The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 5 - Chapter 13

Chapter 13: The Western Capital—Day One

This swell of problems remained unresolved, but the good news was that they reached their destination without further complications. Jinshi—perhaps mindful of the presence of Ah-Duo and Consort Lishu—didn’t even needle Maomao, who for her part got to spend plenty of time with Suirei. They were both apothecaries, but having learned under different masters, they both had their own ways of mixing medicine, and it was fun to discover new approaches.

Gradually the green around them faded, replaced by an expansive vista of pebbles and sand. It was the first time Maomao had ever seen sand stretch out so far that it looked like water, and she couldn’t suppress a sound of amazement. She wrapped a cloth around her head so the sand wouldn’t get in her eyes, and although the sunlight reflected off the ground could be blinding, when they made camp for the night it was astonishingly cold. This was far beyond anything Maomao had imagined for this trip. She was grateful that whoever had packed clothing for her had anticipated the situation—but she felt a little more conflicted that they had even gone so far as to pack underwear for her.

They’d been warned to be careful at night, when scorpions and poisonous snakes were most active: Suirei, with her phobia of such creatures, set up a veritable wall of bug- and snake-repelling incense, so they hardly saw anything of the sort. Much to Maomao’s disappointment.

If there was one person who had it even worse than Maomao, it was Consort Lishu. Being a consort, she rarely showed her face among the rest of the company, and with her ladies-in-waiting always sticking close, the retiring young woman didn’t have many chances for proper conversation. The nearest thing to a respite was that Ah-Duo was thoughtful enough to chat with her from time to time.

Ah-Duo... How would she respond if it turned out that Lishu really was secretly the Emperor’s child? His Majesty hadn’t had any other consorts besides her when he had been heir apparent. Would Ah-Duo feel conflicted about that or take it in stride? One thing was for sure: it would put a new spin on everything she’d appeared to be doing out of the goodness of her heart. In fact, it would raise the possibility that she’d known all along.

Argh. I don’t want to think about it.

Of course His Majesty wouldn’t lay and hadn’t laid a hand on such a girlish young woman—well, not just girlish, but literally still a girl. But what then did that mean for Jinshi as a prospect? It wasn’t so unusual for the powerful to marry near relations. Nieces and aunts, even half-sisters, had been admitted to the rear palace in the past. The issue was that if a bloodline got too thick, it could make all of its members vulnerable to a single disease, for example, that might kill them all off. Maomao found herself wondering if the mistakes of the former emperor’s reign were to be repeated.

In any case, she breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived at the western capital. The city had grown up around an oasis—such a precious resource in the desert—and the sandy wind blew through streets that bustled with a life quite different from what one found on the Emperor’s doorstep. If the royal city was laid out with the straight, clean lines and intersections of a Go board, the western capital appeared a far more chaotic affair.

“I’ve heard about this. You can see how easy it would be to get lost here,” Jinshi said, the first time Maomao had heard his voice in quite a while. Ah-Duo seemed to have guessed who he was, but the others still appeared ignorant. Except perhaps Suirei—but if she had figured it out, she kept quiet about it.

One can only imagine how Lishu would react if she discovered that the “beautiful prince” had been her traveling companion this entire time. Would she see him as a potential marriage prospect—or perhaps as a half-brother, or rather an uncle?

Jinshi had finally washed the burn off his cheek for good, although wearing the makeup for close to a month had left a stain on his cheek, and he rubbed at it self-consciously.

The other eminences and the messengers from other nations had already arrived, and the western capital had a festive atmosphere. There was a market set up, and the sound of firecrackers could be heard. Between milky-white walls and dusty red roof tiles were awnings stretched out to stave off the sun. At the butcher’s, it wasn’t only chicken they saw, but sheep as well. Maomao was nearly distracted by the heavily herbed dishes being served up at the street stalls, but the party continued resolutely toward a mansion by the water source.

The building materials of the house—wood, and plenty of it—spoke to the power of the house’s owner. The proximity to the water source meant there was plenty of greenery. Not many of the broad-leaved plants Maomao was used to, but she saw a variety of unfamiliar plant life.

In front of a magnificent gate, a gentle-looking middle-aged master and several servants were waiting for them. First Jinshi, then Ah-Duo, climbed out of the carriage. Jinshi’s appearance inspired a great many wide eyes—even among his own party. So they really hadn’t known it was him.

Standing before them was a radiant, lovely noble. Maomao found herself taken in by the man’s face; the kindly look in his eyes invited a sense of intimacy. “Welcome, welcome; you’ve made a long journey. I’m You Gyokuen, the leader of this land.” He acted awfully familiar, but he seemed to be approaching them in good faith. “I must thank you for taking such fine care of my daughter.”

Ah! Maomao finally understood who the middle-aged man was, and why he seemed so familiar. His hair and eyes were dark, but his attitude was very much Gyokuyou’s.

“Nothing is worse than a very long trip followed by a very long talk. You’ll find bathing supplies in your rooms. Please, take your time and relax.”

“Now, that’s a relief. Thank you,” Jinshi said and entered the house, Maomao following after.

Are they sure about this? Maomao thought, shocked when she saw the room she’d been assigned. Sure, she was there as a servant of the Emperor’s younger brother, so they could hardly stick her in some dusty corner, but the room they led her to was far beyond her station. A thick, luxurious carpet covered the floor—from the feel of it, it wasn’t just fur; there was silk or something mixed in. The canopied bed was hung with a delicately embroidered curtain, while the table was set with a glass cup with a silver handle. There was a basket of dried jujubes, and the whole thing looked like something out of a picture scroll of a foreign fantasy.

They aren’t going to steal our money later, are they? Maomao thought idly as she bit into one of the fruits. Without the water in the flesh, the sweetness was more concentrated—it was good, but it was a little too sweet for Maomao, who decided to stop at just one.

She would have liked to explore the mansion a little, but she thought someone might get angry at her for wandering around without permission. For today, at least, they would each eat separately and get some rest. Starting tomorrow, there would be several days of banquets and dinner parties, while the afternoons would be filled with meetings and business. Important people sometimes seemed to want to celebrate every little thing with a big party, regardless of how tired the guests might be feeling—but like his daughter, Gyokuen was too alert and thoughtful to do that to his visitors.

Maomao was particularly grateful that he had even prepared a bath for them, given that water must have been among the most precious things here. Even if she did find the tub, carved from a single massive piece of marble, a little intimidating.

She got out of the bath and went out on the balcony. Her hair seemed likely to dry quickly, but out here she would get covered in dust again, so she made to go back inside—but the sound of talking voices brought her up short. She looked around but saw no one. The voices seemed to be coming from the next room. Well, well. Not going to keep it down?

There was no point in the rooms’ deliberately thick walls if they were simply going to leave the windows open. She could hear everything. She leaned against the railing, then leaned out over it a little. There was peeping, and then there was peeping.

“What are you doing here?”

Hmm. A woman’s voice, still young. The next room belonged to Consort Lishu, but the voice wasn’t hers. Next there came something mumbled so softly Maomao couldn’t make it out—perhaps that was Lishu.

“Oh, really? And so what? You just want to get in my way! You’re always in my way!” The woman was obviously upset with Lishu. On some level, Maomao was actually happy to hear someone being openly hostile for once. But the words were followed by the sound of a slap.

Maomao went back into her room, then peeked out into the hallway. From next door emerged a woman who practically oozed elegance. She hid her mouth with a folding fan, but her nose was distinctly up in the air. The ladies-in-waiting attending outside bowed to her; two of them followed the young lady, while the last went into the room. Tossing everyone out so the two women could have their fight was well and good, but maybe Maomao should advise the young lady that next time she ought to close the windows too.

When she was sure that the unfamiliar woman had disappeared around the next corner, Maomao went and knocked on the door of Lishu’s room. The lady-in-waiting answered it, looking relieved when she saw it wasn’t the young woman come back for more.

“Might I come in?” Maomao asked, loudly enough that Lishu could hear her. The lady-in-waiting retreated into the room at a brisk trot, but soon came back. “Please, enter,” she said. Maomao had known that Lishu’s usual chief lady-in-waiting wasn’t with her on this trip, but the replacement seemed rather businesslike.

Consort Lishu was sitting in a chair as Maomao entered, but from the disheveled state of the blankets on the bed, Maomao guessed the young consort had tried to bury herself under the covers after that unpleasant encounter. The pillow was stippled with wet spots, and Lishu’s hair was in modest disarray. She wouldn’t quite look at Maomao—not because she didn’t want to make eye contact, but, it seemed, in an attempt to hide the slap mark on her cheek, which looked red and hot.

“May I see it?” Maomao prompted. Lishu didn’t say anything, but when she realized Maomao was perfectly aware of what had happened, she obediently raised her head. “Perhaps you could fetch some water for us,” Maomao said to the businesslike lady-in-waiting. The woman gave her a frankly mistrustful look, and Maomao decided to give her a little push: “Gracious, and you were so ready to leave the room for the last visitor.” That got the woman going.

Maomao stood in front of Lishu and took her chin in her hands. Her cheek was warm, but it would soon cool. “May I see the inside of your mouth? Just in case?”

Lishu looked a little embarrassed, but she opened her mouth as Maomao asked. Her pretty white teeth were all safe, and there didn’t appear to be any cuts on her cheeks or tongue. But what’s this? Maomao, intrigued, stared fixedly into the young woman’s mouth. Lishu started getting more and more awkward, until Maomao finally felt bad enough about it to stop looking.

“Seems you had a rather violent visitor. May I ask who that was?” Maomao said.

“It was my half-sister,” Lishu replied.

After the death of Lishu’s mother, her father Uryuu had swiftly taken another wife. His new mate had previously been a concubine of his, and Lishu already had half-siblings at that point. The young woman earlier, an older sister, was one of them. Lishu’s parents had been second cousins, and much like with the Shi clan, Lishu’s mother had belonged to the main house of the U clan, which had then adopted her father. What differed from the Shi clan was the treatment of Lishu, the daughter of Uryuu’s proper wife. Her mother’s parents, Lishu’s grandparents, had already died, leaving true power in Uryuu’s hands. He questioned his wife’s chastity and, as a result, roundly ignored Lishu—a rather small thing to do, Maomao thought, when he’d already had children by a concubine. If she really was secretly the Emperor’s child, wouldn’t her father have seen that as an advantage to be exploited in and of itself? And anyway, to all appearances he favored Lishu’s older sister.

“All those questions about parents and children... Were they perhaps inspired by your honorable elder sister?” Maomao asked. Lishu didn’t respond, but Maomao took her silence as affirmation. “And the reason you refused to quite finish your thought when it came to those bandits—was it because you had a certain guess about who was behind it?”

Maomao didn’t want to think about it, but it was by no means outside the realm of possibility that an older sister might grow jealous of a younger and try to have her assassinated.

This time Lishu reacted: “I’m afraid I just don’t know.” Her expression, though, at least conveyed that she’d been the subject of considerable cruelty.

They were going to eat individually this evening, so Maomao had an idea. “Might I dine with you tonight, milady? Perhaps we could ask Lady Ah-Duo to join us.”

At Ah-Duo’s name, Lishu’s face broke into a glow. Maomao fully expected Ah-Duo would accept the request, and this would give her a good excuse to check Lishu’s food for poison. Someone who was willing to send bandit-assassins certainly wouldn’t hesitate to stoop to poisoning a meal.

Maomao didn’t know whose child Lishu might really be, but whoever it was, it was no fault of her own. The thought made her feel bad for the young woman—yes, even Maomao had at least that much compassion in her.

Ah-Duo gladly accepted their invitation to dinner. When she asked for all of their meals to be delivered to a single place, the chef thoughtfully prepared a room for them, a place with a domed ceiling of colored glass that had presumably been acquired from points farther west. When the light hit it, it glowed like a jewel.

“Quite a place,” Ah-Duo said, stroking her chin and nodding knowingly. Consort Lishu’s eyes glowed almost as brightly as the glass. Maomao, meanwhile, wondered what they had done to the glass to give it those colors. “You’re sure it’s all right for us to use it?” Ah-Duo asked the chef, who smiled.

“The young mistress used to eat with her friends here all the time, but it’s gone all but unused in recent years.” (The young mistress—could he mean Empress Gyokuyou?) “The entire structure was moved here from another land, where it originally served as a place of worship for their deity. You’re more than welcome here, so long as that doesn’t bother you. Naturally, you won’t run into any worshippers, though!”

Fair enough: it did feel a little strange. This country didn’t have some kind of policy of expunging heretics, but neither would Maomao have wanted to be pressed to convert.

“Doesn’t bother me,” Ah-Duo said.

“If Lady Ah-Duo accepts it, then certainly...”

“How’d they make that glass?”

Pleased to see that there would be no fuss, the chef ordered a server to begin setting places for dinner. The room was scrupulously cleaned; he ran a finger along the surfaces like a mean-spirited mother-in-law to see if any dust had been left behind, but came up with nothing.

Ah-Duo reported that she had invited Suirei, but the woman had declined. Ah-Duo seemed oddly fond of Suirei, but there was one odd facet to the math of the meal: with four of them there, it would have seemed a bit like a two-on-two matchmaking meeting, even if they were all women.

Maomao felt like some shadow, some hidden figure was watching them wistfully from across the hallway, but she chose to ignore it. Instead the three of them enjoyed the exotic atmosphere and the delicious meal.

“I’ll be happy to clean up here,” Maomao said. The meal was over and she decided to send Ah-Duo and Consort Lishu back first. Ah-Duo’s room was diagonally across from Lishu’s, so she was confident they wouldn’t have any trouble with the consort’s bullying elder sister.

“I’ll help,” Ah-Duo offered.

“No thank you, ma’am. I only meant I would call a server.”

Ah-Duo had dismissed their waiter after the food had arrived, on the grounds that she wanted to sit and talk. Truthfully, though, it had mostly been her and Lishu talking, with Maomao offering only the occasional polite interjection. They spoke of all that had happened on the trip, shared passing memories, and remarked on how lively this city was. Ordinary conversation, to be sure, but Lishu clearly enjoyed it; she smiled the entire time.

Gyokuyou’s family house turned out to be quite large; Maomao found herself nearly lost trying to find the server.

Pretty sure I should take a right here...she thought as she walked along, when she sensed someone behind her. Each time she moved, she heard footsteps follow her, but they stopped whenever she did. She turned around to discover Basen looking at her awkwardly.

She didn’t say anything.

He didn’t say anything.

Finally she asked, “Is something the matter, sir?”

“Oh, uh, not at all,” he replied, but, ever the terrible liar, his eyes darted away tellingly.

“Are you lost, sir?”

“Wh-Who, me? No...”

Maomao found herself increasingly worried about whether Basen was going to survive as Jinshi’s right-hand man. It was almost comical to watch him. Pressing the issue right now would only have been cruel, however, so she pretended to play along.

“Since you’re here, then, perhaps you could walk me to my room. It’s quite a ways to the annex.”

“Yes, I suppose it would only be chivalrous,” Basen said. As Maomao recalled, his room was in the building next to hers. If she could get him that close, even he couldn’t get lost going the rest of the way.

What a lot of trouble he could be. Maomao was decent enough to help, but not to entertain him by chatting as they went—not if he was going to be this much of a pain. She’d thought they might end up walking along in silence, but Basen actually began a conversation.

“Say, do you know what sort of person Consort Lishu is?” he asked, his words punctuated by the tapping of their footsteps.

“I have to think Master Jinshi would be better placed to answer that question than I am. Perhaps you should ask him.”

“That’s the whole problem. I can’t,” Basen replied, obviously very serious.

Ah hah. I see. Basen was evidently aware that one of the goals of this expedition was to find a wife for Jinshi—and he was trying to sound out one of the candidates, the relatively easy-to-read Lishu.

“I think it’s a rather complicated question,” Maomao said at length.

Lishu could be a timid crybaby, and she still seemed very young in many ways—but by the same token, one could say she still possessed her innocence. Not everybody was fond of someone who acted so childish, but Lishu was a basically lovable person who might appeal to a man’s protective impulse.

“You mean it?”

“Why should you doubt me?”

Basen looked at her with his arms crossed; Maomao motioned him over and led him out of the hallway, hiding behind a rock in the garden. It was cold out, and she wanted to get this over with.

“Because both Master Jinshi and my father hesitated when they heard that name.”

“Hesitated about what?” She was trying to play dumb, and if it turned out he knew about the rumors that Lishu was the Emperor’s daughter, Maomao would try to talk around it.

Basen, though, began mumbling quickly: “She’s part of the U clan, and they’ve been throwing their weight around a bit too much for comfort lately. Not enough to be grounds for refusing her, but... No, in fact...”

“Please don’t just mutter to yourself, sir,” Maomao said, conveniently ignoring her own habit.

“You won’t tell anyone what I’m about to say?”

“If that’s the condition, I’d rather not hear it.”

“You’ve heard this much! Let me get it off my chest!” He leaned over and whispered in her ear: “They’re talking about giving Consort Lishu away in marriage. Specifically, to Master Jinshi.”

“Goodness gracious.”

She’d already known, so her show of surprise was superficial at best. It seemed to annoy Basen.

“Doesn’t this bother you? Don’t you think it’s terrible?”

“Ahem. I just figure I ought to be more worried about myself than someone else. Seeing as I’m past my prime already.”

“Now that you mention it, I suppose you’re right.”

The fact that he agreed so readily perhaps explained why he didn’t seem to be very popular with the ladies.

Jinshi and Consort Lishu. They were just the right ages for each other—Jinshi twenty, and Lishu sixteen. Appearance-wise, Jinshi looked a little older—er, more mature than he was, but they would still look perfectly ordinary together. Notwithstanding Empress Gyokuyou’s son, Jinshi had a quite significant claim to the throne; meanwhile, Lishu would surely flourish better with Jinshi—who had no other wives as yet—than she did amidst the brutal competition of the rear palace.

In such a situation, Lishu might not end up becoming a mother of the nation, but she could very well at least be a prime minister’s wife. Granted, it would make her the enemy of all the country’s women and no small percentage of the men, but she was also important enough that they wouldn’t be able to get rid of her too easily.

Powerful people had to play their marriages politically. For them, the “free love” advocated by Maomao’s sister Pairin was nothing but a fantasy. Even considering the shadow of Lishu’s possible familial closeness to Jinshi—well, even if it were true, they came from different mothers. It would be all right. Not ideal, perhaps, from a health perspective, but Basen probably didn’t know about that part of the situation anyway.

At the moment, Lishu looked like the strongest candidate. Maomao stared fixedly at the man beside her: Basen, Jinshi’s milk brother, must understand that as well as she did. And yet the idea seemed to vex him, somewhere deep down.

Maomao thought she knew what it was. Simply put: he’s imagining her as a sister-in-law. Basen wanted to find out for himself if she was good enough for the beautiful, highly capable master he served.

“My father really didn’t look pleased about it,” Basen said. It seemed that was what had gotten him started on this.

Understandable, Maomao thought. After all, Gaoshun probably knew more about Jinshi’s and Lishu’s births than Basen did.

As for Jinshi himself, he could probably go either way on Lishu. She was certainly pretty enough, and with a few more years she would presumably gain some maturity. She couldn’t be called naturally gifted, but neither did she seem likely to go out of her way to make his life difficult. All right, so her family relationships might be a little complicated—but what marriage didn’t bring some squabbles with the in-laws?

“She might have some sort of flaw,” Basen said, practically champing at the bit.

Maybe don’t put it like that, Maomao privately advised him. If anyone heard, he might wind up with a good beating.

“If you’re so concerned, why don’t you go see her yourself?”

“What?”

“Of course, you have no acquaintance with her now, and on this particular expedition she wears a veil every time she appears in front of a man. But she’ll open up as she gets to know you. At least a little.”

Indeed, Lishu now sometimes talked in Suirei’s presence. She never spoke to Suirei directly—she was under the impression that Suirei was a man—but still. Maomao was just glad Lishu hadn’t known Suirei in her time at the rear palace. They might have crossed paths once or twice, but nothing that had stayed in Lishu’s memory.

“It was you and your men who rode to the rescue of Lady Ah-Duo’s carriage, wasn’t it? The perfect excuse to call on her—and to get a little closer to Consort Lishu while you’re at it.”

“Er... Yes...” Basen sounded rather half-hearted, and wouldn’t quite meet her eyes. “I only worry... Well, she’s a woman... And aren’t women afraid of the likes of me?”

Uh, what? Maomao simply didn’t know what he was getting at. “This from the man who barely escaped my brothel with his virginity.”

“Quiet about that!” Basen exclaimed, blushing furiously at the thought of Pairin. Unfortunately, his shouting seemed to have attracted attention. They could hear footsteps coming toward them.

Basen clapped a hand over Maomao’s mouth, his grip so strong that she almost groaned in pain. He’s the one who shouted! she fumed, but she stayed quiet.

“Is someone there?” a voice asked politely. What sounded like several people were coming closer. Maomao thought she could hear Basen’s heart pounding next to her; he still hadn’t let her go. He’s got strength, if nothing else, she thought, grimacing with discomfort and hoping he would let her go soon.

It was hard to tell in the dark, but it looked like a group of three men. They stopped, but one of them came closer, until he was only a boulder’s distance away from Maomao and Basen.

“Maybe I was hearing things,” the man said, and turned to leave.

Then, however, a familiar voice said: “Perhaps. But what in the world has become of Basen?”

Basen stifled a gasp; now his heart was really racing. There was a cracking sound, a twig snapping.

Oh, for...

Jinshi, searching for Basen, was there. And helping him were none other than the bespectacled Lahan and the thirtyish dandy, Rikuson.