The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 9 - Chapter 20

Chapter 20: Smack Up Against the Wall

It had been a very...characterful day. And a long one, for that matter. It was still only just past noon.

Just as Maomao had suggested, the quack doctor had dropped the key in the toilet.

“That’s right! Then I was so depressed about not being able to get into the medical office—and then someone asked me to run an errand.”

She’d called it, all right. The cleaning woman hadn’t even given the quack a chance to explain, and in the end he’d shuffled sadly away from the ship. By his own report, the market was nearby and he had figured he would be back soon.

Maomao gave the quack the extra key, then returned to the palace. She had no interest in looking after the freak strategist, and she was hoping to unload him on someone as soon as she could. In the event, she didn’t have to worry. Having had a nice walk and plenty to eat, all that was left was to take a nap. He was as drowsy as a three-year-old—and living about the same life—and when he was told to go to his room and get some sleep, he obediently did so.

It was hard not to feel bad for the freak’s aide, though. Maomao hoped he would be able to take a break himself. As for her, she went back to her room as well.

“I’ll be in the next room,” Lihaku said, stationing himself in the adjoining chamber. It was nice to know that if anything out of the ordinary happened, he would come running.

Well, looks like there’s nothing going on. I think I’ll get a little sleep too.

Maomao lay on her bed with every intention of not getting up again for the foreseeable future, but suddenly she found herself in the grip of a surge of anger. It was the quack doctor’s own fault that he had gotten into trouble, because of the way he just wandered from one thing to another. At a very deep level, he lacked any sense of danger. He had no business being on this trip.

Why the hell did they even bring him?!

Yes, that was the question. The quack was too laid-back to have so much as a twinge of doubt about it, but he was there as Luomen’s body double, and if he was unlucky, he could find himself kidnapped or worse. She knew they had done this for Luomen—or had they? Who had they done it for?

If anything happened to my old man, who would take it the hardest?

The freak strategist? Or maybe even...

Maomao buried her face in the sheets and kicked the bed.

“I’m glad to see you’re keeping busy,” someone said. It was Chue. She had witnessed the petulant display, much to Maomao’s chagrin. How long had she been there?

“I’m sorry. I seem to have kicked up some dust,” Maomao said, sitting up and straightening the bedsheets as if nothing had happened.

“No worries. We’re going to go see the Moon Prince now, okay?”

“The Moon Prince? But it’s barely noon.”

Typically, Maomao changed Jinshi’s dressings after he had washed for the day. Putting on fresh salve only for him to take a bath would defeat the purpose.

“Don’t worry, you’ll see when we get there. I’ve brought boiled water—wipe yourself down.” Chue trotted in with her squeaky footsteps and laid out some fresh clothes for Maomao. It seemed to be a not-so-subtle message that she needed to change after hiking around outside and getting all sweaty. Chue’s behavior was every bit that of a lady-in-waiting, but watching the way she veritably danced around, her tail shaking, as she got ready—she was obviously having fun, but it also looked very tiring.

No wonder she eats so much.

All the dancing and sleight of hand and other little things must use a lot of energy. Thus enlightened, Maomao took the new clothes—although they weren’t completely new; they were the same as the ones she had gotten yesterday. Chue looked like she probably had a supply of several more sets.

Maomao wiped herself down and changed.

“Pardon us,” Maomao said as she entered Jinshi’s room. It was a chamber fit for a guest of state, with all the ornate decorations that entailed. It was several times larger than Maomao’s room and was divided into several chambers. She could even see a balcony outside.

“Please, come in,” said Suiren, who was there to greet them. She led Maomao to an inner room with a gentle smile. Past a curtain, Jinshi was lounging on a couch, Gaoshun at one hand, Taomei at the other. She didn’t see Chue’s husband, Baryou, but suspected he might be in the next room.

Oh-ho! Gaoshun and wife!

Maomao might have felt better with Taomei showing her around rather than Suiren, but maybe the old lady was being considerate, trying not to take any more family time away from Gaoshun. He and his wife were both busy people; it didn’t seem like they got to see much of each other. As Maomao might have expected from Gaoshun’s description of his “fearsome” wife, Taomei was the older of them, and she acted like it.

What with the banquet and all, Maomao hadn’t come to Jinshi’s rooms the night before. Now she saw that a member of the Imperial family truly was treated differently. There was an arrangement of fresh fruit on the table (no such thing had been present in Maomao’s room), including some that weren’t in season yet, like lychees, mangoes, and even bananas.

I wonder how they grew those.

She was most interested in the fruit, many of which she knew only in dried form or from pictures. She thought she could feel the spark in Chue’s eyes right over her shoulder. It was almost enough to make her reach out and take one of the pieces of fruit, but she knew she couldn’t do that. Having the old lady glaring at her was bad enough, but even Taomei had her one good eye fixed on Maomao. Gaoshun, for his part, was watching with his standard pleading “Please don’t do anything” face.

Maomao collected herself and looked at Jinshi. “Did you need something, sir?” If she sounded a bit stiff, it was because her anger from earlier hadn’t completely ebbed away yet.

“Need something? Not so much. At the moment, I mostly need you to wait.”

“Maomao,” Suiren said, placing a hand on her shoulder. “We’ll have a visitor soon. If you would step back for the time being.”

“Yes, ma’am,” Maomao said after a beat. Why had they called her here, if they just wanted her to wait?

Shortly thereafter, a large man entered the room accompanied by a woman. He appeared to be supporting her body weight.

Wait. Is that... Maomao thought she recognized the woman, who possessed a restrained, ephemeral beauty.

“Princess Fuyou. Allow me to congratulate you on your pregnancy. I can only apologize that I wasn’t able to greet you sooner,” said Jinshi, conclusively identifying the woman.

Fuyou! The woman who had caused the stir about the spirit in the rear palace. The woman whose somnambulance had made her dance upon the palace walls. The man with her must be the soldier to whom she had been given, then.

“Moon Prince. Never is there a moment when I forget the kindness you’ve shown me. It was thanks to you that I was able to return to my home country.” Fuyou sat slowly. Her clothing was billowy, but still her body looked heavy. Her belly was probably quite big under that outfit.

Her husband said nothing, most likely because here and now, his wife ranked higher than he did.

“Without your intervention, Moon Prince, I doubt I would find myself here today,” Fuyou said.

Could it be? Maomao thought. The people riding in the other carriage when she’d arrived in Anan—could that have been Fuyou and her husband? Lihaku had said Li was loath to let go of one of its best soldiers, but Fuyou had evidently been sent back to her home on account of being pregnant. And Jinshi had evidently helped her.

So what happens to her husband in this situation? Would he stay in Li, or go back to Anan? Maomao didn’t know, but being able to have one’s child in one’s own homeland mattered a lot. I think I get it. Jinshi had wanted Maomao to see the two of them.

There was just one thing: I didn’t really do anything in that case.

Jinshi had told Maomao to cure Fuyou’s sleepwalking, but Maomao had suspected that it was only an act anyway. Seeing the princess now, she was virtually certain. Yet she had never informed Jinshi of those doubts.

Did he figure it out himself?

She’d told Empress Gyokuyou the truth, quietly, but she doubted the Empress had let anything slip. If Jinshi had realized that Maomao had been covering for Fuyou, that made her somewhat uncomfortable. At the same time, she was glad to know that Fuyou was happy.

Fuyou and her husband spoke to Jinshi about something or other, civil and courteous the whole time, and then they left.

They seem like a good couple. Even in those few minutes, Maomao could tell. The soldier fawned over Fuyou so much that it was almost embarrassing. He had earned the right to marry her through his deeds, but it was thanks to Jinshi that they had been able to come back here after that. It also seemed increasingly likely that Jinshi knew what Fuyou had been up to in the rear palace.

Maybe he’s just a soft touch.

He had a sentimental streak he couldn’t quite shake. A nice thing as a person, but a weakness as a man of power.

It’s going to hamstring him.

It was the same with how he treated the quack doctor. On some level, he was using the quack, but he was only doing that because of that same devotion to sentiment.

Jinshi tended to sell short his own abilities.

I mean, no, he manages to do things. He just took too much upon himself. Things would go so much better for him if he could let certain things go, yet instead he continued to reach out. The more he thought he could help, the more he got involved, until he was spread too thin.

I know someone else like that... She thought of the person she was always chasing after. He, too, spent himself in the service of others. He was the man Maomao respected more than anyone.

I guess it’s my fault the quack got mixed up in all of this.

It was Maomao—Maomao was the one who would take it the hardest if Luomen found himself in danger. Jinshi had proven himself a kindhearted politician, yet at the same time, still naive.

That’s why he was able to be such a complete ass.

Why had Jinshi done something so idiotic?

“You’re half responsible for this,” Empress Gyokuyou had said. Jinshi had a strong sense of duty. Maomao might have expected him to be less impulsive. She might have thought he could have at least waited until the princes were a little older.

It turned out he couldn’t.

Some people just have the weirdest tastes, she thought for the umpteenth time. Jinshi sometimes seemed to show a liking for creatures with strange dispositions. The unworldly little master had found himself unable to find a new toy among all the people around him. Like a baby chick, he imprinted on one single toy, and it became his whole world.

If I’m just a thing to him, then he should treat me like one and order me around. The naive child was unable to do that, however, and so had chosen a crueler method instead.

When Jinshi had burned that brand into his side, the one he had hurt the most was not himself, but the Emperor, or so Maomao thought. She’d found her hypothesis turning to suspicion, and then suspicion turning to certainty: she’d begun to think she knew what the true relationship was between Jinshi and His Majesty.

The Emperor is Jinshi’s real father.

Jinshi had lived his life as the “Imperial younger brother,” but if he was actually the Emperor’s supposedly dead son... Surely he wouldn’t have done what he did? The question left Maomao with a shadow of a doubt. If what she suspected was true, what then?

What do I do? Even as she asked the question, she felt she already knew the answer.

“You can step forward now,” said Suiren, giving her a gentle push. Maomao wasn’t sure she liked the pregnant tone in the old woman’s voice.

“I see you wanted me to know what became of Lady Fuyou,” she said, bowing to Jinshi. For the moment, she took the other thoughts she’d been having and stashed them in the corner of her mind.

“Not as such. I simply thought it might benefit you to be aware, since I did ask you for help with her.”

“Yes, sir. I admit, I feel somewhat better having seen this.”

Maomao glanced around. She couldn’t escape the sense that Jinshi was trying to be thoughtful toward her.

All right, time to play the game.

She looked over at the balcony. “This is quite a sumptuous room, sir. It even has a balcony.”

“You like it? Feel free to go out and have a look.”

“If I may, then.” She trotted straight for it.

“Xiaomao!” Gaoshun tried to stop her, but out of the corner of her eye she could just see Jinshi holding him back.

She stepped out onto the balcony. Well! She’d assumed it would be the perfect place to be assassinated by an arrow, or a feifa gun, but that turned out not to be the case. There’s so many trees around, it would be hard to get a good shot. And there’s nowhere to shoot from nearby either.

It seemed to her that the balcony had been deliberately designed to be safe. She was no expert, but she supposed that anything else would have been inappropriate in a VIP’s room.

Because it was safe, no one followed Jinshi when he stepped onto the balcony with her. Taomei was saying something to Gaoshun; it was clear he was no match for his wife.

Not sure I like the sense that we’re being set up here, though...

She was alone with Jinshi. That wasn’t so strange; she was going to have to look at his burn later, but she wanted to do it before her mood changed.

“I hear you had a trip into town today,” Jinshi said.

“Yes, sir, and the townspeople have much to say about Li.”

The locals could hardly have been called favorably disposed, but at least things didn’t seem about to explode.

At least, they were favorably disposed enough that they might try to send a woman to a guest of state...

“Master Jinshi, please be careful tonight. As every night,” Maomao said. There was always the risk that some woman might try to invite herself into Jinshi’s bed.

“I never can guess what you’re going to say next.” Jinshi leaned against a wall, out of sight of his attendants. It looked like Gaoshun wasn’t the only one walking on eggshells around Taomei.

“Surely you can imagine what I mean, sir? Just think back to your nights at the rear palace.”

“Hngh,” Jinshi groaned, looking upset. So he did have some idea what she meant. He looked at her like he had something to say, but couldn’t quite get it out. Finally he managed, “Ahem. As you can see, Princess Fuyou has come home. The King of Anan’s niece will be entering the rear palace—I hesitate to say in exchange, but...”

“It sounds very busy.”

“Yes. Empress Gyokuyou’s niece is supposed to be coming as well.”

“I heard that, sir. Interesting that you have, though. Remind me who it was that ran away from the rear palace?” Maomao pressed. “You’re no longer Jinshi, Master Jinshi, and I think it would be best if you stopped troubling yourself about the rear palace forever and focused on your own work.”

“I would agree, but it turns out I can’t seem to cut myself off completely.”

Maomao looked at him, unimpressed. He managed to meet her gaze, but he didn’t look very comfortable.

Maomao found herself angry again. “Master Jinshi, you’re a man of power, and I think it’s time you behaved like it.”

“I know...”

“You should use the things that are available to you to use.”

“I am...”

“In that case...” Maomao stepped up to him and smirked, standing on her tiptoes to look him right in the face. She slammed her right hand against the wall, effectively trapping him. His eyes went wide. “I can’t say I enjoy being used. However—” Here she lowered her voice so that only Jinshi could hear. “Half-assed attempts at being nice are a far greater nuisance. I’d much rather be a useful tool than a meaningless burden. Your hesitation is the country’s hesitation, and a moment’s indecision on your part could mean the deaths of tens of thousands of your subjects. I know you’ll only regret that. So you might as well pick a path and throw yourself headlong down it.”

Finally, she leaned away from him.

“If you’re going to use something, then use it. Medicine doesn’t work unless you take it.”

She closed her eyes and let out a long sigh. Everything she’d pent up inside had come pouring out her mouth. Maomao was no princess; she was a common apothecary. If he was going to pull her strings, then it was better he just go ahead and do it. He should use her till she fell apart.

If she could escape all of it, of course, she would have liked to, but she wasn’t going to cut off her nose to spite her face. There was more she wanted to say, but she figured she had pushed it about as far as she could.

She discovered, though, that there was something else behind her boiling anger. Her hands went to Jinshi’s cheek. “You’re only human, Master Jinshi. You’re not some mythical immortal who can save everyone.” She held his face in her hands, the fingers of her left hand brushing his scar. “You can be wounded, scarred, brought low. Only human.”

Who was she talking to? She knew Jinshi was standing in front of her, but for some reason she kept seeing Luomen’s face.

No wonder I’m so upset.

The principle that drove Jinshi’s behavior seemed very similar to Luomen’s. She was afraid that if he went on like this, he would end up just as luckless in life as her old man. Just like Pops... He’d spent himself trying to rescue everyone and everything. Like a fool. He should have wanted more, been greedier, but instead he’d suffered his fate patiently.

Suffered and suffered, and for what? To become an old man resigned to his empty hands.

This was, it was fair to say, Maomao’s one criticism of her father. She’d felt it keenly in the affair with the Shaonese shrine maiden. She respected Luomen immensely. A man who never lost his kindness no matter what unhappiness he encountered was like a miracle. The price, though, was that his body and his heart were both battered. In time he became so that everything he did, he did in the expectation of defeat. Would Jinshi end up like him one day? Or—

“Please, please don’t go doing anything else like burning a brand into your skin,” Maomao said.

“I heard you...the first several times,” Jinshi replied.

“Are you sure?” A smile flitted across Maomao’s face, and she slowly pulled her hands away. Except they didn’t leave his cheeks. Jinshi held them there. “Please let me go, sir,” she said.

“Don’t want to.”

He sounded like a child. It was something he did sometimes, resorting to childlike language.

“I’d like to be going back soon,” she said.

“Just a few more minutes.”

“Master Gaoshun must be beside himself.”

“Then just rejuvenate me a bit.”

“Rejuvenate?”

He let go of her hands and spread his arms wide.

Oh no. Is he coming in for a hug? She was just about to tell him that she would do no such thing, but the outstretched arms didn’t reach for her. Instead they shifted, so that they appeared to be ready to receive something.

“What exactly do you want?” Maomao asked.

“I wanted a hug, but I thought that at this moment, perhaps I need something else.” Jinshi scratched his left cheek, the one without a scar. “Vigor. Help me out.”

“You want me to slap you.”

“As hard as you can. The way you slapped that lady-in-waiting at the Crystal Pavilion.”

His eyes were sparkling. What the hell was she supposed to do now? And what was he doing remembering her worst possible moments?

“Have you already forgotten what I said?” She’d just warned him not to do anything like that brand again, and hardly a minute later, here he was engaging in more self-destructive behavior.

“I understand,” he said. “This won’t leave a scar.”

“It’ll leave a mark!”

Maomao would be the one who got in trouble. They’d trusted her enough to leave her alone with Jinshi; she couldn’t betray that.

“Please.”

“I can’t!”

“I’m asking you!” Jinshi slumped to his knees. “There’s no one who can tell me what to do anymore,” he almost spat. Gaoshun and Suiren could scold him all they wanted, but they were still, in the end, his servants. The only person who could conceivably contradict Jinshi to his face would be the Emperor.

No one to tell you what to do, huh?

Jinshi’s request to be reduced to a commoner would mean severing his connection to the ruler.

I don’t know what their relationship is like, how they talk to each other, Maomao thought. From what she’d gathered, though, they seemed to have a good rapport, as royal blood relatives went. But you reap what you sow.

That would explain why he didn’t want her to take it easy on him. Maomao could only sigh.

“Fine. Close your eyes.”

“Thank you.”

Maomao pulled her hand back and whacked Jinshi across the face. It was not quiet.

Jinshi sucked in a breath and was about to open his eyes, so Maomao placed her hand gently over his eyelids. “Let me see it,” she said. Even her hand hurt, so Jinshi’s cheek must be burning. She could see the flush rising in it.

Suiren will never miss this. Whether the old lady got upset would depend on how Jinshi reacted.

“Pain, pain, go away,” Maomao said, recalling a rhyme her older sister Pairin had often used on her. She kissed the reddened cheek ever so gently. Her lips were colder than her fingertips, and made the cheek feel that much hotter.

I know a children’s verse can’t actually work. It was funny, though: somehow the cheek looked less red than before. Nah, that can’t be. And it wasn’t: rather, Jinshi’s entire body was redder than it had been.

Maomao lifted her hand off his eyes. He couldn’t quite look her in the eye, but his hands clasped hers firmly.

“M—Maomao,” he said.

“Yes, sir?” she answered, drawing away slightly.

“The other side too, please.”

He pointed at his right cheek, the one with the scar.

Maomao glowered at him. “Absolutely not, sir.”