The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 9 - Chapter 12

Chapter 12: The Secret of the Numbers

Jinshi gave a great stretch, his just reward for finishing a chunk of his work. He was alone in his office. No, that wasn’t quite true—from behind a screen came the sound of someone shuffling papers. Who? Baryou, he of the social anxiety disorder.

Jinshi was almost done with his work, but there was something he wanted to ask Baryou.

“Baryou, may I ask you something?”

“Yes, sir, what is it?” came a thin voice from behind the screen.

“How’d the love start?”

“Hrm? How’d what love start?”

“If I said Chue, would you understand?”

Love might sound like an odd thing to be talking about, but despite his screen and retiring attitude, Baryou was in fact a married man. A man married, in fact, to someone who had recently entered service as one of Jinshi’s ladies-in-waiting: Chue. Jinshi’s main condition when choosing his attendants was that they never spare him so much as an amorous glance. Chue certainly met that requirement.

“Yes, she hardly seems human, does she?” Baryou replied. Another statement that seemed apt to invite misunderstanding.

“Erm, isn’t she your wife? You have children, don’t you?”

Jinshi had to admit, it was difficult to see how a woman with such a forceful personality ever worked with Baryou. The curiosity had driven him to ask about their love story, but he didn’t quite expect the answer he got.

“It was a bit of scheming on the part of my mother and my older sister Maamei. They looked at me, and they looked at Basen, and they picked the surest way of continuing the family line.”

Jinshi was struck dumb.

“I accepted, on the condition that they would handle all the child-rearing, and so the marriage was decided. We only see each other face-to-face once every two weeks, and we don’t talk much, but I must say, I think we get along rather well.”

“Yes... I mean, if you say so...”

The Ba brothers seemed to be polar opposites of each other. Jinshi could see how one might consider the exceptionally frail Baryou a better choice than the exceptionally powerful Basen. It was a political marriage through and through.

“They pointed out that there’s no telling how long I might live, and ordered me to hurry up and produce some heirs. They even wanted me to put it ahead of taking the civil service exam.”

Baryou had passed the civil service exam two years earlier, which implied that he had taken it only after conceiving children.

“She’s certainly...unique, but with Suiren to keep her in line, she’s been quite a trustworthy helper,” Jinshi said. It actually reminded him of when Maomao had been working under him.

“She comes from the Mi clan, albeit a subsidiary line.”

That would explain much. As the Ma clan provided bodyguards for the Imperial family, the Mi clan produced an information network that served the Emperor and his kin directly. They both guarded the royal family, one in the light, one from the shadows. It made sense that they might sometimes marry their members to each other in order to strengthen the bonds between them.

“I see it’s not easy being you,” Jinshi remarked.

“I daresay you have far more troubles than I, Master Jinshi. In terms of both your looks and your rank. As for me, my sister told me to simply lie down quietly at night and my wife would take care of the rest.”

Once again, Jinshi had no answer. Baryou had said something rather impudent, and followed it up with something Jinshi distinctly felt he shouldn’t have heard. How easy life would be if Jinshi could accept a political marriage as readily as Baryou.

Their chat was interrupted by the sound of someone coming down the hallway; the hall outside Jinshi’s office was specifically designed to make footsteps echo audibly.

“Ah, speaking of my sister, there she is now,” Baryou said. Then he added, “If you ever find yourself unsure how to handle Chue, just ask her.”

The footsteps came from a woman’s shoes, and because Jinshi went out of his way to keep most court ladies at arm’s length (fewer problems that way), it was natural to assume it was Maamei approaching.

“Thank you, but forget about Chue,” Jinshi replied. He’d simply been curious about how love took root—unfortunately, the inquiry hadn’t gained him any useful insight.

There was a knock on the door, and indeed, Maamei appeared, with paperwork in one hand and tea supplies in the other.

“Hello, I’m back... What’s with you two?” she asked when she saw them both staring at her.

Jinshi had no intention of asking her about Chue at that moment; if he wasn’t careful, there was even a chance that Maamei would get the wrong idea, and he would never live it down. Baryou and Basen weren’t the only ones who found themselves cowed by this formidable woman. Instead he tried to think of some way to distract her.

“You’re trying to think of some way to distract me, aren’t you?” Maamei said, fixing him with a glare.

“Who, me? No, no. I was just wondering if we had an answer yet regarding what I asked you about.”

What he had asked her about was the tie attached to Gyoku-ou’s recent letter. Flummoxed by the sheet of numbers, Jinshi had called in an expert.

“Ah, you mean Master Lahan. I happen to have a letter from him right here.”

When you thought of numbers, you thought of Lahan. It had been the obvious solution, and in this case, it appeared it had also been the right one. Jinshi opened the letter, which indeed detailed the truth behind the numbers.

“May I see it?” Maamei asked, coming over. Jinshi placed the letter on the desk. Even Baryou was apparently intrigued enough to emerge from behind his screen. “What is this? An account ledger?” Maamei said.

“So it would seem,” replied Jinshi.

Lahan had sent them a copy of some sort of ledger—it appeared to be related to taxes levied on crops. Some percentage of the taxes collected in the western capital were sent to the national center. The tie seemed to have been made of several battered pages, presumably records from the same area covering several years.

“Perhaps this is it,” said Maamei.

It looked to be from the first half of the previous year. The western capital didn’t produce many crops, but there were some. Wheat and grapes, cotton and sugar beets, for example. Sheep’s wool was another major export of the region.

As Maamei indicated, the records matched up with the mysterious numbers they’d been sent. The numbers, between two and four digits, showed harvest quantities; multiply them by the tax rate to get the amount of tax collected.

“Hm? Look here—the numbers are different.” Maamei’s finger had stopped over the data for wheat. There, and there alone, the number in the ledger was bigger. “If the numbers are different, it implies someone doctored the ledger. But this doesn’t make any sense...”

“I agree. I don’t understand,” said Jinshi. If the number in the ledger had been smaller, it would have been simple. The impropriety would be exposed. “But the number they reported was bigger.” Meaning someone had reported more than had actually been harvested. Naturally, that would mean more taxes would be collected. “They’re deliberately paying too much in taxes?”

Jinshi couldn’t fathom why they would do that. It could only harm them.

It might not make sense to him, but it seemed Lahan had decided that the numbers they had been sent pertained to taxes levied on the harvest.

“That’s very nice of them to pay more than they owe, but it sure smells fishy,” Maamei said.

“Is wheat the only number they doctored?” Baryou asked, looking through the several years of registers. “It seems all the harvests were smaller than average last year.”

“If this message or whatever it is is to be believed, wheat was particularly scarce,” Jinshi said, squinting at the rows of figures. The western capital region had been warned to take precautions against insect plague; if they were seeking to hide the true state of things, this would be one way to do it.

“When is wheat harvested?” Jinshi asked.

“Well, there’s winter wheat and there’s spring wheat, so it depends, but the first half of the year would be the winter wheat harvest, at the beginning of summer,” replied Baryou.

Meaning it was long after Jinshi had left the area, and even after the Empress’s father Gyokuen had come to the capital.

“I’m impressed he was able to spot that in all this,” Maamei said, all admiration for Lahan’s work. It was true that noticing the discrepancy in the numbers was an impressive feat, even if the numbers were ones that he dealt with in his work.

“He said something about that in his last letter,” Baryou said and rifled through his papers. “‘The registers we were sent included the seal of an acquaintance of mine. I remember it.’”

“An acquaintance’s seal?” Lahan’s letter went on to give a name that Jinshi recognized as well. He thought back to the people who had accompanied him to the western capital the year before. There had been Maomao and Ah-Duo, as well as Lahan—energetic and memorable people all—but there had been one who was more detached.

“Rikuson... He was Grand Commandant Kan’s aide, wasn’t he?” Baryou said.

“Yes, I believe I’ve heard that name before,” Maamei said.

Rikuson: the eccentric strategist’s right-hand man. The one who had danced with Maomao at the banquet in the western capital. Currently, he was serving as Gyoku-ou’s aide at Gyokuen’s request.

“And did you hear anything specific about him, Maamei?” Jinshi asked. All he really knew about Rikuson was his job title. He didn’t even know what the man was like. All he knew was that he’d seen a side of Rikuson that he didn’t like much, and it was hard to get away from that bad first impression.

“About Master Rikuson? Let me see... I’m afraid everything I know about him is hearsay,” Maamei replied as she prepared the tea. “He was a civil official before he served Master Lakan, but my understanding is that he didn’t get there by passing the civil service examinations. He had connections. He comes from a merchant family, and his gentle disposition always gave him a certain popularity with the court ladies.” Perhaps that was also where Maamei had got her information.

“Who were these connections?”

“I’m afraid I’m not sure. I can look into it if you’d like.”

“It’s no rush. But I would be glad to know before I leave for the western capital.”

Maamei, clever Maamei, placed tea snacks in front of Jinshi and then began jotting a letter. No doubt she would find out about Rikuson, and quickly. When she was done writing, she flapped the page to dry the ink and then tucked it into the folds of her robes.

“Erm... Couldn’t we simply ask Sir Lahan directly?” Baryou asked with a hesitance that implied he felt he might be out of line to suggest it.

Jinshi frowned. “Sir Lahan has already done me several favors. Including this one.”

“I see...”

“If I’m to incur yet another debt, I would rather not go to him as a blank slate. Better to have some knowledge, and pay only for what I can’t get myself. Yes?”

“Y-Yes, of course.”

Lahan was no paragon, but he didn’t go in for dirty dealings—he would have considered them unbeautiful. All the same, the fewer favors Jinshi owed, the fewer weaknesses he had that could be exploited, the better.

“I’ll leave the rest of the paperwork here,” Maamei said, setting it down alongside the tea. Her less than subtle way of telling him to get back to work.

“Good, thank you. I’ll trade you for this—have a look at it, if you would.” Jinshi handed her something; she wasn’t the only one who could fling paperwork around.

Maamei’s usually narrow eyes became quite wide indeed, and she swept them over the paper several times, making sure she was reading it right. “Is this true?” she asked. “And this when there’s no need for you to go to the western capital yourself, Master Jinshi.”

“Not another word. I’m well aware of the danger.” Foreign nations and natural disasters would not be his only enemies.

“May I ask what you’re planning to do if someone makes an attempt on your life in some far-off country?” said Maamei. That was the point of greatest concern to her.

“I’ll be traveling with picked physicians and warriors for exactly that reason.”

“Yes, I heard you ordered Dr. Liu to get us more capable doctors. What about your bodyguard, then?”

“As far as the soldiers...”

“The soldiers are exactly what I’m concerned about! Are you sure you’ll be safe with...with whom you’ve chosen?”

Jinshi tugged at his hair; Maamei gave a look that showed she thought that was uncivilized.

“Chosen,” Jinshi echoed. “That implies I had a choice.”

“I’m saying—!”

“Well, now!” piped up Baryou, glancing at the papers from beside Maamei. “Is he really going with you? Master Lakan?”

“Yes, I’ve asked Sir Lakan to come with me.”

“You’ve what?” Maamei’s face contorted in a way Jinshi wouldn’t have thought possible. Such open disgust wasn’t typical for her. “May I ask what you’re thinking? He’ll go on a rampage! This is terrible! The moment you turn your back, you’ll find his blade in it!”

“I know. I know.”

“And your guards—they’re all Master Lakan’s men through and through! They can kill you and make it look like an accident!”

“Does he really hate me that much?” Jinshi had been under the impression that the strategist had possessed a modicum of newfound respect for him since the Go tournament.

“Who’s going to hold his reins? That’s what I want to know. You can bring Master Lakan, but you certainly can’t keep him under control. Then again, if Master Luomen were among the physicians...”

Ah, Maamei. She knew how the game was played.

“Not Sir Luomen, I can’t ask him to come. His age won’t permit such a lengthy journey. Especially not with his bad leg. In any event, he would be an absolute last resort.”

In fact, this had all been settled long ago. After what Jinshi had done, he had to go to the western capital.

“Who, then?” Maamei asked, but then she stopped. “You can’t mean...”

Her intuition was excellent; there was no need to explain. If Lahan couldn’t come and Luomen couldn’t either, that only left so many people. One, in particular—simultaneously the best and the worst.

“You’re talking about Maomao.” Maamei’s face twitched.

Jinshi offered her a wan smile, but he couldn’t meet her eyes.