The Apothecary Diaries: Volume 2 (Light Novel)

Prologue

Are you quite serious? Jinshi asked. Across from him, a man reclined on a couch. A middle-aged ruler with a prodigious beard, who now nodded slowly.

They were in a particular pavilion in the outer court. Small, but with excellent visibility; a mouse couldn’t have crawled in without them seeing it. The ruler leaned on his ivory-bedecked couch and poured grape wine into a glass vessel. Although he was sitting with the most august personage in the nation, Jinshi had also been quite at his ease. At least, until a moment ago.

The Emperor stroked his beard and grinned. Would it be rude of Jinshi to suggest he didn’t like it? But the beard looked very good on His Majesty. Jinshi couldn’t beat him in the facial hair department.

So, what are you going to do now, O groundskeeper of our garden of lovely blossoms?

Unwilling to rise to His Majesty’s bait, Jinshi held back a wry smile, instead offering one like that of a heavenly nymph—an expression that could have melted any heart he chose. It might not sound very humble, but Jinshi was confident in his own looks if nothing else.

What a great irony, then, that the one thing he truly wanted, he could not get. No matter how he strived, his aptitudes were hardly more than ordinary. Yet outwardly, if in no other way, he was utterly exceptional.

It had always used to eat at him, but he had come to accept it. If his intelligence and physical prowess were to be irredeemably average, then he would do all he could with the one advantage he did possess. Thus he came to be the gorgeous overseer of the rear palace. His looks, his voice, seemed too sweet to be those of any man, and he would employ them to the fullest.

Whatsoever you wish, sire. Jinshi, with a smile at once graceful and determined, bowed to the Emperor.

The Emperor sipped his wine and grinned in a way that invited Jinshi to do his worst. Jinshi knew full well that he was no more than a child. A child dancing in the Emperor’s great palm. But he would do it. Oh yes, he would. He would entertain even His Majesty’s most outrageous wishes. That was Jinshi’s duty, as well as his wager with the Emperor.

He had to win that wager. It was the only way Jinshi would be able to choose his own path. Perhaps other ways existed. But a man of ordinary intelligence such as Jinshi couldn’t imagine them.

Thus he had chosen the road he now followed.

Jinshi brought his cup to his lips and felt the sweet fruit wine wet his throat, the heavenly smile never slipping from his face.

○●○

Here you go. Take this, and this—oh, and you’ll need one of these.

Maomao winced at all the stuff that came veritably flying at her. The one flinging the rouge and whitening powder and clothes in her direction was the courtesan Meimei. They were in her room at the Verdigris House.

Sis, I don’t need any of this, Maomao said, taking the cosmetics one by one and returning them to their various shelves.

Like fun you don’t, Meimei said, exasperated. Everyone else there is going to have even better stuff than this. The least you could do is try to look decent.

Only courtesans get this tarted up to go to work.

Maomao had just glanced aside, privately wishing she could go mix those herbs she’d collected the day before, when a bundle of wooden writing strips came flying at her. Her esteemed older sister was solicitous, but sometimes short-tempered. "You finally get a job worth having, and you won’t even try to act like you belong there? Listen, the world is full of people who would kill to be in your place. If you aren’t grateful for what you’ve got, your hard-won clientele will run out on you!"

Oh, very well... Maomao said. Whether administered by the madam or Meimei, education in the Verdigris House could be a bit rough. But there was truth to what she said.

Maomao picked up the writing strips a bit sullenly. The wood was dark where it had been written on and then erased over and over; currently, it bore the words of a song, written in a delicate hand. Meimei was old enough to be thinking of retiring from courtesan’s work, but her intelligence saw her popularity continue to flourish. She could write songs, play Go and Shogi, and thereby entertain her clientele. She was one of those courtesans who sold not so much her body as her accomplishments.

You’ve got a plum job now. Save up all the money you can make. The wood-strip-flinging woman of a moment ago was gone, replaced by Maomao’s sweet, caring older sister. She stroked Maomao’s cheek with a manicured hand, tucking some errant hair behind her ear.

Ten months before, Maomao had been kidnapped and sold into service as a maid in the rear palace. Never in her wildest dreams had she imagined that after successfully making her way back to the pleasure district, she would once again go to work there. To those around her, it must have seemed a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity. Hence the stern look in Meimei’s eyes.

Yes, Sister, Maomao said obediently after a moment, and Meimei smiled her graceful courtesan’s smile.

I hope you’ll make more than just money. Make yourself a nice match with a fine man too, eh? There must be plenty of them just bursting with cash there. Oh, and I would be thrilled if you’d bring a few of them by to be my customers. The smile this time wasn’t so gracious; there was a distinct element of cold calculation to it. Her chuckling older sister looked a bit like the old madam who ran the place, Maomao reflected. A girl had to look out for herself to survive in this line of work.

Ultimately, Maomao found herself sent on her way with a large bundle packed to bursting with clothing and cosmetics. She worked her way back to her simple house, stumbling under the load.

The day when the gorgeous noble had appeared in the pleasure district two weeks after Maomao’s departure from the rear palace was still fresh in her memory. The eunuch, with his very particular proclivities, had—thankfully—heard the words Maomao had spoken half in jest and taken them in earnest. He had confronted the madam with more than enough money to cover Maomao’s debts and had even had the decency to bring a rare medicinal herb as a gift. It hadn’t taken even thirty minutes to stamp the contract.

So it was that Maomao was to resume her employment at that most renowned of workplaces. She was somewhat reluctant to leave her father again to go live in her place of employment, but the conditions imposed by her new contract were, as far as she could tell, much more lenient than before. Moreover, this time, she wouldn’t be simply disappearing without a trace. Her father had told her with a gentle smile to do what she wished, but then his face had briefly darkened when he looked at her contract. What had that meant?

Looks like they were very generous, Maomao’s father remarked, a large pot of medicinal herbs boiling nearby. Maomao finally put down the cloth-covered bundle and stretched her shoulders. Their ramshackle house was so drafty that it was cold even with the fireplace lit, and she and her father were each wearing several layers. She caught him rubbing his knee, a sure sign that his old wound was paining him.

I can’t take much of it with me, Maomao said, looking at the cargo she’d already prepared. The mortar and pestle are musts, and I can’t do without my notebook. And I’m a little leery of getting rid of any more undergarments...

As Maomao frowned and grumbled, her father took the pot off the fire and came over. My Maomao, I’m not so sure you can bring these with you, he said, and plucked her mortar and pestle out of her bundle, earning a glare. You’re no doctor. Try bringing these in, and they might figure you’re planning to poison someone. Come now, don’t look at me like that. You made this decision, and you can’t take it back now.

Are we sure about that? Maomao slumped down onto the dirt floor. Her father deduced at a glance what she was really trying to say.

All right now, finish your preparations and then get yourself to bed. You can ask them to let you have your tools, just over time. It’d be rude not to be focused on your work, at least on the first day.

Yeah, fine... Maomao grudgingly returned the apothecary’s implements to the shelf, then picked out a few of the most useful-looking parting gifts she’d received and put them in her bundle. She scowled at the whitening powder and the seashell full of blush, but eventually included the latter, which didn’t take up too much room. Among the gifts was an excellent padded cotton jacket. Maybe they’d taken the opportunity to foist something on her that a customer had forgotten; it certainly didn’t look like anything a courtesan would wear.

Maomao watched her father stash the pot away and put some wood on the fire. Then he hobbled over to his bed, a simple reed mat, and lay down. His bedclothes consisted only of another mat and a poor outer robe.

When you’re finished, I’ll put out the light, he said, pulling the fish-oil lamp close. Maomao packed the rest of her things, then went to tuck herself into her bed on the other side of the room. She was caught by a passing idea, though, and dragged her sleeping mat over toward her father’s.

Well, now, it’s been a while since you did that. I thought you weren’t a child anymore.

"No, but I am cold." Was it a little too obvious, the way Maomao averted her eyes? She’d been, she recalled, about ten when she started sleeping by herself. It had been years. She stuffed the new cotton jacket between herself and her father and let her eyes drift shut. She rolled to one side and rounded her back, assuming a fetal position.

Ah, it’s going to be lonely around here again, her father said calmly.

Doesn’t have to be. This time I can come home whenever I want. Maomao’s tone was short, but she couldn’t help noticing the warmth of her father’s arm against her back.

Yes, of course. Do come back anytime. A hand tousled her hair. Father, she called him, Dad, Pops, but his appearance was closer to that of an old woman, and everyone agreed that his manner was motherly.

Maomao had no mother. Not as such. But she had her father who cared for her, and the yammering old madam, and her endlessly lively older sisters.

And I can come back and see them whenever I want. She could feel the warmth of her father’s hand, withered like an old branch, still stroking her hair as her breathing fell into the steady, even rhythm of sleep.

Chapter 1: Serving in the Outer Court

I was under the distinct impression that I would be going back to the rear palace. Maomao found herself wearing an outfit made of cotton. When she recalled the crude hemp dress she’d been allotted as a maid in the rear palace, it seemed awfully sumptuous.

You were let go, I’m afraid. You can’t go traipsing right back. No, this is where you’ll be working from now on. Showing her around the palace was Jinshi’s aide, Gaoshun, who was instructing her in the names of the various buildings and the offices that resided within them. Given the size of the palace proper, it was bound to be a dizzying tour.

The rear palace was part of the inner court, where the Imperial family resided. Her workplace now, though, was to be the outer court. In short, the same place as all the many functionaries who staffed all the many administrative organs.

Over to the east from here you’ll find a great many soldiers and military types, so I would suggest steering clear.

Maomao nodded even as she eyed the nearby plant life. I knew it. Lots more ingredients growing in the rear palace. She suspected it was her father, Luomen, who had planted the wide variety of useful herbs during his tenure there. It would explain the profusion of medicinal plants in an otherwise limited space.

As they walked along, Gaoshun explaining this, that, and the other thing, Maomao felt a peculiar prickling along her neck. She shot a glance behind her to discover some of the women who served in the outer court looking at her. Or more properly, glaring at her.

Just as there are things among men that only other men understand, there are certain things for which only women have a shared sense. Men have a tendency to resolve their differences physically, whereas women often resort to emotional means. These women seemed to be taking stock of the newcomer.

Don’t like this one bit, Maomao thought. She stuck out her tongue at the other women, then scuttled after Gaoshun toward the next building.

It turned out Maomao’s duties in the outer court would be much the same as those she had performed in the rear palace: clean the rooms she was told to clean and do odd jobs and little chores when and as she was instructed to do so. Jinshi, she gathered, had had bigger plans for her, but never got the chance to implement them: Maomao failed the test.

How could you have failed?!

Why should I have passed?

Jinshi and Gaoshun had both been stunned. Apparently they had simply assumed that Maomao would succeed. Being brought up in the red-light district, Maomao could read and write, and had received at least a baseline education in singing and playing the erhu. The test in question was not as difficult as the civil service examinations, so they seemed to have figured that with a little studying, she would pass easily.

Gee, excuse me for not living up to your expectations, Maomao thought as she wiped angrily at a window frame. She was in the hallway of Jinshi’s office. The architecture was plainer than that on display in the rear palace, though the building was perhaps a little taller. The vermillion-lacquered walls were a brilliant red, evidently refreshed each year.

The truth was, Maomao didn’t like studying, and was probably less adept than average at remembering things she wasn’t interested in. Drugs, herbs, and medicines were one thing, but why would anyone bother to learn history? What good would it do them? And as for the law, it changed constantly. What was the point of memorizing it? Maomao, sadly, was incapable of investing much effort in that direction. It was only natural she should fail the test.

She had, at least, opened the materials she’d been given to study with every intention of reading them through, but the next thing she knew it was morning. This happened several times in a row. So Maomao consoled herself that the outcome had been inevitable. She nodded in agreement with her own conclusion.

Didn’t expect this place to be so dirty.

On the one hand, such a big space had many spots that were hard to reach and easy to miss—but on the other, Maomao didn’t not suspect that there might have been a little slacking involved. The women who served here earned their place through the test, very much unlike the maids recruited, sold, or stolen to serve the rear palace. The women here had families and educations, and the pride to go with them. They probably saw maids’ work as beneath them. Even if they noticed some dust, it was unlikely they would lift a finger to do anything about it.

To be fair, it’s not their job, she thought.

The ladies of the outer court were something like secretaries. Cleaning was certainly not part of their portfolio, and there was no need for them to do it. But that didn’t mean they shouldn’t. The government had ceased to own slaves during the time of the former Emperor, and bureaucrats began hiring menservants and maidservants to do odd chores instead.

Maomao was now such a maidservant, serving directly under Jinshi.

In Maomao’s experience, women who served in the rear palace were widely referred to as palace women, while those who worked in the outer court were frequently called court ladies. She might or might not have been exactly right about that, but it was a distinction Jinshi and others like him seemed to observe when they spoke.

All right, what’s next? She turned toward Jinshi’s office. The room was large but not luxurious; in fact, it was quite spare. Its chief occupant was a busy man; once he left his office, he rarely returned to it quickly. That made it easier for Maomao to do the cleaning, but there was one problem.

Excuse me, but what precisely do you think you’re doing?

She registered that a number of unfamiliar ladies had surrounded her. They were all bigger than Maomao; one among them stood a full head taller than her.

The better they eat, the bigger they get, Maomao thought, her glance unconsciously taking in both the girls’ height and their bustlines. The one who had spoken to her was noticeably tall, implying an excellent upbringing.

Are you listening to me? the woman demanded while Maomao entertained these somewhat untoward thoughts.

In a word, the ladies were upset that Maomao was serving Jinshi personally; they wanted to know why she should have received such a privilege. Unfortunately, she wasn’t privy to the inner workings of Jinshi’s mind; she only knew that he had hired her. If Maomao had been a well-connected foreign gentlewoman like Gyokuyou, or if she had been as luscious as Lihua or as sexy as Pairin, no one would have objected, nor would they have had grounds to. But Maomao looked like nothing more than a scrawny, befreckled chicken. The girls couldn’t stand it. It drove them mad to see Maomao by the side of the gorgeous eunuch; they would have given anything to trade places with her.

Hrm, Maomao thought, what to do now? She was hardly the world’s fastest talker; often, in fact, she would think hard but ultimately leave her mouth shut. But silence seemed likely to irritate these ladies as much as anything Maomao might actually say.

She decided to cut to the chase. Do I understand correctly that what you’re saying is that you’re jealous of me? It was more than enough to anger the ladies. It was only after she had been slapped across the cheek that Maomao started to reflect that maybe she’d chosen the wrong words.

There were five women around her, and Maomao hoped to avoid them killing her on the spot. But they herded her inexorably toward a dark corner of the hallway. She didn’t have much to lose at this point, so Maomao decided to see if she could talk her way out of this. You can’t possibly think I’m getting special treatment somehow?

The ladies’ faces distorted further. Maomao kept talking before she suffered another blow. That’s absurd, and we all know it. What could a distasteful wench like myself have to do with one who could well be one of the heavenly nymphs incarnate? She cast her eyes on the ground as she spoke, but the slight twitching of the ladies’ cheeks didn’t escape her notice. This might just work, she thought. Is this noble man you so desire a person of such poor taste? When fine abalone and boar’s meat are laid before them, who would deliberately wish to gnaw on a discarded chicken bone instead? One would have to possess very specific proclivities.

Those last words elicited another twitch from the women.

"I myself would not know, but do you believe that one of such beauty, with his ethereal smile, would possess such proclivities? I see, so his proclivities are—"

N-Nothing of the sort! That’s ridiculous!

Yes, ridiculous!

A general hubbub ensued among the women. Maomao thought she’d escaped by the skin of her teeth, but one of the ladies was watching her skeptically. "Yet none of that changes the fact that you were hired, isn’t that true?" the comparatively calm woman said. She was the tallest of them, her face cool and composed. Now that Maomao thought about it, she realized this woman had remained detached throughout the preceding argument. Like the other women, she’d taken a half step back, but she continued to watch Maomao closely. She seemed like the type who might follow a mob just to see where it went, though not be a part of it herself.

Well, if that’s not enough to put them off... Maomao thought, and then she said: This is the reason. She held up her left arm and rolled down her sleeve. Then she began to unwrap the bandage that ran from her wrist to her elbow.

Eek! one of the women cried, and they all looked at her, speechless. Cruel scars covered Maomao’s skin.

Those experiments with burns I did recently left some good, nasty ones too, Maomao thought. The aristocratic young women must have been disgusted.

The heart of that most beautiful object of your affections is as celestial and pure as his smile. I can attest to it, for he has given even one such as me food and board. Maomao re-wrapped the bandage as she spoke. She was careful to accent her remarks with a demure glance at the ground and a gentle tremble of her body.

Let’s get out of here, one of the women said. Thoroughly relieved of any interest in Maomao, they promptly left. The tall one glanced back at her, but was soon gone as well.

There. Finally over, Maomao thought to herself. She cracked the joints in her neck and