The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 3 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Cat

Princess Lingli, a year and a half on from her birth, was proving quite precocious, a very healthy child indeed. Maomao wasn’t a big fan of children, but even she had to admit that the princess was endearing. It was certainly more pleasant taking care of her than looking after one of the girls who had been sold into the brothel. There’s no creature in the world so insufferable as a preteen girl.

The princess had graduated from holding on to things in order to get around to walking on her own, and recently to jogging short distances. Consort Gyokuyou watched her pound around with a touch of concern. “I wonder if this residence is starting to get a little small for her,” she said. The Jade Pavilion was hardly cramped, but it wasn’t healthy for a child to play inside all the time. There was a central garden as well, but soon it wouldn’t be enough to hold the princess’s interest.

“Perhaps it might be all right to take her for a little walk.” Gyokuyou was uncommonly open-minded. Most nobles felt that young ladies of prominent heritage should spend their days safely indoors, swaddled in the finest silks. Evidently, Consort Gyokuyou didn’t agree. “What do you think, Maomao?”

Maomao looked up and grunted softly, somewhat surprised to have the consort suddenly ask for her opinion. “In terms of her health, I think it would be wonderful if she had more chances to go outside.”

Maomao looked at Gyokuyou’s feet. They were well-built and perfectly large enough; they hadn’t been bound when she was young. In the arid western regions where she had been born and raised, Gyokuyou seemed to have received a somewhat more permissive upbringing than many of the other consorts.

Generally speaking, it was regarded as best to let a child’s mother set the tone for their rearing, but this particular child happened to be the daughter of the most important man in the nation and the apple of his eye. They couldn’t expect him to simply nod along and let Gyokuyou do whatever she wanted.

The consort, of course, understood this very well. “I’ll ask about it, then,” she said, running her fingers through Lingli’s hair where the child had fallen asleep on the couch.

Several days later, permission had been granted for the princess to go outside, accompanied by two eunuchs as guards. Maomao and Hongniang were to go with her. It was just a little walk, but the Emperor could be pretty protective. Then again, all of his children had died young so far, so maybe he had reason to be.

“I know you know a lot about flowers and animals, Maomao. Maybe you could teach her?” Gyokuyou said, patting the princess’s head. Her belly was already heavy, so she had to stay behind at the Jade Pavilion, just to be safe.

“Don’t give her ideas, Lady Gyokuyou. She’ll teach the princess the most positively awful things,” Hongniang insisted, but the consort acted surprised.

“Goodness, I should think her instruction might be helpful.” The hint of an elegant smile appeared on her face. “After all, one never knows where one might go in marriage in the future.”

I knew she was a shrewd one, Maomao thought. The princess might still be young, but given her place in life, in another ten years or so there was every chance she would be married into another family somewhere. If she was granted to some loyal subject, well and good, but it was distinctly possible she would go to live in some other country—somewhere she might not be entirely welcome. In such a situation, a working knowledge of drugs and poisons couldn’t go amiss.

Hongniang acceded with a sigh. Though obviously not thrilled, she understood the logic just as well as Maomao.

Gyokuyou waved to Princess Lingli as she left on her walk, and the princess waved back. Then she squealed, seeing the outside of the Jade Pavilion for the first time. She could only taste so much of the outside world from the pavilion courtyard. She still knew only a few words, and most of them didn’t make very much sense, but nonetheless she was clearly excited to see so many palace women, far more than there were in her house. Maomao had worried the child might be afraid and start crying, but far from it. She had her mother’s daring.

Lingli pattered along, exclaiming frequently. Sometimes she would point at something, and Maomao or Hongniang would tell her what it was called. It was hard to say how much she really understood, but she would burble “Mrm mrm” in response, so maybe some of the words made sense to her. The eunuch guards kept a respectful distance, not too close but never too far. Young children were a rare sight in the rear palace—indeed, Lingli was the only one under ten in the entire complex—and she naturally attracted the women’s attention. Some couldn’t suppress a smile to see a child for the first time in so long; others, realizing she was a princess, took a respectful step back; and still others simply looked at her with no particular expression at all. The young princess was oblivious to all of this, but as she grew up, she would come to understand the significance of those looks.

Hongniang, who was holding Lingli’s hand, had her work cut out for her as the princess flitted from one thing to the next, bursting with curiosity. The plan had been to walk to the cherry grove that lay west of the Jade Pavilion, pick some cherries, and then come home, but they seemed to keep finding detours and diversions. Finally they spotted the western gate, Hongniang openly relieved to have reached their destination.

They heard a high-pitched cry: “Rroww!” It sounded almost like an infant, so that Maomao and Hongniang briefly thought it was Lingli, but the princess was looking around for the source of the sound too. Suddenly she darted off. Hongniang scrambled after her as she peered between some storage buildings. “No, Princess, don’t!” Hongniang called.

At the same moment there came another cry: “Mew!” Before Lingli could disappear among the buildings, Maomao squeezed herself between the storehouses with a “I’ll go have a look.”

“Maomao!” Hongniang said.

“Meow meow!” Lingli squealed at the same time. Hongniang had no choice but to step back, while Maomao continued after their charge.

She saw something glimmer golden in the gloom. She reached out toward it, but it slipped between her feet and ran off.

“Meow!”

“Princess!” Hongniang said, holding Lingli back. A small, grimy ball of fur appeared from between the buildings. The furball took fright at the sudden sight of humans and tried to run. Its hair stood on end and its tail stuck up.

“Meow!” The princess pointed at the fuzzball, indicating she wanted them to catch it. Maomao had just extricated herself from between the storehouses, but she wasn’t in any position to jump on a small animal. It’s gonna get away, she thought, but at that moment someone appeared behind the ball of fur. The little creature was so focused on Maomao, Hongniang, and Lingli that the new arrival easily swept it up in her hands.

Their helper was another palace woman, someone Maomao didn’t recognize. “Is this yours?” she asked, sounding surprisingly girlish. Although she was tall, she had a young face; she might have been Maomao’s age, or perhaps younger. She wore the same uniform as Xiaolan and seemed a touch ditzy.

“Thank you,” Maomao said. The other woman held the filthy, shivering lump of fuzz out to her. Maomao took out a handkerchief and wrapped it around the animal. She could feel it shaking even through the cloth, and it cried “Mrow!” pleadingly. It had run only out of fear and had exhausted itself doing so; she could feel how limp it was.

“I’ll bet it’s hungry,” the woman said. “Maybe you can feed it. Anyway, see you!” Then she went on her way with a wave.

Whatever; Maomao had the furball, so she considered this a success. She took the animal over to the princess. Hongniang studied it. “Maomao, is that—?” She raised an eyebrow with a disapproving look. “Meow, meow!” the princess cooed, apparently meaning “Let me see!”

“It is indeed. A cat.”

The tiny kitten curled in her handkerchief was still shivering.

Princess Lingli was entranced by the tiny, unfamiliar life-form. She continually badgered Maomao to show it to her, crying “Meow, meow!” in imitation of the kitten’s mewling, but Maomao knew Hongniang would never let the princess touch the grimy little thing. They couldn’t simply leave it to its own devices, though, so they cut their walk short and went back to the Jade Pavilion.

Notwithstanding the princess’s attachment to the kitten, something so unsanitary couldn’t be allowed in the consort’s residence. Ultimately, they distracted the princess with her favorite snack while Maomao spirited the animal away to the medical office. It seemed like the obvious place, for without care, the creature was going to die.

Maomao was much perplexed, though. Yes, the warm season was when wild animals would be breeding, but that was a matter for the world outside the rear palace. Within its walls, there were hardly any pets to speak of. A small handful of the consorts had birds from other lands, but they kept them in cages, and there weren’t any dogs, cats, or anything else of the sort around. Special permission was required to keep a pet, and it was forbidden for male and female animals to be kept together; if and when they arrived, male animals were castrated just like male humans. It might sound harsh, but it was precisely to prevent any trouble should they escape. The rear palace couldn’t have animals breeding willy-nilly all over its vast grounds.

They had come to a compromise: Hongniang agreed that the cat could stay for the time being, but she said the higher-ups had to be informed.

“Oh, this is a surprise,” the quack doctor said. Calm as ever, he didn’t seem to be thinking very hard about why Maomao had a cat with her. He saw that it was shivering, though, which provoked a compassionate frown. The doctor set some water on to boil. When it was good and warm, he put it in a wine bottle, wrapped the bottle in a cloth, and placed it in the basket where they had put the kitten.

“Looks like you know just what to do.”

“Not the first cat I’ve taken in. I had the sweetest calico once.”

By sheer coincidence, the kitten also happened to be a calico. As they wiped away the filth on its fur with a damp rag, they saw the patches of reddish-brown and black fur. The kitten had its milk teeth, but it was terribly undernourished; Maomao could feel its rib cage under her fingers.

“You wouldn’t have any milk, would you?” she asked. Its mother’s milk would be best, but they could hardly go out searching for her now. It hadn’t looked to Maomao like there had been any other cats around when they’d found the kitten, anyway.

“Mmm, I think I can go get some,” the quack said and darted out of the office. As the palace physician, he had a fair amount of pull in the kitchen.

As Maomao continued to rub the milk-starved kitten with the rag, she picked fleas off it, tossing them in oil to kill them. She would have liked to simply dip the animal in some hot water to get rid of them all at once, but considering the kitten’s physical state, wiping it down was the most she could do.

A few minutes later, the doctor came trotting back with a stew pot. “They had goat’s milk, at least.” He held out the pot. Maomao dipped a finger into it and found it was exactly the right temperature. She made sure her fingertip was wet with milk, then brought it to the kitten’s mouth. The tiny animal began half-nibbling, half-lapping at her finger. She did this several times, the quack watching them both fondly.

“What a sweetie,” he said.

Maomao hated to take advantage of him just because he was acting like an especially soft touch, but she decided to ask him for one more favor. “Would it be possible for you to obtain some tripe?” Given the number of people in the rear palace, the kitchen must slaughter several animals every day. Sausage was occasionally served at mealtimes, so Maomao knew they didn’t simply throw the organs away.

“T-Tripe? Well, I suppose, but whatever for?”

The kitten was so weak that it seemed like it would be a while until it had recovered enough even to drink milk from a saucer. Feeding it one fingertip’s worth at a time, though, was time-consuming. Maomao had thought she might be able to appropriate some intestines to simulate a parent’s nipple.

When she explained this to the quack, he went rushing off again to the dining area. Truly, a generous-hearted man. In the meantime, Maomao continued to feed goat’s milk to the small cat, as much as it would drink.

Several days later, they had mostly managed to clean the kitten up and its fur was starting to regain some of its luster. Maomao had briefly worried whether the goat’s milk would sit well with it, but the kitten seemed to have taken it quite well.

Ordinarily, they would probably have had to toss the cat out of the rear palace immediately, but—for better or for worse—the night they found the animal, the Emperor had happened to visit the Jade Pavilion. When he heard his little princess incessantly exclaiming “Meow! Meow!” he couldn’t deny her the source of her pleasure. And who should be charged with the animal’s care but, of course, Maomao.

“Her name already means ‘cat.’ They’re the perfect match!” the Emperor had joked. Maomao hadn’t been quite sure whether she should laugh or not, but as Consort Gyokuyou chuckled, Maomao at least managed a polite smile. She figured eventually she would be able to foist the thing off on the doctor. (As if she hadn’t mostly done that already.)

The princess couldn’t yet enjoy the kitten’s company because it still had some fleas, and more importantly, because however small it might have been, it was still a wild animal. Maomao promised to share the kitten with Lingli when it got a little stronger.

When the kitten was recovered enough to tolerate it, Maomao dunked it in a washbasin and gave it a bath. It immediately looked substantially cleaner, but when she scrubbed it with some soap, the water turned gray. Its undercoat was still dirty. When Maomao suggested that the kitten’s soft, white fur would make an excellent writing brush, the doctor clutched the animal protectively, shaking his head. She’d meant it as a joke, but as two brand-new brushes appeared for her shortly thereafter, she decided she had come out ahead.

After the kitten had enough time drinking nourishing milk, they added minced chicken to its diet. They gave it a small box full of sand, where it promptly learned to do its business. It still had trouble doing number two without having its anus stimulated, though. The quack was kind enough to use a damp rag to help the kitten out.

Its teeth were still small, but meanwhile they clipped and filed its nails. Not an easy procedure on a kitten, but if it accidentally scratched someone or something, they would never hear the end of it. Seemed like a good idea at the time, anyway, Maomao thought, letting out a long sigh. Just then, someone arrived at the medical office.

“And how’s the little one doing?”

The source of the lighthearted quip was Jinshi. Gaoshun was with him as ever, and he was carrying some sort of bag.

“I think the princess should be able to see her soon,” Maomao replied. “The only problem is, I don’t have a plan yet for if the animal scratches her or tries to run away.”

“Oh, you’re always so caught up in details.”

Easy for him to say. He wasn’t the one who would suffer the consequences if anything went wrong.

Maomao glanced over toward the animal in question to discover Gaoshun had produced some dried fish from the bag and was waving it in front of the kitten. The customary furrow in his brow was gone, and he even appeared to be smiling. So he had a playful streak!

“Master Gaoshun, I think that might be a little hard for our kitten yet. Perhaps I could boil it?”

The quack already had a pot ready to go as if he had been waiting for this moment. You couldn’t count on him to do his own job, but he came through at times like this.

Jinshi snatched the cat up and stretched it out, examining its little belly. “Female?” he asked.

“Yes. No need to castrate it, fortunately.” The words were out of Maomao’s mouth before she realized that perhaps it wasn’t something to say so lightly in this company. “I’m sorry, sir,” she added.

“No, think nothing of it,” Jinshi replied, though she couldn’t quite read his expression. Still feeling apologetic, Maomao went in search of some kind of snack and came up with the last of the sausages they’d made from the leftover tripe. She’d packed them with meat and fragrant herbs and boiled them, not wanting anything to go to waste. Then she stopped for a second and thought about it.

“Something wrong?” Jinshi asked.

“No, sir.” Maomao put the sausage back on the shelf and picked out some rice crackers instead. The doctor, meanwhile, had a distant look on his face as he ate.

Jinshi amused himself by playing with the cat. He dangled the ornament that normally hung at his hip in front of the kitten—and pretended not to notice Gaoshun watching him with deep concern. He did, though, notice Maomao looking at him; he turned to her and held out the ornament as if to ask whether she wanted to play with the kitten too.

“I’m not much of a cat person,” she said.

“With your name?” He wasn’t the first person to say that.

“You seem to quite like her, Master Jinshi.”

“Not particularly.” He looked at Gaoshun, who was working with the doctor to boil the dried fish. Two middle-aged men putting themselves out for a kitten, Maomao thought.

“I’m not sure what’s supposed to be so good about them,” Jinshi went on. He was still eyeing the two men, who were gradually beginning to sound like they were purring themselves as they cooed over the kitten. Frankly, it was disgusting. His look seemed to say he could never be like them.

“I agree with you,” Maomao said, looking at the kitten. “But according to the cat lovers I know, the fact that you can never tell what they’re thinking is part of the appeal.”

“Goodness.”

“You look at them long enough, and you discover you can’t look away.”

“Hmm!”

“Then, gradually, you find yourself eager to pet the cat.”

“I see, I see.”

“It may annoy you that they act affectionate only when you have food, remaining aloof at all other times.”

“W-Well, yes.”

“But when you’re in that deep, all you can really do is forgive them their foibles.”

Finally, Jinshi didn’t respond at all.

Over time, Maomao was given to understand, one came to want to kiss the cat (even though it wouldn’t like it), then to play with its cute little toe beans, and finally to touch that fuzzy, wuzzy belly (even knowing a good scratching was the inevitable result). Maomao saw it as positively unsanitary to do such things with an animal that went around who knew where doing who knew what, but cat lovers apparently couldn’t help themselves. She looked at Jinshi, full of disdain for all this, to discover the kitten on his face.

“Whatever are you doing, Master Jinshi?” If he wanted to touch the cat’s fuzzy, wuzzy belly, fine, but Maomao glanced out the window, worried what might happen if someone were to see him that way.

“Oh, nothing,” Jinshi said. “But I feel like maybe I have more sympathy for those cat people than I did before.” He sounded as if he’d come to some sort of deep realization. (Let us prescind from the question of exactly what he had realized.)

“I see. Well, it appears the fish is ready.”

“Er, yes, of course.” Realizing that Gaoshun and the doctor were looking in his direction, Jinshi quickly put the cat down.

“What were you doing, sir?” Gaoshun asked, his tone polite but his gaze sincerely jealous.

Ultimately, even Jinshi was at a loss as to where exactly the kitten had come from. Plenty of wagons came and went in the rear palace, though, loaded with provisions. The simplest inference was that the kitten had wandered in after one of them, lured by the scent of food, and had gone unnoticed until the princess found her.

Not long after, the kitten was awarded an official court rank by the Emperor, being granted the illustrious-sounding title Admonisher of Thieves. All that really meant was that she would help keep the medical office free of mice. The Emperor certainly had a soft spot for his daughter.

The cat was given a name that meant “furry.” It stuck in Maomao’s craw for one simple reason: this name, too, was pronounced “maomao.”