The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 8 - Chapter 3

Chapter 3: Trends

Jinshi’s office looked much the same as it always did: mountains of paperwork, bureaucrats waiting their turn to speak with him, and the occasional court lady appearing from nowhere trying to get a look at him. It was bustling, no doubt, but it was substantially calmer than it had been not long ago.

His usual workload, which already kept him busy, had doubled since the shrine maiden from Shaoh had come to Li. He’d arranged a banquet in her honor, during which she had been poisoned, and Jinshi had spent many a sleepless night pursuing the case. Ultimately, it turned out to be all the shrine maiden’s own doing, a whole act, but that was no small problem in itself. It was enough to leave him with his head in his hands.

The shrine maiden had survived the entire affair and was now living with the former consort Ah-Duo. Jinshi felt a bit bad about the way her home was turning into something of a safe house. The shrine maiden had left him with troubles of his own, though: he, along with a small number of others, had had to deal with the fallout of her “death.” A number of officials were convinced that Shaoh would use the shrine maiden as a pretext to attack Li, but no such offensive materialized. Shaoh was principally a commercial and trading power; they couldn’t start a war without substantial backing from someone else. If anything, the leaders of Shaoh were probably breathing a sigh of relief to be rid of the shrine maiden, who had been something of a thorn in their side.

Shaoh had made some demands over the incident, but they were nothing that Li hadn’t anticipated. They wanted import duties reduced, particularly on foodstuffs. No one had expected them to come right out and say they didn’t have enough food. The shrine maiden knew Shaoh’s king and bureaucrats very well—their personalities and sense of political judgment. Nothing they did or asked for was unexpected. In fact, Jinshi was almost set back on his heels by the extent to which everything had followed the script. Which wasn’t to say international issues were simple. So it was that until a few days before, he had been so busy that the amount of work now felt like a relief.

“This is for you, Master Jinshi,” Basen said, putting another paper atop the towering pile. And to think—this was after Jinshi had delegated more than half the work.

“I don’t suppose we could delegate half of what’s left,” he said.

“I don’t suppose, sir...”

The paper bore the personal chops of a number of high officials, and the civil servant on whom Jinshi had foisted the work couldn’t ignore something with so many important seals on it. Such petitions inevitably ended up on Jinshi’s desk, even if they concerned trivial matters. He sighed and pressed his chop to the paper.

Amid the bustle, one of the bureaucrats handling some of Jinshi’s work stood up, looking restlessly in his direction. It was the same man who’d been with Jinshi when someone had attempted to poison his tea. He’d entered Jinshi’s service to help until Basen was fully recovered, but he’d proven capable enough that Jinshi had asked him to remain. The man seemed eager to get back to his ordinary place of work, but the eternally understaffed Jinshi was loath to let him go.

“What’s the matter?” asked Basen.

The man flinched. “N-Nothing...”

He seemed awfully anxious for someone who thought nothing was wrong. Now that Jinshi thought about it, he realized the man had been acting a little funny for a few days. Curious now, Jinshi narrowed his eyes.

“Is it really nothing? I want the truth.” This interrogation came not from Jinshi, but from Basen, who had cornered the man. Strange things, dangerous things, had been happening around Jinshi of late, and Basen—who was responsible for Jinshi’s safety—was on edge. If he waited to act until after something happened, it would be too late.

“H-Heek!” The bureaucrat’s face was taut with fear. He reached into the folds of his robe with a shaking hand, whereupon Basen was on him, pinning him down. He could be merciless when he thought someone was hiding something.

“Who put you up to this?” he demanded, grabbing the man’s wrist. Clutched in his hand was a scrap of paper.

“Let him go, Basen,” Jinshi said, relieving the man of the paper. He looked at it—and let out a sigh. “Is this what was making you so nervous?”

“Huh?” Basen looked puzzled—indeed, downright flummoxed.

“Ow, ow, ow! Please let me go,” the bureaucrat said.

Basen obliged, instead looking at what Jinshi had in his hand. “What’s this?”

“I don’t know when he had time to make such a thing, but it’s quite thorough, isn’t it?” Jinshi said. The paper announced that someone would be putting out a book. The date given was that very day, when, so the paper proclaimed, the book would be available at bookstores all over the capital.

“I... I really wanted one. Once a book sells out, you never know if you’ll be able to get a copy,” said the bureaucrat, rubbing his arm. He looked on the verge of tears. Judging by the look on his face, Basen at least had the good grace to feel guilty.

Books were luxury items—except for the most popular titles, second runs were uncommon. If a book sold out before you could get a copy, all you could do was wait for it to appear on the used market.

“If they’ve gone to all the trouble of distributing an announcement, don’t you think they probably plan to have a lot of stock ready?” Jinshi said. Printing in and of itself implied they were planning to make a lot of copies. You had to, to recoup the costs.

“I-I couldn’t say, sir. I expect it to be very popular...”

“Is the author so beloved?” Jinshi asked, looking the paper over as carefully as he could. Printing and distributing announcements like this to anyone and everyone—that was a new idea. He couldn’t help but be impressed. Whoever could have thought of it? Then he saw the name—and almost choked. He immediately wished he could unsee it.

Basen was giving him a puzzled look. “Grand Commandant Kan, sir?”

When Jinshi saw the title of the book, he understood. Kan was a reasonably common name. But Grand Commandant—that was a title, and only one person in the country held it. Kan Lakan, otherwise known as the freak strategist.

“Would you mind telling me who gave this to you?” Jinshi asked.

“A f-friend of mine at the Board of Revenue. An acquaintance of the Grand Commandant’s son. He was asked to give them to everyone he knew.”

The Board of Revenue was the department charged with overseeing financial matters—and the friend of a friend was Lahan. If he had a hand in this, then the book would be more than a passing fancy on the part of the strategist. It would be done well.

“So he’s written a Go book,” Jinshi mused. He had, he recalled, heard that the strategist had been going around telling people he was going to write such a book. Jinshi simply hadn’t imagined the project taking place on such a scale.

As far as it went, he appreciated the help in making books more universal. He himself had been trying to promote paper and printing projects. He was surprised, though, to discover that even this unassuming and dedicated bureaucrat lusted after a copy of the strategist’s book.

“I never realized the honored strategist had the gift of belles lettres,” he said.

“Who cares whether his lettres are belles?!” the bureaucrat said, going from grumbling to garrulous in the blink of an eye. “It’s almost impossible to understand what he’s talking about, anyway. But they say the book will contain records of Grand Commandant Kan’s games! No one would want to miss that!”

Jinshi thought he’d caught a rather uncomplimentary reference to Lakan in there. But in any case, some people really got fired up over their personal interests, and in this man’s case, that interest appeared to be Go.

“I only have a passing acquaintance with Go. Is Grand Commandant Kan that good at it?” Basen asked, more perplexed than ever.

“That good?! Why, the only person in the country today who stands any chance of beating the Grand Commandant is His Majesty’s own Go tutor!” The Emperor’s tutor held the rank of Go “sage”—meaning he was the best player in the nation. Jinshi himself had had a few lessons from the man. How many stones’ handicap had he had the last time they’d played together? He couldn’t remember.

“Grand Commandant Kan is known for the elusiveness of his play. You never know what he’s going to do next, how he’ll come at you. A chance to study and understand his records is a mouthwatering prospect for any connoisseur of the game.” The bureaucrat clenched his fist emphatically. His eyes were shining now. His delight in the subject seemed to have overwhelmed his resentment toward Basen over the manhandling.

“Yet even the Grand Commandant is only human. Surely no one is truly unbeatable?” Basen said. Another not particularly polite way of talking about the strategist—but also true. Jinshi had to agree with him.

“How can you say that?” the bureaucrat said. “Yes, the Imperial tutor is victorious over the Grand Commandant in six out of ten games—but the tutor is a professional player! The Grand Commandant has a real job he must attend to!”

Jinshi didn’t say anything.

“To say nothing of the fact that no one at all can beat him at Shogi.”

Basen didn’t say anything.

Jinshi realized he really was very bad at handling people. “Very well. Basen, do you have your purse with you?”

“Er, yes, sir.” Basen produced his wallet from the folds of his robes. Jinshi handed it to the bureaucrat, who looked from him to Basen and back, suddenly nervous again.

“It’s not much, but take it. A modest recompense for the discomfort Basen caused you,” Jinshi said.

“S-Sir, I couldn’t... It’s not even his...”

It was, sadly and indeed, not Basen’s purse. The young man simply held on to Jinshi’s money in case there was a need to purchase anything. Jinshi knew little about market prices, but he figured this would be enough to compensate the man for his troubles.

“I’m sure your hand must be hurt. You should leave work for the day. Go to one of those bookstores. I assume that purse will cover the cost of a book.”

“A-And then some, sir! I can’t accept this,” said the bureaucrat, who was proving too honest for his own good. He should have just taken the money, Jinshi thought. Very well. He would try a different approach.

“What are you talking about? I don’t mean just one book! Make sure you get one for me as well. And if there’s money left over, then one for Basen too. What are you waiting for? Go! Go, before they’re sold out! Or are you hoping for some hush money?”

“Not—Not at all, sir! I’m going!” The bureaucrat hurriedly showed himself out of the office.

Jinshi listened to his footsteps fade, then let out a sigh. “Basen. It’s not polite to pinion somebody with no warning.”

“Y-Yes, sir. But he could’ve...” Basen at least sounded apologetic.

“In any case, what’s done is done. You didn’t break his arm. You’ve learned at least that much control.” Jinshi knew that with Basen’s preternatural strength, that bureaucrat’s arm could easily have been pulverized. Jinshi would give Basen this much: he was growing up a bit.

“Master Jinshi, if you’ll forgive my saying so, I don’t have any interest in Go.” He seemed to be referring to Jinshi’s instructions to the official to bring a copy of the book for Basen.

“Interested or not, it can’t hurt you to learn. Even the most sheltered young lady at least learns to play Go. Suppose you meet a prospective marriage partner but find you have nothing to talk about—you can at least play a game together. Who knows where it might lead?” He was trying to be lighthearted, but Basen went beet red.

“I-I’m sure... I’d never... N-No such young lady and I would ever...” Basen fell silent before he ever succeeded at getting out a complete sentence. Jinshi gave him a curious look. When he sat back down at his desk, he felt a pang of remorse: the mountain of paperwork was still there, but now his helpful bureaucrat was gone.

Within a few days, every palace, pavilion, and hall of the court resounded with the click, click of stones on boards. On the way to his office, Jinshi noted that even the soldiers in the guardhouse were playing Go.

“It’s become quite the trend,” Basen observed.

“Indeed,” said Jinshi.

Needless to say, it was the freak strategist’s book that had started this craze. Jinshi himself was carrying no fewer than six copies of it. Why so many more than the single copy he’d requested from the bureaucrat? They’d arrived for him accompanied by a short note: Someone gave these to me. Help yourself.

They’d come from the apothecary, Maomao. He assumed, much to his sorrow, that she hadn’t sent them out of affection for him. More than likely, she was just trying to get rid of stock. He knew her; she would never go out of her way to buy a book by the strategist. They must have been sent to her in copious quantity. He sometimes wished he could ask her if she really understood the meaning of what he’d said during their last encounter.

Maomao was the strategist’s daughter, and although she herself seemed intent on disavowing Lakan, from Jinshi’s perspective the family resemblance was obvious. In any case, she certainly wouldn’t want to be stuck with a gift from the father she so detested.

Jinshi didn’t feel the money he’d given the official had been wasted, but still, he wasn’t quite sure what he was going to do with six copies of the same book. Basen already had a copy. Maybe he would try giving them to Gaoshun, Ah-Duo, and the Emperor. The apothecary’s thinking might have been similar to his—or not. He knew her to be strong-willed and careful, so it might be best to assume she had some sort of ulterior motive.

Jinshi had started by thinking about Maomao’s books, but soon he found himself thinking about Maomao—specifically, how he might talk her into accepting his proposal. He would have to prepare, set everything up so that she had no comeback and no reason to refuse. He wanted to be a man who did what he said he would.

Still lost in thought—and under scrutiny from court ladies who watched him from afar—Jinshi arrived at his office. An official standing outside came over looking frantic when he spotted him. It was Basen, however, who asked, “What is it?”

“Pardon me, sirs. But if you would look at this...” The official handed Basen a letter. He opened it and read it. His eyebrows twitched. Jinshi looked at the missive, but remained expressionless as he entered his office.

“Send a damage assessment immediately,” he instructed.

“Sir!” the official said, and went out again. Jinshi trusted that a messenger would be sent if there was anything new to report.

Finally, he sighed. “So it’s come.”

The paper had read simply: There has been a plague of locusts.

There had been reports of small-scale insect swarms, but while Jinshi had seen the memos, the matters hadn’t been substantial enough to warrant his personal involvement, and he’d been obliged to let his subordinates handle them. None of the other outbreaks had been too large, but this...

“So we’re going to lose thirty percent of the harvest,” Jinshi reflected. That was a major blow. He pricked up his ears when he heard that the location of the outbreak was to the west, a major grain-producing area. “Isn’t it a bit late for the wheat harvest?” he asked.

“It’s not the wheat that’s been hit—it’s the rice,” answered Sei, Jinshi’s Go-loving bureaucrat. Other than his timid streak, the man was proving quite capable. “For about twenty years now, they’ve been experimenting with growing rice in the area using large-scale irrigation. From one perspective, this could be considered fortunate. Only the areas with unharvested rice were affected. We were lucky this didn’t overlap with the wheat harvest.”

“They’re drawing water from the Great River?” Twenty years ago would have been just about the time Jinshi had been born. He did recall hearing something about a major flood control project that had taken place around then. They must have built something to divert the water at the same time.

“Yes, sir. It was purely a local endeavor, something they tried out in a couple of places. The rice harvest is more reliable than wheat, but if they made the scale too grand it would impact everything downstream. As such, the project never got any larger than it already is.”

Twenty years back—that would have been the time of the empress regnant. She’d been a woman among women, not afraid to experiment with even the most outlandish policies. Sei drew a large circle on a map. Jinshi observed that while it wasn’t too close to the capital, it wasn’t so far away either. Four or five days’ round trip, perhaps.

The paperwork still formed a mountain on his desk. He looked first at Basen, who had stayed silent throughout the conversation, and then at the obviously nervous Sei. The last thing he wanted was to make more work for himself or either of them. But he just couldn’t leave something alone when it had his attention like this. He stifled a groan.

“I-If I may?” Sei raised a hand hesitantly.

“Yes?” said Jinshi, trying his best to maintain a neutral expression.

“I w-wouldn’t wish to be impertinent, Moon Prince, but is it possible y-you’ve taken on a bit too much work?”

“It is possible, and I’m well aware of it. But what exactly am I supposed to do about it? These matters can hardly be left to anyone else.”

Sei blanched slightly. “I hardly d-dare to say this, sir, b-b-but...” His eyes seemed to look everywhere except Jinshi’s face. “Other honorable personages have been known to entrust their subordinates with—”

“What injustice do you speak of?!” Basen demanded, slamming his fist down on the table. Sei yelped and cowered. “Who would have the audacity to do such a thing? Speak up! You must know something!”

Basen closed in on Sei, but Jinshi held him back. “Basen. You’re scaring him. I would, however, be interested in the answer to his question. Who is doing such things?”

“Er... Er... Grand Commandant Kan, sir.” It would certainly be plausible for the “honored strategist” to engage in such behavior, but the look on Sei’s face said he was hiding something.

Jinshin leaned in. “May I assume he’s not the only one?” Sei’s cheeks flushed. Jinshi had been under the impression that he’d managed to avoid picking any personnel with those tendencies, but it looked like he was going to have to rethink putting his face too close to Sei’s. Jinshi brushed the scar on his cheek.

“A-Also...His Majesty the Emperor...”

Jinshi and Basen were both struck dumb.

“I-Is that good enough?” Sei said, looking studiously at the ground, obviously desperate for them both to leave him alone.

Basen wasn’t finished, though. “Who in the world could fill in for His Majesty himself?” He pressed toward Sei again, his breath hot in his nostrils.

“M-Master Gaoshun! He does it!”

Again the other two men had no recourse but silence.

“Of course, His Majesty puts his own seal on the documents when they’re ready. I j-just thought if you could have an intermediary, someone to clean and organize things, they might cut down the number of memorandums that actually reached you, Moon Prince, by two-thirds. If they were given the proper job title, surely they could exercise some personal discretion...”

Jinshi’s heart skipped a beat at the suggestion that he might have only a third as much work to do. Such important tasks, however, couldn’t be entrusted to some random bureaucrat—someone he might not even know.

Jinshi looked at Basen. He briefly entertained the idea that if Gaoshun could do such a job, then his son might be able to do it as well, but unfortunately, Basen wasn’t really cut out for desk duty. He was a diligent worker, but knowing his stern-mindedness and inflexibility, Jinshi suspected the jobs would simply back up. Was it being greedy, he wondered, to wish for someone with both the loyalty and family background to handle his work, who was also capable and judicious?

“Master Jinshi,” Basen said.

“Yes?”

“I do know someone particularly gifted at this kind of work...”

Jinshi’s eyes widened. “Do you? I hadn’t realized you had any acquaintances among the civil officials.”

“Just one, sir. Someone who passed the civil service exam last year, but presently languishes without an appointment.”

Jinshi realized he had an idea who Basen was referring to. “You don’t mean...”

“Yes, sir. Baryou. Perhaps you would know him better as Elder Brother Ryou.”

As his name implied, he, too, was a member of the Ma clan—Basen’s older brother.