Things got busy after that.
Jinshi said nothing. He didn't tell her to abandon the children, nor did he say it was futile. She was not immediately sent off to the execution grounds, either.
She didn't understand why, but it was a blessing for Maomao.
Maomao threw herself into reviving the children one after another. She was grateful that she had been permitted to stay in a village along the way instead of returning to the capital. The place had long since fallen into decline, but it had once thrived as a hot-spring resort, making it ideal for recuperation.
All the commotion, the hot water, and everything else—and arranged by Jinshi at that—meant that people naturally found it suspicious. They gathered around the carriage in droves.
Thanks to Gaoshun's quick thinking, they claimed Maomao had fallen ill, but that caused a commotion of its own. The one-eyed strategist with the slipped disc came crawling across the ground like a specter.
After that, the eccentric strategist was wrapped up in a futon by Rohan and the other subordinates, made to swallow sleeping pills, and loaded onto the earliest available carriage back to the capital—a true story that sounded too absurd to be real.
Maomao figured there would probably be payback later, but Rohan would handle it somehow. After all, she did know a thing or two about that man's adopted child. He was not someone to be trifled with, despite appearances.
As an afterthought, she asked for one more favor—
Suirei
be brought along. In an official capacity, Maon was assigned to stand guard and stayed in the village as well. He had a badly swollen cheek and was even more sullen than usual, but he did the work she asked of him, and she was grateful for that. The number of guards seemed excessive, but she decided more hands were better than fewer.
Suirei simply sat there listlessly, watching as Maomao warmed the children. Maomao grew furious and slapped her across the face.
Medicine was not omnipotent. Dosing a small child with the proper amount of a poisonous remedy was extraordinarily difficult. As a result, the last child stubbornly refused to wake up.
If the child did not wake up, it meant death.
"You're the one who prepared the dose, right? You're really going to stand there and say you failed, like it's nothing? You call yourself a pharmacist?"
Maon stepped in as if to shield Suirei, who was clutching her cheek in fear. Suirei's survival despite being of the same clan proved she carried precious lineage. And Maomao had just slapped her.
"Hey. You!"
"Don't get in my way! Bring me hot water! And a brazier!"
It seemed Kamimi
had been
bullying her as a stepchild,
but that was none of Maomao's concern. She wasn't the kind of person who could deeply empathize with another's misfortune.
If she had been the sort,
Roulan
She must have wanted to ask her older sister to do this work. But the current Suirei was like an empty shell.
In this state, she was of no use whatsoever. They must have foreseen that and brought Maomao along as a backup.
"Because of you, I've ended up in a place like this. At least take responsibility for what you did."
Suirei flinched at the words but began moving about unsteadily. She went to check on the children who still hadn't woken up, examining their eyeballs and peering inside their mouths.
In the meantime, Maomao tended to the children whose conditions were still critical.
One way or another, all five children eventually came back to life.
Perhaps because they had been in a comatose state for so long, the children were initially docile, and it took several days before their consciousness gradually returned.
The first children to wake up asked where their mother was, but the last child to wake remained in a daze the whole time.
Even so, the child ate properly and gave clear answers. Maomao had that particular child recuperate in a separate room.
Suirei, who had originally been a capable court lady, proved to be the hardest worker. Basen kept watch to make sure she wouldn't do anything strange, but she seemed fine for a while—at least as long as she was looking after the children.
Thanks to that, Maomao was able to enjoy long soaks in the hot spring for as long as Suirei pulled her weight. Basen told her not to slack off, but she couldn't have cared less.
And so about half a month passed before a welcoming party arrived from the capital.
The person who came made Maomao think for an instant it was Jinshi, but it wasn't. This person was smaller in stature and had no scar on their face. Maomao knew this person, who had a dignified air more befitting the word "stately" than "graceful."
"Ada."
The former high-ranking consort had come to the rundown hot-spring treatment facility dressed in men's clothing. The village girls and older women gazed at Ada with sparkling eyes. None of them had probably realized she was a woman.
"Sorry, he's rather busy at the moment. So I've come to pick you up in his place."
With that, Ada gave a warm smile and looked at Maomao and the others.
"Hey, freckles,
dim sum—
I want some."
A boy whose voice hadn't even broken yet pushed open the door and walked in. His name was
Chouu,
he said.
He had fine features, but with two missing front teeth, he had a goofy look about him.
His mischievous nature showed in his appearance, but it had only been a few days since he'd finally recovered enough to move around energetically.
Even though she'd been bedridden and dazed for so long, was it youth that allowed her to move around like this, or was it just good fortune?
The child who'd been poisoned and never woke up until the end — that was Zhao Yu.
Originally, the children who were supposed to ascend the gallows alongside their parents had been given different names. The other four children went to Ada, and only Zhao Yu ended up in the pleasure district.
Whether for better or worse, Zhao Yu had lost his memory. On top of that, while a mild paralysis still lingered on half his body, considering how dire his condition had been, there was no way to call it anything other than plain luck.
There had been moments when she'd feared he might never wake up at all.
Cuiling had been slapped around, but she was an outstanding pharmacist, and Maomao was already thinking of learning from her in the future. She was with Ada along with the four children.
The children who had been spared — for reasons no one fully understood — would be raised under Ada's care going forward. There had been talk of splitting them up among different guardians, but Ada had apparently refused, saying that was too harsh.
And Cuiling too —
Because she had no memory, it was deemed best to raise her separately from the other children, and so Zhao Yu had been sent here.
There seemed to be all sorts of complicated things going on, but none of it was Maomao's concern. Or at least, it shouldn't have been — yet somehow this hopeless little menace of a child was right here. She'd been told this was the safest place in a sense, though she had no idea what was supposed to be safe about it.
Maomao cracked her knuckle against the skull of the gremlin who had taken it upon himself to rummage through the medicine cabinet without permission.
"Ow!! What are you doing?"
"Don't just eat whatever you want."
Maomao snatched back the bundle of fine rice crackers she'd received from the young lady, then tossed him a chunk of brown sugar from the same shelf.
Zhao Yu seemed satisfied with that. He gnawed on the brown sugar and sauntered out of the apothecary. Presumably one of the friendly servants would play with him.
People say children are adaptable, and it really was the plain truth. Rather than moping over his lost memory, he was being fussed over by a beautiful young lady and entertained by the servants, and by all accounts he didn't have many complaints so far. The shrewd old madam seemed to be in a generous mood, so for a while at least there would be no furrowed brows.
Maomao nibbled on the salty rice crackers, then flopped carelessly onto the floor. She folded the flattened seat cushion in half, tucked it under her head, and lay on her back.
Her old man — Luomen — had not returned to the pleasure district but instead taken up a post at the imperial court. When it was a personal request from the Emperor himself, no one could very well refuse.
Gyokuyou had safely given birth.
The child was said to be a red-haired boy. Under normal circumstances it would have been cause for a grand celebration, but the inner palace was never that simple. Gyokuyou had quietly departed the inner palace. When a consort left the inner palace, it meant she was no longer a consort but an empress. That was what it amounted to.
(I need to go gather medicinal ingredients.)
Before her old man left the pleasure district, he'd apparently made quite a stockpile of medicines, but those were long gone by now. The fields would be overgrown too.
Maomao had plenty to do in the pleasure district.
Probably far more than she would have at court.
She hadn't seen Jinshi since then. He wasn't the kind of person she could meet even if she wanted to.
A man who had commanded armies and sustained a wound to his face couldn't very well return to the rear palace as a eunuch.
He must have reverted to his original—his true appearance.
As for treating the wound, there were plenty of skilled physicians even without Maomao, and her father was there too. Even if Maomao had been present, there probably wasn't anything she could have done.
It would be impossible for Jinshi, now that he was no longer a eunuch, to keep a suspicious-looking, scrawny girl around him. There was no need for furtive behavior from now on, either.
It was best to simply return to the apothecary in the pleasure district.
The madam probably wouldn't think of selling her off again either, now that her father was gone.
(Ah, I'm sleepy.)
She had pulled an all-nighter making medicine the previous evening. For the life of her, crafting new medicines was proving difficult. When she tried compounding multiple formulations to enhance efficacy, it sometimes produced toxicity instead.
She had cut her left arm and tested several varieties, but the effects still weren't convincing.
Since she was at it, she had even tried applying them to the wound on her ear, but she still couldn't tell.
Perhaps because of years of accumulated damage, her sense of pain was quite thoroughly numbed.
(Guess I really need to cut deeper to know for sure.)
Maomao looked at her left hand and bound her little finger tightly with string. Rising to her feet, she retrieved a small knife from a drawer in the cabinet.
(Alright.)
Just as she was about to bring the knife down—
"What do you think you're doing?"
A beautiful voice came from behind her.
"..."
When she turned, a man wearing a peculiar mask stood at the doorway. Behind him were the familiar careworn middle-aged man and the capable madam, the latter pressing her palms together with an ingratiating smile.
"Is your work all taken care of?"
Maomao unwound the string from her finger and returned the knife to the shelf.
"Surely you can take a break once in a while?"
The madam quietly poured some tea, smiled broadly, and said, "Please, take your time." The tea was fine white tea, and the sweets were
nanrakuan—
a luxury served only to guests of the three princesses.
"Is this location acceptable?"
For some reason, the old woman was asking
Gaoshun
about it. When Gaoshun nodded, she wore a somewhat disgruntled expression and said, "Please, take your time," before closing the door.
(What could they even want?)
At any rate, Jinshi finally removed his mask. Save for a single scar running across it, what emerged was truly a face worthy of being called a treasure—
a face—
fully revealed.
Maomao slapped the folded cushion flat and set it before Jinshi. He sank heavily onto it.
"You look exhausted."
Maomao placed tea and tea sweets before Jinshi.
Jinshi, at any rate, brought the teacup to his lips.
"Various things. Personnel matters, of course, and then there's the matter of the Shi clan's territory."
He let out a long, heavy breath and furrowed his brow. Was it just his imagination, or had his gestures begun to resemble Gaoshun's?
He had heard that the members of the Shi clan had already been executed. Most of them had been the ones stationed at the fortress.
The territory would fall under the state's jurisdiction. The northern lands were rich in forest resources, so the national treasury would be well supplied going forward. Even with the tax rate lowered from what the clan had been extracting as intermediaries, it would still be more than enough.
With timber available, it could be put to all sorts of uses.
(It would be nice if they turned it into paper.)
Given the abundant forest resources, it would be wonderful if the papermaking industry were developed. That way, the quality of paper would improve, and prices would come down.
While mulling over whether the reason such industries had never progressed was the Shi clan's interference, she realized she had already begun grinding medicine in the mortar without thinking.
"...Hey, don't treat me like I'm not here."
"My apologies. It was out of habit."
"Whatever."
Jinshi bit into a dried sweet and drained his tea. When Maomao saw the empty cup and rose to pour more, her wrist was seized.
"What is it?"
Jinshi pulled Maomao back and made her sit down again. He was staring intently at the side of her face.
"Will this never heal?"
"Functionally, there's no problem."
Jinshi was gazing fixedly at Maomao's ear. The triangular cut was still there.
(He smells sweet.)
Not the scent of sweets, but of incense. As always, Suirén had fine taste—she found herself thinking of that slightly prickly, middle-aged lady-in-waiting.
Just then.
Jinshi's face came even closer, and she felt something strange at her ear.
"What... are you doing?"
Something lukewarm, something warm—something was touching her ear. No, enveloping it.
"I've heard that in the common world, they say wounds heal if you put saliva on them."
"I can't say for certain, but human saliva can sometimes contain toxins."
Just as an animal bite that isn't properly disinfected can fester, the same thing can happen when a person bites you.
"A little poison from you probably won't affect me."
Normally he would have flinched and pulled away, but today was different.
"It might even work as medicine."
With that, he pulled a bundle from inside his robe and set it on Maomao's lap.
Maomao unwrapped the bundle and her eyes lit up. Something that looked like a lump of yellow clay sat inside.
"Bezoar!!"
The instant Maomao lunged forward, she was pulled into a tight embrace. Her outstretched hand was now just barely unable to reach the bezoar.
"Let's finish what we started first."
Jinshi gave a sly grin as he said this.
Looking at Jinshi's wound head-on, the stitches hadn't been removed yet. It seemed to have been restitched at some point—the suture line was neater than before.
(Did the old man redo the stitching?)
Before she knew it, her hand had drifted to Jinshi's face. He narrowed his eyes and made a strangely innocent expression.
"Are you accumulating poison too?"
That was the moment she reached for Maomao's chin.
"Freckles!"
A loud crack echoed through the room.
On the opposite side from the entrance, the window used for handing money and medicine to customers was wide open.
"Look! You wanted this, didn't you!"
Chou-u stood there with his chest puffed out proudly, holding up a lizard in his raised right hand.
"Oh, well done."
Maomao ducked past Jinshi, whose head had drooped limply, and took the lizard. She dropped it straight into the jar.
"Huh? Why is that guy sprawled on the floor?"
"He's worn out from work. Here, your cut."
Maomao handed over another piece of brown sugar. Chou-u ran off again to who knows where.
"...I should have sent him to the gallows."
A low, growling voice came out—like a stray dog.
Perhaps because of his injuries, Jinshi's androgynous air had faded somewhat, and his features seemed heavier, more angular.
Looking closer, she noticed a small gap in the door, and through it, a pair of eyes were peering out.
Maomao flung the door open with a clatter and discovered the sharp-tongued old madam and Gaoshun, both startled into leaning back.
"Hag, get a bed ready. Use the incense that helps you sleep well."
"I heard you already."
The old madam clicked her tongue in disappointment and began preparing the bed.
Maomao looked at Jinshi, still sprawled on the floor.
"Thank you very much, Lord Jinshi."
She held the ox gallstone and couldn't help but smile.
Jinshi stared at Maomao blankly.
"Please rest well."
"Fine, I'll rest."
(That would be better.)
Yet Jinshi showed no sign of moving.
"Jinshi."
She knelt down and shook Jinshi's shoulder.
(Come to think of it, is it all right for him to stay as Jinshi?)
Just as she was thinking that——
"I'll use this as a pillow."
Jinshi's head settled onto Maomao's lap as she sat upright.
His hands wrapped around her back as if pressing the crown of his head to her stomach.
"Jinshi."
"..."
She didn't know whether he was feigning sleep, but he said nothing.
The shrewd old woman quietly set down a fine comforter and some incense in the corner of the room before slipping out.
Maomao let out a soft sigh and reached for the mortar.
Amid the grinding of medicine and the mingled scent of incense, she could hear Jinshi's breathing as he slept.
(My legs are going numb...)
With that thought, Maomao began preparing a new medicine.
This concludes the revised edition.
There are still loose threads remaining, so The Apothecary Diaries will continue for a while longer, but for now, I will be taking a break until I have gathered more material.