The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 9 - Chapter 17

Chapter 17: Chue

Maomao wrote industriously in the daily report: three cases of seasickness, two injuries, one person feeling unwell.

“Gracious, it’s been busy,” said the quack, whose idea of work was a quick exam and handing out some medicine. He wiped at some more or less nonexistent sweat on his forehead. For some reason, he seemed more energized than he had back at the rear palace.

He really did have too much time on his hands, Maomao thought.

They had been living on the ship for several days now. Some people still hadn’t quite become accustomed to the constant rocking, but cases of seasickness were down overall. If the first day at sea had seemed quiet, by the second, the seasick travelers had come knocking at their door in droves.

“It certainly has,” said Maomao. She was used to the medical office by the military camp, which frankly saw more action than this, but the quack was used to the rear palace office—which saw more tumbleweeds than patients—and it must have seemed like a madhouse to him.

They’d prepared plenty of seasickness medication ahead of time, but the stuff was only good for taking the edge off it; when it came to those who showed up pale-faced and queasy, Maomao figured that the best treatment was to give them a bucket and lead them to a well-ventilated area.

No wonder Lahan isn’t here. She’d thought he might be, considering the freak strategist was coming—but that penny-pincher got the worst seasickness. He might actually be useful to have around on this trip, much as she hated to admit it, but he must have found some excuse to weasel out of it. Besides, he was—whatever she might think of him—next in line for the family headship, so he and the strategist probably shouldn’t be away from home at the same time.

She’d been concerned that the strategist would somehow notice her and make his way over to her ship, but so far nothing had happened. He was probably down with seasickness.

“Now, then, how about a quick snack? If you’d be so kind, miss, go call our friend.”

The moment there were no more patients in the office, the quack began making tea. Use of fire was heavily restricted, however, so he couldn’t boil water. It had to be served cold.

There were three cups—and three snacks. Snack food was at a premium on the ships; this was the one the quack had received when he went to examine Jinshi. In fact, each time since then, snacks had been available upon his visit, and each time he was sent home with a few as souvenirs.

I guess he wants to reinvigorate himself. Maomao sighed and opened the medical office door.

“What’s the matter, young lady?” Standing in the hallway was a man at least two heads taller than Maomao—Lihaku. He had been assigned as their bodyguard, and at the moment he held a large weight in each hand. He was just standing around most of the time, so he seemed to have decided to take the opportunity to work out.

“It’s snack time, sir.”

“Thanks! That’s great news.” He put down the weights and came into the office, although his presence there made it significantly more cramped.

“You don’t mind sweets, do you, my dear Lihaku?” asked the quack.

“I’ll eat anything!” Lihaku said.

“Good, good. Do you take sugar in your tea?”

“What? Does anyone do that?”

“I hear it’s the way in the south.”

“Very interesting! Plenty of sugar, please!”

Lihaku was so taken by the question of how this drink would taste that he was about to put a generous portion of the ship’s precious supply of sugar into his tea. Maomao snatched it away. “I’m afraid I can’t let you. Sugar is extremely valuable.”

“Oh, foo.” The quack pursed his lips. He was a regular offender—Maomao would have to hide the sugar and honey. It was one thing when he was just killing time at the rear palace, but on a trip where their supplies could only dwindle, she needed him to exercise some restraint.

That wasn’t the only thing...

Sweet tea? That can’t be for real.

Maomao liked her food spicy and her alcohol dry—in other words, she was not going to put up with any sweetened tea.

“Surely a little bit would be all right? The flavor’s so weak when you make it with cold water,” said Lihaku, pouting too.

“What if you ground up the tea leaves in a mortar? That makes them more flavorful,” Maomao said.

“Hey, that’s not a bad idea. Do we have a mortar?”

“We do! And maybe you can handle the physical labor for us?” the quack ventured. The talkative eunuch and the amiable soldier couldn’t have looked more different, but they had soon become friends. Lihaku had been the right choice for this job.

Still, there was the matter of the quack, who had unwittingly been made Luomen’s body double. What would he think if he ever found out the truth?

I guess silence is golden, thought Maomao. She knew the quack, and she knew it wouldn’t do him any good to be told something so unpleasant, anyway. If only Jinshi would treat me the same way.

She rejected the idea almost as soon as it came into her head. She was sure Jinshi had told her what was going on because he thought that would be best, and Maomao couldn’t deny that it was easier to grasp the options available to her with more information. The Emperor’s handsome younger brother was quite a capable man. At the very least, he thought about things rationally, acting on analysis rather than instinct. It was much easier to accept the answers he arrived at, even if they weren’t perfect, knowing he thought things through—even Maomao couldn’t really complain.

Except about that stupid brand.

That, she still couldn’t believe.

She let that thought lead her back to the question of the quack. Was she angry that Jinshi had used him as bait? Or—

“Not going to eat, miss?”

“I’m eating,” Maomao said, picking up a snack. It was a bun filled with something pickled, a good way to make sure it would keep. It gave the snack a fairly powerful flavor, but when offset by the tea, it was perfect. She couldn’t resist a little Hrm?! as she ate; it was really good.

“It’s not sweet at all,” the quack said, his face downcast. He’d taken his first bite expecting something sugary.

“Wow, that’s good! It doesn’t look like much, but this thing means business!” Lihaku said.

“It should be. It’s a gift from the Moon Prince himself,” the quack replied with a little snort like he was very proud of the fact—and here the snacks had technically been given to Maomao.

Maomao got more tea and looked out the little window. “I can see land,” she said.

“Ooh! Can you?” The quack came over and squeezed in at the window.

“I heard we were supposed to make port by noon, but it looks like we’re running a little late. Nothing unexpected, though,” Lihaku said, checking a notebook to be sure. “We’ll stay two nights, then leave the next morning. It’s going to be busy.”

“Which ship is the old fart on again?” Maomao asked.

“The old fart’s on the lead vessel,” said Lihaku, who knew exactly who Maomao was talking about.

He might try to come over here when the seasickness clears. Maomao scowled. If they wound up traveling on the same ship, even by accident, it was not going to be any fun.

“I don’t think you’ve got to worry about him,” Lihaku added. “Once the old fart disembarks, he’s got a banquet to attend. Got to do a little diplomacy, since we’ve gone to all the trouble of bringing along an Imperial family member.”

“Oh, I heard about the banquet. They’ll need a physician to attend, but since I’m not going, you don’t have to either, miss,” the quack said. Then he gave them a questioning look and said, “By the way, who’s this old fart?”

Maomao was distracted by another thought and didn’t answer him. “Diplomacy? Of course.”

“Sure. Want to have a look?” Lihaku pulled a simple map out from the notebook. It showed the coast along with the ship’s route. “We’re in a foreign land here, even if they do serve Li,” he said. Indeed, the map also included borders. “The princess of this country lived in the rear palace a number of years ago. I heard she was given away in marriage, though.”

Yes, that did sound familiar. Very familiar.

“Ah, Consort Fuyou,” the quack said. “Ahem, well, she’s not a consort anymore.”

“I remember her!” Maomao clapped her hands, her memory jogged by the quack’s interjection. It was the woman who had been seen dancing on the walls of the rear palace.

“Do you suppose Miss Fuyou will be there as well?” the quack asked.

“Hmm. I don’t think so,” Lihaku said. “She’s the one who was given to a soldier who’d distinguished himself with his service, right?”

“I think so. I’m not so sure it was the right thing, though—you can’t go giving away princesses to just anybody, even princesses of a vassal state,” the quack said.

If I had to guess, I’d say the authorities knew very well that there was more to it than that.

If the soldier was an old friend of Princess Fuyou, there was every chance that her family was as well. They might even have felt that if Fuyou wasn’t going to be able to fulfill her role at the rear palace, then the sooner she was out of there, the better.

“The thing is, we also can’t just send our best soldiers back to their home countries,” said Lihaku.

“Ah, yes, that makes sense.”

“A bride from the rear palace... If I was going to get a reward for distinguished service, I think I’d prefer cash,” Lihaku went on.

“I must say I’m surprised, my good Lihaku. You don’t seem like the money-loving type.”

“Oh, everyone’s got things they’d like to spend on.”

Like buying a high-priced courtesan out of her contract, right?

Maomao wondered what Lihaku’s current salary was. He seemed to be moving steadily up the ranks, but if he didn’t strike it rich pretty soon, Pairin was going to end up as a madam herself.

Maomao looked out the window again. If we don’t make land until evening, I guess all the shops will be closed.

They were in a country just to the south of Li, but they couldn’t expect to get off the ship the moment it docked. Judging by the height of the sun in the sky, they wouldn’t have much time for shopping. If they were lucky, there might be a night market or something—but places like that didn’t tend to sell the items Maomao was after.

They’re usually grilled treats, or skewers, or fruit.

Sure, those things were fun, but they weren’t what she wanted. She hoped they might have some free time the next day.

“Is someone coming?” the quack asked as they heard distinctive footsteps outside the office door. Shortly thereafter, there came a knock. “Please, come in,” said the quack, and in walked Chue.

“Hello! Pardon the interruption.”

“What’s the matter? Is the Moon Prince feeling poorly?”

“No. I have a favor to ask, if it’s all right.” She turned her small eyes on Maomao. “We’ve been told they want to borrow a food taster for the banquet tonight.” Lihaku’s and the quack’s eyes joined hers.

I mean, I don’t exactly dislike that work. What she did dislike was being in the same place as the freak strategist. She was trying to devise some way out of the request when Chue took something out and showed it to her.

Maomao didn’t say anything. She couldn’t, however, keep her gaze from drifting to the mushroom Chue was holding. It appeared to be dried shiitake.

Hnngh...

Was this Jinshi’s clever little touch, or Suiren’s? Shiitake were a luxury even as mushrooms went, rarely found growing in the wild. En’en used them in her cooking every once in a while, but generally speaking, they were all but unobtainable for Maomao.

If I could cultivate them, think of the business I could do!

Under the name xianggu, they were also a medicine, used for treating anemia and high blood pressure. Maomao could use this one for medicinal purposes, or she could rehydrate it and use it to add some extra flavor to her cooking. It could even be turned into a soup or stock.

Was this lady-in-waiting, Chue, teasing Maomao? After a quick glimpse, the mushroom disappeared from her hand—only to reappear in the other one. Then it disappeared again—only to reappear with a second, and then a third. It was like she was doing some sort of magic show.

“What do you say?” Chue asked, polite as could be—but it was clear she wouldn’t be taking no for an answer. She had the good grace to look chagrined about it, but she would do what she had to do—or rather, make Maomao do what she had to make Maomao do. A very Jinshi-esque approach.

“All right,” Maomao said after a moment. “I understand.”

“This is for you, then!” Chue promptly produced a set of clothing, again seemingly out of thin air, and handed it to Maomao. “It’s for you to wear to the banquet. We’ll be making you up too!” Makeup tools, including a brush for rouge, appeared clutched between her fingers with a snap! like you might see from the villain of a stage play.

She’s so characterful, I can hardly stand it. A simple descriptor like “Basen’s older brother’s wife” was never going to suffice to explain this person. She stands out even with all the characters around her.

Chue’s looks might have been plain, but maybe she had bolstered her inner self to compensate. Maybe you just had to be mentally strong like that to survive with the powerful Ma women.

I think I’m going to get buried, here, Maomao thought, wondering if she should do something to up her individuality so as to keep pace. Then again, she thought, there was no reason to go out of her way to stand out. Ending all her sentences with some distinctive speech pattern would only grate before long.

“I’ll pass on the makeup, thanks. Just the mushrooms, please.”

“If you’re sure,” Chue said, a bit disappointed at Maomao’s very ordinary reaction. Nonetheless, she handed over the shrooms.

Now they have me wondering exactly how many medicinal plants they brought along, she thought, staring at her prize.

When Maomao got off the ship, she was greeted by the reek of fish and the bustle of activity. It was already getting toward dusk and many of the shops were closed, but she could see a few people rushing from place to place trying to do evening shopping.

“Do be careful, now!” called the quack, waving a handkerchief from the ship.

“She’ll be fine—she has me with her!” Lihaku called back.

Wasn’t he supposed to be the quack’s bodyguard? Maomao thought. Evidently she was also part of his mandate, as far as it went.

The clothes Chue had given her were of fine fabric, but they were unadorned and the color was plain. A reasonable compromise for a food taster. The smooth linen felt good on her skin, here in this humid land.

I’m going to wear this all the time starting tomorrow. Maomao had hardly packed any clothing other than underwear, so this was perfect timing. Plus the material would dry quickly after washing, very convenient. She had her medical helper’s uniform, but the thick cloth made it unsuitable for the muggy conditions.

Chue had taken several more opportunities to ask Maomao if she wouldn’t like some makeup, but Maomao had consistently declined. Still, it would have been rude to show up completely barefaced, so she’d put on a dusting of whitening powder and a touch of rouge.

“They said there would be a carriage waiting,” Lihaku said, looking around.

“Do you think that’s it?” Maomao asked, pointing to a carriage stopped in front of one of the other ships.

“That one? It’s already got passengers—I don’t think there’s room for us.” People were piling in.

Women? The ladies-in-waiting of the important folk, she supposed. There seemed to be so many of them, though.

She and Lihaku were standing there, at a loss for what to do, when Chue popped up. “Hello!”

“Yikes! Where’d you come from?” Lihaku yelped. He hadn’t noticed her approach at all. Usually her distinctive footsteps gave her away, but this time they hadn’t heard anything.

“There’s a carriage waiting over that way, all ready for you. Right this way, please.”

“You’re pretty light-footed, ma’am.”

“Miss Chue is as nimble as she is plain. That’s what makes her great! You can feel free to call me Miss Chue, by the way.” She grinned, spun around, and struck a nonsensical pose.

“Well! Don’t mind if I do, Miss Chue.”

“Of course, Master Lihaku. Incidentally, Miss Chue is a married woman, so she must decline any advances.”

“That’s a shame. You’re my type. If I’d met you before I ran into the woman I’m destined for, I would definitely have tried to make a move on you.”

Which was another way of saying she wasn’t his type.

“It’s too bad for you. You don’t meet many women this good,” Chue said.

She just rolls with everything, doesn’t she? All that cheerfulness—she was a kind of person, a type, that Maomao hadn’t had around her to this point. Chue, meanwhile, had somehow pulled a string of tiny flags from the folds of her robe.

I’d like to make a sarcastic quip, but I don’t even know where to start, Maomao thought, and then she got into the carriage, ignoring the somewhat lonely-looking Chue.

This country they were in, situated to the south of Li, was called Anan. It had been a vassal for more than a century; even the name “Anan” wasn’t its original name, but had been foisted on it by an old emperor. The character a meant things like “second,” “secondary,” or “inferior.” It was the same with Hokuaren, the collection of countries to Li’s north. That name meant, quite literally, the collection—ren—of inferior—a—countries in the north—hoku.

Whoever gave them that name must have been awfully important, thought Maomao. And awfully full of themselves, to force upon another country such an openly degrading name.

I guess every other country probably has its own name for ours too.

The people from the west had fairer skin than the Linese and were often tall. Thus they sometimes derided the Linese as “monkeys.” They were speaking the local language, and probably thought they couldn’t be understood—little did they know that Maomao’s smattering of the western tongue was just enough to tell her she was being insulted. If the madam had become aware of someone belittling her, she simply would have smiled and raised her prices.

I guess we each do it to the other.

If you didn’t want people to insult you, don’t insult them—but Maomao was less worried about being insulted and more worried about staying safe. Countries were really just very large groups of people, so relations between countries ultimately came down to a form of human relations.

When Maomao climbed out of the carriage, she was confronted with a huge palace. The vermilion lacquer was the same color as in Li, but the shape of the roof was subtly different. It was a little rounder, and lanterns hung from it, shining.

A pure-white path ran down the center of the palace, through a garden with windmill palms planted in neat pairs.

“This way, if you please,” said a man who appeared to be a servant. Thankfully, he spoke the Li language, although with a slight accent.

Doesn’t matter what I please. I’m just a food taster, Maomao thought. She even considered saying it out loud, but Chue was already trotting ahead. Guiding Maomao, in her own way. She still made those strange, chirping footsteps. Maomao and Lihaku followed obediently.

“You may use this room,” the servant said, leading them to a door. Chue promptly ducked inside, taking a swift look around. She was used to this.

“Everything look all right?” Lihaku asked, joining her in the room and scanning the area.

“It’s fine. Sometimes you get bugs or snakes here in the south,” Chue replied.

“Snakes?” Maomao asked. Her eyes lit up and she gladly joined in the surveillance. “Are any of them venomous?”

“Yes! Some.”

“Are there any scorpions here?”

“No, no scorpions.”

After a careful search turned up no bugs and no snakes, both of them looked thoroughly disappointed.

“I understand about the young lady, but why do you look so unhappy, Miss Chue?” Lihaku interjected calmly, careful to use “Miss Chue’s” preferred form of address.

“Well, wouldn’t it be more interesting if there were something here?”

So Chue didn’t just like to stand out herself—she was the kind who preferred when things were lively. Maomao was starting to see how she had ended up in Gaoshun’s character-laden household. At the same time, she was a little scared to contemplate how Chue and her mother-in-law must get along.

Chue started making tea. The carafe was evidently full of cold water, because it was sweating—a mark of respect for the visitors. The cold water must have been fetched very recently.

“Don’t worry. I can handle that,” Maomao said. She figured Chue must be busy.

She reached for the tea supplies, but Chue said, “It’s all right, I’m making some for myself too. I’m going to be with you this evening, Miss Maomao.” She worked with such quick movements that there was nowhere for Maomao to join in. “Lady Suiren expressed her concerns about an unmarried young woman being alone with a man, even if he is her bodyguard, so here I am. I’ll be watching you!”

Maomao and Lihaku looked at each other—and then, as one, they said, “Hah! I think not.”

“And neither do I. But when the big lady gives you an order, you do it. Besides, you’ve met my mother-in-law. I think I handle her quite well, but it’s exhausting to be with her every minute. You’ve also met my husband—do you think he ever sticks up for me? I can tell you I don’t mind leaving him to her and getting myself a break every once in a while.”

With that, Chue flopped on the couch and sipped her tea. She looked absolutely relaxed. She even grabbed one of the snacks, some kind of rice cracker, and started munching away on it.

Maomao and Lihaku decided there was no reason not to make themselves at home as well. Lihaku, seeming at a loss for anything else to do, found a post in the corner of the room and started doing pull-ups.

Muscle brain, Maomao thought. She sat in a chair and likewise started drinking. Meanwhile, she resumed reading the book Yao had given her.

“While we have a minute, I’d like to tell you how the banquet is going to go,” said Chue. She still had crumbs on her lips, but apparently she was in the mood to work.

“Please do,” said Maomao.

Chue leaned back, as comfortable as if she were in her own home, and said, “You and I are going to handle the food tasting, Miss Maomao. For the Moon Prince and Grand Commandant Kan. There’s a few other bigwigs around, but they’ve made their own arrangements.”

Chue was supposed to belong to the Ma clan, but apparently, to Maomao’s surprise, she did food tasting as well.

“I’ll take the Moon Prince, if I may,” Maomao said. Neither was, you know, great, but he was the lesser of two evils.

“Certainly. I think Grand Commandant Kan sounds much more interesting.”

Whatever her reasoning, Chue was going to handle the freak strategist, and for that Maomao was glad.

“For the most part, we’ll do the food tasting pretty much the same way it’s done at the garden parties and the like, so I don’t think I have to tell you how it works. This is a diplomatic occasion, though, so we’ll be hidden behind the seats while we work.”

“Makes sense.”

“Just try to feel things out from there.”

That’s kind of lackadaisical. Or, well, I guess more just undirected.

Granted, it would be easier than having to do everything by the book.

At first, she’d seemed more like En’en, but it was starting to feel like she had more in common with Maomao. If anything, Maomao was probably the more diligent about what was going on around her.

“That concludes the explanation! I’m sure they’ll come call us when it’s time, so we can all do whatever we want until then. Dismissed!”

“All right.”

“Sure thing!”

With that, they resumed doing whatever they wanted.