The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 7 - Chapter 1

Chapter 1: The Court Ladies’ Service Exam

“It’s been a long time.”

“Yes, sir. A long time,” Maomao echoed, all but repeating the words of the man who stood before her. She had been idly making up some medicines at her apothecary’s shop in the pleasure district when who should appear but the original fuzzy-feeling inducer, Gaoshun.

“If I may ask, sir, what’s going on?” To her knowledge, Gaoshun was no longer Jinshi’s attendant but was serving the Emperor himself. She braced herself: surely His Majesty didn’t have some business with her?

“It’s nothing. My son, curse his foolish hide, was supposed to come, but considering he recently injured himself in the most ridiculous way possible...”

So Gaoshun had come in his stead, rejoining Jinshi for a brief stint while the boy healed.

“Ah. Yes, his injuries were quite severe,” Maomao said, recalling the recent events: it had been a real uproar in that corner of the court grounds. She could still picture the battered young man; it had been painful just to look at him.

“Yes, he was an absolute wreck,” Gaoshun agreed.

“I’m impressed he survived.”

“My son has always been durable, if nothing else.” The remark might have sounded cutting, but Gaoshun’s “fool son”—that is, Basen—had sustained those injuries while performing his proper duty. He had sacrificed his own health and well-being to save Consort Lishu, who had thrown herself off a balcony under the influence of the White Lady’s drugs.

It was a laudable display, but aside from his right hand, every bit of him had either been broken, scratched, or torn up. Maomao was frankly amazed that he’d maintained consciousness.

“He swore he would go back to work on crutches, so I had to restrain him at home. He’s currently recovering under the watchful eyes of his mother and older sister.”

Maomao nodded with understanding as she opened a drawer. There had to be tea around somewhere.

Gaoshun, however, said, “You needn’t mind me, Xiaomao.”

“You’re sure, sir? I have some buns from the main street that they say are gone by noon every day.”

She’d gotten them from the courtesans, who said they had been planning to give them to the apprentices until they realized they didn’t have enough and didn’t want to start a fight. There was only one of Maomao, so there wouldn’t be any jealous scuffling.

The buns consisted of steamed dough worked with brown sugar and yam; they were known for their delicate sweetness and rich exterior.

“You’ve convinced me,” Gaoshun said. He might have looked like a stern soldier, but he had an insatiable sweet tooth.

Maomao prepared tea, taking some she’d made that morning and chilling it with well water. Being able to serve a cold drink to a guest during the hot season was the height of luxury. The madam didn’t hesitate to allow Gaoshun to be served with a glass drinking vessel, something usually reserved for only their best customers. (Incidentally, Basen was served with something a step lower on the luxury scale.)

Gaoshun started in on the bun, a blissful smile on his face. What could he be there for? He certainly hadn’t come just to trade small talk. When he realized Maomao was watching him, Gaoshun shoved the rest of the treat into his mouth and quickly washed it down with some tea. “Ahem! If I may turn to business,” he said.

Maomao immediately had a bad feeling about this. “I’ve got another bun here, sir. Please, help yourself.” She offered him the one she had been planning to eat herself. She liked wine better than sweets, anyway. Gaoshun was a thoughtful guy—she knew that one day the bun would come back to her in the form of some decent alcohol.

Gaoshun wolfed down the second bun, then cleared his throat. “Xiaomao, do you have any intention of becoming a medical official?”

“You know that’s not possible.” Women could not become court doctors, not under the nation’s laws as they stood.

“Pardon me. I think I put the question the wrong way. Do you have any intention of reaching a station equivalent to that of a medical official?”

This time Maomao wasn’t so quick to answer. A station equivalent to a medical official’s: in other words, one that would allow her some access to the drugs in the medical office. She tried to keep her lips in a neutral, straight line, but she couldn’t prevent a slight tremble.

A glint entered Gaoshun’s eyes. “You could try out new drugs too. We have people who do that, you know.”

Still Maomao was silent, but she felt her cheek begin to twitch and the corners of her lips start to edge upward.

No! Don’t give in! There’s a catch. There has to be.

The entire idea was too good to be true, and that meant it was a trap. Moreover, it was Gaoshun who had come to her with the suggestion. There would be no free lunches with him, and she knew it. Not to mention, there was this shop to think of. She had an apprentice apothecary, true enough, but he would start squawking if she left him alone again. He was far from ready to stand on his own two feet yet.

Okay, this is the part where I turn him down.

Gaoshun must have known things weren’t going his way, because he struck first.

“You know Shaoh, of course? In the west? Do you remember the emissary from that country?”

“Ahh, you mean...” Aylin. That was her name. Maomao and Lahan had met with her on their recent sojourn to the western capital. The thought of her gave Maomao pause. This was the woman who had asked them to provide either provisions or political asylum. Even before that meeting in the west, she and a cousin of hers had come to Li.

Then again, Gaoshun had spoken only of an emissary. Maybe he meant someone else. Maomao chose the safest way of finding out: “You mean the two who were at the banquet where Master Jinshi worked so hard last year, yes?”

She could probably have described them as “the troublesome pair who were so eager to see the moon spirit from decades ago” without getting in trouble. The pair included Aylin, the woman she’d met in the western capital, along with another woman, Ayla. She was just as twisted as her cousin, and was strongly suspected of having sold the newest sort of firearms to the Shi clan. Both of them were walking trouble, without a doubt.

“I assume you know that Aylin was recently admitted to the rear palace as a middle consort.”

“Yes, sir. And if I may ask, are you sure it’s all right? Her arrival did seem awfully hasty.”

“I’m not at all sure. Her being a foreigner, the other consorts and palace women are by no means well-disposed toward her. Not to mention, she didn’t bring so much as a single maid with her from Shaoh.” Considering her position, it seemed like a fair enough compromise—but it would also make her look rather sad.

“So that’s how this involves me?” Maomao asked. If she occupied a status equivalent to that of a medical officer, she could enter the rear palace easily.

“Ordinarily, it would be ideal for you to enter as a lady-in-waiting. But...” Gaoshun’s expression was conflicted.

Against all odds, Maomao had until the previous year been food taster to Consort—ahem, Empress—Gyokuyou. Then she had left that post and returned to the pleasure district. On direct orders, true enough, but for her to turn around and become another woman’s attendant would have raised too many questions. Not to mention Empress Gyokuyou herself might have gotten a bit bent out of shape about it.

“With the privileges of a medical officer, you can even be reunited with Empress Gyokuyou as an assistant. The thought made her very happy when we brought it up.”

“I haven’t agreed yet,” Maomao said, but she knew that if Empress Gyokuyou was already on board...

“Certainly. I have here a letter of recommendation from the Empress herself.” Totally unfazed, Gaoshun held out a letter to her. It was strange; she thought she’d seen something similar before somewhere. “And I have one from Master Jinshi as well.” Gaoshun came up with another letter. Maomao’s face began to twitch. “And here’s one from His Majesty.”

“I can’t imagine why His Majesty would...” Maomao physically backed away from this last and most sumptuous letter.

Gaoshun, his brow firmly wrinkled, slowly closed his eyes. “You recall how we once had you take the court ladies’ service exam so you could work in the outer court, yes?”

“Yes. And you recall I failed miserably?”

There had been a brief span when Maomao had worked as Jinshi’s direct subordinate. During that time, he and Gaoshun had urged her to become a qualified court lady, and many a thick tome had been pressed upon her.

“I do. We assumed you would pass easily. We knew how passionate you were in your study of drugs and poisons, and what a ready learner you are.”

“Yes, well, sadly, I’m afraid I let you down.”

Maomao wasn’t specifically a smarter person or better student than anyone else. She simply cared less about some things most people cared about, and instead shunted that extra attention into fields in which she was interested.

“Just to make sure I’m clear, Xiaomao, it’s not that you’re incapable of learning things that don’t interest you, it’s just difficult for you, yes? For example, you learned the ways of the pleasure district.”

“I wasn’t given a choice.”

The madam might have looked like a walking mummy, but she still had plenty of vitality. Maomao would have been disciplined for not learning what she was taught, and worse, she wouldn’t have been given anything to eat. Her father Luomen had tried to cover for her, but her retiring old man was never going to win with the madam. Thus, in order to survive, Maomao had learned the ways of the pleasure quarter, calling on her “older sisters” to help her.

“All right, so what you’re saying is you can learn something if you feel sufficiently compelled. A feeling which, I must observe, Master Jinshi’s direct orders don’t appear to have inspired in you.”

Maomao backed away another step.

Gaoshun was holding three letters: from Jinshi, Empress Gyokuyou, and the Emperor. They might not be official communiqués, but nonetheless she felt she was being stared down by three of the least say-no-to-able people in the nation.

“By hook or by crook, Xiaomao, we need you to pass that test.”

“E-Easy for you to say...”

Gaoshun threw open the door to the shop. A man who appeared to be one of his subordinates was waiting outside with a package wrapped in cloth, which he brought in and unwrapped to reveal a glittering pile of silver kernels.

“This time,” Gaoshun said, and Maomao realized she could see the madam standing in the background holding one of her favorite disciplinary rods and eyeing the hill of silver hungrily. Trapped! Maomao thought. “This time, you’re going to pass the test. No ifs, ands, or buts.”

And that was the end of it.

Gaoshun’s planning was a work of art. The madam had already been paid, the apothecary shop would be minded by the apprentice Sazen, and Maomao would be given a spare room in the Verdigris House in which to study.

Every once in a while, the little brat Chou-u put in an appearance and interrupted her work, but the madam or the menservants would always grab him by the scruff of the neck and drag him off. It was too bad for him, but he was interrupting Maomao while she was trying to study. What else did he expect?

In the room, they burned incense that was supposed to increase focus, and the dulcet notes of erhu and qin sounded from the next room, where courtesans who were especially talented musicians had been chosen to handle the instruments.

Studying was supposed to make you crave sweet things, but Maomao was instead offered salty rice crackers and cold fruit juice.

They’d thought of everything. How much did this cost? she wondered.

Cost or no cost, she frequently found herself wishing she could sneak in a little nap, but the madam made regular patrols, which put the kibosh on that idea. She herself, having been quite a high-class courtesan in her younger days, was more educated than the average person.

“Can’t you recite even one of these poems?” she demanded.

“It’s a medical exam! Why is poetry even on it?” Maomao shot back.

Strictly speaking, she wouldn’t be taking the medical officers’ examination, but rather the exam for court ladies who wished to serve in the medical office. There were a number of qualifications necessary to become a court lady, but the position of a court lady specializing in medicine was something new. In Maomao’s opinion, if they were going to go to all the trouble of creating a new specialty, they should have taken the opportunity to get poetry off the test. “It’s got nothing to do with medicine. There’s history on there too—even sutra-copying!” she complained.

“Knowing history changes a person from the inside out. And the better your handwriting is, the easier it’ll be to read. Copying sutras is excellent practice.”

It figured that this was the moment the madam would talk sense. Maomao wished she would just say something like “Don’t bother learning anything that’s not going to make money,” like she usually did. Maybe it was too much to hope for, given the amount of silver that was involved this time.

The characters the old woman wrote for Maomao to copy were lovely. Her hand might be like a withered branch now, but once upon a time she had boasted shining nails and fingers as nimble as fish sliding through the water.

Men liked women with beautiful handwriting. Men liked women with beautiful looks. She’d spent her life polishing herself for the benefit of men, and now here she was pounding the same lessons into the ladies of the pleasure quarter. If she’d been so beautiful, why hadn’t she chosen some other life? Perhaps there hadn’t been a choice.

Maomao voiced a thought that sometimes crossed her mind: “You can write beautiful characters and still say awful things with them.”

She thought the next thing she felt might be the madam’s knuckles crashing down on her head, but nothing happened. “No one knows if you’re beautiful or filthy on the inside,” the old woman said instead. “So you might as well write pretty.” Then she looked at the examples pointedly, as if to say Now get to it! The flawless, perfectly balanced characters looked like they could have been an answer sheet for the civil service examination itself.

“Yeah, okay,” Maomao said, knowing the rod waited for her if she tried to slack off. She rolled up her sleeves and took up her brush.

The court ladies’ test was administered with some regularity. Unlike the civil service examination, this test was taken exclusively by young women, who wouldn’t serve for as long as the men, so there was frequent employee turnover and a constant need for fresh blood.

For the most part, the women who sought to become court ladies were the daughters of officials or rich merchant households; for them, court service was an achievement to boast as a potential bride, or else a way of finding a husband; very few women applied to the service out of a passion for the work. Maomao had experienced some nastiness at the hands of some of the court ladies during her time as Jinshi’s attendant, and it certainly hadn’t looked to her like the women had been taking their jobs very seriously.

The test took place in a school building in the northern part of the capital. The civil service exam proper was given in another city somewhere to the north of the capital, but for a test held as often as the women’s service exam, it was much easier to do things in the capital itself.

After two weeks of nonstop studying, Maomao arrived at the examination disheartened. There were about a hundred people there, not surprising considering that it wasn’t only aspiring medical assistants who were present.

There isn’t much to say about the exam itself. It was over in a couple of hours, and Maomao was promptly on her way home. They had already checked her preliminary paperwork, not that she had ever expected to fail at that stage. She almost started to worry she’d passed because of special treatment.

No... If they were going to do that for me, then why would they make me do all that studying? She preferred to think that she could pass by her own merit. She was fairly confident in her work, anyway—if anything was going to trip her up, it would be the classical poetry and sutra-copying, subjects in which she had no interest. Frankly, if she had made a mistake on anything else, she wished they would let her know about it, because the medical-attendant exam had consisted of thoroughly elementary knowledge of drugs and medicine. Maomao could have answered ten times as many questions as they’d asked in the time given for the test.

After dashing off the answers, Maomao had had nothing in particular to do, so she’d figured she would start walking home. And she would have, if only she hadn’t heard the moronic voice.

“What? What do you mean, I can’t take the test?”

There was some sort of argument happening in front of the testing center involving the official in charge of the examination and someone who looked like a test taker—but there was something strange about this particular examinee. They were dressed in women’s clothing, but they were physically pretty large. Sure, there were tall women around, but this person also had a low voice...one Maomao recognized.

I feel like this isn’t the first time I’ve seen something like this, she thought. She wished she could ignore the bad feeling she had, but she was unable to dismiss the bizarre scene.

“Why, sir? Why won’t you let me in?” the “woman” asked, taking care to speak with impeccable politeness. Her face was hidden with a cloth, and at that point Maomao’s suspicions turned to certainty. True enough, the person looked something like a woman, if you only looked at their face. They had attractive, balanced, and delicate facial features, to say nothing of a perfectly good makeup job. But the person was clearly speaking in falsetto, and the way they squirmed was particularly unappealing.

“What are you doing?” Maomao asked. She could have ignored the entire situation, but she felt bad for the official caught in the middle. He was a nice enough man. If Maomao had been in his place, she would have immediately called security. “Kokuyou!”

The “woman” was actually a man Maomao had first met on a ship coming back from the western capital. He had smallpox scars over half his face, which was what the cloth was covering. He was a doctor, but sadly, the scars kept him from being able to get much in the way of decent work. On the other hand, his idiotic personality couldn’t be chalked up to misfortune.

“Oh, Maomao! Haven’t seen you for a while! Listen, you won’t believe this! This mean man won’t let me take the exam!” He winked at her with his one visible eye as if to say Play along! She wished he wouldn’t do that. It was creepy.

Doesn’t matter if I did want to play along with him. “The test is over already.”

“What? You’re kidding!” he screeched, putting his hands to his cheeks theatrically. Very helpful.

“The poor guy is just doing his job. Come on,” Maomao said, and dragged Kokuyou away from the testing center.

It’s a frightful thing to be caught up in the flow of events: for example, the above led immediately, inexorably, to Maomao having lunch with a weirdo wearing women’s clothing. She wished he would change, but unfortunately, he hadn’t brought another outfit with him. (He had, he informed Maomao, borrowed the costume from the wife of the chief of the village where he was living, which caused Maomao to have doubts about her as well.)

“And here I finally thought I’d found my new job. So the next exam isn’t for two months, huh?”

“It doesn’t matter. You can’t take it. You’re not qualified. Although if you’re looking to get castrated, I’d be happy to help...”

“Oh, please don’t do thaaat!” Kokuyou said, shrinking back and squirming again. So creepy.

“I thought you were helping the old guy, anyway. What happened to that?”

Last Maomao knew, Kokuyou had been assisting an old doctor in a neighboring village. They’d seemed to get along well, even if the old guy was a bit of a weirdo.

“Gramps hasn’t been feeling too well lately. He said he thinks he’s gonna retire from medical work pretty soon, and that I should find somewhere new while the finding’s good.”

Maomao’s expression was conflicted, for she had an inkling of why the old physician might be feeling so weak.

“That was when I heard about this brand-new opportunity to be an assistant in the medical office!”

Well, check the requirements next time!

Actually, he probably had—that was why he’d shown up in women’s clothing. She still wished he would do something about that. He actually looked rather attractive and was drawing stares from some of the men around. His half-hidden face gave him an air of mystery too. If they’d heard his voice, though, it would have taken the wind out of their sails.

Maomao was eating a small, light bun, while Kokuyou was having some steamed dumplings.

“Gramps said he would give me the house if I wanted to stay in the village,” Kokuyou remarked. “There’s plenty of medicinal herbs around there too.”

“So you just take over for him. Sounds good to me. What’s the problem?” Maomao asked.

“It’s not that simple. Gramps was a former medical officer, right? People came from far and wide to see him because he had that authority. I don’t think people will come from far and wide to see some guy who just happened to turn up and take over the place.”

There was truth to that. Kokuyou might have gained some measure of trust from people in the village itself, but such a small settlement wouldn’t provide enough work to put food on the table. Gather and sell enough herbs and medical concoctions and you might just barely scrape by.

At that moment, Maomao held up her pointer finger. These problems solve each other! “Say, would you be interested in coming out to the pleasure district a few times a month?”

Kokuyou only had to think about it for a moment. “If you pay my traveling expenses, sure. And it would be great if I could get a meal out of it.”

“We have so much rice we can afford to sell some off, so I don’t think that should be a problem.” They had the rice and wheat they’d gained after the events in the quack doctor’s village, and now they had sweet potatoes as well, so many that they were thinking about stewing and candying them.

Maomao went on, “Your brief would be to teach medicinal and herbal knowledge to the apprentice apothecary there, and to continue supplying the herbs we’ve bought in the past. I’ll also want you to mix up any medicines the apprentice can’t manage, although he and our landlord, the madam, will need to vet anything you whip up.” That much was only fair when she was effectively asking a stranger of unknown origins to do the work. “The apprentice apothecary can handle running the shop, so you won’t even have to talk to customers.”

“Aww, but I’m a great salesperson!” Kokuyou said, squirming again. Considering he’d been unable to find a job precisely because his looks kept customers from wanting to talk to him, Maomao chose to ignore him.

“How’s this for a salary?” Maomao held up one finger. Combined with his work at the village, it would be enough to eat, even if it was on the low side for an apothecary’s compensation.

“How’s this?” Kokuyou said, pulling up a couple more of Maomao’s fingers. Then they both burst out laughing. Maomao, though, also shot him a glare: for someone who acted like such an idiot, he sure had a keen sense of the market. So much for going by finger count; she ended up debating every nicety of the budget with him. At least she got to munch on a bun while she did it.