The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 8 - Chapter 11

Chapter 11: Sport and Fear

With just a few days to go until the garden party, Empress Gyokuyou was coordinating her clothing with her ladies-in-waiting.

“Are you sure this isn’t a bit too plain, Lady Gyokuyou?” Yinghua asked. She was busy trying to match an accessory to her outfit. The women were wearing red, just as they always had, but it was of a darker shade than when Gyokuyou had been only a consort. “Wouldn’t it be better to...stand out?”

“It’ll be perfect for the colors of the banquet itself,” replied Hongniang, the chief lady-in-waiting, who was running a comb through her mistress’s hair. “And it matches what His Majesty will be wearing. That’s especially important.”

Despite her assured response, Hongniang looked somewhat out of sorts herself; she set down the comb and went to the wardrobe. Yinghua added another hair stick to the one she already had. Before, when they’d been in the rear palace, the only question had been how to outshine the other consorts, and the ladies-in-waiting had devised ways to have fun while staying within the bounds of good taste—and good sense. Now, however, they were in a different position.

“Are you sure that will work, Lady Hongniang?” Yinghua asked, blanching when she saw the hair stick Hongniang had chosen.

“Hmm. You don’t think it’s the right look?”

“I think it looks fine. But we used that one at the last tea party with the Empress Dowager. I guarantee her ladies-in-waiting will notice.”

“Huh. That’s too bad,” Hongniang said, putting the hair stick back. By and large, clothing or accessories once used at a large banquet were not used at such a function again. The loveliest accessories would be refashioned into other forms and relegated to use as fashionable touches at some small tea party. Smaller accessories might be used several times, but it would never do to have people thinking you had only one thing to wear.

“It does look like it could use some decoration, though,” Yinghua said, taking in Gyokuyou’s apparel.

“Yeah...” Hongniang agreed. The two of them made thoughtful noises. Gyokuyou sympathized with them.

“Matching colors are all well and good, but I wish we had something that really jumped out. A big jewel or something,” Yinghua said.

Jade the Empress had in abundance, but it didn’t match this outfit. Something more translucent, something that could suck the viewer in, would be ideal.

“Like crystal,” said Yinghua. “Or one of those polished diamonds from the west!”

“I doubt we could get one of those on such short notice. If we had an unpolished diamond, we could get a craftsman to polish it, but he would have to work fast. Diamonds aren’t easy to work with,” Hongniang said. Diamonds were hard, so hard that only another diamond could scratch them. That made it difficult to do fine work on them. Nonetheless, one did wish to find something appropriate. Hongniang turned back toward the room containing Gyokuyou’s wardrobe. Gyokuyou had always been less given to ostentation than the other consorts, but she was Empress now. Surely she had a crystal or two lying around.

Gyokuyou herself, though, stuck out her tongue playfully and said, “It just doesn’t sound like much fun.” She’d had so few things to amuse her since she’d left the rear palace. Yes, spending her days with the children was enjoyable, and the Emperor showed her, his Empress, as much favor as he could—but her most recent request, he had denied.

If only her food taster, Maomao, were here, she might have been able to while away the hours. Gyokuyou was just a bit past twenty years old; her girlish curiosity was still undimmed.

“As long as I’m going to wear something, it might as well be something interesting,” she said, getting up from her chair with a smile. She calmly took out one particular item. The two ladies-in-waiting didn’t notice what she had taken, or from where.

“Hongniang, Yinghua,” Gyokuyou said.

“Yes, milady? Is something the matter?” they said, going to her. She showed them some stones resting on a piece of cloth. Three stones, highly translucent crystals, so clear you could see through them to the other side.

“I didn’t know we had gemstones like this,” Hongniang said, flummoxed. Yinghua, however, looked from Gyokuyou to the crystals and back, her eyes wide. Gyokuyou saw what she was thinking and winked at her, giving her a thumbs-up where Hongniang wouldn’t notice.

The Empress went to her desk and picked up a brush, sketching out a simple picture. “Perhaps we could have them shaped like this,” she said. She’d drawn a hair stick that looked a bit like a traditional lantern; the crystal would be tucked inside as if into a basket. She handed the crystal and the paper to Yinghua. “Go ask them for that if you would, Yinghua.”

“But Lady Gyokuyou, I always place such orders for you...” Hongniang began to reach for the items, but Gyokuyou stopped her.

“Surely we can give Yinghua something to do once in a while too. I’m sure she understands what I want.”

“I’m sure she does, milady, but... Lady Gyokuyou, what are you planning?”

The Empress didn’t answer immediately. Hongniang was sharp. She wasn’t chief lady-in-waiting for nothing—and she knew how Gyokuyou ticked, having been her minder since the Empress had been a girl. Just as Hongniang knew Gyokuyou, so Gyokuyou knew Hongniang.

“I can’t make you do all my chores forever, can I?” the Empress asked. She let her gaze drop to the floor, then fixed Hongniang with a beseeching look.

The other woman’s expression only became firmer. “So long as I am your chief lady-in-waiting, Lady Gyokuyou, I vow I will do my duty.”

“But how will you ever get married that way?”

That word, married, had the desired effect. Hongniang looked as shocked as if caught by an unexpected clap of thunder. “M-M-Married...” she said. Hongniang was still vivacious and lovely, but she was also well past the average age of marriage. Where most people got married between their mid-teens and early twenties, Hongniang was now thirty years old...plus two. It was such that when they had been in the rear palace, she’d angled to make a match with Gaoshun, even if he was a eunuch. In point of fact, he wasn’t a eunuch, but he did have an older, domineering wife of his own already. Upon learning of this, Hongniang had summarily abandoned any interest in him.

“You always want to handle everything yourself. What will I do if you ever leave? I need some of my other ladies to get some experience.”

Hongniang’s excessive competence would also discourage the unfairer sex from approaching her. When Gyokuyou had entered the rear palace at age fourteen, Hongniang had come with her. The rear palace was too much of a den of iniquity for a young woman to make her way on her own; she needed capable attendants. Gyokuyou had been accompanied by several other long-serving women as well, but when she became His Majesty’s bedmate and attempts on her life became a real possibility, and indeed an actual occurrence, her women went home one by one. Some had gotten married, but others had been incapacitated tasting her food.

Finally the only ones left were Hongniang, Yinghua, Guiyuan, and Ailan, and the latter three were young and inexperienced. Gyokuyou could understand why Hongniang felt she had to be in charge of everything.

A nursemaid had been hired, temporarily, upon the birth of Princess Lingli, but Gyokuyou had still taken on no new ladies-in-waiting. Having been raised in a place of blowing sands and never sure who was an enemy and who was a friend, she preferred to continue to keep the company she already had.

Into the middle of all this had come Maomao. Things had been so much fun when she was around. Gyokuyou could have easily gotten lost in the memories, but she knew there was no time to reminisce. Right now, she had to focus all her energies on throwing Hongniang off the scent, if only to continue killing time.

“My father remarked to me that we simply must find some fine prospect for you, Hongniang.”

“Master Gyokuen said that?” Hongniang asked, visibly moved.

It wasn’t not true. Gyokuyou’s father had remarked, “If that Hongniang had a child, it would go far in the world, son or daughter.” It would be much too late for any such child to be a milk sibling, but it would no doubt serve well.

“I’ve got more ladies-in-waiting than before,” Gyokuyou added. “You don’t have to carry everything on your shoulders.” Upon the birth of the Crown Prince, three more young ladies had come from Gyokuyou’s hometown to attend her. “I understand your misgivings. For a woman, this is still a battlefield, even if it’s not as bad as the rear palace. None of us knows what might happen. But you’re not alone anymore. You need to start thinking about your own future and living for yourself.”

Frankly, Gyokuyou impressed even herself with the fluency of this little sermon. With a tongue that quick, she might even survive this women’s war.

“Lady Gyokuyou... I had no idea you felt that way about me...” Hongniang’s eyes were brimming with tears. “Very well. I’ll go call Ailan and Guiyuan. Although I question how many of my duties those girls will actually be able to handle.”

Hongniang trundled out of the room, rather suddenly on board with Gyokuyou’s thinking. Her cheeks as she went were as bright as a maiden’s in the first flush of love.

Left alone in the room, Gyokuyou reached for her writing brush again. She wasn’t going to let this be just a simple prank. She would write to her father, who was in the capital now, to ask if he didn’t know of any good potential matches.

“Lady Gyokuyou?”

She was so surprised by Hongniang’s reappearance that she almost dropped her brush. “Yes? Is something the matter?” she asked. She tried to look cool and calm even as she studied Hongniang. The face of her chief lady-in-waiting was suddenly pale, and Koku-u was standing outside, her cheeks equally bloodless.

“This... This is for you,” Hongniang said, and held out a letter. It was folded neatly and sealed with wax. The seal bore an impression of a common poppy, but it was wearing away, a sign of how far the letter had traveled. Gyokuyou knew the insignia at once—would have known who sent the letter, even if it had no name on it.

“It... It’s from my elder brother,” she said. The words that had come so easily a few minutes earlier now felt heavy and difficult. Her older brother was the son of her father’s proper wife. Gyokuyou’s own mother had been a dancing girl performing in the western capital when Gyokuen had spotted her and fallen in love. She bore Gyokuyou sometime thereafter; the Empress got her red hair and jade eyes from her mother.

Gyokuyou and her brother were separated by more than twenty years, closer to niece and uncle than sister and brother. Of familial warmth there was none between them.

“Foreign spawn!”

By the time Gyokuyou had been able to understand the import of those words, she’d already run far away from her brother. Yet from her brother’s children it seemed she could never escape. Naturally the children would imitate their father in his open contempt. What could she do but laugh? She let the corners of her mouth turn up and guffawed no matter what they did to her. Crying would only give them more pleasure, and if she got angry, they would turn around and claim it was she who had been mean to them. She could only laugh off whatever they did.

When her father ordered her to enter the rear palace of the newly ascended Emperor, Gyokuyou saw her chance. A chance to go where her brother and his offspring couldn’t touch her, where there would be all kinds of fun things to enjoy. Yes, she was sad to leave her home, but she also felt much happiness.

Gyokuyou broke the seal on the letter, or at any rate finished what the elements had started. The letter was written in flowing, elegant script, uncharacteristic of her brother.

“What does he say?” Hongniang asked, her face a mask of concern.

Gyokuyou let the corners of her mouth turn up and willed her heart to stop beating so fast. Smile, she told herself. Laugh.

“He begins with a perfectly ordinary comment about the weather. At least he knows how to show a modicum of respect.” She was sure he’d written it with clenched teeth. She knew how much he despised this daughter of a foreign concubine.

With their father Gyokuen in the central regions, no doubt Gyokuyou’s brother was treating the western capital as his personal fiefdom. There was every chance that Gyokuen would simply remain here, and her brother would take over overseeing their home.

Gyokuyou had several other older brothers as well, but only the eldest showed this desire to rise in the world. Hence why their father had requested someone from the capital as an aide. She’d heard that one of Grand Commandant Kan’s men had been sent. When she had first learned that the Grand Commandant was Maomao’s father, she was shocked—but, on reflection, maybe not that shocked.

As she read her brother’s letter, she caught glimpses of a new ambition.

“He says he wishes to send his daughter to the rear palace,” she told Hongniang. That would be Gyokuyou’s niece. She was said to be sixteen years old, but Gyokuyou didn’t recall her brother having any daughters of that age. She must have been the offspring of a concubine, or otherwise some girl he had adopted from somewhere. A small portrait of her was included. What had motivated him to do that?

Gyokuyou regarded it silently for a moment, and then, still without a word, she tore it to pieces. She knew full well that it wasn’t the girl’s fault that she was being sent to the rear palace—but her brother’s intention was transparent, and it disgusted her.

The portrait showed a girl with red hair and green eyes. The marks of a foreign-blooded child. Just the kind her brother hated so much.