The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 3 - Chapter 19

Chapter 19: The Hunt (Part Three)

Let’s go back a bit, to the moments immediately after Jinshi and Maomao jumped into the waterfall.

She felt firm pressure, first against her mouth, then her chest. “Hrk,” Maomao groaned, then coughed up water. She sat up, allowing herself to vomit out whatever would come up along with the remaining contents of her stomach. She felt someone gently rubbing her soaked back.

“I’m sorry. I didn’t realize you couldn’t swim.”

“No one could...swim...in that,” Maomao managed in spite of her bloodless face and lips. Entirely without warning, Jinshi had grabbed her in his arms and flung them both off a cliff. He’d had a proper running start and had kicked hard off the ground; somewhere in the middle of it, Maomao had thought she heard another blast of the feifa.

The cliffside had been nearly fifty meters high. Under any other circumstances, she could only have assumed Jinshi had lost his mind.

“The basin here is deep,” he said now. “So long as you manage to land in it, you should survive, assuming you don’t drown.”

“Big assumption,” Maomao replied. When he saw how angry she was, Jinshi found he couldn’t quite look at her.

Maomao stood and loosened her sash. Her robe was soaked through and very heavy.

“Wh-What are you doing?!”

“I’m sorry I’m not pretty enough for you, but I’ll catch a cold at this rate. And so will you. Take off your clothes, Master Jinshi. I’ll wring them out.” Then Maomao began to do just that. Her robe was still heavy. Deciding she didn’t care that much, Maomao proceeded to pull off her skirt and even her underrobe. There was a thump as bundles of medicinal herbs hit the ground. They were soaked—ruined, she thought, sighing. She decided to refrain from removing the simple clothes that covered her front and her hips, at least. There might not be much to hide on her body, but she wanted to hide what there was.

She picked up Jinshi’s robe, tossed it on the ground with a thump of its own, and began squeezing the water out.

“You can worry about mine later,” he said. “Take care of yours first.” He sounded oddly annoyed. Knowing she couldn’t let him stay that way, however, she continued wringing out his robe. He practically snatched it back from her and began squeezing it dry himself. She figured that was just as well; he was stronger than she was and would do it more efficiently. She went back to working on her own clothes.

She put her skirt and underrobe, still rather damp, back on, then finally took a look around. They were in a dim cavern. “Where are we?”

“Behind the waterfall. Not many people know about this place.”

“But you do.”

“An official who used to play with me here long ago taught me about it. I gather that going in here is sometimes used as a sort of test of courage.”

“I see...” Maomao sifted through the inundated herbs, trying to decide if there was anything that could still be used, when she came upon some small bundles wrapped in bamboo-shoot-skin coverings. She held them out to Jinshi. He undid the monkeygrass that tied the bundles shut to reveal boiled butterbur. They’d been packed in layers, and the ones at the center were relatively undamaged.

“I’m sorry it’s such poor fare, but I must ask that you eat this,” Maomao said. The plant was seasoned to give it some flavor, and a bit of a soaking probably wouldn’t hurt the taste that much, but nonetheless, it wasn’t the sort of thing one would normally put on a noble’s dinner table.

“What is it? Some kind of medicine?”

“No, sir. You appear to lack salt.”

The butterbur wasn’t intended as a medicament; Maomao had brought it along as a snack to munch on in her spare time. The flavoring had appeared at breakfast that morning and Maomao had liked it, so she’d asked one of the maids to pack some for her.

“Salt?” Jinshi asked, looking at Maomao. His mood seemed to have improved, but she couldn’t forget how he’d been stumbling earlier. During their leap, she’d dropped the bottle she’d brought to give to him—she’d filled it with a mixture of water, soy paste, and sugar.

“When you wear a disguise like that on a day as warm as this, of course you’ll start to overheat. I’ll bet you were feeling lethargic and had a headache.”

It was clear why Jinshi hadn’t been feeling well. He’d gone around with his face covered, not only failing to eat properly but hardly even getting any water. Even a lack of water alone, though it seemed such a simple thing, could lead to death in some cases. Dunking themselves in the basin had taken the edge off the overheating, but she wanted him to get some salt for good measure. Hence the butterbur.

“So that’s what you’re thinking.” Jinshi took some of the plant and put it in his mouth. Then he promptly took another bite—the salty flavor must have been better than he’d expected.

At that moment, a rather embarrassing sound echoed through the cavern: it came from Maomao’s stomach. It wasn’t her fault—Maomao didn’t eat much, but that meant she got hungry all the sooner. And the servants didn’t eat until after the guests had dined.

Jinshi put a hand to his mouth, holding out some of his butterbur to Maomao. She was suddenly seized by the desire to glare at him, to bare her teeth and scowl. She managed to quash the impulse, of course.

“Thank you,” she said, although she worked in a bit of a pout as she said it—and then she plucked a bit of butterbur for herself and put it in her mouth. Defeated, Jinshi ate his helping as well. When they were left with only the wrapping, Jinshi licked the last of the salt off his fingers. Maomao was struck by how childlike it was, but anyway, she went ahead and cleaned up the bamboo wrapper.

“What in the world was that earlier?” she asked, deeply uneasy.

“That was a feifa—a handheld firearm. The shots came fairly close together, so there’s a good chance we were attacked by multiple assailants.”

The feifa was designed for battle, but using it required packing it with powder and ammunition, then setting fire to it. That presumably explained Jinshi’s choice to jump off the cliff rather than to try to hide in the forest. In the woods, he would have been running straight into his enemies’ clutches. All the worse when they didn’t know how many enemies there were.

What’s he done to get himself so hated?

Maomao wanted to berate him for dragging her into this, but if she was honest with herself, she could hardly complain: she was the one who’d followed him out to where they made convenient targets. The moment they’d entered the woods they’d made themselves vulnerable, but getting out of sight of the mountain residence had been the final nail in their coffin.

Notwithstanding her misgivings, Maomao looked around at where they were. The roar of the waterfall filled the cavern, which was damp and full of moss. She could see the skeletons of small animals here and there, suggesting that they’d gotten in but hadn’t managed to get back out. The cavern was darker farther in, but she could feel a breath of wind.

“So you knew about this cavern. Do you know if there’s a way to get out?” she asked.

“Normally, one would simply swim out past the waterfall.”

“Might be tricky for me.” Maomao was not a gifted swimmer. Witness how she had nearly drowned earlier.

“There’s a hole in the ceiling up ahead,” Jinshi replied. “It’s connected to a cave closer to the residence.” Those who had entered this cavern as a test of courage had been, it seemed, often extricated via that route.

“Does Master Gaoshun know about this place?”

Jinshi couldn’t quite look at her. “He hated for me to play games like this.” So they’d been doing it in secret from him. The air between Maomao and Jinshi suddenly seemed to grow more tense. “Basen knows about it, but I’m not sure if he’ll connect the dots immediately.” Unlike Gaoshun, Basen wasn’t always the quickest thinker. If only there were some way to let him know where they were.

Whoever had shot at Jinshi was probably searching the area around the waterfall now. And in Jinshi’s current physical state, there were no guarantees he would be able to swim safely away, anyway.

Maomao turned toward the interior of the cave. She could hear the wind whistling through the ceiling. It occurred to her that they might be able to shout for help, but Jinshi shook his head. “They would have to be awfully close by to hear us. We’d be lucky if somebody noticed if we shouted all day.”

Maomao cocked her head as a memory floated to mind. She put her thumb and forefinger into her mouth and tried to whistle. But she hadn’t done it for a long time, and she didn’t get much of a sound. Should’ve known it wouldn’t be that easy.

Admitting defeat, she went over and looked up at the hole in the ceiling. It wasn’t that far up, maybe 270 centimeters. Jinshi had to be at least 180, but he probably wouldn’t be able to jump up to the hole.

Jinshi watched her, seeming to know what she was thinking. He didn’t say it, but she assumed he was trying to judge how heavy she was.

Maomao preempted him: “I can’t.” He had probably been picturing her perched on his shoulders, and concluding that she might be able to reach the opening. Being who and what she was, however, Maomao simply couldn’t agree to such a plan. If Suiren ever found out Maomao had put her feet on Jinshi, regardless of the exigencies of the situation, Maomao didn’t want to think what might happen to her.

“What’s the alternative? You underneath? I would crush you.”

“But—”

“Do it.”

When he put it that way, she didn’t have much choice. Maomao went over to where Jinshi was crouching down, although she made a point to look annoyed about it. He was ready for her to get on his shoulders—and, left with no other options, she did so. She held on to his damp head as lightly as possible as he stood up.

“You could stand to put a little weight on, you know.”

“Surely this isn’t the time, sir.”

She couldn’t see the opening in the gloom, but was able to find it by feel. It was damp, and slippery in places. Somehow she managed to get a grip by the tips of her fingers, then pulled herself up so her feet were on Jinshi’s shoulders.

“Seems promising,” he said.

“Yeah...” Maomao replied. Just as she was preparing to stand up, though, a moist-eyed creature landed square on her head. “Ribbit!” it croaked, and then jumped away again.

A frog, Maomao thought. It was hardly enough to scare her, but it was plenty to break her concentration. Her fingers, which had barely been holding her up, slipped away.

“Oh—” Maomao lost her balance, still only halfway to her feet. The motion caught up Jinshi below her.

“H-Hey, watch out!” he exclaimed, wobbling. He could have simply let go, but he had the decency to try to hold on to Maomao. Unfortunately, the result was that he slipped on the damp moss and took a tremendous fall.

He didn’t say anything immediately. Maomao, meanwhile, felt no pain, but did find damp skin pressed against her cheek. It was noticeably warm, and she could feel a pulse in it.

She also couldn’t move. Two large arms were wrapped around her, holding her close. Vestiges of fragrant perfume reached her nose.

Maomao felt her own heart rate increase. She worried that with their bodies so close, Jinshi would hear it, but she couldn’t pull away even though she wanted to. As the blood pounded through her veins, Maomao found herself focused on just one thing.

What is that?

Maomao’s left hand was caught between them, and something squishy lay against her palm. At first she thought it was the frog, crushed by the fall, but the size was nothing like that of the amphibian that had jumped on her head. What’s more, whatever it was seemed to be covered in cloth. Had the frog jumped into Jinshi’s robe? Without really thinking about what she was doing, Maomao groped about with her fingers, trying to figure it out.

“Hngh?!” Jinshi grunted. His heart rate shot up. Maomao looked up to find herself staring at Jinshi’s chin—she could see him biting his lip, hard. He seemed to be struggling, fighting with something.

The frog in his robe shifted as if it were alive.

“I’m—I’m sorry, but...could you move your hand? It’s m-making things rather difficult...” Jinshi sounded like he could barely get the words out, and he refused to look at her. She even saw that for some reason, cold sweat was trickling down his face. His brow was firmly knitted, almost as if he were in great pain.

“Difficult?” Maomao reflexively squeezed her hand, and Jinshi’s expression grew dramatically more intense. Only then did it occur to Maomao to look at where her hand actually was. It rested somewhere below Jinshi’s belly button.

She didn’t say anything. Something was there—something that should never have been there. Something that would be hugely embarrassing to have grabbed, yet which she shouldn’t have been able to grab because it shouldn’t have been there—it categorically couldn’t have been there. Jinshi was a eunuch, an official of the rear palace.

But, well, what was there...was there.

Huh?!

Slowly Maomao moved her hand away and was about to try to extricate herself from Jinshi’s slackened grip, but he pressed on the small of her back, keeping her where she was, straddling him.

Jinshi brushed his bangs aside and let out a breath, then looked at Maomao. “I suppose in a sense, this saves me some trouble.” His face was that of a celestial nymph whose heart was beset by gloom. But he was no nymph. He had a countenance that could have brought the country to its knees with a single smile, yet he was no woman.

And neither, it turned out, was he a eunuch bereft of the foremost symbol of manhood.

Jinshi’s robe had come open when Maomao had landed on him, but the body it revealed was not soft and indulged; instead it was all taut muscle, the product of discipline and training. His face might be that of a nymph, but his body was that of a warrior.

Now it seemed inexplicable to Maomao that it had never occurred to her before that he might not be a eunuch. Perhaps she’d subconsciously avoided entertaining the possibility.

“There’s something I want to tell you,” Jinshi said. “It’s one reason I had you come along on this trip.”

Maomao found herself wanting to plug her ears. She understood instantly that she mustn’t hear any more. But plugging her ears would only make it obvious what she was thinking.

There was a man in the rear palace who wasn’t a eunuch. What would happen if that fact got out? What if that man had ever laid a hand on any of the consorts; if seed that wasn’t the Emperor’s had been sown in his garden?

Maomao scowled at Jinshi. Stop, please! Don’t drag me into this...

Jinshi had frequently put Maomao to use before, and although sometimes more and sometimes less, it was always a headache for her. Even so, it had never seemed worth her while to get truly upset. But this was different. Once she had this knowledge, she would have to take it to her grave.

And I’m not ready to follow you to my grave!

Thus, instead, Maomao said, “I’m very sorry, sir. I’m afraid I might have crushed a frog.” She kept her face completely expressionless.

“...A frog.” Jinshi winced. Fine. Let him wince. Maomao would overcome this situation by sheer force of will.

“Yes, sir, a frog. I apologize again—it dropped on me from above and made me lose my balance. You aren’t hurt, aren’t you?”

That squishy-feeling thing had been a frog, she kept telling herself, just a frog.

“That was no f—”

“I’m terribly sorry, I know you took the brunt of the fall for me. Let’s get out of here, quickly.” She tried to stand up, but Jinshi wouldn’t let go of her. “Master Jinshi, would you move your hands?”

“Who are you calling a frog?” Jinshi sat up, still holding her in place, so that they ended up facing each other with Maomao almost on his knees. What with his legs spread and her veritably on top of him, the situation could hardly have looked more compromising. As Jinshi leaaaaned closer to her, Maomao almost flinched away, but she was not going to be beaten now. She stared him down, their noses inches apart.

“If it wasn’t a frog, what was it?” she asked.

It was just a frog, it was just a frog, she kept repeating, like a mantra. The squishy thing under her left hand had been a frog. A frog, and nothing more. Frogs were gross—she wiped her hand on her skirt.

“Surely a frog would have been smaller, wouldn’t it?” Jinshi asked, getting his face another inch closer to hers.

“No, sir, there are some decently sized amphibians around this time of year...”

“D-Decent...”

Jinshi flinched again, looking shocked, and Maomao seized the moment to close the distance further, until their noses were practically touching. “Yes, decent. And if it wasn’t a decently sized frog, what decently sized thing could it have been?”

Decently sized didn’t cover it, but that would do for now. Yes, “decently sized” would be enough.

“Hey, are you wiping your hand?”

Why did Jinshi seem so scandalized? “Because frogs are gross, sir.”

“Gross! This from the person who drinks snake wine!”

“But frogs are slimy.”

“Who’s slimy?!”

They glared at each other for long seconds, then almost a minute.

Jinshi blinked first, so to speak, looking away from Maomao with his lips still pursed.

D...Did I win? Maomao asked herself with a sigh of relief.

No good ever came of knowing too much. And for Maomao, whose birth made her suited for little more than drudge work, it was best not to know anything at all. Then whatever happened, whatever her superiors might do, Maomao could say truthfully that she hadn’t known anything about it. That had been her position thus far, and she had no intention of changing it now. Jinshi and Maomao were an official and his servant; nothing more, nothing less—and she need know no secrets to fulfill her duties.

Jinshi’s grip finally relaxed, and Maomao slithered out and tried to stand up—only to find herself pushed to the ground. She hadn’t been expecting it, and she collapsed, falling on her back. She looked down, and there was Jinshi. He shifted, crawling on top of her. A faint light, like a candle flame, danced in his eyes. “Very well.” He slowly set his hands behind her knees and lifted them up, putting the two of them in an even more compromising position than before. “Want to find out for yourself?” Jinshi was scowling.

Maomao got goosebumps all over and started sweating profusely. She realized belatedly that she’d pushed Jinshi too far.

Jinshi, for his part, looked lost for a beat. Seconds, then a minute, passed, and neither of them moved. At length, Jinshi seemed to make a decision. He bit his lip and leaned forward, his face slowly coming closer to hers.

I wonder if I should give him a good kick, Maomao thought, her mind whirling, but then Jinshi stopped and looked up in annoyance. “What’s that?”

Maomao thought she heard a noise from the exit. What sounded like the howling of an animal could be heard from above them.

Slowly, uncertainly, Maomao put her fingers in her mouth and whistled. She was answered by the barking of a dog. She whistled again, and then a ball of fur came plunging through the hole above them, landing square on Jinshi’s back. While he rubbed his waist, Maomao scrambled out from under him. The furball was the hunting dog Lihaku had been playing with. Maomao gave it a big hug and a nice pat.

“Hey, what are you doing? Don’t go running off like that!” came the voice of the other big dog. He didn’t sound terribly worried, really.

Still rubbing his back, Jinshi looked up at the ceiling. Maomao, feeling like she’d escaped by the skin of her teeth, shouted Lihaku’s name as loud as she could.

“How in the world did you get down there?” Lihaku asked, looking flummoxed. He’d fetched a rope and pulled Maomao and Jinshi out of the cavern. As Jinshi had said, the hole in the ceiling let out close to the residence.

“And what are you doing with...someone so important?” he added, in a whisper to Maomao. “Someone so important” seemed to refer to Jinshi, who was now wearing his disguise. Presumably it would have been safe for Lihaku to see him, but then, perhaps one couldn’t be too careful.

“Let’s just say it’s hard to explain,” she said. Lihaku cocked his head at that, but with someone of Jinshi’s status involved, he knew it was best not to ask too many questions. They’d told him only that they’d fallen into the waterfall basin and ended up in the cave.

“I must ask you not to tell anyone that I’m here,” Jinshi said. He was seated on the floor of the upper cavern. He sounded like a different person from usual; maybe it was just that hard to speak with the mask on.

“As you wish, sir.” Lihaku bowed his head respectfully.

Maybe Jinshi wanted to see what the others would do next if they didn’t realize he’d been found. Maomao was surprised, though, that he wasn’t going to let Basen or even Gaoshun know.

The dog was lying in Lihaku’s lap, wagging its tail; he was patting its head and giving it pieces of dried meat. Maomao glanced at the animal. It had managed to follow her whistling, so it obviously had pretty good ears.

“Does he know any other tricks?” she asked.

“Tricks? He can find a rabbit warren, I guess. That’s about it.” It was like she and Lihaku were having a perfectly normal conversation. The dog came over and sniffed her. There was an intelligence behind the goofy demeanor.

Maomao stole a glance at Jinshi. With what had just happened, she almost couldn’t bring herself to look him in the eye. But what had to be said had to be said. “Master J— Kousen,” she began, remembering just in time to use his assumed name. Since he was wearing the mask, he probably wanted to go by his pseudonym.

“Yes? What is it?” The voice that came from behind the mask was cold. He must have been angry at Maomao for getting him so worked up earlier. Why else would he be acting like this? And would it be unfair of Maomao to claim that she’d never seen it coming? It wasn’t exactly as if he’d tried to deceive her. He might even have been trying to explain himself. But Maomao, flooded with a desire not to know anything, had come up with an outrageous cover. She could hardly blame him for being upset about that particular story. He had such confidence in his appearance, after all. And such a fine frog, no doubt.

Maomao was at a loss for the right thing to do, but if nothing else, she had to start by saying this: “I think I may be able to pinpoint who shot at us earlier.” She gave the hunting dog a pat on the head.

And that brings us back to the present.

Maomao opened the dirty bundle. Inside were three feifa still redolent of fire powder. She had never seen a feifa before and was surprised by how small they were. Jinshi and Lihaku had looked almost as startled as she had. They were supposedly the newest model, imported from abroad, not yet common in this country. They didn’t use a fuse to light the fire powder like earlier models, but rather relied on a sophisticated construction that used a specially shaped metal part to create a spark to ignite the powder. Neither Jinshi nor Lihaku had ever seen these most up-to-date feifa; they’d simply fired them once and their understanding of how the weapons worked went no further than that.

These newest feifa had a unique odor, akin to rotten eggs—not pleasant by any means. The fire powder was typically made by combining charcoal with saltpeter and sulfur, so that when it exploded it had a very unique smell, a powerful aroma that made you want to cover your nose. If such a device had been used during the hunt, any dogs, with their excellent noses, would have reacted immediately. And indeed, when presented with the smell, Lihaku’s hound had led them directly to these feifa.

Hunts were not conducted with feifa in this area. For one thing, the guns weren’t accurate enough, and they weren’t suited to the mountain environment, with all the objects that could get in the way of a shot. The reason they’d been used in the attempt on Jinshi’s life probably had much to do with the fact that these were the newest model. The unique way of generating a spark increased their accuracy and range, as their test firing demonstrated. And yet even so, this man who had shot at Jinshi had missed.

Lihaku, just that good at his job, had the man’s arms pinned behind his back and had put a gag in his mouth to prevent him from swallowing his tongue.

“I do feel a bit bad for making everyone suspicious of those old guys,” Lihaku said. Any trap required bait. At Jinshi’s instruction, they’d chosen an official whose reaction was likely to be easy to read.

The captive man’s coconspirators—which is to say the officials above him and the lackeys below him—were already being staked out so that they could be arrested at will. Now all that was necessary was to march this man away and get his confession.

The hunting dog was running in circles around Lihaku. “That’s right, you’re a good boy,” Lihaku said, holding on to the captive with one hand and patting the dog with the other. They already had a pretty good idea of who the culprit was. Anyone who had fired a feifa would reek of it, and even if they thought they’d gotten rid of the smell, they couldn’t fool a tracking dog.

Maomao wrapped the weapons back up and followed Lihaku as he pushed the captive along.