste had been stripped away from her body, which boasted neither flowery excess nor ample abundance nor charming loveliness. What was left, though, was a stark, neutral beauty.

Is she really thirty-five? If Ah-Duo had put on an official uniform, one could have mistaken her for some up-and-coming civil servant. Here in the rear palace, where there were nothing but women and eunuchs, she must have been the apple of many an eye. She was attractive in a way that was very similar to Jinshi—and then again, different. Maomao hadn’t seen exactly what Ah-Duo had been wearing at the banquet, but now she had shed any skirt or wide sleeves in favor of what looked almost like riding clothes.

Maomao was being shown around the residence along with two other serving women. Ah-Duo’s head lady-in-waiting, Fengming, was a plump, garrulous beauty who delivered fluent exposition as they trotted through the household.

“I’m sorry, having you brought here on such short notice,” she said. The chief lady-in-waiting of one of the Emperor’s four favored ladies was likely to be a woman of no mean station herself, and Fengming’s willingness to engage the lesser women was endearing.

Wonder if she’s the daughter of a merchant family or something, Maomao thought. She and the others had been summoned to help with the great spate of cleaning that marked the turn of every year. There weren’t enough hands at the Garnet Pavilion to do it alone. And is she injured? Maomao wondered, glimpsing a bandage around Fengming’s left arm. Maomao’s left arm was likewise bandaged. She was tired of people looking at her with alarm every time they saw her scars.

The women let the eunuchs handle the physical labor, while they passed the day airing out the furniture and scrolls to protect them from bugs. And there were so many of each in the Garnet Pavilion, many more than in Consort Gyokuyou’s residence. Such was the quantity Ah-Duo had accumulated over her residence in the rear palace, the longest of any of the consorts.

Maomao didn’t go back to the Jade Pavilion that evening, but slept alongside the other two serving women in a large room at the Garnet Pavilion. She was given an animal-fur blanket to ward off the cold that was indeed very warm.

I haven’t been told what to do exactly. Maomao concentrated on cleaning, just like Fengming said. The plump lady-in-waiting was generous with her praise, making it that much harder to slack off. Maomao started to suspect Fengming was in fact a dexterous user of people.

Fengming seemed like the type of woman people had in mind when they talked about a good wife who did her chores with a glad heart. She had been with Ah-Duo for the consort’s entire time in the rear palace, meaning she was well past the usual age of marriage, and even Maomao found herself thinking that was something of a shame. She knew that as head lady-in-waiting, Fengming could earn more than many unskilled men, but she wondered if it had really never occurred to her to find a husband. Wasn’t that something most people thought about? Maomao knew the other three ladies in the Jade Pavilion talked about it often. They had no intention of leaving Consort Gyokuyou’s side for some time yet, but still they dreamed of a dashing princeling appearing for them. “Dreams are free, so have your fill,” Hongniang would say with a smile. Maomao found the remark strangely frightening.

First time in a while I feel like I’ve actually worked, she thought. Then she curled up, just like her namesake, the cat, and was soon asleep.

Is the mastermind behind that poisoning attempt really here? Maomao wondered. The ladies-in-waiting at the Jade Pavilion were extremely hard workers, but even by that standard, Maomao had to admit that the women at the Garnet Pavilion were no slouches, either. All of them adored Consort Ah-Duo and wanted to do their best work for her.

This was as true of their leader, Fengming, as it was of anyone. She never let herself be constrained by her station; if she saw a speck of dust, she would grab a cloth and wipe it away herself. She hardly seemed like the chief lady-in-waiting to a highly ranked consort. Even the industrious Hongniang would leave such tasks to the other women.

I wish those proud peacocks at the Crystal Pavilion could see this.

Consort Lihua, it seemed, simply wasn’t lucky in serving women. Maybe the reason she had so many of them was because each one did so little work. They were excellent talkers, but nothing more, and therein lay the problem. Then again, taking such problems in hand was one of the challenges of holding a high rank.

Powerful loyalty, though, could bring its own troubles. It could motivate someone to attempt poisoning, for example. Some high official was trying to get his own daughter into the rear palace, leading to the prospective disenfranchisement of one of the four foremost consorts. If anyone was apt to be demoted, it was Ah-Duo—but what if one of the other consorts’ places were suddenly vacant?

Gyokuyou and Lihua were more or less secure, but presumably the Emperor didn’t visit Consort Lishu. Maomao suspected that was one of the reasons her ladies-in-waiting took her so lightly. His Majesty doesn’t like them so... scrawny. Maybe it was a reaction against his father’s preference for extremely young girls: the current ruler was only aroused if a woman had enough meat on her bones. Every consort he visited, not least Gyokuyou and Lihua, possessed a certain voluptuousness.

As such, Lishu had yet to fulfill her duty as a consort. Maybe that was just as well for someone so young. She was technically of marriageable age, yes, but a pregnancy at fourteen could put considerable strain on her body come childbirth. Even back at the Verdigris House, girls didn’t graduate from apprenticeship until fifteen. And until then, they didn’t take customers. It ultimately made them better courtesans who lasted longer.

Maomao preferred not to think too hard about the former Emperor’s predilections. If one did a little math involving the respective ages of the current Emperor and his mother, one arrived at a most unsettling number.

In any event, if someone wanted to get one of the four ladies out of the picture, Consort Lishu would be a logical choice.

Maomao let her thoughts wander as she organized a kitchen shelf, upon which was a line of small jars. A sweet aroma tickled her nose. “What should we do with these?” Maomao, picking up one of the jars, said to a lady-in-waiting who was cleaning the kitchen with her. The two serving girls who had accompanied Maomao the day before were cleaning the bath and the living area, respectively.

“Oh, those. Dust the shelf and then put them back the way they were.”

“Are these all honey?”

“Mmhmm. Lady Fengming’s family are beekeepers.”

“Ah.”

Honey was a luxury item. A person would be lucky to have even one variety, let alone a whole shelf full—but that explained it. Maomao peeked into several of the jars and saw honeys of different colors: amber, dark red, and even brown. They came from different flowers, and had different flavors. Come to think of it, she’d thought the candles they’d used for illumination the night before had a sweet scent. They must have been beeswax.

Hmm... Something nagged at her, something to do with honey. The subject had come up recently, she was sure.

“When you’re done there, would you dust the second-floor railing? It always gets missed when we’re cleaning.”

“Of course.” Maomao put the honey back in its place and went up to the second floor with her rag. Honey. Honey... As she carefully dusted each post of the railing, she turned the word over in her mind, trying to remember what it represented.

Well, now. From the second floor, she could see outside clearly. Including some figures among the shadows of the trees. They evidently thought they were hidden, but they were obviously observing the Garnet Pavilion.

Is that Consort Lishu? The young consort was there, with only one attendant, her food taster. None of this was making sense to Maomao. Her memory went back to the tea party, and Lishu’s unaccountable aversion to honey.

Honey...

She just couldn’t let the thought go.

Maomao appropriated the Jade Pavilion’s reception area to report to Jinshi about what had transpired at the Garnet Pavilion.

“All of which is to say, I have no idea.” What she didn’t know, she didn’t know. Maomao refused to underestimate herself, but by the same token, she wouldn’t oversell her abilities, either. She was perfectly frank with the gorgeous eunuch. She’d told him all she’d come up with after three days in the Garnet Pavilion.

Jinshi reclined on a chaise longue, looking elegant as he sipped a fragrant tea from some other land. It had a sweet aroma; the concoction involved lemons and honey.

“I see. Yes, of course.”

“Indeed, sir.”

Maomao was just as happy that, of late, the gorgeous eunuch appeared a little less sparkly than before, but it seemed to her that his tone had grown somewhat glib. Perhaps it was that the sweetness was gone from his voice, and he gave the impression of a young man, almost a boy. Maomao didn’t know what he wanted from her, but she was always and ever nothing more than an ordinary apothecary. She had no interest in playing spy.

“Let’s try a different question, then. Hypothetically, if, by some special means, there were someone who was communicating with outside parties, who do you suppose that would be?”

Again with the roundabout interrogation. I wish he would just say what he means. Maomao didn’t like to speak without proof. She had always been taught not to work based on assumptions. Now she closed her eyes and let out a deep breath. If she couldn’t calm herself a little, she might just look at the entrancing young man as if he were a flattened toad. Gaoshun was, as ever, silently urging restraint with his eyes.

“This is purely a possibility, but if there were such a person, I think perhaps it would be Lady Fengming, the chief lady-in-waiting.”

“You have any proof?”

“She had a bandage wrapped around her left arm. I walked in while she was changing it once, and caught a glimpse of some burns.”

Maomao had previously dealt with an incident involving writing strips impregnated with various chemicals. She’d thought at the time that if the chemicals meant anything at all, they might represent some kind of code, but she had kept that to herself. Based on the fact that the outfit holding the writing strips had been scorched, it was a short leap to imagining the person who had once worn the outfit had a burn on their arm. She was confident Jinshi had investigated the possibility. It was probably what had led him to try to make Maomao his eyes and ears.

Maomao thought, quite honestly, that the serene chief lady-in-waiting hadn’t looked like the type to try such a thing, but she had to admit this was only her subjective opinion. And one had to look objectively at things, or one would never arrive at the truth.

“Mm. Passing marks for you.” Jinshi suddenly let his eyes fall on a small jar on the table. Then he glanced at Maomao, and that nectared smile appeared. She was sure she could see something sinister just behind it. Maomao felt all her hair stand on end. She did not like where this appeared to be going, not one bit.

Jinshi picked up the jar and came toward her. “Such a smart girl deserves a reward.”

“I couldn’t.”

“You could. And you should!”

“I’m quite happy without a reward. Give it to someone else.” Maomao fixed Jinshi with her most withering look in an attempt to dissuade him, but he didn’t so much as flinch. Was this a little punishment for hurting his feelings the other day? Unfortunately for them both, Maomao still had no idea why Jinshi had been so upset.

The eunuch came closer. Maomao backed away a half step and found herself up against the wall. She looked to Gaoshun for help, but the reticent aide was sitting by the window, idly watching birds flying through the sky. The obviously artificial nature of the pose made him look most disagreeable.

I’ll have to sneak him a laxative later.

Jinshi, still wearing a smile that would have melted anyone else, stuck his fingers into the jar. They emerged dripping with honey. This little prank, Maomao felt, was going too far.

“Don’t you like sweet things?”

“I prefer spicy flavors.”

“But you can stomach them, can’t you?”

Jinshi showed no sign of relenting; his fingers crept toward Maomao’s mouth. This must be how he always comported himself, she thought. But beauty didn’t give you license to do whatever you wanted.

The eunuch was studying Maomao’s piercing glare with a look of rapture.

That’s right... I forgot he’s one of those types. She tried giving him a crushing look, as if he were a small, brown rat, but it was having the opposite of the effect she wanted.

Should she take this as an order and simply let him stuff the honey in her mouth? Or should she try to salvage what remained of her pride by finding some way to escape?

I could live with it if it were at least wolfsbane honey, she thought. Honey from a poisonous flower would at least have the virtue of being, well, poisonous.

Suddenly, something came together in Maomao’s mind. She wanted to take a moment, tease out the threads of the thought, but with the pervert about to stick his hand into her mouth, she couldn’t think anything at all. Just as the fingers were about to touch her lips, she heard a voice.

“What are you doing to my attendant?” It was Consort Gyokuyou, standing there and looking very displeased. With her was Hongniang, her head in her hands.