The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 5 - Chapter 10

Chapter 10: Hemp and Folk Religion

“I wonder if Yue”—the moon—“is heading safely to the west,” the Emperor mused to Gaoshun as they gazed up at the bright disk floating in the sky. His Majesty was not, of course, asking whether the actual moon would safely make its rounds. Rather, it was a familiar nickname for a certain important personage—albeit a nickname that no one in the nation other than His Majesty used.

“They were planning to stop and inspect the papermakers’ village on the way, so I would guess they’re only about halfway there.”

With the eunuch Jinshi gone, Gaoshun had returned to the personal service of the Emperor. For generations, the Ma family had been the protectors of the “flower of the nation,” and Gaoshun had been the Emperor’s companion since they were young men together, much as his son Basen now was for another. He’d often played hide-and-seek with His Majesty and another milk sibling—but the end of youth had put a stop to such games.

Now it was Basen who guarded the one known as Yue. Gaoshun always wondered if perhaps he should have chosen his other son for the role, but he had given it to the younger boy. Basen was inexperienced, yes, but everyone had at least one redeeming quality. Gaoshun’s concerns had only intensified after Basen had failed Yue on their last expedition, but they did have the young apothecary with them; that was reassuring. She was nothing if not bold.

Gaoshun’s argument to his son had been that they should take the young woman because it would be disastrous if there were to be any incidents of poisoning on this trip. Eventually he had talked the boy around. As for the Moon Prince, he had agreed without a second thought.

He’d known the apothecary herself would eventually acquiesce (even if it involved a lot of grumbling), and the doctor from the rear palace would be with them on at least half the trip. The young woman acted like she didn’t think much of the doctor with his slight mustache, but Gaoshun happened to know that in fact they got along quite well.

The real concern was what they were going to do in the western capital, after they parted ways with the physician.

“I don’t suppose it will be easy for him,” the Emperor remarked. “I wonder what flowers will gather to him.”

“Gathering flowers, sire? An interesting choice of metaphor.”

“Well, they’d probably get angry if I compared them to insects. A glance at my garden should explain.”

He was just kidding—a joke he could make, perhaps, because they were in not the rear palace nor the palace proper occupied by the Empress Dowager or the current Empress, but rather a villa beyond the Imperial court that was currently the residence of Ah-Duo, formerly one of the Emperor’s four ladies—as well as his milk sibling and a friend to him and Gaoshun when all of them were young.

If the Emperor looked a little lonely, perhaps it was because Ah-Duo was not here—for she, too, had gone to the west, and in the company of one particular person.

The Moon Prince, meanwhile, was not as flowery as his appearance might suggest. Gaoshun, who had been with him from his youth, who had spent more time with him than either his mother or his father, knew better than anyone. The “prince” was a remarkably direct person, uninterested in ostentation. Even now that his tenure at the rear palace was over, however, they would continue to require his help and effort, for now he must serve as the Emperor’s younger brother, doing all those things the sovereign, who couldn’t leave the capital, could not do himself.

“So. A plague of insects.” A natural disaster which could, potentially, bring an entire country to ruin. Perhaps the note of sadness in the Emperor’s voice came from the sense that this was a reflection on his impotence as ruler—if only in the eyes of his more superstitious subjects. It had been he who had chosen to destroy the Shi clan, and had then taken Consort Gyokuyou, one of the four ladies, as his empress. Insect plagues often began with grasshoppers who came in on the wind from the west, from hundreds or even thousands of li away. The bugs would flourish in their new home, and what started as a bit of a nuisance, if left unchecked, would grow into positive destruction in the years to come.

Perhaps they were worrying too much—but they had to do something about it, and it was the Prince of the Moon who had been entrusted with the task. This plague of insects would be a problem for more than just Li, however. If the grasshoppers came from the west, it meant they would wreak their destruction there, as well.

Hunger drove people to desperation. Starving farmers would turn to brigandage. As such troubles mounted, they would eventually lay waste to the state—and a wasted state would try to steal from its richer neighbors. It had been the cause of many a war in times past.

The Yi clan, which had ruled the western regions including Sei-i-shuu, or “the Western Yi Province,” had been exterminated decades before, during the time of the empress regnant. Their own machinations had led to their destruction, and now the area was ruled by Empress Gyokuyou’s father. As things stood, the man was without a clan name, but it was likely the Emperor would bestow one upon him in due time. Indeed, he had originally planned to grant the family a name and then make Gyokuyou his empress.

If a war ever did break out, the west would be crucial. That was why he had chosen a lady from that region as his empress. He could well understand why some people felt the move was premature, even though Gyokuyou had already borne him first a princess and now a prince. The place might ordinarily belong by rights to Consort Lihua—but marriage was a political tool, one whose use became ever more stringently dictated the higher one’s position was. The Emperor might stand at the zenith of his nation, yet even he sometimes had to consider what would please his father-in-law. The fact that he could be heard to grumble about all this in Gaoshun’s presence was perhaps a demonstration of how much he trusted the man.

The Emperor playfully held up his wine cup and chuckled. “It can’t hurt you to know, from time to time, your monarch’s sufferings.” He gazed up at the moon, then drained his cup in a single gulp.

Gaoshun looked off into the distance, thinking mournfully of the lovely man who was now far to the west.

○●○

To the northwest of Li, there was a country called Hokuaren. It possessed extensive grainlands and forest resources, and had a history of being at loggerheads with Li. It was urging from Hokuaren that had prompted the recent spate of attacks by barbarian tribes against Li.

Diplomatic relations between the two countries were nil. They didn’t communicate directly, and when they did have contact with each other, it was always with a third country acting as intermediary.

Why are we speaking of all this now? Because of the western capital, the place Maomao was heading at that very moment. There, discussions would be held with important people from other countries—people who could offer indirect connections to Hokuaren.

I never imagined we would be going to the western capital, Maomao thought. She’d felt like her jaw might drop clear through the floor when she’d been informed of their ultimate destination, after leaving the quack village behind. It would take more than two weeks’ travel by carriage and boat to reach the western capital. She started to worry about Chou-u and Sazen, whom she’d left behind. But then she concluded, Eh, they’ll work it out. Her getting all upset wasn’t going to change anything, so she put it out of her mind. Instead, she would have to try to get Jinshi to spend as much money on her during the trip as possible.

Anyhow, this was why she found herself being lectured about politics by a rather insistent Basen. Come to think of it, this wasn’t the first time he’d tried to explain such things; it occurred to her that he was actually pretty well educated, at least as far as it went. (Not an entirely respectful way to think of it, but oh, well.) She stifled a yawn and tried to listen.

They’d left the quack doctor and Maomao the cat back in the paper village, and they had a long road ahead of them. Jinshi, meanwhile, was still running around with that fake burn on his cheek. Maybe he’d grown fond of it. It was probably easier than having to wear a mask every time they stopped at some roadside inn for the night. They were far enough from the capital by now that Maomao thought no one was likely to recognize the face of the Imperial younger brother, but considering how much trouble it would be to have every young lady on the street catcalling him as they walked along, she decided to leave well enough alone.

“We will stay in this village tonight,” Basen said.

Maomao got out of the carriage, rubbing her behind, which was sore from sitting all day. The place was less a village than a small inn town, but to Basen these rustic outposts were probably indistinguishable.

“Don’t wander,” he added.

Maomao responded by sticking out her hand. “I’m going to go buy provisions.” And you’re going to give me the money for it, she clearly meant.

“Are you even listening to me?” Basen demanded, glowering at her. However, someone else dropped a coin purse into Maomao’s hand: Jinshi. “Mas—” Basen started, but managed to stop himself before he said “Master Jinshi.” The bodyguards with them seemed to be under the impression that Basen was the master here.

“I’ll accompany her,” Jinshi said in his altered voice.

Son of a— Maomao thought, glaring at the young man with the burn. Here she’d been hoping for a chance to just relax.

“Are they selling anything interesting?” Jinshi asked, whispering in her ear so no one else would overhear him. His voice was so beautiful it threatened to give her goosebumps, yet it contained an almost boyish curiosity. It was like the last time they’d gone to a city market together. People raised in the lap of luxury got excited about the strangest things.

“It appears hemp production is a major industry here,” Maomao replied. It seemed to be the main material of the people’s clothing. Maybe it wasn’t enough to keep them warm, for many also wore animal skins. And flax seeds were used in the bread sold in the bakeries, as well. The area also produced oil, it seemed, for she could see pots filled with a viscous liquid. That might be the oil-maker sitting nearby, smoking a pipe. Maomao noted that he was smoking dried hemp leaves and frowned.

“What is it?”

“Nothing. I just think maybe he’s smoking too much.”

The product of the hemp plant could be used in small quantities as medicine, but smoking it on a daily basis could create an addiction, and wasn’t something Maomao would recommend. Much like opium, it could be medicinal if used sparingly, but was toxic in larger quantities.

“So there are toxins even you won’t touch,” Jinshi said teasingly.

Maomao looked annoyed. “Addictive substances are not to be trifled with. There’s no way to get the poison out of your system, and even if you want to quit, doing so is harder than getting out from under the covers on a cold winter morning.”

“You think? That’s not so difficult, if the room is warm.”

Shit. That’s right. He didn’t understand plebeian metaphors, Maomao realized. No doubt Jinshi’s old attendant lit a brazier to warm the room before he woke. What an awful master he was, to run his old servant Suiren ragged that way. And when he didn’t even understand the effort involved. Maomao found herself inadvertently scowling at him.

“Ah, now there’s a look I haven’t seen in a while,” Jinshi said, not at all bothered. In fact, he looked so gratified that Maomao wondered if he was quite all right. If Gaoshun were here, no doubt he would have been pressing his hand to his forehead and giving Maomao a significant look. Jinshi’s current companion, Basen, however, didn’t have the opportunity: he was busy making preparations at the moment. They would be heading into a much drier region, and they needed horses that were accustomed to the environment. Although they had been changing mounts every day, apparently this was going to involve some entirely new type of horse.

It was a speck of a town—just a few dozen houses scattered around a prominent inn—but a highway passed through the area and allegedly they would be able to obtain the animals. It would take a bit of time, though, to get enough horses together for the carriage as well as all the bodyguards.

“Personally, I’m more interested in buying provisions,” Maomao said, looking at the bread displayed at a storefront. Much of it was fried, perhaps owing to the local oil production. Specifically, it was a fried and twisted dough treat known as mahua, or “hemp flower,” a most appropriate name. “Includes flax seeds!” proclaimed a sign by the bread. The fried dough would keep a long time—and more importantly, Jinshi was obviously very interested in it.

I wonder if it’ll suit a noble’s tastes... Maomao was skeptical, but she nonetheless turned to the old man industriously working his dough. “One please,” she said.

“Sure thing, but wouldn’t you like a second to go with it?”

“If it’s good.” Maomao took the mahua, which was wrapped in a bamboo leaf, and took a bite. It was freshly made and still soft and hot; she chewed carefully so as not to burn herself.

Jinshi looked at her. “What, not going to share?”

“I’m testing it for poison,” she said, deadpan. It was good that the bread was fresh, and there was enough for all of them. Too much, in fact, to wrap it all in bamboo leaves; instead the shopkeeper gave her a rough-hewn sack (made of hemp fiber, of course), lining the inside with cheap paper to keep the grease from soaking through.

Jinshi plucked one of the mahua out and took a bite. “It’s all right,” he declared. Frankly, if it had been better than what he normally ate, it would have been time to find a new royal chef.

“Do you really have time to be out here playing, Master Jinshi?”

“Basen looked rather tired after all that happened at the papermakers’ village. Having me out of the way for a while will give him a chance to rest.” Basen was a very poor liar; it must have been taxing for him to pretend to be Jinshi’s superior. In that respect, he wasn’t so different from his father.

As they walked, Maomao spotted a number of other interesting things. The farther west they went, the more animal husbandry there was, so dairy products became more available. She studied a shelf of just such items in a storehouse. An older woman who looked like a housewife was banking a fire in a stove. The main post in the kitchen bore a strange pattern. Every land had its different faiths; here, it appeared they worshipped snakes, or so the pattern seemed to suggest. Jinshi raised an eyebrow at it.

“Excuse me,” Maomao said to the woman.

“Yes?”

“Could we ask for a few of these? We can pay you.”

They were apt to grow tired of portable rations after a while. Maomao wanted to indulge herself and her party, at least for the few days the fresh dairy products would last.

“Hrm. Which ones did you have in mind?” The woman eyed Maomao and Jinshi closely.

“This and this, and—hmm, those. Maybe ten of each. And if you have anything else interesting, we’ll take it.”

“Just a second,” the woman said, fetching the items off the shelf and putting them in a hemp package. “How about that?” She’d looked like she might drive a hard bargain, but she let them have the food at a surprisingly cheap price—and she’d even picked good, fresh items.

“I know we’re imposing. I really appreciate this,” Maomao said earnestly.

The woman broke into a smile. “You never know when the gods might be watching. There’s one right here, after all!” she said, indicating the post.

Hmm, Maomao thought—she of course didn’t buy it. She had nothing against that kind of belief; she only worried that the woman’s generosity might get her taken advantage of. “So you worship a snake here,” she noted.

“That’s right,” the woman replied. “Years when a white snake appears are bound to have a good harvest.”

Superstition it might be, but Jinshi’s face darkened at the remark. He’d no doubt heard the stories about the White Lady. Maybe he had even been tasked with dealing with her. Maomao wished he would keep just a little more distance while she talked to the woman; what with his burn and his grim expression, the woman kept shooting him strange looks.

Maomao had nothing against snakes, but the mention of white snakes specifically was bound to bring something of a frown to her face. She couldn’t help wondering where the mysterious “immortal” had gone.

“It looks like you two are headed west. Best be careful,” the woman said as she packaged the dairy delicately. There was more in there than Maomao had specifically ordered—a little something extra, perhaps, as a kindness.

“Why’s that?”

“I hear there have been a lot of bandits along the highway that direction lately. Even the merchants don’t go that way if they don’t have to.”

Ah: maybe she normally sold these provisions to the merchants. But with fewer customers than usual, better to give Maomao and Jinshi a bargain than not to sell them at all. And the free goods would get a few more things off her shelf.

“I see. Thank you,” Maomao said. “We’ll be careful.” Then she looked at Jinshi to indicate that they should be getting back.

When they reached the inn, the smell of an aromatic tea wafted through the air. It was Basen, relaxing for a moment after having arranged the horses. When he saw Jinshi, he straightened up. “The animals will be ready by tomorrow morning,” he reported. “We’ll have to use one of the local guides, though.” He was referring to one of the cargo transport businesses that used horses to move goods.

“Fine,” Jinshi said, slumping into a chair. Basen gave Maomao a look that obviously meant Hurry and make tea, so she shrugged and was about to get fresh hot water when Jinshi said, “It’s all right. I don’t mind it lukewarm.”

“You’re sure, sir?”

If he said so, then fine. There was plenty of water still in the teapot; Maomao simply got some new leaves.

“We heard something about bandits,” Jinshi said, sipping the tepid drink.

“Yes, sir, the same thing was mentioned to me. That’s why we had to bring one of the guides with us as a condition of renting the horses.”

Banditry could take many forms; in this case, they seemed to be the type who wanted to collect a “toll.” If the party didn’t run into them, well and good; but if they did, having someone along who knew the local situation would likely see them escape by simply paying a percentage of their cargo.

Maomao looked at Jinshi and Basen. Both were effectively trained soldiers, and as government officials they couldn’t simply look the other way when it came to banditry—but they didn’t have the forces here to exterminate the criminals either. Neither of them looked very happy about it; Maomao, for her part, simply hoped they wouldn’t even see the brigands.