The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 9 - Chapter 2

Chapter 2: The Villa

The messenger didn’t take her to Jinshi’s usual palace, but to a villa outside the court proper.

How many villas does the Emperor have?

Admittedly, it was probably easier to get Maomao into a place like this, given all the stuff she was bringing. Just here in the capital, the Emperor had another villa, the one where Ah-Duo lived. Nobility like him could probably construct a new building or two just to kill some time.

The guard was lighter than usual, and Maomao was brought to a room where Jinshi, Suiren, and Gaoshun all waited.

Not Basen? she wondered, but then she realized this was His Majesty’s doing. Basen was smart enough, but he was stubborn. Gaoshun was much more likely to keep his thoughts to himself if she and Jinshi ended up alone together. He might guess something he wasn’t supposed to know, but he wouldn’t pursue it.

And what’s the old lady think of this?

Suiren was smiling like she always did, but her smile could be frightening—precisely because Maomao didn’t always know what was behind it.

There seemed to be someone else there too. Maomao could hear the clattering of dishes from within. Had they found someone who could endure Jinshi’s beauty and Suiren’s severity?

“Is there anything you need, Xiaomao?” Gaoshun asked.

“No, thank you.” She’d prepared all her tools herself, along with most of the medical components she might need. She thought it would be best not to give Gaoshun too many clues as to what she would be using. Then, however, she realized there was one thing she did want. “If you happen to have any ice...”

“Certainly.” It was not Gaoshun, but Suiren, who answered. “Chue, bring us some ice, please.”

There was a name Maomao didn’t recognize. Shortly, accompanied by distinctive footsteps, a woman emerged holding a large bucket. Her face was tan and her nose low. She was roughly Maomao’s age, perhaps a year or two older. Many of the servants of the Imperial family were physically beautiful, but when it came to serving Jinshi, looks were less important than job skills.

Like her namesake, the sparrow, Chue almost looked like she was hopping as she moved; her footsteps made a squeaking sound as she walked.

“I could only find a big block of it. Do you want me to break it up?”

In the bucket was a huge chunk of ice wrapped in reeds. It had probably come from some distant mountain, kept frozen in order to make the long journey to the capital. It was still the cold season, and they could have gotten ice from some local lake, but they would have gone out of their way to get it from somewhere far away.

It’s not like I’m going to drink it... She felt a little bad, using something so rich for this purpose, but it was all that she had. “Do you think you could smash it into quarters?” she said.

“Understood!” Chue produced a mallet from the folds of her robe, rolled back the reeds, and cracked the ice. Maomao rubbed her eyes. She doubted what she had just seen; it seemed like it should have been impossible to do so casually. “Will that do?” Chue asked.

“Thank you. It will,” Maomao said with a respectful bow of her head, which Chue returned. She set the bucket of ice in front of Maomao, then wiped the mallet with a handkerchief and returned it to its hiding place. Afterward, she hop-hopped back the way she had come.

“Her name might mean sparrow, but you could take her for a squirrel,” Suiren said, looking right at Maomao. She seemed to mean that there was no way a person should have been able to hide a mallet that large in her robe. Then she asked, “Is there anything else you need?”

“No, thank you.”

“If you’d come this way, then, please.” Suiren led Maomao to an inner room. “You come over here. You can taste-test these new snacks,” she said, pulling Gaoshun aside. He didn’t question her, but nodded respectfully and sat down where she indicated. Maomao even thought she caught a twinkle in his eye. She gave him a very conflicted look and closed the door.

Jinshi, looking distant, immediately flopped onto the bed. Maomao wasted no time; she put the ice she’d been given in a leather bag and handed it to him. “Press that on your wound, please. Cool it down.” Chilling the abdomen could upset the stomach, but it would be better than administering this treatment with nothing to blunt the pain. “If you find yourself wanting to go to the bathroom, tell me right away.”

“Is that all you have to say to me?” Jinshi pressed the bag against his side, looking put out.

After a second, Maomao asked, “What should I say to Master Gaoshun and Mistress Suiren? I suppose I can feel free to ignore the...other person out there.”

Maomao took out the medicines and instruments she’d brought along, which included a small knife for cutting away the burned skin. The people out there might trust her, but if they had any idea she was carrying what amounted to a weapon, they would never have left her alone with Jinshi.

What would they do if they thought I was an assassin? True, Jinshi could overpower her if he had to, but it still seemed impossibly incautious.

“Gaoshun is here on the Emperor’s orders,” Jinshi said. It wasn’t really an answer, but Maomao understood what he meant. If His Majesty had told Gaoshun to be here, he had probably also informed him that Jinshi’s body effectively had become a bomb, and that no one but Maomao was to touch him. Gaoshun might or might not know the details, but unlike Basen, he would do his duty faithfully. “And,” Jinshi continued, “it was Suiren who prepared the brand.”

Maomao froze. “Why in the world would she do that?” Had Jinshi deceived his caretaker, duping her into making the brand somehow? Maybe not; Maomao doubted whether he was capable of outwitting the old woman. Neither option seemed possible.

“Suiren is my ally,” Jinshi said. Maomao found it hard to comprehend. If Suiren had really been Jinshi’s nursemaid, contributed to his education and upbringing, how could she possibly countenance what he had done to himself?

I can’t imagine what Suiren is thinking. Was it possible that Gaoshun was here not just to keep an eye on Jinshi, but to monitor Suiren as well? Stop. Don’t think about it. That’s not what matters now.

Maomao brought over the candle that served as the room’s illumination and put the dagger in the flame to sanitize it. She shook the knife to cool it a little, then prepared to resume the previous day’s work.

Jinshi was still chilling his side.

“Loosen your belt, please,” Maomao said.

“Er... Yes, of course.” There was a swish as Jinshi undid the belt and removed the bandage. Under a thick layer of salve was burnt flesh that Maomao had been unable to remove before.

“You’ve eaten?” she asked.

“Yes, I’m done.”

“Take this, then.” She mixed medicine into some hot water, drinking a mouthful for his benefit.

“A painkiller?”

“It’s to stop infection. Do you need a painkiller?”

“I do.”

“Huh! I wouldn’t have expected it. Here I thought you did this sort of thing for fun.”

It was a joke, albeit a barbed one. She added some analgesics to the cup. Even if he drank it now, though, it wouldn’t stop the pain he would feel when she started cutting.

Maomao wiped the balm off Jinshi’s side, then rubbed the skin with alcohol. It was very cold to the touch thanks to the ice; when she poked it with her finger, it was slow to bounce back. She passed Jinshi a handkerchief. “It’s going to bleed. Could you wipe it for me? And get off the bed. You won’t do any of us any favors getting blood on it. I’ve got it—lie here, on your side.”

Maomao lined up three chairs, and Jinshi lay down as she asked. His feet stuck off the end, but they would just have to live with it. Maomao covered the area around Jinshi’s wound with oil paper, spreading some on the ground as well.

Jinshi and Maomao were the only ones in the room. She couldn’t ask anyone to help her. Jinshi nodded that he was ready.

“Here I go.”

Jinshi, anxiety written on his face, sucked in a breath but said, “All right.” Concern was, perhaps, the natural reaction when someone was about to plunge a knife into your skin, but nonetheless his expression seemed odd.

Maomao dug the knife into the burned skin. Blood bubbled up immediately.

Don’t tell me he’s a little...excited?

Jinshi’s pallor was good, showing he had excellent blood flow—but that defeated the purpose of chilling his skin. She would have to work quickly.

She started cutting away the remaining charred flesh. Blood poured out, and she relied on Jinshi to keep it at bay. She was making every effort to keep the cuts as shallow as possible, but this wasn’t like filleting a fish. Blood dripped onto the oil paper on the floor. Ploop, ploop.

After Maomao had removed the last of the burned skin, the shape of the brand and the details of the crest stood out all the more.

I wish I could just cut that straight off, she thought. Removing all the burned skin so the brand could no longer be seen would cut her troubles in half at the very least. At this moment, however, she had to prioritize proper treatment. Her specialty was herbs and medicines; when it came to what she was doing to Jinshi now, she was barely better than an untrained amateur. She didn’t want to do anything that would provoke more bleeding than necessary.

She stanched the blood with puhuang, then pressed gauze covered with oil paper to the wound. She cinched the bandage down tight to help stop the bleeding.

Maomao exhaled heavily, then wiped up the rest of the blood with a handkerchief. Jinshi’s hand where he had been holding the cloth in place was filthy.

“Here.” Maomao wet a rag and passed it to him. “I have medicine for you to take each day, and a salve to put on the wound. I’ve also prepared coagulants, in case the bleeding doesn’t stop. I have ten days’ worth of fresh bandages and gauze.” She patted a small chest containing the supplies. “Since I know you’re a quick study, Master Jinshi, may I assume you’ve already picked up how to secure the bandage?”

“As far as it goes, yes...” Jinshi looked like there was more he wanted to say.

“And you can dress yourself?”

“Yes,” he said with profound annoyance. Maomao suspected she knew what it was he was holding back.

“I wish I could come to check on your progress every day, but I think the best we can hope for is about once every three days. Daily would be asking too much. That’s why I need you to be able to change your own bandage.”

During the vacation, it might be manageable. As long as Yao and En’en weren’t around, she might even be able to keep them in the dark about her nighttime excursions. But there were too many eyes and ears out there to keep things completely secret.

The rumor mill was already working the last time he came to the pleasure district.

Back then, he’d appeared every ten days so she could check on the scar on his face. He’d worn his mask, but that had only made him more provocative and mysterious. The signs had been obvious: from his clothing and perfume, everyone in the pleasure district had been able to tell he was somebody important.

But what the hell am I supposed to do about it?

Considering the severity of Jinshi’s current injury, he should have had a proper doctor look at it immediately. Maomao specialized in herbs, internal medicine. She was no expert when it came to surgery. Yes, she’d once helped amputate an arm when a soldier had been wounded in a bandit attack, but that was because her hand, as it were, had been forced.

“You’ve gone quiet. Anything else you need to tell me?”

“I’m thinking, sir. I have a lot on my mind.”

Curse this root of all evil! And now the root was talking to her?

Jinshi came closer to Maomao, who immediately backed away.

“What?” he asked, disappointed that she should run.

“Don’t get so close. I stink. I’ve been sweating.”

“It can’t smell that bad.”

“It’s enough to bother me.”

She’d wiped herself down before setting out for Jinshi’s chambers, but she had been sweating from every pore and felt disgusting. Cutting away Jinshi’s burn had been nervous work. This wasn’t exactly the fine sweat one produced from exercising either; it was oily and stank.

Maomao took another step back. “What do you intend to do in the future?”

“Healing people is an apothecary’s job, isn’t it? Good thing I have one right here.”

The way he said it, so casually, made her want to punch him right in his beautiful face. Instead she took a deep breath, poured some water from a carafe into a cup, and took a drink. She didn’t bother asking Jinshi for permission.

Calm down calm down calm down!

“You’re right, sir, apothecaries do treat illnesses and injuries. But that burn is beyond my abilities. When it comes to surgery, I can only ape what I’ve seen others do—I’ve never formally learned. I’m not even certain that what I’ve done to treat you is correct.”

“You just did it, didn’t you? I don’t suppose you intend to stick any more bladed objects into me?” Jinshi rubbed his side jovially.

Before she could stop herself, Maomao slammed both hands on the table. It made her palms tingle, and she glanced around to see if anyone outside had noticed the noise. The chambers were spacious enough that she hoped not.

“First you put a scar on your cheek, then you put a burn on your belly—and you expect me to just trust that you won’t do any more harm to yourself after this?!” She shook out her hands even as she yelled. She wanted to believe that Jinshi wasn’t simply being overoptimistic, but once he did something, it would be too late. In short, Maomao was feeling her own powerlessness, and feeling it keenly.

I have to do something about this!

She thought of her old man. He’d taught her a great deal about herbs and medicines, but of surgery he had taught her only the barest facts. He had ordered her sternly never to touch a human corpse.

Maomao’s lips pinched together and she looked at Jinshi. “Master Jinshi,” she said.

“What?”

“I am currently one of the court ladies assigned to assist the physicians. I’m not sure I’m the most suited for the job, but I passed the test and earned the position on merit. How much privilege does it give me?”

For the moment, Maomao’s work consisted mostly of washing bandages and mixing simple medical concoctions. Maybe administering first aid for the mildest injuries. Those with serious afflictions were always sent to the veterans. Maomao wanted to know how much treatment she would actually be allowed to do, providing her abilities were up to the task.

Jinshi put a hand to his chin. “There is no official line in the sand. I suppose it would depend on the higher-ranking physicians’ caseloads.”

“Is that so, sir?”

Maomao thought of Dr. Liu. Of the ranking physicians, he was first among equals. If she was going to beg anyone to teach her, it would have to be him, or perhaps—

My old man would be pretty sad if I asked him to teach me to do surgery.

Not mad, sad. Her father, Luomen, was just that sort of person.

On some level, she thought she understood why he didn’t want to teach her surgery. It involved much that people considered impure, and even other doctors acted like it was something wholly different from treatment with medicine. She’d heard that it was worse in the west—that there, barbers doubled as surgeons!

Luomen had been persecuted himself, and had seen it happen to others. No doubt he had raised Maomao in the apothecary’s tradition to save her from such calumny.

And I’m grateful for that. But...

Maomao’s life had turned out far more full of drama than even Luomen had probably expected.

“Master Jinshi, I’m going to try to ask my father to teach me. You have no objection, I trust?” It would be best, she figured, to ask her old man first.

“Sir Luomen?” Jinshi feigned a moment’s thought. “Very well.” Luomen was a man of deep insight, and if Maomao came to him asking to learn surgery, he might suspect that something was up. At the same time, he would never speak of anything he only assumed.

I’m sorry, Pops, Maomao thought. She felt so anxious she thought a hole might open in her stomach, but staying silent would be even worse. You can blame it on him. She glared at Jinshi.

As for Jinshi, he gazed up at the ceiling. “It will be well if Sir Luomen agrees...” Jinshi started. Maomao, cleaning up her workspace, nearly said that it wouldn’t be well at all. She pulled up the bloody oil paper and put it in a leather pouch. She wiped up the blood that had gotten on the chairs and floor. She made her own eyes bloodshot trying to make sure there wasn’t a trace of the stuff left anywhere.

By the time Maomao was done cleaning up, Jinshi seemed to have reached his conclusion.

“I’ll be going, sir,” Maomao said.

“Already?”

“I’ve done what I came here to do.”

The nobleman gave her a beseeching look, but she couldn’t stick around and entertain him forever. At this hour, she might still be able to get back to the dormitory.

She picked up the last of her tools, then fixed Jinshi with a look. I have to make sure this part gets through to him. “What you have to bear, Master Jinshi, I don’t believe I could ever carry. Perhaps that’s why you did what you did.” She took a deep breath, let it out—then grabbed Jinshi by the lapels. “But you will not do it again.”

It was a miracle that she didn’t sound enraged.

Jinshi awkwardly avoided her gaze.

Is he going to be all right? she wondered. She was still anxious as she took her belongings and left the room.