The Apothecary Diaries - Volume 9 - Chapter 6

Chapter 6: An Invitation to the Western Capital

“I’ll keep this,” En’en said, wrapping Kada’s Book carefully in a cloth. She and Maomao had guessed what kind of book it was likely to be—but Yao hadn’t. Yet she had seen it. For a few minutes, she sat frozen with the shock.

Still, I guess it shows she’s grown up a little bit. When Maomao had first met her, Yao would have made far more of a fuss about the book. Six months as a medical assistant seemed to have enabled her to accept ideas she might not have before.

Lahan sent word to Luomen, who would come for them the next day. Maomao hoped she could get her thoughts in order before then.

“I’m afraid there’s something I have to do,” she told Yao and En’en. She was concerned about how they were doing, but she had another problem to deal with, one she couldn’t get away from.

Soon she was bouncing along in a carriage, returning from the freak strategist’s house to her dormitory. It would be a lot faster if I could just go straight there, she thought. She didn’t want to take a carriage Lahan had procured for her directly to Jinshi’s villa, however. A different carriage would collect her at the dorm. The woman who ran the building gave Maomao a doubtful look, but didn’t ask any questions. Maybe her salary included a little something extra to make sure she wouldn’t.

As soon as Maomao arrived at the villa, she felt the tension in the air. The atmosphere was so dark Jinshi might have been trying to grow mushrooms; Gaoshun was going around with his brow in a perpetual furrow, and Suiren looking disturbed and murmuring, “My, my...” The only bright spot in the room was Chue, the serving woman. She brought Maomao tea, making that characteristic squeaking sound as she walked.

“This is fermented tea from the west,” she said. “It smells nice and is lovely with a drop of distilled alcohol in it, but they told me not to let you have anything to drink.” She shot a glance toward Suiren. Maomao wished she could have the alcoholic tea. In fact, she wished they would hold the tea.

After a moment’s hesitation, Maomao said, “Should I ask?” She didn’t really want to know, but Jinshi looked ready to spore at any moment, and she didn’t want any of it to land on her.

“If you’d be so kind?” Chue said, and Gaoshun came hustling over. There was no sign of Basen, and it seemed likely there wouldn’t be while his father was on the job.

“Yes, well... He’s to go to the western capital again,” Gaoshun said.

“Oh. Really. The poor guy.”

Jinshi’s face puckered in annoyance. From behind him, Gaoshun was making an emphatic no, no gesture by crossing his arms in an X. For some reason, Chue was mimicking him, although with her it looked almost like she was dancing. She made it look sort of fun.

“Who is she, anyway?” Maomao asked Suiren before she could stop herself.

“If I told you she was Gaoshun’s daughter-in-law, would that help?” Suiren replied.

“In-law? So that would make her his son’s wife?”

“Yes. Not Basen’s—there’s another older sibling, in addition to the older sister.”

“I see.”

While Maomao talked with Suiren, the metaphorical spores had practically become a cloud around Jinshi. Maomao turned back to him, resigned that she was going to have to hear the rest of the story.

“So, uh, why is that? Didn’t he just go last year?”

“Sir Gyoku-ou requested it. He wants Master Jinshi to see how smoothly things are running even in Sir Gyokuen’s absence.”

“Goodness,” Maomao remarked mildly, but in her head she thought, Sounds like a pain in the ass.

Gyokuen was Empress Gyokuyou’s father, currently in residence in the capital. Unless Maomao was misremembering, the Empress’s older brother Gyoku-ou was the one currently overseeing matters in the western capital.

Reaching that far city took more than two weeks by land. A round trip, including time at the destination, could easily see Jinshi away from the capital for more than a month and a half.

“Perhaps it’s not my place to suggest, but is it possible that someone else could go on Master Jinshi’s behalf this time?” Maomao said. It was an admirable idea, and Gaoshun and Suiren both acknowledged it with a nod. Only Chue shook her head, continuing to dance.

She’s very, uh...noticeable. I’m not sure what to do with her, Maomao thought. She was trying to be serious here, but with Chue hopping around at the edge of her vision, she felt like she might burst out laughing. Maybe that was the idea. Especially since she was doing it where only Maomao could see her. Not very nice. I know you’re trying to make me laugh. She tried her best to look somewhere she wouldn’t see the other woman.

Maomao’s look must have tipped off Suiren, for Chue soon found the old lady delivering a blow to the back of her head. Gaoshun had a most unusual daughter-in-law. He apologized to Suiren on Chue’s behalf.

“I’m sorry, but I think we had better go somewhere else,” Jinshi said, inevitably distracted by the kerfuffle.

“But of course, young master,” Suiren said. She went into the next room to prepare drinks. That was perfect for Maomao, who was eager to get down to the business of treating Jinshi.

She followed him into the next room and closed the door. Now bereft of his matron and his minder, Jinshi heaved a sigh. “May I continue the conversation?” he asked.

“Be my guest. May I have a look at your injury while you’re doing it?”

“Be my guest.”

Maomao took out bandages and medicine. Jinshi stripped off his overrobe to reveal the bandage around his abdomen.

Chue had practically caused Maomao to forget what they were talking about. What was it, again? Thankfully, Jinshi jogged her memory; she listened as she removed the dressing.

“Sir Gyoku-ou himself asked me to return to the western capital. I thought I might well decline, considering I was just there. But first Empress Gyokuyou, and then His Majesty himself, asked me to go, so I suppose that settles the matter.”

“The Emperor and Empress both? Do you think they were planning it, then?” Maomao felt herself break out in a cold sweat. The exposed wound was still red. She had succeeded in stopping the bleeding, but it was clearly still fresh.

“Sir Gyoku-ou’s letter arrived last night. He wants someone to come see how things are going in the western capital without Sir Gyokuen present.”

Maomao didn’t say anything. Jinshi already seemed to be mentally preparing himself. If he was going to the west, then Maomao would have to go with him. She inspected the injury to make sure it wasn’t festering, then applied more salve.

I need to get my old man to teach me some surgery, and fast. The matter was even more urgent than she had realized. If I knew how to replace damaged skin with fresh... Jinshi was trying to hedge her in, but she refused to simply let him have his way. I wonder if anyone’s ever done that successfully.

She searched her memory for any mentions in the books she’d read. In the past, there had been attempts to graft teeth and skin on slaves, but all of them she’d heard of had ended in failure. However, there had been some successes in moving a person’s own skin from one part of his body to another.

Maybe if I could pick a part of Jinshi’s body where it wouldn’t stand out...

The buttocks, perhaps. She tugged idly at Jinshi’s trousers.

He nearly jumped out of his skin. “Wh-What do you think you’re doing?!”

Guess I can’t tell him I was trying to get a look at his rump.

“Sorry. I needed to loosen your trousers a bit to reach with the salve.”

“You could at least warn me. Have you no shame at all?” He looked at her with the oddest expression.

“Now you worry about shame, sir?” Maomao had been somewhat frazzled recently thanks to Jinshi’s explosive antics, but now she was in her element. When she got a new method of treatment into her head, her mind began to work very fast.

She rubbed medicine into the wound, then bandaged it carefully. “I really need you to learn to do this yourself, sir,” she said, showing him the method once more for good measure.

She stepped away, and Jinshi pulled on his robe, looking somehow forlorn.

“This means I’ll have to accompany you to the western capital, doesn’t it?” Maomao asked.

“Yes, that’s what it would mean.”

On their last trip there, she was fairly sure there had been a real doctor among the staff, although she hadn’t paid them much mind. Maybe there was... Maybe there wasn’t. Maomao’s memory was not to be trusted in such cases. It would be so convenient if she could remember people after seeing them just once. And as a matter of fact, she knew someone like that.

Rikuson—that was it. The freak strategist’s aide was in the western capital now. Perhaps she would see him.

“Understood, sir. How long will we be there?” If it was about the same length as last time, she thought she could swing it, somehow.

“I don’t know. I would expect a minimum of three months.”

“Three months?” That was a long time—and that was at a minimum? Suddenly she had a thought: this was a punitive assignment. He’d done something unthinkable in front of the two most important people in the nation. Of course there would be repercussions.

“Master Jinshi...”

“I know. Don’t say it.”

Did he know what she was thinking, or was he imagining something else? He could tell her not to ask, but ask she must—though she would settle for a comparatively easier question.

“I have a lot of questions, but let me pose this one: Why would Lady Gyokuyou insist that you go?”

The Emperor she could understand, but even the Empress had told Jinshi to go to the western capital. Why? That area was ruled by her family, and Jinshi had just sworn fealty to her.

“I don’t know for sure yet, but I have an idea,” Jinshi said, half to himself. “Sir Gyoku-ou’s daughter will soon enter the rear palace.”

“Oh?” Maomao nodded, but she was also puzzled. Entering the rear palace meant the girl would become the Emperor’s bride. Even His Majesty would be hard-pressed to turn down the daughter of one of the most powerful men in the western capital.

One of his relatives is already the Empress—His Majesty’s proper wife, Maomao thought. Was Gyoku-ou trying to shore up his family’s power base by insinuating yet another blood relation into the court?

“I have no idea what Master Gyokuen must think of that, but don’t you suppose it puts Empress Gyokuyou in a rather difficult position?” Maomao said. The daughter of her older brother would be the Empress’s niece. Political marriages often involved partners with close blood ties, but Gyokuyou couldn’t be pleased at the prospect. What about Gyokuen? With his daughter’s position already secured, would he really want a grandchild to join the court as well?

That’s if she’s really a blood relation.

Maomao thought she was seeing cracks in the facade of Gyokuyou’s family.

“Is the Empress opposed to her niece’s admission to the palace?” she asked. Jinshi didn’t reply immediately, which Maomao took to mean she had the right idea. His expression told the story.

Finally he said, “True, she is not eager. However, she can’t chase the girl out of the rear palace either. Which means there must be a compromise.”

There were a scant few princes in the current Imperial line. Just three of them, in fact—and two were infants. There was only one serious candidate.

“Congratulations on your marriage, Master Jinshi!” Maomao said, clapping her hands.

Without a word, Jinshi grabbed her by the head and squeezed. She yelped in surprise; when he released her, she rubbed the side of her head and reminded herself that sometimes it was better to keep her mouth shut.

“You think I’m getting married—with this body?!”

It’s the body you gave yourself! Maomao objected privately, but this time she was clever enough to keep it to herself. Instead she asked, “Purely as a point of reference, is there anyone else besides you suited to marry her?”

“You’d have to go back several generations in the Imperial family. The kinds of people who spend most of their time these days cooped up in temples reading holy texts and keeping their distance from the common world. Assuming none of them has started to harbor such outsize ambitions that they’re ready to foment rebellion, I don’t see any candidates there.”

“And I suppose she and her father wouldn’t settle for a worthy retainer?”

If, however, Jinshi were to be leaving for the western capital just as the young lady arrived, the wedding could be delayed for months. The father of the bride couldn’t even object, because he was the one who’d summoned Jinshi.

I feel bad for the girl, dragging herself all the way here just to sit around and wait.

Sympathetic though she might be, however, there was nothing Maomao could do. Anyway, if Jinshi had been willing to marry a girl just to make her happy, there’d have been no end of young ladies with sob stories showing up at his door.

Can’t be overly concerned with other people’s affairs.

Maomao had other things to do. “When do you think you’ll be leaving?” she asked.

“Two months from now,” he replied.

Not much time. She had so much to learn, and she would have to do it in a hurry.

Jinshi looked like he wanted to say something else, so she asked, “Is there anything else on your mind, sir?”

He paused, then said, “I don’t have enough information yet. I’ll get in touch with you another time.”

“Very well, sir.” Maomao gathered up her medicines and bandages, confirmed when she should come back next, and then left the villa.