The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 3 - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: Perfume Oil

The caravan left a tremendous vogue for perfumed oil in its wake. Every palace woman who passed by seemed to carry a different scent. Each smell individually might have been quite pleasant, but they mingled together into an undifferentiated olfactory morass. Maomao, with her keen sense of smell, found it a little trying. What made it worse was that the imported perfume from the west wasn’t subtle, but carried powerful scents.

Maomao wasn’t the only one who found life a little harder because of the new trend. When she went to the laundry area, she discovered piles and piles of perfume-soaked clothing, the eunuchs responsible for cleaning it frowning deeply as they fetched bucket after bucket of water.

Such vogues tended to go as suddenly as they came. The craze for manicures had waned, so everyone needed something new to grab onto. Interest in novels continued to flourish, perhaps because books and perfume were completely different from each other.

Xiaolan was every bit as annoyed as Maomao by the perfume, since it meant more work for her, but she continued to study industriously in order to read her fresh, new copy of the novel. Maomao, who had admittedly expected Xiaolan’s efforts to trail off after a few days, was impressed.

“Gah, it stinks,” Maomao grumbled to herself as she set down a basket of laundry. Just being here threatened to make her feel drunk on the odors. She stood lethargically—but apparently she was in the way, because a serving girl with a basket full of clothing bumped right into her. Maomao ended up wearing some of the laundry.

“I’m so sorry!” said the maid, whose voice was still high.

Whomever the laundry belonged to, she was apparently also a disciple of the newest trend, for the clothes reeked of roses.

Roses, huh. Was it wrong of Maomao to think about how much money she might get for the rose water she’d made the other day? She’d made plenty of it but hadn’t used any for the time being, just held on to it, for essence of rose could have a negative impact on pregnancy. It would probably be fine so long as Consort Gyokuyou didn’t use whole heaps of it, but one never knew, and it was best to be careful. As such, Maomao had been looking for an opportunity to sell the stuff in the pleasure district before it went bad.

She plucked the clothing off her head with a growl. Then she blinked and gave the outfit a good sniff. That alarmed the maid, but Maomao ignored her, tossing the outfit into the laundry basket and shoving her face into another one. Now nearby eunuchs and other serving women were watching her in amazement, but what did she care?

Maomao went from one basket to the next, smelling the contents, and by the time she was done it had completely slipped her mind to take her own washing back home. Instead, she headed off somewhere.

Maomao of all people knew where trends were most likely to take root.

That day, the shouting of the ladies-in-waiting of the Crystal Pavilion could be heard all over the rear palace.

The gorgeous eunuch appeared at the Jade Pavilion that evening. She’d figured he might. In his hand he held what appeared to be a written protest.

“I took you for someone with a little more restraint,” Jinshi said, his customary exasperation now tinged with anger. Behind him stood Gaoshun (exasperation coupled with exhaustion), Consort Gyokuyou (worried but undeniably intrigued), and Hongniang (only just managing not to look like a wrathful deity). The other ladies-in-waiting were asleep with Princess Lingli, who had already gone beddie-bye.

I mean, I am, Maomao thought, but it was too late.

A great deal of proof was required in order to turn speculation into certainty. The Crystal Pavilion had been the perfect place to get it, and Maomao had, one might say, succumbed to her curiosity.

“My apologies. I let the excitement get away with me and did it without getting their permission.”

“You sound like some old lech making excuses for himself.”

That was the last thing Maomao wanted to hear from a certified actual lech, but for the time being she kept her eyes on the ground and tried to look penitent. “Next time I’ll be sure to ask before I go smelling things.”

“But why were you smelling them?!” Jinshi sounded distraught.

“Goodness,” Gyokuyou said, blinking; this seemed to alert Jinshi to how he was coming across, because his stern look softened somewhat and he regained a measure of his usual gentleness.

Anyway, Maomao had learned her lesson. Specifically, she had learned that she was going to need to check with people before she grabbed their clothes and started sniffing. She’d learned not to let her excitement cause her to practically tear the garments off people so she could smell them. And she’d definitely learned not to choose the ladies-in-waiting of the Crystal Pavilion as the subjects of her sniffing. They’d already treated her like a demon or an evil spirit, but now they seemed to regard her as something even worse.

Even knowing that might happen, Maomao had needed to be sure.

I think that’s about enough penitence for now, she decided. She raised her head and looked Jinshi square in the eye. In her mind, it was actually a good thing that the complaint had brought Jinshi here so quickly. She believed this matter required an immediate decision.

“I had a reason for what I did.”

She continued to stare at Jinshi for several seconds. Finally he opened his mouth, though he kept his face blank. “It had better be a good one.”

“But of course,” Maomao said firmly. Then she glanced at Gyokuyou and Hongniang and asked for some paper. Some promptly appeared. It was from Gyokuyou’s personal store; frankly, it was nicer than Maomao needed right now. A piece of old scrap paper would have been fine, she thought, but she was the only one there who came from poverty and thus the only one to have such an idea. She began to write in quick, flowing characters, while the others surrounded the desk and watched.

Consort Gyokuyou read aloud: “Rose, benzoin, parasol tree, frankincense, and cinnamon? These are...all kinds of perfume or some such, right?”

Maomao nodded. “These are the aromas and essences I detected on the palace women today.”

“What about them?” Jinshi asked, sticking his hands in his sleeves.

“None of them were present in any significant quantity,” Maomao said, setting her brush against the ink stone, “but all are potentially harmful to a pregnancy.” That cast a pall over her audience.

She went on: “In addition to the various perfume oils, the caravan was selling spices and teas.” She produced the ones she had purchased for herself. The jasmine tea, along with peppers, moderately expensive black pepper, rock salt, and cinnamon—which could easily serve in both food and perfume. All very much in-character for Maomao with her preference for dry, spicy foods. She was a little chagrined by how much she’d bought, but, well, the money had been there. She told herself she should have noticed then and there, but Maomao, it turned out, was not immune to the festive atmosphere.

“Jasmine tea has the potential to induce contractions,” she said. “I don’t think a small amount should be anything to worry about, but to avoid any possibility of a miscarriage, I think you should abstain from it entirely.”

It was the very tea Maomao, Xiaolan, and the others had drunk at the medical office the other day.

“And then these spices. Peppers frequently appear in the abortifacients used by prostitutes.”

Maomao glanced at Gyokuyou. She clearly understood that this matter was a serious one; she looked at Maomao intently and nodded. “Go on.” Hongniang seemed eager that Gyokuyou not be exposed to too much distressing talk, but she respected the consort’s opinion enough not to intervene.

“So using these ingredients will increase the chance of a miscarriage?” Jinshi asked.

Maomao was noncommittal. He was both right and wrong. “Each of them increases the possibility, but none of them is guaranteed to cause one. Presuming you don’t accidentally drink the perfume oil or otherwise come in contact with an exceptionally large dose.”

In ordinary quantities, all of the ingredients could practically be called safe; otherwise they couldn’t be brought into the rear palace at all. But any given thing had multiple uses. If the ingredients were to be found around the Jade Pavilion, and by some mistake someone were to ingest them, who knew what might happen? What if that person was a pregnant consort? Maomao rued her failure to notice sooner.

“Can you get any kind of information on the merchants who were here with the caravan?” she asked.

“We can look into it, but I don’t expect detailed lists of their wares.”

Perfumes would simply be listed as perfumes, spices as spices, and tea as tea. Specific types and varieties were unlikely to be recorded. All the incoming merchandise had been inspected, however, giving everyone involved the sense that their job had been done to satisfaction and leaving little room for complaint.

One more thing nagged at Maomao. “Doesn’t this remind you of...you know?”

“Remind me of what?” Jinshi replied, unsure what her vague remark was getting at.

She was thinking of something that seemed like perfectly respectable merchandise for the rear palace, but which could have an unexpected side effect.

“The toxic face powder,” Maomao said, and a flash of understanding could be seen on every face in the room. The summer before, Princess Lingli had fallen ill for reasons unknown. Simultaneously, the same thing had happened to Consort Lihua’s son, the heir apparent, who had subsequently died. Now, a non-lead-based face whitener was used in the rear palace, and the old stuff was no longer allowed. Perhaps it had caused them to let down their guard.

“Are you suggesting someone is deliberately trying to smuggle poison into the rear palace?” Jinshi ventured. Maomao didn’t nod, but she didn’t shake her head either. All she had at the moment was speculation, not proof. She felt close to certainty, but there was always the possibility she was wrong.

There was the resemblance to a previous incident. Then the fact that the resurrected palace servant, Suirei, was still at large, and that her background and contacts remained obscure. Maybe Jinshi had discovered something on that subject, but he was under no obligation to tell Maomao.

“I only noticed that many substances that are potentially harmful have entered the rear palace. No one of them need really be treated as poisonous.” She was cheating a little, couching everything she said as opinion. She disliked the idea that the merchants who had brought the products into the rear palace might be punished because of anything she said. She would let Jinshi make up his own mind. “I think, though, that it would be wise to warn the other consorts as well.”

That was all she would say.

The discussion had left Maomao exhausted. She remembered what her father had said; she could almost hear the old man’s gentle, grandmotherly voice warning her not to speak based on assumptions. So how much of what she had said was an assumption, and how much was certain? The question made her feel a little queasy.

Maomao entered the kitchen and heated some water. When it had boiled, she cut it with some cold water and poured it into a glass cup, where the bulb of jasmine tea waited. The glass was an expensive piece of drinkware—but it was all right; she would be sure to wash it thoroughly when she was done.

Maomao had already used up her jasmine tea, unfortunately, but Shisui had given hers back. She’d had some now, she said, and didn’t need more all to herself. Maomao might have preferred if Shisui had simply accepted the gift, but she didn’t want to argue. Anyway, she liked this tea. Her “sisters” had let her taste it on the sly when there were no customers around, and drinking it now took her back.

The blossom began to soften and open in the warm water. Maomao sat in a chair and watched it. The fragrant aroma filled the air around her.

“I thought that was supposed to be poisonous, no?” a gorgeous voice said from above her. She looked up to see a face as pretty as the voice, lit by the single paper lantern that burned in the kitchen. It was already dark outside. The lantern light gave Jinshi’s face a reddish cast—he really was disgustingly lovely.

“Many poisons have medicinal properties in small quantities,” she replied. “A single cup of tea would barely have an effect of any kind. Anyhow, this is the kitchen. Hardly the sort of place you belong, Master Jinshi.”

“Don’t quibble.”

“Where’s Master Gaoshun?”

“I sent him to deliver a message.”

The eunuch’s august status didn’t stop Maomao from pursing her lips at him. She held up the tea, the jasmine blossom now fully open, to the lamplight and inspected it. Then she took a sip, enjoying the way the flower bobbed in the water. She knew it was rude not to offer Jinshi any tea, but it was after hours. Time for him to go home.

“Besides,” Maomao added, “I’m not pregnant.”

“True enough.” For some reason, Jinshi glanced away from her as he spoke. He was sitting diagonally across from her—when had he seated himself? “Not going to give me any tea?” he asked, eyeing the glass cup and the flower.

“What kind of tea would you like, sir?” Maomao stood, grumbling silently about what a headache Jinshi could be. There was a shelf stocked with provisions for when visitors came, though. Maybe he’d like a nice, simple white tea.

Jinshi continued studying her glass. “I’d like to try some of this.”

“I’m afraid that’s the last of it.” She’d poured the first steep into her glass; she could add more hot water, but all Jinshi would get would be the dregs.

“I don’t mind. What other effects does this tea have?” Jinshi shifted in his chair, looking at the leaves.

“It encourages relaxation, for one thing. It can help with insomnia, but can also help one wake up. Additionally, while it isn’t recommended during pregnancy, I’ve heard it can be helpful during childbirth.”

“It seems the benefits far outweigh the harms.”

“Yes. Which is why people often lose sight of them.”

Was this the only time so much jasmine tea had come into the rear palace, or had it been brought here before as well? Maomao didn’t know. It might be simple coincidence—or something more. She couldn’t even be sure of that. It was possible that the tea, along with the clothing, was a way of feeling them out. A method for discovering if anyone in the rear palace was with child.

When previous caravans had visited, Maomao had either been working at Jinshi’s residence, or tending to Consort Lihua in the Crystal Pavilion—or simply without money, when it came to the occasion before she had been assigned to Consort Gyokuyou’s service. In other words, for lack of opportunity or lack of means, she had always been entirely uninterested in the visiting merchants. Even now, if it hadn’t been for the sudden perfume oil fad, Maomao would likely not have noticed anything. Individually, everything the caravan brought appeared to be excellent luxury goods, after all.

“Will white tea do?”

Jinshi looked a bit put out and said nothing, but it wasn’t her fault; they didn’t have what they didn’t have. Maomao set the kettle on the fire again and put some leaves in a small teapot. She took the kettle off before it boiled, figuring warm water would be enough, then poured it into the teapot slowly, letting the leaves steep. From there she poured the tea into a teacup and placed it in front of Jinshi. He took it, still looking annoyed.

Maomao, meanwhile, made a show of picking up her glass of jasmine tea. “There’s another condition this tea can help with,” she said.

“What’s that?”

“Impotence. Particularly in men.”

Jinshi fixed her with a thoroughly unamused look. Oops, she thought. Her sarcasm had worked a little too well. She bustled over to the shelf to get some snacks in hopes of repairing his mood, feeling a droplet of cold sweat run down her back.

Behind her, she heard him sipping tea. Then he said: “This isn’t really for me. I’m going home.” And just like that, he left.

Now I’ve done it, she thought, scowling to herself. When she went to get his teacup, though, she discovered it was untouched. Instead, her jasmine tea, from which she’d taken only a single sip, was half empty.

She drank every drop of the white tea, furious.