The favored consort,
Gyokuyou,
had a lady-in-waiting who served her,
Yinghua,
and she devoted herself wholeheartedly to her work once again today.
The other day, she had committed the blunder of dozing off at work, but Consort
Gyokuyou,
her mistress,
did not
even reprimand her.
So Yinghua figured she could only serve with her whole being in return, cleaning from the
window frames
to each and every
railing
with meticulous care.
It was behavior unbefitting a lady-in-waiting, but Yinghua continued to work like a common servant. That was because Consort Gyokuyou had told her she liked hard workers.
When she went into the kitchen to tidy the tea set, a new maid was making something there. Her name was
Maomao,
but she rarely spoke of her own accord, so it was hard to tell what kind of person she was.
However, when Yinghua heard that the girl bore marks of abuse on her arms, had been sold off, and was now employed specifically as a poison taster, she could barely stand it.
She tried to get Maomao to eat more to fill out her thin frame, and didn't make her do cleaning since it would expose her scars. The other two maids seemed to share the same sentiment, and as a result, Maomao had almost no work to do.
Yinghua thought that was fine.
The head maid, Hongniang, thought that was going too far and assigned Maomao the laundry. Since laundry only involved carrying baskets, the scars on her arms wouldn't stand out. She also seemed to have assigned Maomao various small errands here and there.
"What are you making?"
She was boiling something that resembled grass in a pot.
"It's cold medicine."
She speaks only the bare minimum of words. He can't help but feel tears welling up thinking that perhaps her inability to get along with others is an aftereffect of the abuse.
In medicine
her expertise
runs deep, so she occasionally makes things like this. She tidies up nicely afterward, and the chapped-skin ointment he received from her recently had proven quite useful, so Yinghua had nothing to complain about. The medicine-making was also something Hongniang occasionally requested of her, it seemed.
She takes out a silver tea set and carefully polishes it with a dry cloth.
Maomao rarely opens her mouth, but she gives
well-timed
responses, so there is never a shortage of conversation. He told her about a strange story that had been making the rounds lately.
It was a rumor about a white woman dancing in the sky.
○●○
Maomao picked up the finished cold medicine and the laundry basket, and headed for the medical office.
At the very least, she wanted to defer to a doctor's judgment, even if only as a formality.
(Something from the past month or so?)
Maomao tilted her head at the thoroughly commonplace ghost story.
It was a rumor she had not heard before coming here. As for the various rumors that circulated,
Xiaolan
had been the one bringing them to her, so she could tell this was a recent story.
The rear palace is completely enclosed by city walls. There is no entry or exit except through the four gates, and a deep moat runs along the outside of the walls, making escape or intrusion impossible.
They say that a consort who tried to flee the rear palace still lies at the bottom of the deep moat.
(Near the city gates, then.)
There were no buildings nearby — a pine forest should have been stretching out in every direction.
(It started at the end of summer, right?)
This time of year is the harvest season for certain things.
As unsavory thoughts swirled through her mind, a grating voice reached her ears as if aimed right at her.
"Good work today."
Like a peony,
magnificent—
her smile was radiant, but Maomao kept her face perfectly blank.
"No, not at all."
The medical office sat near the Central Gate to the south, and the three departments overseeing the rear palace also maintained quarters there.
Jinshi
frequently appeared on the premises.
As a eunuch,
he should have been in the Directorate of Ceremonial, but this man belonged to no particular room—rather, he surveyed everything as if keeping watch over it all.
(A position above the chief court officials, huh.)
In theory, he might be a guardian of the current emperor, but it was hard to imagine a young man barely into his twenties filling such a role. Even if he were the emperor's son, there would have been no need to become a eunuch.
His closeness to Consort Gyokuyou suggested he might be a guardian on her side, but perhaps rather…
(The emperor's personal attendant?)
Judging by how he conducted himself with Consort Gyokuyou during imperial processions,
seemingly
proper enough, but people are not always what they appear.
Thinking about it all was such a hassle that she decided to file him away for now as the emperor's lover.
"You've got a look on your face like you're thinking something awfully rude."
"I'm sure it's just your imagination."
She bowed, turned, and stepped into the medical office, where a disheveled old doctor with a scraggly catfish mustache was grinding away at a mortar. Maomao knew this doctor wasn't making medicine—he was just doing it to pass the time.
Otherwise, there would be no need to hand over half of every batch of medicine she made each time.
He had initially dismissed her as a clueless little girl, but gradually his attitude softened after seeing the medicines she produced.
Now he even brought out tea and snacks and shared the materials she needed, though from the medical office's standpoint, this was hardly proper conduct.
There was little in the way of confidentiality oaths or anything of the sort.
"Could you take a look at these medicines?"
"Oh, it's you, little miss. Hold on a moment."
He prepared tea and light refreshments — not sweet buns, but rice crackers.
For Maomao, who preferred savory things, this was a welcome treat.
Lately, she had a nagging feeling she was being deliberately fattened up, though.
He was a herbalist and a good man — pleasant personality, but hopeless at his job.
The very
type.
"Save some for me too, would you?"
A sweet, gentle voice rang out.
Even without turning around, she could feel a radiant, almost dazzling presence descending upon them.
The herbalist, his face a mixture of surprise and excitement, hastily replaced the rice crackers and cheap tea he had so carefully prepared with white tea and
mooncakes,
and brought them over.
(My rice crackers...)
A brilliant smile settled into the seat beside her.
She had tried to refuse his company on account of the gap in their status, but he simply forced her back into her seat by the shoulder.
His forceful behavior — so completely at odds with his gentle appearance — left Maomao
thoroughly
exasperated.
"Doctor,
I hate to trouble you,
but could you fetch this from the back for me?"
He handed over a slip of paper.
Even from a distance, quite a number of items were written down. This should buy some time.
The quack doctor narrowed his eyes and entered the back room with a look of disappointment.
(This was probably his intention from the start.)
"So, what is the main topic?"
The perceptive Maomao asked while swirling her teacup.
"Are you familiar with the ghost disturbances?"
"Only by rumor."
"Then how about sleepwalking?"
Jinshi did not miss the glint that appeared at the corners of Maomao's eyes.
He chuckled softly, his celestial smile tinged with a hint of mischief.
A large palm stroked Maomao's cheek.
"And how would one go about curing that?"
He asked in a voice as sweet as honeyed fruit wine.