The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 5 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Sleep

Three days later, a masked noble appeared at the apothecary shop as the sun was crossing the meridian.

“Welcome! Thank goodness you’re here!”

Jinshi was set back on his heels by Maomao’s warm greeting. Behind him, Gaoshun’s mouth hung open; he was clearly wondering what had happened.

“H-Hey, what’s the matter?”

“Xiaomao, you do know that that’s Master Jinshi before you, right? You don’t have him confused with someone else, do you?”

Maomao scowled. Ridiculous reactions, both. Gaoshun glanced at Jinshi, knowing he’d accidentally let the wrong name slip, and was greeted with an annoyed look from behind the mask.

Jinshi entered the shop and seated himself on a round cushion. The place wasn’t exactly spacious, so Gaoshun retreated to the front room of the Verdigris House, as he always did. Once the sliding door was closed, Jinshi finally removed his mask.

There, as ever, was his beautiful face, and the scar along his cheek that never failed to look out of place. The stitches had been removed and it looked far less painful than before, but even so, it was enough to make a person sigh with regret for the sheer wastefulness of it.

People had started writing entertaining tales of the last year’s rebellion of the Shi clan. The hero was the Emperor’s beautiful younger brother, and the villain was played by Loulan. One might expect the latter role to go to Shishou, the leader of the Shi clan, but Loulan had displaced him in the popular imagination, and that scar, one might suppose, was the reason.

The villainess who had injured this unearthly face would be spoken of for generations to come. When Maomao remembered the bug-loving palace lady, laughing merrily, she found it gave her a desolate feeling.

“I thought you had something you wanted to tell me,” Jinshi said.

Oh! Yes, I did.

Maomao took the encyclopedia she’d bought down from the bookshelf.

“What’s this?”

“Some opportunist plucked it from the flames of the stronghold and sold it.”

She would keep quiet about the former guard for the time being. He was under the care of the Verdigris House’s chief manservant, Ukyou, who would know what to do with him.

The man who had fled the fortress had decided to start calling himself Sazen. Maomao had wanted him to use an assumed name just on the off chance his real one caused the little brat, Chou-u, to remember his past. Luckily enough, “Sazen” seemed to have no special attachment to his former name. Now he was learning the business from Ukyou.

We were able to recover the books he sold.

Ukyou had acted immediately to gather them up. Sazen said he’d sold them to a procurer with whom Ukyou happened to be acquainted, so the chief manservant talked to the other man and bought the books from him. Meaning there was just one problem left.

“I think the last of these books is at the fortress. And I want to get my hands on it.”

Jinshi gave her a look. “And why are we collecting these books?”

Maomao decided the best answer to that question was a practical demonstration. She placed a bowl of food in front of Jinshi with a none-too-elegant thonk: a mountain of stewed bugs of a rather unappealing color. Jinshi frowned openly and backed away. “What in the world are those?”

“Stewed locusts. Although the chief ingredient is actually grasshoppers.” Maomao picked one up in her chopsticks and leaned toward Jinshi. He backed away again, but soon found himself stymied by the wall, where he simply crumpled.

“I’m not eating that!”

“No one said anything about eating it.”

Maomao put the grasshopper on a plate and took out a piece of paper with a picture of two insects on it: a comparative study of a locust and a grasshopper. It had been based on the fried versions, but it captured the essentials. She’d given Chou-u some pocket change for the work.

“It seems grasshoppers proliferated last year. Weren’t there any complaints from the farming villages about damage from insects?”

Jinshi’s face clouded, and he scratched his head with a sigh. “Yes, we had some reports. There was significant damage to farms in the northern region.”

Not enough to cause starvation, though. For better or worse, autumn the year before had been cold, helping to take care of the bugs. They were wiped out before they could increase uncontrollably.

“Devastation from locusts can continue for several years. What do you plan to do this year?”

Jinshi’s mouth twisted. Maybe the question had already occurred to him.

The northern region had, Maomao suspected, largely belonged to the Shi clan. With them gone, responsibility for governing the area would fall on the Emperor.

“We’re planning to cover for last year’s shortfall by distributing some of the excess from the south.” But they hadn’t yet, it seemed, planned further ahead than that. Jinshi had a furrow in his brow worthy of Gaoshun.

“If it happens again this year, things are going to be hard,” Maomao said.

People would claim that the plague was a sign that the Emperor was not ruling the country properly. They’re just bugs, you might think, but such plagues had spelled the end of more than one nation in history. And for this to come the very year after the Emperor had destroyed the Shi clan—what would the people make of that?

Ridiculous superstition, Maomao thought—but in the minds of many, the connection couldn’t be dismissed so easily. And the Emperor and his relatives had to rule the credulous as well as the skeptical.

“Insect plague is a natural phenomenon,” Jinshi said. “What are we supposed to do about it? Set up bonfires to draw them off? Or should we go out and swat every single one individually?” He was right, of course. Such an endeavor would be futile.

“That’s why I’m looking into this,” Maomao said, holding the encyclopedia out toward Jinshi. This was the volume she’d gotten from Sazen, the runaway from the stronghold. The book was thoroughly annotated in the margins. “There’s another volume dealing with insects, and since it’s not here, I think it might be back at the stronghold.” The volume in Maomao’s possession said nothing about grasshoppers, yet it was unimaginable that such a common insect would go unremarked upon in such a thorough book. “Also, I believe the apothecary who was at the stronghold before me was researching something about grasshoppers.”

“Truly?”

“Yes, although I don’t know how far his research got.” Only that it had been desperate.

Jinshi stroked his chin thoughtfully, then opened the door and called for Gaoshun—who was just putting a skewer of dumplings in his mouth. He immediately went to summon one of the menservants from the Verdigris House. Chou-u, never one to miss an opportunity, spotted the abandoned dumplings and helped himself.

“I should be able to procure it within a few days.”

“I would appreciate that.” Maomao let out a long breath. This didn’t mean things were over, but it did bring some relief for something that had been swirling in her mind for some days now.

Jinshi, however, looked pale. He often seemed fatigued recently, now that he could no longer pretend to be a eunuch. And what Maomao had said had only added to his workload.

“Tired, sir?”

“You could say that. But I’ll be fine.”

He had big bags under his eyes, but the officials and court ladies around him didn’t seem to notice them. In fact, they seemed to think he was fine. Even with a scar on his face, his beauty was still virtually superhuman, and that threw people off. They seemed to take it for the bloom of health.

He’s going to collapse at this rate. People whose senses became dulled by fatigue eventually ceased to understand even that they were fatigued. If even Gaoshun were to insist that Jinshi was fine, there would be nothing she could do to stop any of it. He needs some sleep.

If he had the time to come all the way out here, he should have spent it resting in his room instead. Maomao looked at him with some exasperation. “Master Jinshi, wouldn’t you like to rest?”

“What’s this all of a sudden?”

“I’ll prepare a bedroom immediately. I want you to sleep.”

Maomao was looking right at him, and it was impossible to avoid noticing the scar on his right cheek. She realized she was at risk of wanting to study the neat stitching in detail, and dropped her gaze to the ground. Of course she would want to have a good look at her old man’s handiwork, the careful stitches covered with ointment. Jinshi would most likely be stuck with the scar, but the healing process would go quickly, and she wished she could observe its progress.

“You want me to sleep in a place like this?”

Maomao ventured a bit of a joke: “Can’t sleep on your own?” Thinking maybe he would resent being spoken to like a child, though, she started to add, “That’s a j—”

“No. No, I can’t,” Jinshi said before she could finish. It seemed he got lonely by himself.

I get it. Maomao popped her head out the door of the shop and called to a nearby apprentice, asking her in turn to call the madam.

“What is it?” the old lady asked, not very enthusiastically, when she arrived. But when Maomao explained what she wanted, a light started to shine under those baggy old eyelids. “Give me half an hour.”

Is that really enough time? Maomao thought, but she proceeded to leave the madam, who suddenly seemed quite invested, to her own devices. Instead she offered Jinshi some restorative tea.

“This way, please,” Maomao said, directing Jinshi into the Verdigris House. She led him to a room on the top floor, a chamber appointed with the finest furnishings and a very large bed. Incense was burning, filling the space with a rich, sweet scent. “You may rest here, sir. Work is important, but you must take care of yourself.”

She’d half expected the madam to simply shoot her down, but the old lady seemed to have had some sort of plan, for she offered the establishment’s best room for free. And she’d gotten it ready in thirty minutes. An impressive display. Maybe she’d figured it would be best to make a good impression on a member of the nobility.

“If you want to bathe, a medicinal bath is ready for you. If you’d like pajamas, you can use these.” Maomao handed him a set of soft cotton sleepwear. Jinshi looked surprised at first, but his smile grew progressively more gentle. It wasn’t the smile of a celestial nymph, but it could still have melted the heart of any woman—or man.

“I believe I shall bathe,” Jinshi said, heading for the adjoining bath. The tub, filled with hot water painstakingly brought by the menservants, would be the perfect temperature. How they must have struggled, first to boil it and then to bring it here before it cooled!

Maomao felt a wave of relief, and it seemed like the furrow in Gaoshun’s brow—he was in a corner of the room—softened as well. And yet he also seemed uneasy.

“I shan’t be sleeping alone,” Jinshi reiterated.

“No you shan’t, sir.”

On that count, at least, there would be no question. Jinshi opened the door to the bath with an inscrutable expression—and then immediately slammed it shut again and scuttled back to Maomao in a tizzy. His scurrying looked somehow comical. He was wearing his mask again.

“Why are there scantily clad women in the bath?” he demanded.

“No need to worry, sir. They’re professionals.”

The guy could hardly peel his own tangerine, so Maomao figured bathing himself was out of the question. She’d asked for clothing to be ready for him, just like when the Emperor bathed, and figured that while they were at it he should get a massage too.

“Don’t you like massages, sir?”

“Does it stop at a massage?” he ventured.

“Often not.”

This was a service industry, after all. And if the customer requested it, many practitioners would add extra services that—well, they didn’t bear speaking of. Everyone knew that was how the pleasure quarter worked.

“Still going to have that bath, sir?”

“Thank you, I’ll pass.”

“Change of clothes?”

“I can do it myself.” Jinshi took off his overgarment and pointedly pulled on the sleepwear on his own.

He’s surprisingly well-built, Maomao observed, although she had no particular emotional reaction to that fact. She picked up the overgarment off the floor, folded it neatly, and put it away in a chest. It still carried a wisp of perfume, an aroma that conveyed its owner’s excellent taste.

Maomao took a cup and a small teapot from the bedside and poured something for Jinshi. He tilted his mask up and took a drink. “Sleeping medicine or something?” Maybe it had tasted funny. Perhaps Maomao should have taken a sip to show that it was safe.

“It contains nutrients to boost your energy, sir.”

Jinshi spat out the tea. Maomao, finding herself veritably drenched in it, couldn’t help giving him a bit of a scowl.

“Why in the world would you give me that?”

“I’ve heard it’s the most effective remedy when a man is tired.”

“Do you, uh, mean what I think you mean by that?”

“What else could I mean, sir?”

The look on Jinshi’s face was a mixture of disgust and shyness. In fact, he seemed to be making that sort of face a lot today.

Maybe there’s some problem with me being so direct. Jinshi might be a man, but perhaps he was still embarrassed to hear biological facts stated so plainly. He was still young, after all, and maybe he wasn’t as mature as he often looked. She felt bad for acting like he was an animal who would be in rut all year round. Even so, his reaction seemed a little strange. Probably nothing worth worrying about.

Jinshi couldn’t seem to look Maomao in the eye, but she continued, “So, what kind of woman would you prefer?”

“Huh?” he said stupidly.

Maomao clapped twice, causing a group of five stunning ladies to file in from another room. Each of them looked sweet and innocent.

“Lady Suiren told me you prefer them your own age,” Maomao explained. Suiren was Jinshi’s caretaker. She could be mischievous in her way, but she was a first-rate attendant.

Given Jinshi’s apparent fixation on chastity, they’d endeavored to find virgins—a state all the more desirable because they were certain not to have any diseases. It had proved impossible to get enough from the Verdigris House itself, so they’d pulled some strings at some other nearby brothels. That had earned a frown from the madam, but if they wanted all these virgins on such short notice, that’s what it took.

The women had been told only that the man involved was a noble, which was enough to get them on board. They were all the more intrigued by what they glimpsed of Jinshi’s beauty under his mask.

Yes, Jinshi must have had the eye of many a young woman, yet at the moment he was simply standing with his jaw open. He looked at Maomao, his total befuddlement obvious even behind his mask. In the corner of the room, Gaoshun had gone beyond holding his head and advanced to pressing his forehead against the wall.

“Are none of them to your liking?” Maomao asked. It wasn’t Jinshi, but the assembled women, who reacted to this. Each started to gesture at Jinshi in whatever way she thought would be most attractive. “None of them have yet known a man,” Maomao said. “The madam herself inspected them.”

Exactly what kind of inspection it was can be easily guessed.

Jinshi, moving as awkwardly as a puppet, looked at Maomao. “I just want to go to sleep. Please let me rest!”

“I see, sir. Then just pick a woman, any of them—”

“I mean literally!” he exclaimed.

Maomao’s shoulders slumped, and the courtesans left the room in a collective huff.

Instead Maomao went over to Gaoshun, whose shoulders were even slumped-er than hers, and said, “Would you like them, then, sir?”

“I, er, have a wife. A scary wife. And my daughter’s something of a stickler for cleanliness...” he said.

Ah, of course. Maybe it wasn’t the best idea to offer courtesans to a married man.

“Do you know what it’s like to be told ‘Papa, you’re filthy! You have to bathe last tonight!’?”

“Yes, sir, I do.”

I know how his daughter must feel, anyway...

She did feel bad for Jinshi’s attendant having to stand around, though, so she offered him a nice sofa to sit on. There was another bed, and indeed another entire room available, but Gaoshun politely turned her down when she pointed this out. If anything, he worried that a divorce might be in the offing if he were ever to be discovered in a place like this.

Maomao went back to where Jinshi was reclining and pulled the covers over him. When she went to leave the room herself, she felt him holding on to her arm.

“Surely you could at least spare a lullaby.”

She didn’t say anything at first—she wanted to tell him no, but he was looking at her with those puppy-dog eyes he got sometimes. And anyway, after all the excitement with the bath and the courtesans and everything, it seemed this little break hadn’t helped him feel refreshed at all. He refused to let go of her, and she let out a sigh. “I’m not a good singer.”

“I don’t care.”

So, gently tapping the covers to keep time, Maomao began to sing. An old children’s song that the courtesans used to sing to her. It wasn’t long at all before she heard Jinshi’s breathing take on the even rhythm of sleep.

Jinshi left in the evening, just before the sun sank beneath the horizon. The nap must have been restorative, because he woke up looking much better and ate three entire bowls of congee. Maomao had started to fear he might work himself to death, but if he was still eating, he wouldn’t die. If anything, she thought he might catch trouble from Suiren when he was too full for dinner that night. Or maybe she was worrying too much?

With his mask back in place, Jinshi boarded his carriage and Maomao watched it leave. As she stood there, she thought she felt a pair of eyes on her. Turning, she saw a courtesan looking wanton, leaning against the second-floor railing and smoking a pipe. It was Pairin, one of the Three Princesses. Her robe didn’t do much to hide her abundant chest.

“Isn’t it about time you gave in?” she asked.

“Gave in to what?” Maomao asked, turning away from her elder sister and heading back to the shop.