The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 7 - Chapter 8

Chapter 8: The Thought Behind the Thought

On their first day off in a long time, Maomao’s suspicion that there was something going on turned to certainty. She wanted to know how things were going in the pleasure district, so she slipped out of the dormitory and headed for the Verdigris House.

She discovered more or less what the letters had insisted: that everything was fine. In the middle of the day, the place felt relaxed; an apprentice was sweeping by the front door and an obnoxious brat was playing with Maomao the cat.

“Freckles!” Chou-u exclaimed when he saw Maomao. He came charging over to her, still holding the cat, who fought and struggled and kicked Chou-u in the stomach until she managed to slip away from him, then sought shelter behind Maomao (the person). So at least she still remembered her.

Maomao plucked the creature up and ushered her over the fence, where she ran off. That was one fickle furball. Maomao hoped the cat would bring her some rare herbs as a thank you.

“Why don’t you ever come home?” Chou-u demanded.

“Because I’m working. I don’t have much choice.” Chou-u looked like he was about to cling onto her, so she stuck a hand against his head to hold him back.

Hm? Was it just her, or had he gotten taller? And his skin was more tan, maybe because he was outside playing every day. His front teeth had even straightened out, making him look markedly less dumb.

“Is Sazen around?” Maomao asked, glancing about in search of the apprentice apothecary.

“Yeah. He’s with the one-eyed guy right now.” So Kokuyou was here too.

Maomao made her way to the apothecary shop, which occupied a space rented from the Verdigris House, greeting familiar courtesans in passing as she went. She could hear voices from inside.

“That’s right. You need to make sure you grind it to a very fine powder. If you get the amount even slightly wrong when you make the pills, they won’t be as effective.”

“Okay...”

Sazen was pulverizing something, Kokuyou giving him diligent instructions. It was great that they were doing their jobs, but when she got a look at the two of them in the shop, her opinion quickly soured.

It was hot, which explained why all the doors and windows were open, but that caused problems of its own: several courtesans grinned as they watched the two men hard at work in these close quarters. Kokuyou could be downright attractive as long as he kept the scars on his face covered, and while Sazen’s appearance was unremarkable, he couldn’t be called ugly.

Those ladies are rotten to the core, Maomao thought. There were plenty of women out there with an enthusiasm for male-male love. The Verdigris House didn’t trade in male-male prostitution, so Maomao was sure the women were enjoying this.

She marched up to the two men, who seemed to have no idea that they were the source of such entertainment. “Looks like everything is going well here,” she said.

“Aw, yeah, we’re doing great!” Kokuyou replied, sounding every bit the dumbass he usually was.

“Uh, I think it’s been pretty tough,” Sazen said. He could barely keep the resentment off his face.

“I’m so glad you’re not having any problems.”

“Hey, aren’t you listening to me?!” Sazen wailed. Well, wasn’t he the one who’d written to her that everything was fine? Or had the old lady forced him to say that? Maomao knew that asking him about it would only get him started on a litany of complaints, so she decided to ignore him. Sazen could be so stubborn.

Maomao looked around the shop to make sure everything was in order, taking a quick survey to see if anything was out of stock—or if there was anything there that shouldn’t have been.

“What are these?” she asked. There was something resting on the medicine cabinet, and they weren’t medicine. In fact, she had never seen anything quite like them. They looked a bit like thin rice crackers. Some sort of snack, maybe?

“Oh, those. That’s my latest experiment!” Kokuyou said, taking one of the crackers and sprinkling some crushed medicine over it. “People can take their medicine by sprinkling it on one of these and eating it. Or they can soften it up in water and then put it inside!”

“Huh. That’s novel.” Maomao was legitimately impressed. An old saw had it that the best medicine for the body was the worst on the tongue, and one reason some people avoided medications was sheer bad flavor. Maomao sometimes got people to take their medicine by advising them to mix it with honey, but honey itself was a luxury item. If there was a way for people to take medicine without it ever touching their tongue, no one would have to worry about the taste. “Aren’t these a little large to swallow, though?”

“Yes. Yes, they are. Can’t recommend them for children or the elderly. They might choke.” He shook a pitcher of water as if to emphasize it was available. “I hear people take medicine this way all the time in the west. They say the people there have more saliva than we do.”

“Really? You’re very knowledgeable...” Maomao’s eyes were starting to shine. Kokuyou could look like a real dumbass, but he did actually know a thing or two about medicine. He certainly had strong basics; she could tell that from listening to him instruct Sazen. “Where did you learn your medicine, anyway, Kokuyou?” she asked. “You can’t possibly be entirely self-taught?”

“Ha ha ha! The person who took me under their wing, they came from a western country. Golden hair, thick fur all over their face and body.”

“Were they from Shaoh?”

“Hrm, farther west than that, I think,” he said.

That was enough to intrigue Maomao. “Do you speak their language?”

“Just a tiny bit.”

“And where is this person who raised you?” She’d like to meet them if she could.

“Oh, they’re gone now. This is what got ’em,” Kokuyou said, pointing to his smallpox scars.

“I see...” She was sorry to hear it. It wasn’t uncommon for doctors to contract an illness and die—in fact, it happened all the time. They spent more time with sick people than anyone else.

Sazen, who’d been completely left out of the entire conversation, nudged Maomao. “Uh, I’m sorry to interrupt when you’re having such a nice chat,” he said, “but they’re asking for you.” He pointed outside, where she saw the madam and Lahan waiting.

As so often, Maomao found herself in a private room designed for private conversations. The madam always provided accommodations in line with the potential for profit she saw in a visitor; it was one of her more amusing traits. Today the snacks she provided were on the high side of average. (Incidentally, when Lahan’s “father” visited, she put out only tepid water in a chipped teacup. At least she no longer chased him away with a broom.)

“I heard you were off today, so I thought you might be here. My good luck, here you are!”

“Good luck, sure. I know you checked before you came,” Maomao said. Lahan would never have done something like this without making the proper preparations. “But anyway, forget the niceties and get to the point, if you would. I’m busy.”

“Busy what? Chatting?”

“Maybe. But talking with you always just feels like a waste of time.”

“Tone! Tone! I am your honored elder brother, and you should speak to me as such.”

Maomao was tired of this banter; she was eager to move things along. “I know why you’re here. It’s about that thing you wanted with the medical assistants, right?”

“How nice that we’re on the same page,” Lahan said. He was a very careful man. No doubt he’d looked into Yao’s and En’en’s backgrounds, acquainted himself with their personalities, and had seen no cause for concern. Yet he still wasn’t willing to trust them with the true heart of the matter. “I still have questions about the examination you’re to perform on the Shaoh shrine maiden.”

“Such as?” Maomao asked.

“Such as, supposing the shrine maiden isn’t the shrine maiden? If you get my drift.”

She did not.

“Don’t act all coy. Just tell me what’s going on.” Maomao picked up a steamed bun and bit it in half. The filling was sweet and sticky. She tsk’ed and put the remaining half on Lahan’s plate. Maomao didn’t much care for sweet things, but unfortunately for her, the madam didn’t much care what she didn’t much care for. She was out to please Lahan.

“You heard what the consort said—only a woman who hasn’t menstruated can be shrine maiden.”

“Yes, I heard her, but there are women who go their entire lives without menarche.” It was unusual, but by no means unheard of.

Lahan, however, said, “Yes, but has such a woman ever had a child?”

That stopped Maomao cold. She frowned in surprise.

“That would turn everything on its head, wouldn’t it?” Lahan said.

“When was this?” Maomao asked.

“There was a time when the shrine maiden was feeling indisposed and left the capital of Shaoh in order to recuperate elsewhere. That was about twenty years ago, and she returned from her convalescence only a few years back. Right when Consort Aylin was serving as apprentice shrine maiden.”

Apprentice shrine maiden...

Maomao assumed that if Aylin had been an apprentice, she had been preparing to become the actual shrine maiden. Meaning that if the current shrine maiden hadn’t been there, Aylin could well have filled the position herself by now.

Maomao tried to remember when it was that the painter had seen the beautiful, pale woman. There weren’t that many people who fit his description, but a traveling painter wouldn’t ordinarily have been able to lay eyes on someone as august as Shaoh’s shrine maiden. If she were away recuperating in the countryside, though—then it might make sense. And if, during her recovery, the shrine maiden had borne a child...

“What are the chances of a pale woman giving birth to a pale daughter?” Lahan asked.

“Higher than one being born to a non-albino parent, I would assume,” Maomao said. If the father were also albino, a pale child could be almost guaranteed, but even if it were only the mother, it was a distinct possibility. If the shrine maiden had indeed given birth to a child, that would give rise to a whole host of questions. “You’re suggesting this child was the White Lady?”

Lahan grinned. The expression was unsettling on his face. “I can’t say for certain, but it would make sense, wouldn’t it? We have the White Lady under lock and key at the moment, but one thing she won’t do is tell us whose orders she was acting on. Although Consort Aylin is more than happy to claim that it was her fellow emissary, Ayla.”

Everyone seemed weirdly fixated on the White Lady. “You’re saying Lady Aylin saw this baby when it was born?”

“Maybe that’s why she’s turned to us.”

The White Lady, for whatever reason, had been running amok in a foreign country—Shaoh wouldn’t find that any more politically congenial than Li did. Some people, however, might be personally pleased by it.

“Just to be certain, the political enemy who chased Lady Aylin out of her home—it’s not this shrine maiden, is it? If it were, that would explain a few things itself,” Maomao said.

Aylin claimed that Ayla was behind everything, but what if she herself was the one pulling the White Lady’s strings, stirring up trouble in neighboring nations in order to bring down the pale shrine maiden whose position she begrudged? Ensuring that the shrine maiden wouldn’t be in the way when, sooner rather than later, Shaoh had to rely on Li for help?

Maybe Maomao was being asked to find out whether the White Lady was the shrine maiden’s daughter because such knowledge in itself would be a powerful trump card.

She shook her head. Maybe I’m just overthinking things. But why, then, was she being asked to investigate this?

“For the time being, I’m acting on the assumption that Consort Aylin is telling the truth,” Lahan said. “I don’t think she’s hostile toward the shrine maiden, but she does want to find out whether the woman is hiding anything. Quite simply, she may be thinking that when the truth comes out, it will provide leverage she can use to get the shrine maiden on her side. She claims Ayla unleashed the White Lady in order to undermine the shrine maiden, so she may well feel that the enemy of her enemy is her friend.”

“It’s amazing how easily such unsavory things roll off your tongue.”

Governments, however, were not monolithic; they could, one might say, be trilithic or even quadrilithic. The politically ousted Aylin might be willing to use any available means to get her revenge.

She certainly didn’t seem that way when she was here last year, though...

The two emissaries had come dressed in matching outfits, looking practically like twin sisters. Could so much have happened in just a year?

“Are you sure you’re not just helping Lady Aylin because you have a soft spot for pretty women?” Maomao asked.

“What a thing to accuse your honored elder brother of!”

She decided to ignore that. She didn’t have time for this.

In politics, you never knew who might become your enemy or when. Perhaps Aylin had entered the rear palace because she knew Li had apprehended the White Lady. If she succeeded in bringing the shrine maiden into her fold, did she mean to go back to Shaoh?

This is all so complicated. There were so many questions, so much room for doubt. Would she really share the truth about the White Lady so readily with someone from another country, even if it was to get the shrine maiden on her side? Didn’t it stand to become a major headache for Shaoh? I guess she has her own reasons.

Even Maomao, who was not a political animal, understood one thing: Li couldn’t just go executing the White Lady. That had to be her starting point for everything.

Lahan, thankfully, appeared to realize what she was thinking. “You don’t seem to see what I’m getting at. Let me put it this way: if the White Lady is the shrine maiden’s daughter, then as long as we have her in our custody, we have leverage over the shrine maiden—and we have a check on Ayla, who chased Aylin out of Shaoh.”

The White Lady was the key to the current international situation. Maomao frowned.

“You understand why I can’t speak of this to anyone else.” Presumably meaning Yao and En’en.

“That’s no excuse for dragging me into it,” Maomao said. She had half a mind to break his stupid spectacles.

“I was really worried about what I would do if you didn’t pass our test. I guess I would have had to go to the ‘Sui’ noble, but given her position, the hassle involved would have been unimaginable.”

Maomao guessed he was referring to Suirei. Making use of someone who was no longer supposed to exist would require a false identity. They could claim she was the daughter of some bureaucrat or other easily enough, but her real origins could still come back to haunt them—not to mention that she’d been a regular visitor to the medical office in the past. Everyone would be surprised, at best, if a woman who had died were to come back to life.

Maomao was concerned about what “status” she would be given as a result of this most recent test. She had urged them from the first simply to treat her as Luomen’s adopted daughter. Now that he was a proper member of the medical staff, there should be no problem.

“So, what, you want me to go to Shaoh this time? It was hard enough getting to the western capital and back.” Maomao had practically lost track of how long the round trip had taken.

“That’s one thing you don’t have to worry about,” Lahan said, munching on the other half of Maomao’s discarded bun. “The maiden is coming here.”

“She’s what?!” Maomao nearly yelled, startling Lahan so badly that he choked on the bun and had to swig some tea. “What do you mean, coming here? If she’s sick, you can’t make her travel all that way!” She rubbed her temples.

Lahan wiped some tea away from his mouth with his hand, then held out the hand imperiously to stop her. “That’s politics. Li is as much a factor in Shaoh’s thinking as Shaoh is in ours. Naturally they would want a presence at a major ceremony.”

“Major ceremony?”

“Haven’t you heard? With Empress Gyokuyou now His Majesty’s legal wife and her son next in line for the succession, her family is to be officially granted a name. From Shaoh’s perspective, that would mean a strong clan with direct ties to the Imperial family right on their border. They wouldn’t want to come off looking second-best.”

“Right.”

He was talking about the young prince’s formal debut, an occasion significant enough that emissaries from other countries would be present.

His Majesty’s other sons have been too short-lived, Maomao reflected. All of them had died before such a ceremony could be held. Then again, the current prince was less than a year old. There may have been political considerations in presenting him this early.

“I grant the journey’s not a short one however you make it, but Shaoh has a major sea route. If you can go with the seasonal wind, it’s much faster than making the trip by land,” Lahan said.

“I’m still not sure.” If anything were to happen to the shrine maiden while she was abroad, it was easy—and worrying—to imagine responsibility being foisted on the host country. Hosting foreign dignitaries always carried such risks; the dignitaries’ political enemies might even see such moments as opportunities. If things went well, however, it would result in stronger ties with Shaoh.

“I know you might not want to do this, but you have to. That’s why I’m here, asking.”

Maomao fell into a sullen silence, sipping her cold tea. She’d heard enough that she could no longer pretend to ignore the situation.

“Incidentally, this was Master Jinshi’s idea.”

That bastard, Maomao thought. The words came dangerously close to making it out of her mouth, but she somehow forced them back down. With his social status being what it was, Jinshi couldn’t personally involve himself in just anything, but Maomao wished he would spare a thought for those he troubled in his stead.

“I assume I’ll be compensated for this work,” Maomao said.

“Leave the negotiating to me.” Lahan thumped his chest, the light glinting off his spectacles. If nothing else, Maomao knew she could trust him with this.