Jinshi left at dusk, before the sun had set. Perhaps it was because he had slept, but his complexion was good enough to have eaten three bowls of porridge upon waking.
Maomao wondered if she was being meddlesome for worrying that Shiren would scold him for coming home too late to eat supper.
Maomao pulled her mask on tight and saw the carriage off. That was when she felt someone's gaze. When she turned to look, a courtesan dressed in flashy attire was leaning against the second-floor railing, puffing away on a pipe. One of the Three Beauties—
Shirasu.
Her generous curves spilled out from the gaps of her kimono.
"So, have you come to your senses yet, or what?"
"About what?"
Maomao ignored the grinning young lady and returned to the apothecary.
The apothecary closed up as soon as the lanterns of Rokushōkan were lit. No decent customers came in the middle of the night, and wasting lamp oil was something she couldn't stomach.
After tallying the shop's earnings, she handed the money over to the madam. In the slum where Maomao lived, carrying around a large sum of money would make her a target for robbers. Better to pay a cut and have it stored properly. She bundled together her fire starters and herbs, then locked up the cramped little shop.
"Hey, let's go home."
"Aww, already?"
Maomao grabbed the grumbling Zhao Wei by the scruff of the neck and headed back to the slum. The house, tucked right behind Rokushōkan, was bitterly cold with drafts blowing through the cracks.
She lit a fire starter on the paper kindling in the stove. Once the flames grew, she added more firewood.
Zhao Wei, seeming to feel the cold, was curled up in a ball on the straw mattress, wrapped in a futon.
Maomao stirred the pot on the stove while heating up some soup. She used dried meat for the broth, mixing in wild vegetables and kudzu starch she had picked from the garden. Since it was so cold, she shaved in some extra ginger.
"Hey, aren't you going to eat?"
"I'm eatin'!"
Maomao smacked the caterpillar-like Zhao Wei as he tried to wriggle over, and threw him a padded coat in place of snatching the futon away.
(I could use another set of winter clothes.)
She had been paid quite well, but she had no intention of spending it frivolously. Zhao Wei might grumble, but since he had entrusted his money to her, she intended to teach him the lesson that those who do not work shall not eat.
She ladled soup into a chipped bowl and handed it to Zhao Wei. He sat on a stool with his knees drawn up and slurped down the broth.
"Add more meat!"
"Then go earn some money."
Maomao scooped up the broth and slurped it down. There was no porridge to be had, so she settled for bread instead. She hung the spare loaves she had bought earlier along the side of the pot to warm them, then split one down the middle and stuffed braised vegetables inside.
"Hey, Freckles—you're making decent money now, so why not treat yourself to something better?"
Despite grumbling, Zhao Yu reached for a second loaf.
"You idiot—I'm renting that shop from the old woman. Do you have any idea how much the rent is?"
"Then just move somewhere else."
"Look, it's not that simple. There are a lot of things to consider if I tried setting up somewhere else."
With that, Maomao soaked the last of the broth into her bread and popped it into her mouth.
She could have indulged a little more if she truly wanted to. But she had her reasons not to.
"...Tomorrow, I'm going to buy some clothes. You're coming with me. You'll freeze to death in those rags."
With that said, Maomao began tidying away the dishes.
Zhao Yu threw his arms and legs wide in a triumphant "Yes!"—only to tumble right off his chair. The numbness on one side of his body made it impossible for him to break his fall properly, and he rolled around on the ground, flailing.
(...)
Maomao watched this with a cold expression as she soaked the bowls in the water bucket.
The next day, Maomao and the others headed out to the market. A broad avenue bisected the east and west of the capital, and every day a market sprang up along it. The farther north you went, the grander the shops became; the farther south, the lower their standing. Since the pleasure district lay in the south of the capital, the market began as something rather crude—without so much as a tent overhead, just
mats
spread on the ground with goods displayed upon them.
Venture further into the side streets, and you would find plenty of shady-looking stalls. Perhaps because the pleasure district was nearby, there was no shortage of shops peddling dubious medicines. Of course, a trained apothecary like Maomao would never fall for such wares, and the merchants knew better than to try pitching their goods to her.
Clutching the scruff of Zhao Yu's neck every time he tried to wander off, Maomao made her way toward the center of the capital. There was an old saying: "Buy cheap, pay twice." The cotton-padded jackets at the street stalls were certainly cheap, but the fabric was rough. If the little brats tore around in those, they would fall apart in no time.
Even if they cost a bit more, goods from shops with proper storefronts were reliable. These were merchants rooted in the local community, and they valued their reputation.
Maomao slipped into one of the shops she frequented, choosing from among the row of connected storefronts. It was a clothing shop for common folk, but it also dealt in secondhand garments.
Ducking through the sun curtain and into the shop, she found clothes hanging from the ceiling. In the back, the owner was mending a robe while yawning. The brazier beside him crackled as the charcoal popped and sparked, and a wire guard had been placed around it to keep the embers from singeing the fabric.
"Aww, secondhand clothes?"
"Don't be picky."
Zhao Yu was still small. He would only keep growing from here on out. It made more sense to buy clothes that could be quickly outgrown and replaced.
She was looking to see if they had any children's padded jackets when something else caught her eye.
"What's this?"
Zhao Yu, sharp-eyed as ever, came bustling over. It was a robe hanging on the wall. It was a chang-ao skirt, white both top and bottom, which made it look rather plain. It somewhat resembled the attire of a foreign tribe, with an odd, mysterious atmosphere about it. There was ivy-like embroidery on the sleeves, which is what caught her eye.
"It looks kind of shabby, doesn't it?"
The honestly blunt ghoul said what she thought. She tapped him on the head, thinking the shopkeeper might be listening, but what she heard was a laugh.
"Haha, you think that's shabby?"
"Well, yes? If it's a girl's outfit, shouldn't it be in more vibrant colors?"
"I suppose it should."
The shop owner stuck a pin back into his pincushion and walked over, rolling his stiff shoulders loose as he did so.
Then, narrowing his eyes, he looked at the garment.
"This, you see, is a robe worn by a tenjin."
"A tenjin?"
Zhao Yu leaned forward, full of interest. Perhaps the lingering numbness in his body made standing for long difficult, for he had, at some point, seated himself atop a chest of drawers.
Maomao continued browsing the shop with a look of exasperation. The owner here was the type to talk to customers and pass the time that way. She couldn't tell how much of what he said was true, but she did remember how her adoptive father, Luomen, would often get caught up and waste half a day working.
(Decide quickly and leave quickly.)
It was perfect that Zhao Yu was engrossed in the story; she could make up her mind in the meantime. However, in the narrow shop, the owner's tale reached her ears whether she liked it or not.
---
That's right, this garment was brought from the western lands.
In a certain village to the west, it's said that the villagers helped a girl who had lost her way. The girl was beautiful, and the villagers fell in love with her.
She was a strange girl. The thread she spun was unlike any other, and with it, she wove many robes to repay the villagers who had helped her. Those robes, embroidered with mysterious patterns, sold for many times the price of other fabrics.
The girl longed to return to her homeland repeatedly, but no one even knew where she lived. The villagers proposed to her many times, and the girl finally accepted.
However, the timing was unfortunate. Around that same time, the girl's family, searching for her, came to the village. The villagers, having just found her, did not want to let her go. They hid the girl, and the entire village played dumb, denying everything.
Her family left once, but they seemed suspicious. Therefore, the villagers decided to hurry up and hold the wedding ceremony to make her a bride. Once she was married, she would no longer be family to her kin.
The girl refused, but that meant nothing to the villagers. They made her bathe in the village spring to purify herself, intending to swiftly perform the wedding rites.
The girl wept as she bathed. As a small comfort, she put on the bridal gown she had made herself from her homeland.
How great was the girl's sorrow? Even after changing into her bridal gown, her tears did not dry; they continued to drench her entire body.
While the village celebrated, the girl made her way to the altar to perform the vow ceremony with the villagers. But it seemed she still could not forget about her family.
She pleaded to be returned to her family.
When they told her that was impossible, the girl doused herself in oil that was at hand. Then she set herself alight with a torch.
The burning girl ran through the bewildered villagers and vanished into the spring.
All that remained was a single piece of cloth—the one the girl had worn upon her head.
A thin veil.
Nothing more.
There was no charred corpse of the girl. Perhaps, the villagers thought, she had returned to the heavens.
The girl's family had vanished too, and everyone accepted that they had disappeared into the sky along with her.
◯●◯
"And this, you see, is a garment woven by a heavenly maiden."
"Wow..."
Chou U was impressed.
Maomao thought it might do, and held up a few padded garments she had picked up against Chou U's back to check the sizing.
"Hey, Freckles, this is amazing. It's amazing—why don't you buy it?"
Chou U said, eyes sparkling.
"Well now, a young lady like you must be about the same age as the heavenly maiden herself. I'll give you a special discount for that kinship."
He said that, but the prices he rattled off on his abacus were off by a whole order of magnitude. Maomao nearly snorted.
"Oh come now, don't tell me you don't believe the legend of the heavenly maiden? Where's your sense of romance?"
The shopkeeper spread both hands wide and shook his head with a resigned "Good grief." Maomao narrowed her eyes and studied the so-called garment woven by a heavenly maiden.
"Would it be all right if I touched it?"
"Sure, just don't get it dirty."
She felt the texture, studied the patterns on the sleeves intently, and then gave a small smirk.
"Shopkeeper, do you really think this would sell at this price?"
"Wh-what are you talking about? Of course it'll sell!"
Yet despite that, he had been trying to sell it to Maomao. If it were truly a heavenly maiden's robe, the price should have been off by at least another digit.
Maomao took the robe he had brought and held it in her hands.
"Hey, Master, what if I sold this for ten times the asking price?"
"Ten times? Ha ha, I'd be thrilled if you could. If you do, that robe you're holding is on the house."
He said it with a joking air.
"Oh, is that so? Chouu, did you hear that?"
"I heard, but there's no way it'd sell for ten times the price. What are you talking about, Freckles?"
Chouu spoke as though he were mocking her too.
Maomao curled her lips, then grabbed a piece of charcoal from the brazier with a pair of iron tongs.
"Master, let me borrow this robe and the charcoal for a bit."
"Hey! What do you think you're doing?!"
Maomao pulled a money pouch from inside her garment and slammed it down on top of a chest of drawers. It was every last coin she had, but it should be enough to cover the price of this one robe.
Without another word from the old shopkeeper, she picked up the robe and the charcoal and walked out of the shop.
Then Maomao tossed the robe into the road.
"O-oh, hey!"
The shopkeeper's face twisted, but she couldn't have cared less.
Then she dropped the glowing piece of charcoal she held in the tongs right onto the robe.
"Freckles, it's a little hot!"
Chouu said through the layers of padded cotton undergarments he had piled on. He had stacked so many on that his build now resembled a daruma doll.
"Then take them off."
He was the one who had layered them on because he didn't want to carry them. Maomao held the new kimono in her right hand.
She would have preferred slightly more subdued coloring, but she had no intention of being picky about a free gift.
"Hey, Freckles. Why didn't that robe catch fire?"
Chouu tilted his head and asked.
The shopkeeper had called it a heavenly maiden's robe, and Maomao had nearly scoffed out loud. There were far better names for it than that.
Maomao announced it as a fire rat's fur coat. Of course, she had whispered the line to the shopkeeper beforehand — but still.
Even when scorching coals were placed upon the robe, the flame would not catch. Not a single scorch mark marred its surface.
"Chouu, do you know what a kimono is made of?"
"Cotton or linen, I guess? I've heard it comes from plants, or something like that."
"That one just now is made of stone."
Chouu's expression changed in the most entertaining way.
"Stone — like actual rocks? They can make clothes from that?"
"Stone comes in all sorts of forms."
It was possible to weave stone fibers into cloth. The material was rare but had existed since ancient times, called "fire-washing cloth." That name sounded a bit dull, so she had borrowed the term used by an island nation in the east.
"It doesn't burn because it's stone."
But what would those who witnessed it firsthand think? Even if they had heard of fire-washing cloth, most would be seeing it for the first time. That sense of rarity only added to the appeal — there were always enthusiasts willing to pay an inflated price for something extraordinary.
And just like that, Maomao obtained the robe for free.
"Oh, is that so? Then what about the heavenly maiden story?"
"That was—"
Half true, and half lies.
Maomao recognized the embroidery on the sleeve cuffs. It was the western script her father — Luomen — used to write. Stylized, it could easily pass for an ivy pattern.
The girl believed to be a heavenly maiden was presumably a western foreigner, or perhaps a traveler. In remote villages, where inbreeding continued generation after generation, children grew frail and outside blood was eagerly sought. Whether the girl had truly lost her way or been abducted, no one could say — but once she was there, the villagers would never let her go.
Desperate to return home, the girl had crafted the robe. She used rare asbestos as its material and embroidered the pattern in a script the villagers could not read — a secret plea for help, meant for anyone from her homeland who might find it.
At the wedding ceremony, the girl must have worn wet undergarments beneath the asbestos robe. She wet her hair as well, and—
gauze—
she wrapped herself in it to conceal what she had done.
"Did you know? There is a way to hold a wooden vessel over fire without it burning."
Fill the vessel with water first. Then the wood will not burn until the water has completely evaporated. As long as water remains, the temperature cannot rise above a certain point, and wood will not ignite at that temperature.
Wet undergarments beneath the asbestos robe, and over that, additional layers of flammable garments.
And then, before the heat could burn her — simply leap into the lake.
If she inscribed the method of escape on the pattern of the garments, the girl would then be rescued. Of course, there was no guarantee it would work, but from what the shopkeeper had said, it seemed to have succeeded.
"Ohhh."
Chou Ei looked impressed, though his expression remained vacant.
"Why didn't you tell the shopkeeper that?"
"Romance is important, you know."
When Maomao said there was no need to break it down that far, Chou Ei laughed with an exasperated look on his face.