The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 3 - Chapter 16

Chapter 16: Beating the Heat

Maomao headed for the main room. They said she was wanted for something. When she got there, she found a eunuch draped across the couch. Maomao bowed politely, then went and stood before Consort Gyokuyou.

“Lady Gyokuyou, you asked for me?”

“Oh, it wasn’t me,” Gyokuyou said, taking a sip of some warm juice. She might normally have preferred some fruit wine with luxurious ice in it, but Maomao had advised her to abstain on account of her pregnancy. Hongniang was trying to make up the difference by fanning her.

“I’m the one with business for you,” said Jinshi, his face as gorgeous as ever. Gaoshun was performing the same service for him as Hongniang was for Gyokuyou, fanning industriously. That would normally be a task for some more menial servant—the fact that none was present suggested there were secrets afoot yet again.

“What sort of business, sir?” Maomao asked.

Jinshi looked at Gyokuyou and said, “I’d like to have her back for a few days.” He was clearly referring to Maomao. As for having her “back,” she was technically on loan to Consort Gyokuyou, to look after the consort’s health until the child was born. One wasn’t normally allowed to return to the rear palace after having left it, but it seemed special dispensation had been granted—along with special conditions.

“Goodness. And what am I supposed to do for a food taster while she’s gone?” Gyokuyou asked pointedly.

“You needn’t worry about a thing. I’ll lend you my lady-in-waiting in the meantime. She’s quite experienced with poisons, if not quite so much as this young woman.”

“I wonder, can I trust her?”

“You wound me, lady.”

Gyokuyou had a mischievous smile on her face. When Jinshi referred to his lady-in-waiting, Maomao could think of only one person: the not-quite-elderly Suiren. Yes, she would certainly do well enough in Maomao’s place. She was a shrewd one, if nothing else.

But in that case, Maomao wondered, who would look after Jinshi? The grandmotherly attendant insisted on babying this otherwise adult man, such that Maomao wasn’t even sure he could dress himself without her.

“You said a few days,” Gyokuyou said. “Are you planning to go somewhere?”

“Indeed. I’ve been invited to go hunting.”

“Goodness gracious!”

Hunting, huh? Maomao thought. What a very high-society way to pass the time. Would there be hawks involved to chase down the quarry?

“It’s at Lord Shishou’s invitation.” Jinshi’s smile was perfect; there wasn’t so much as a crack in his facade.

Lord Shishou, huh? Maomao thought. She recalled he was an important official—Consort Loulan’s father. Was it just Maomao, or did this smell like trouble? She wanted to tell Jinshi not to drag her into anything that was going to be a huge headache. But then again, she wondered if a hunt might mean she got to eat some fresh meat. Maybe they would be hunting deer or rabbit. If I had the choice, I wouldn’t want rabbit meat as much as I’d want a rice cake made by a rabbit. An old fairy tale held that the rabbit in the moon produced medicine with a mallet.

“That sounds taxing. For both you and whoever accompanies you.”

“There’s a great deal at work here, you see.”

“And you wish to borrow my Maomao for this?”

“Yes. Borrow her back.”

Gyokuyou’s eyes glinted the way they always did when she’d latched onto something that amused her. “Does it really have to be Maomao? We have plenty of perfectly nice girls here.”

“No, I’ve told you I’d like her back, and that’s all.”

Maybe Maomao was just imagining the sparks that seemed to fly between Jinshi and Gyokuyou—or maybe not. In any event, Maomao took over fanning from Hongniang, who was getting tired.

“Hmmm,” Gyokuyou said. “Well, now, I wonder which girl I should lend you.”

“I’ve already told you which girl I want. All you need to do is give her back to me!”

Gyokuyou chortled merrily. “You keep calling her ‘her’ and ‘that girl.’”

“Yes? What about it?” Jinshi said, a bit peeved.

“Say, Gaoshun. What is it you call Maomao, again?” Gyokuyou inquired of the reticent attendant, unabashedly enjoying herself.

“Me, ma’am? ‘Xiaomao.’” Despite his serious demeanor, he called Maomao by quite a sweet nickname, “Little Cat.” In fact, he was such a soft touch that she’d sometimes known him to stop by the medical office just to play with the kitten.

Gyokuyou looked back to Jinshi, seeing that her prey was cornered. “So, tell me, what is it that you normally call Maomao?”

Jinshi didn’t say a word.

“Surely you don’t just say ‘Maomao.’ She won’t know if you mean her or the cat!”

Jinshi, looking less and less comfortable, glanced in Maomao’s direction.

Now that she mentions it, I don’t think he’s ever once called me by my name. She’d never noticed before. Not that I really care. Somehow, the extent of Jinshi’s discomfort struck her as strange. Hongniang jabbed her with an elbow, looking as if she wanted to say something, but Maomao didn’t know what.

It took another half hour of being needled by Gyokuyou before Jinshi got what he wanted, and by then Maomao’s arms were tired from fanning too.

To the north of the capital was an important grain-producing region. A great river rolled from west to east, and the landscape was dotted with towns and farming villages. Where the south cultivated wetland rice, the north grew wheat and gaoliang, a type of sorghum. Farther north there were forests, and beyond that, mountain ranges. North of the forest was the territory of Shihoku-shu, “the Shi Northern Province,” and there one began to leave the area of the country under the Emperor’s direct control.

The region centered around the capital was known as Ka-shu, “Ka Province,” and in addition, there were three other major provinces, along with a dozen or so smaller buffer territories among them. The name of the province gave an inkling of its role in things: of course the official Shishou would come from Shihoku-shu.

“Is this making sense?” Basen asked, interrupting his lecture, which he was delivering in a bit of a self-important tone. He was a young man with a perpetually furrowed brow perhaps a year or two older than Maomao.

How did the nation’s founding myth go, again? Maomao thought to herself. The country in which she lived was called Li. The name was only a single simple character, but it told a whole sprawling story of national creation.

At the top of the character were a few strokes representing a plant, while below that the character for “sword” was repeated three times. The plant represented “Ka,” a name that literally meant “blossom” and referred to the Imperial ancestors—specifically, to Wang Mu, the mother of the Imperial line described in the old stories. The swords stood for men of martial valor; it was said that three warriors had accompanied Wang Mu, hence the three swords in the country’s name.

Maomao seemed to recall that there had been many more annoyingly detailed stories to go along with this, but she’d been fighting back yawns the whole time she listened, so she didn’t remember them very well. The only other thing she seemed to recall was that there was a difference in the sizes of the swords: two of the swords sat at the bottom of the character and the other stood above them; the one on top was larger, while the two below were smaller.

This also explained why the otherwise self-possessed Emperor could hardly look Shishou in the eye. The north, which is to say the topmost sword, was summoning high officials, proposing a long, relaxing hunt. True, the Emperor himself wasn’t going, but plenty of perfectly important people were.

All of this was being explained to Maomao by the warrior sitting across from her. Rattle, clatter: they were in a carriage, and they were on the move.

A horse-drawn carriage traveling at a leisurely pace could cover about twelve kilometers in the space of an hour. Including rest periods and time to change horses, they’d been traveling for half a day already.

My butt’s getting sore, Maomao thought. She was tempted to let her real feelings slip and propose they do something to remedy their situation, but at least she had a cushion to sit on. Everyone else was in the same boat, so complaining wouldn’t get her anywhere. Instead she looked silently out the window. Her hair was done differently than usual, making her head feel heavy. Her shoulders slumped. If they were going to be on the road this long, surely they could have done her hair later.

Whether at Shishou’s invitation or not, getting from the capital to Shihoku-shu was no easy matter. It was too far away for a day trip or even an overnight jaunt; Shishou himself kept a residence in the capital.

His family controlled the province of Shihoku-shu. They were one of the clans alluded to in the founding myth, and for that reason they had the weight of history behind them, but the rumors one heard about them were less than favorable.

After he’d finished his run-through of this information (which interested Maomao hardly at all), Basen crossed his arms and fell silent. The subordinate officials with them looked tired, knowing that they were all going to be stuck in the same carriage together for the duration. They couldn’t fall asleep, though, because despite his youth, Basen evidently held a rather high station, and they could hardly nap in front of their superior officer. Jinshi and Gaoshun at least were in another carriage.

A thread of drool was starting to dribble from Maomao’s mouth, but that was just one of her charms. When Basen saw it, he clicked his tongue and said, “I don’t know what my father sees in a girl like you...”

Father?

That would explain why he looked so familiar. He must be Gaoshun’s son. At first she’d been surprised by the idea that a eunuch like Gaoshun might have a son, but when she thought about it, she realized that of course he hadn’t been a eunuch from birth. Judging by his age, it shouldn’t have seemed strange if he had a couple of kids.

In due course, a lake surrounded by buildings came into view outside the window. Basen relaxed his crossed arms at last, glad to have finally arrived, and his subordinates were clearly relieved. Maomao, rubbing her behind, absently watched the town approach. The colorful buildings stood against a backdrop of mountains. There were waterways too, and rows of large willow trees bending over flagstone paths. The buildings were reflected in the water as if in a mirror.

The former emperor had visited this area every year: the altitude was high, which kept it cool, and many used it as a place to beat the heat. In his final years he’d stopped coming, and the current Emperor hadn’t been here since his accession either, but the place was well looked-after by the Shi clan, a job made easier because they lived in the lands they governed.

Maomao could see buildings even on the sides of the mountains, houses built like steps into the slope. They were arranged carefully, so as not to detract from the scenery.

The carriage stopped in front of one of the most splendid houses in the entire town, more than lavish enough to host visitors from the capital, who would be accustomed to every luxury. The three-story building with its eye-catching red pillars had roof tiles sculpted in the shapes of beasts; meanwhile, a moat ran around the mansion, filled with carp that looked like living damask. A black-lacquered fence bore dragons and tigers in places; the craftsman must have carefully soldered them on. It was distinct from the kind of decoration one typically saw in the capital.

Maomao was studying it intently when she felt someone jab her in the side. She looked up to see Basen glaring at her; she obediently fell into step behind him.

As soon as they arrived at their rooms, Jinshi flounced onto the couch. His and Gaoshun’s quarters were in the same building; on this occasion, it seemed Gaoshun was present as an invited guest. Maomao figured Basen was thus here as Jinshi’s attendant. A rather stuffy-looking colored cloth lay on the table, and after a moment Maomao realized it was a hood.

I get it.

It truly was a crime to be too beautiful. To think, he had to go so far as to wear a disguise when making a journey such as this. It was understandable: a mere smile from this man might stop the heart of an unsuspecting townsgirl. A troublesome face, it must be said.

Judging by the layout of the house, the rooms they occupied were the finest available for receiving guests. From the furniture to the furnishings, everything was more than suited to even the most distinguished visitors. Still, Maomao couldn’t help noticing how hot the room was with the window closed and candles lit. She was on the point of loosening her collar, but then realized that wouldn’t be appropriate and that she was going to have to bear it. The makeup on her face, substantially thicker than normal, felt like it was going to peel off.

Jinshi, for his part, had opened his shirt, so Maomao took the liberty of looking at him like a squashed frog for the first time in quite a while. The fact that she, Gaoshun, and Basen were the only others in the room seemed to make Jinshi think this show of leisure was acceptable. Was it only the candlelight that made shadows appear to play across Jinshi’s face? He looked more tired than usual.

“And here? What name shall I use?” Basen asked Gaoshun.

It was Jinshi, however, who answered. “Here in the room, my usual one is fine. Outside, Kousen.”

“Understood, Master Kousen.”

Maomao shot Gaoshun a puzzled look; Gaoshun stroked his chin and looked at Jinshi, while Jinshi narrowed his eyes and looked at Maomao.

“Is there some strange plan afoot?” Maomao inquired.

“Oh, it’s—” Gaoshun began, but Jinshi held up a hand to stop him.

“I should be the one to explain. As for you, hold your peace.”

“Of course, sir,” Gaoshun replied, and almost physically withdrew from the conversation—and left Maomao perplexed.

“Am I right that Master Gaoshun and Master Jinshi are both present as guests on this occasion?” Maomao said. Normally, there was a somewhat more noticeable difference in station between them, but here they occupied the same building, even if they were in different rooms.

“For generations, the Ma clan has served Master Kousen’s family,” Basen said, a note of anger Maomao couldn’t explain in his voice. His eyebrows were knitted together as if he were mentally working a puzzle, an expression that looked exactly like Gaoshun.

So he is from good stock, Maomao thought, finding herself impressed. She shook her head, provoking further consternation from Basen. He trotted over to Gaoshun and said, “Father, what is the meaning of this?”

Gaoshun looked troubled, then he looked at Jinshi before pulling Basen by the arm over to a corner of the room and holding a whispered conversation. Maomao could clearly see Basen’s shock at whatever it was Gaoshun said. He then appeared to argue—but without another word, Gaoshun simply smacked him on the head.

Maomao wondered what they were doing over there, but she wasn’t especially worried about it. She set about tidying up the luggage instead. If she didn’t stick to the job, she’d get a piece of Suiren’s mind later. Aged or not, that attendant could be fearsome indeed.

The hunt was to be held the next day; they would spend today at the mansion. An evening banquet was held in the garden, but Jinshi and the others showed no sign of leaving their rooms. They simply stayed in with the windows and doors shut tight, passing the time by reading books or playing Go. The chambers were warm and stuffy, but they requested ice to make things a little more bearable. It was brought to them from the icehouse by a rider going at full speed—in the middle of summer, truly the height of luxury. When Gaoshun spotted Maomao looking at the ice with utmost envy, he was kind enough to quietly slip a piece to her. What a really, truly thoughtful eunuch.

Personally, Maomao thought they could solve most of their problems just by opening the windows. Finally, unable to help herself, she asked, “Why don’t we open the windows?”

She’d been asking Gaoshun, but it was Jinshi who answered. “Do the food tasting for our dinner,” he instructed her, looking frustrated. He added that then, she would understand.

Maomao was given a small sample plate of the dinner, and she tasted it just as she always did. There was a long pause.

“You see now?” Jinshi asked, eyeing the sumptuous food but still looking exasperated. The dinner, which had been loaded onto a cart, appeared to include only the finest ingredients.

“Indeed,” Maomao replied. “Softshell turtle.”

The softshell turtle was renowned for never letting go once it had clamped its mouth onto something. Its blood was considered an aphrodisiac, and the meat could be presumed to have the same property. When Maomao tried a sip of the pre-dinner wine, she noticed that although it had been given some smoothness with fruit juice, in fact the alcohol was pretty stiff.

It wasn’t just the appetizers and the aperitif: the ingredients in the side dishes, the entrée, and even the dessert all appeared calculated to make the eaters more energetic.

Gaoshun dug through their luggage and produced some portable rations. It looked like they were going to have a modest dinner despite the gorgeous food sitting in front of them.

“Aren’t you going to eat it? It’s not poisoned,” Maomao said.

“It may not be poisoned, but it’s still not fit to eat,” Jinshi replied. “In fact, I’m amazed you can keep such a straight face when you’ve eaten that stuff.” He and Gaoshun were both looking at her as if they couldn’t believe what they were seeing. In a corner of the room, Basen was boiling some water. And when it was already so hot!

“It tastes wonderful. It would be suspicious if there were any leftovers—so you don’t mind if I eat it, do you?”

“Fine. If that’s what you want.” Jinshi pursed his lips as he looked at the thoroughly satisfied Maomao. She, meanwhile, savored another sip of turtle soup.

Jinshi watched her closely. “How is it? Is it good?”

“It is. I don’t have particularly fond memories of softshell turtles, but this I can live with.”

“What do you mean, memories?” Jinshi asked. He picked up the tureen of soup, beginning to look interested.

“Oh, nothing important.”

Maomao had been in the habit of helping her adoptive father ever since she was little. That included going to market to buy ingredients for medicines—and once, she’d run into an unsavory character on one of these trips. An exhibitionist who had undone his belt and opened the front of his robe. (Needless to say, he hadn’t been wearing his skivvies.) He seemed to show up especially often in winter, and she always wondered if he didn’t get cold.

Maomao, startled, had made to run away, and in the process she’d dropped the purchase she’d been holding.

“It happened to be a live softshell turtle, and—”

“Okay! Enough! I don’t need to hear any more.” Jinshi put down the tureen, a traumatized look in his eyes. Gaoshun and Basen, father and son, wore similar expressions. Apparently she’d slipped up again.

Gosh, the courtesans always love that story... It made her realize afresh, as she set aside the empty plate, that she didn’t even speak the same language as those of better breeding. Still, what a waste of a good meal.

“There are plenty of good things here besides the turtle. You’re really not going to eat any of it?” She urged the leftovers on them; it was far too much food for her to finish all by herself. There was no way that some dried meat (reconstituted with the hot water) and dried boiled rice would sate three grown men. There must have been a meal sent to Gaoshun’s room as well; Maomao supposed he had refrained from eating it because it had the same sorts of ingredients.

“You’re sure it’s all right?” Jinshi ventured after a moment.

“Be my guest.” It would be such a waste to leave leftovers, Maomao thought.

“You’re absolutely sure?” he said, staring intently at her. She was puzzled as to why he was so insistent. But then Gaoshun intervened with a series of small shakes of his head. Jinshi nodded reluctantly. “I don’t need it. Basen, you’re free to eat it. In fact, I’m ordering you to.”

“If that is your wish, Master Kousen.” Basen sat down like an obedient servant, and Maomao passed him a cup of wine. He drained it slowly. “Delicious.”

“I’m glad to hear that,” Jinshi said.

“However...”

“Yes?”

Basen went completely still, and a thin line of blood traced its way down from his nose. His face was bright red, and he appeared to be waging an internal struggle against something. Jinshi looked him in the face, and Basen shuddered. “How,” he asked, “is this girl still upright?”

He was looking at Maomao with a truly terrible expression, as if fighting back a force welling up from within his body. He was leaning forward as if to conceal a very specific part of himself. Ah, the trials of youth.

“No special reason,” Maomao demurred. The answer was simply that such was her constitution. Basen, still struggling, tried to wobble his way to the next room, but fell down in the process. “Are you quite all right?” Maomao asked.

“Just let him stay there. I’ll sleep in his room,” Jinshi said. The facing room was supposed to be for his servant. It was less spacious than his own chamber, but plenty large enough to sleep in.

“Master Jinshi, I can help carry him to his room,” Gaoshun said.

“I’m sure you’re both tired.”

“But, sir...”

If Jinshi said so, there was scant arguing; Gaoshun gave in and helped his son into the canopied bed. Maomao gave a helping hand where she was able. Thinking Basen looked awfully hot, she loosened his belt slightly, and his complexion improved. The blood from his nose got on the sheets, though, which was a shame.

Jinshi slept in Basen’s room, while Maomao used the room across from Gaoshun’s. Perhaps it was a bit of consideration on Gaoshun’s part that she had a room all to herself which would normally have housed several people. The bodyguards who’d come with them stayed with Gaoshun.

It was some luxury to have a room to herself, Maomao reflected. It even had a bath, so she was able to soak and relax. Simple pleasures.