The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 7 - Chapter 9

Chapter 9: Empress

And so the consort became an empress. Gyokuyou was now formally married to His Majesty, and it was important she made that clear to those around her. In battle, you could minimize casualties if you had an overwhelming strength advantage. If a consort of a similar rank to Gyokuyou had given birth to a son at the same time she had, there could have been a bloodbath. But it was Gyokuyou who had risen to become Empress because she had given birth to her child before Lihua had produced her own male heir.

Lihua’s family lineage made her more than qualified to be Empress, but though she had borne a son before, she hadn’t been elevated to that rank. Not without reason.

For one thing, there was no telling how long her child would live. But the lineage was itself something of a problem.

The Emperor seemed to be trying to avoid marrying someone who was too closely related to him, for in the past, that was precisely what had weakened the Imperial bloodline and allowed a single disease to kill off its members one after another. Lihua had every right to be Empress, yet her ancestry, over which she had no control, stood in her way.

Perhaps there was one more reason as well: a need to cozy up to Gyokuyou’s family with an eye toward future diplomacy.

Whatever had gotten her there, Empress Gyokuyou now towered in status even over others who lived “above the clouds” in the Imperial court. People who didn’t already know her personally might well be expected to cower in her presence, and did.

“Hee hee hee! I hope you like my snacks.” It had been almost six months since Maomao had heard the dulcet tones of the preparer of these not-too-sweet treats: Yinghua, a lady-in-waiting who was eminently competent but also had a quick ear for rumors and gossip. Maomao was glad to see Yinghua treated her the same way she always had, even if Maomao didn’t dare do anything so foolish as speak to her. The chief lady-in-waiting, Hongniang, was watching them both closely. However, the minder soon stepped out.

Suppose I could have one? Maomao wondered.

Not everyone in the room had the wherewithal for such frivolous pondering. Beside Maomao, Yao was frozen like a block of ice. En’en kept a poker face, but the little glances she kept stealing at Yao suggested she was worried about her. Once the women had become accustomed to making medical visits to the consorts in the rear palace, they had finally been called upon to be part of a visit to Empress Gyokuyou herself.

Gyokuyou had no doubt been looking forward to this. She had, after all, personally recommended Maomao to take the medical assistants’ exam. She regarded Maomao’s visit as one of her all-too-few pleasures, and was treating it as something of a tea party.

“Uh, where, ahem, is Dr. Kan?” Yao asked Yinghua. Dr. Kan—that referred to Maomao’s father, whose full name was Kan Luomen.

“He went to examine the young prince,” Yinghua replied. “Since you’re all here, Lady Lingli and the ladies-in-waiting will all get checkups as well. There’s nothing to do in the meantime, so Lady Gyokuyou suggested tea.” Hongniang must have gone to keep an eye on the exams.

Princess Lingli had gotten big since Maomao had seen her last. When they’d arrived at the palace, the child who had been just a toddler before came running to see the visitors. She seemed to have her mother’s willful streak. Sadly, she didn’t remember Maomao, but she pegged the newcomers as playmates and followed them everywhere until Hongniang pried her away. The princess had looked quite dejected. Maomao figured they hadn’t seen the last of her.

At least she’s healthy. They both are. Empress Gyokuyou sat across from Maomao, eyes sparkling, eager for any hint of an amusing, titillating, or generally interesting story. Which, unfortunately, I don’t have, and if I did, I probably couldn’t talk about it. Well, she did have some tales to tell about the commander of the military, but she preferred not to speak of him and chose to keep them to herself.

Yinghua sat herself down with them, saying, “I’d love to hear some kind of juicy story. Don’t you have anything?”

Always with the wheedling! Maomao thought. If she could have conjured up some engaging anecdote on demand, people might have considered her a better conversationalist, but unfortunately, chitchat was not her strong suit.

Someone most unexpected volunteered, however: En’en. “I have a story, though I don’t know if it’s exactly the kind you want to hear.”

“Ooh, really?”

“It’s about something that happened long ago. If that’s all right?”

“I can’t wait to hear it,” Gyokuyou said, full of curiosity. En’en, normally so reticent, began to tell the tale.

○●○

Long ago, there were two chefs who found themselves pitting their cooking skills against each other, not just as a matter of pride, but to earn a place as the head chef of a rich man’s household. One of the chefs had been born and raised in that land, while the other was a young up-and-comer from another place. Let us call them Chef and Young Chef.

The competition involved cooking the master’s favorite foods: eggs and dumplings. He also loved mushrooms, so some expensive ones were prepared for the chefs to use. Both the competitors were seasoned cooks; they could show their skill in even the plainest of dishes.

By all rights, there should have been little difference between them. For Young Chef, however, things didn’t go well. The eggs came out especially poorly, in no shape to be presented to the master. Young Chef at least managed to whip up some dumplings, but when the master tried them he flew into a rage and threatened to have Young Chef killed on the spot.

Young Chef was completely befuddled. The food had been prepared using only the ingredients that had been provided, which should have been identical to those the other chef was using.

What in the world had gone wrong?

○●○

It’s not a story so much as...a riddle, Maomao thought. She glanced at En’en and realized she viewed this as some kind of test.

“Do you know why the dishes came out so wrong?” she asked with a glance in Maomao’s direction. This situation felt oddly familiar.

“Young Chef didn’t simply make a mistake in the recipe?” Yinghua asked. She still seemed the most domestic-minded of them, just as she had when Maomao had lived and worked at the Jade Pavilion. “Being young, after all.”

“Yes, but still a first-rate chef. Otherwise they wouldn’t have been summoned from so far away.” While En’en gave this explanation, her mistress Yao sat quietly, intensely focused on the ripples in her tea.

This must have been one serious mistake. If the dumplings had produced such a furious reaction, they were talking about a screwup on the level of mixing up salt and sugar. Maybe the chef’s sense of taste was impaired? No, that didn’t seem likely. Maomao thought it was more probable that something had been wrong with the flavor from the start.

“A few questions,” she said, raising her hand.

“Go ahead,” En’en replied.

“What sort of water was used for the cooking?”

“Isn’t water just water? You wouldn’t deliberately use seawater or something, would you?” Yinghua objected.

Maomao would have shaken her head, but En’en did it first. “It wasn’t seawater. However, fresh water was very valuable in this place, so it was common to use salt water for anything that wasn’t going to be drunk. The water there was hard anyway, and the place was a producer of rock salt, so it was common to add that.”

“Meaning that a chef who didn’t know the qualities of the local water intimately could end up cooking with salt water without realizing it,” Maomao said. That earned her a nod from En’en, while Yinghua clapped her hands as if it suddenly made sense to her. She did some cooking around the Jade Pavilion herself, and she seemed to have realized what must have happened.

Empress Gyokuyou, though, continued to look perplexed. “Would it really be that bad to boil your dumplings with salt water?” she asked.

It was Maomao who answered. “You pluck dumplings out of the water as soon as they’re heated through. They float to the top; that’s how you know they’re done.” The presence of salt in the water would change things. It would make the water heavier, meaning that the dumplings would float before they were fully cooked.

“So the dumplings were undercooked?”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maomao said. En’en nodded. Apparently Maomao had the right answer.

“What about the eggs, then? Salt water wouldn’t have anything to do with that, would it?” Yinghua said.

“If we knew exactly which egg dish was cooked and exactly which ingredients were used, I believe we could answer that question too,” Maomao said.

“What do you think they cooked, then, and what do you think they used?” En’en replied.

“I’m going to guess steamed egg custard and hen-of-the-woods mushroom.” Hen-of-the-woods was a luxury ingredient in some places. It was the first thing Maomao had thought of when En’en mentioned mushrooms. “Its pleasant texture is part of what makes it enjoyable to eat, so I assume Young Chef wanted to avoid overcooking it. However, raw hen-of-the-woods can be used to soften meat. Presumably the egg didn’t set correctly.”

“Oh!” Yinghua’s eyes sparkled with interest.

“That’s exactly right,” En’en said, going so far as to raise an eyebrow. She remained mostly expressionless, but it seemed to take the wind out of her sails how readily Maomao had answered her.

For some time now En’en had been more talkative than normal; by contrast, Yao had fallen silent. She was looking at the ground, almost as if she were embarrassed.

“Well, what happened to them? What happened to Young Chef?” Yinghua asked.

“Oh, don’t worry. They were rescued by another fine personage. They didn’t become the chef at that rich man’s mansion, but did find work at another household, one that was home to someone who wished to eat decent egg custard. Most fortunately, this young lady happened to be the daughter of someone with whom Young Chef was acquainted.”

“Well, that’s good to hear,” Empress Gyokuyou laughed.

“Yes, milady. It so happened that Young Chef had a little sister, and thanks to this turn of events they were both saved from having nowhere to go.” The corners of En’en’s mouth crept up.

Wow, so she can smile? The expression was a kind one, and it seemed to be directed at the bashful Yao. I see. Maomao thought she understood why En’en had chosen to tell this particular story. Maomao’s choosing to keep her peace about it and feign ignorance was her own form of kindness.

The chat seemed as pleasant to Empress Gyokuyou as it did anxiety-inducing to Yao and the others. After En’en’s story, there was a bit of friendly gossiping, until Maomao’s old man returned amidst a clamor: Hongniang was there holding the crown prince, with Princess Lingli beside her.

“The child is the picture of health,” Luomen announced.

“That’s wonderful to hear,” said Gyokuyou, looking deeply relieved. The infant’s teeth were already coming in; gleams of white could be seen when he opened his mouth.

“I have some concerns about weaning him,” Luomen told Hongniang and the Empress. People’s bodies tolerated things differently. You couldn’t give babies honey, and fish or wheat could cause an allergic reaction. “When you introduce new foods into the Prince’s diet, do it little by little, and only one new food at a time.” Start the child on several new foods at once, and it would be impossible to tell what the problem was if he had a bad reaction.

This is the Emperor’s own son we’re dealing with, Maomao thought. Commoners, particularly those who lived in the poorer quarters, didn’t worry about giving a baby the wrong food—they often had no food to give it at all.

Yao and En’en listened attentively to what Luomen was saying. Incidentally, the quack doctor was also taking notes.

“Will it be safe for the prince to appear at his presentation?” Gyokuyou asked, a note of worry in her voice.

“Truthfully, I wouldn’t recommend keeping him in an unfamiliar setting for very long. Children find it tiring.” He might burst out crying when everyone was supposed to be quiet, or need his diaper changed. He could get hungry.

Two years earlier, Princess Lingli had come to one of the garden parties, and it had been a challenging experience. They’d had to put warm stones in her cradle to help keep her from catching a cold. This presentation would be even longer than that.

“I’ll tell His Majesty I think our boy shouldn’t stay very long,” Gyokuyou said.

“Thank you for understanding, ma’am,” Luomen replied.

Maomao could see why the Empress might be concerned. Her son was only one of the Emperor’s children; there was Princess Lingli too—and Consort Lihua’s son. He had a claim to the throne as well. While Maomao didn’t believe Lihua would do the unthinkable, others with a lust for power might not be so scrupulous. Lihua couldn’t control everyone who might be tempted to make an attempt on the prince’s life. There could be others whom she neither knew about nor could influence plotting harm to the crown prince.

In the past, there had been a palace lady who had attempted to poison one of the consorts. She’d done it out of love for her own mistress and entirely without the consort’s knowledge or consent. Her plot had failed. Any who wished for Consort Lihua to be the mother of the nation would see the current crown prince as an obstacle to be removed.

Yes, there were many dangers.

Speaking of potential dangers... It had been some time since Maomao had seen Jinshi last, but where did he stand in all of this? He has his own claim to the succession.

Jinshi would come after the crown prince and Consort Lihua’s child. Normally, an infant would not have been named crown prince; he would have been given more time to grow and to be observed by those around him. Jinshi, however, showed a complete disinterest in being emperor; he had been openly pleased by the birth of the prince and had even hoped to be reduced to the status of a common advisor. That, though, was not his decision to make.

So how will this all work out? Maomao wondered, gazing at the prince’s hand, as red and as delicate as a maple leaf.

“It’s over already? When will you be coming back?” asked Empress Gyokuyou, who wanted to keep chatting. Hongniang stood silently beside her.

They were just about to leave the Empress’s residence when footsteps came pounding up behind them. It was Yinghua.

“Stop that, it’s unseemly,” Hongniang said. She was constraining herself to a quiet reprimand because the doctors were present, but Maomao knew that Yinghua would be in for a taste of her knuckle later.

“I believe you left something here. Would you be so kind as to come and get it?” Yinghua said, tugging on Maomao’s wrist. She was grinning.

As soon as they were out of sight of the others, she let Maomao go.

“Did I really leave something?” Maomao asked.

“Oh, of course not. I just made that up,” Yinghua said. “Unless maybe this counts.” She pressed something into Maomao’s palm: a hair stick with a jade ornament. Gyokuyou’s symbol. Maomao had gotten a necklace of the same material back when she served at the Jade Pavilion.

“Lady Gyokuyou had them made for all her ladies-in-waiting when she became Empress. I got one too!”

“That’s nice, but I’m not one of her ladies.”

“She had an extra one made for you, hoping you might come back. She asked me to give it to you just now. She said it would be a waste to leave it lying around.”

If that was true, then it would be rude not to accept her gift. However, Maomao knew now that there was significance in accepting a hair stick.

“Lady Gyokuyou wishes you would keep working for her. You can come back anytime you feel like it,” Yinghua said.

Easier said than done, Maomao thought. It was a tremendous opportunity, not the kind that came along every day, and on some level it was a shame to have to turn her down. Maomao believed that life working for Empress Gyokuyou would be pleasant, in its own way. But I’m just not fit. Not only in terms of social status; Maomao’s personality would be something of a square peg in the round hole of the Empress’s lifestyle.

“Oh, that’s right. People would ask questions if the hair stick were the only thing I gave you.” Yinghua gave Maomao three paper packages that smelled faintly of butter. “Share these with the other girls, all right? Sorry, I know you like savory stuff better.”

So she even had an appropriate gift ready. Maomao took the snacks and made her way back to the front entryway, where the others were waiting.