Half a day by carriage, and the village in the southwest of the capital turned out to be Yabu's hometown. It was said to be in a forest at the foot of the mountains.
It lay upstream along the great river that divided the country east and west. There were waterways running alongside the river, but the fields were overgrown with what looked like weeds.
When Maomao stared, the talkative Yabu offered an explanation.
"Those are wheat."
"Wheat? That's quite..."
"...irrigation..."
"...they've got going here."
Waterways had been built around the fields. Maomao tilted her head, wondering just how much water wheat really needed.
At their feet was a cat with the disagreeable name of...
"...Mao Mao."
It seemed tired of being cooped up in its basket, rolling around on Yabu's lap and peering out the window.
"That's for the summer rice crop. Around here, they grow two types a year—rice and wheat."
"I see."
"With rice, even if you grow other crops on the same land, the soil doesn't get depleted."
Growing crops twice a year meant twice the nutrients drawn from the soil. But with paddy fields, the water brought nutrients along, so the land didn't lose its fertility as easily.
Once they passed through the fields, a forest came into view. The village was nearby.
"It's quite a fertile area, isn't it?"
It seemed to Maomao that a place this rich wouldn't need to go to the trouble of making paper, but perhaps there was more to it than that.
"When we settled here, the farmland already belonged to others. That's why the forest was left completely untouched."
Spring water flowed down from nearby mountains, and the forest was plentiful with trees that served as raw material for paper. They couldn't produce it in large quantities, but they made a success of it by marketing its exclusivity.
Being close to the river also made transportation convenient.
However, there was one thing that caught Maomao's attention.
She locked eyes with a farmer who was treading down wheat.
Was there some grudge behind that act of strengthening the wheat? His gaze as he looked her way was oddly sharp, and she felt a gloomy air about him.
Maomao pretended not to notice and continued nodding along with Luomen's chatter.
The one who came to greet them at the village was a middle-aged woman of about forty. The softness around her eyes and her slightly drooping brows bore a strong resemblance to the quack — she had to be his sister.
Upon receiving the basket with the cats inside, she narrowed her eyes and stroked Maomao. They must have discussed things beforehand.
"Oh my, oh my, brother. Welcome home."
"I'm back."
The quack appeared composed at first glance, but there was a faint sheen of tears in his eyes. Coming home after more than a decade away — well, that was only to be expected.
"I'd like to visit Father's grave, if you don't mind."
He had likely passed away during the time Luomen couldn't leave the Inner Palace. The quack sniffled.
"Yes, of course. But more importantly—"
The middle-aged woman glanced at Maomao.
"Who's this young lady?"
She asked, tilting her head.
"Oh my, oh my, an assistant, is she? Then you should have said so sooner."
(An assistant, huh.)
After that, the quack's sister — she'd mentioned her name or something, but it was unfamiliar-sounding and honestly Maomao couldn't remember it. Well, nothing to be done about it; she'd just call her "the quack's sister."
To save face for the quack, she wouldn't deny it.
The quack's sister kept setting things down on the long table, one after another—
—Dishes—
—River fish steamed with herbs, and steamed buns from a—
—steamer—
—golden fried rice. It all looked delicious.
She had gone out of her way to prepare a mixture of rice porridge and fish just for Maomao. Despite being a cat, Maomao gobbled it up with brazen, shameless greed.
"You weren't thinking I went and brought home some young bride just because I'm a eunuch, were you?"
"Ha ha ha, nothing of the sort."
"That's right."
By the time all the dishes had been laid out across the long table, the old aunt's family arrived. One middle-aged man with a towel wrapped around his head, and two young men. The middle-aged man was the aunt's husband, and the remaining two were presumably his sons.
"Brother-in-law, it's been a long time."
The husband removed the towel from his head and bowed respectfully to Yabu. The old doctor smiled and replied, "It's been a while." Following the husband's lead, one of the young men came to pay his respects. However, the other young man ignored Yabu, sat down in a chair, and started shoveling food into his mouth.
"Hey! What do you think you're doing, not even greeting anyone!"
The aunt glared at her son.
"Brother…"
The other young man watched with an indescribable expression. So this one was the younger brother, and the one with the poor manners was the elder.
One of Yabu's nephews tore open a fluffy steamed bun and stuffed it into his mouth. It was filled with a minced pork filling, and Maomao's mouth watered at the sight.
"Sure, you tell me to respect Uncle, but he's a eunuch who hasn't come back in years, hasn't he? What's the point of calling him here now?"
At those words, Yabu wore his usual expression — downturned brows and a troubled smile. He was used to being openly mocked for being a eunuch, but receiving such treatment from his own nephew must have been hard to bear.
Even Maomao grew somewhat irritated.
She wasn't about to let this nephew enjoy good food at Yabu's expense. She plopped herself down in a chair,
"It would be a shame if it got cold, so please excuse me."
and proceeded to snatch up every last dish the nephew had been about to take.
The young man glared at her with a "Hey!" but she couldn't have cared less. Maomao had known plenty of men far more intimidating than this one — soldiers and military officers alike.
The aunt also seemed quite furious, serving only the older son's share of congee and soup while leaving the younger son's portion out. The husband and the younger son wisely chose to let sleeping dogs lie and ignored the whole affair.
Perhaps fed up with his family's attitude, the older son grabbed one more steamed bun and stormed out.
After he had left the room, the husband scratched his head and bowed apologetically to the old doctor.
"I'm sorry. He doesn't understand just how much you've done for this village, Brother-in-law."
"It's fine, really. I'm quite used to things like this."
Yabu said, slurping his congee with evident relish.
He probably meant nothing by the words "used to it," but the old aunt's face twisted in pain upon hearing them.
The arrangement had originally been for Yabu to become a eunuch in exchange for his sister not being sold off to the imperial palace. Their parents should have valued their son more than their daughter — and yet.
"Still, wasn't there something you wanted to talk about more than have a meal?"
"…"
At Yabu's words, the family fell silent.
Maomao intended to keep eating regardless, since she would end up as the listener either way. The salted steamed fish was well seasoned, and the herbs gave it a lovely flavor. She made a mental note to ask for the recipe later.
Her husband set down his chopsticks and looked at Yabu.
Then, slowly, he bowed his head.
"I've heard that your brother-in-law is a renowned physician who delivered the Son of Heaven's child. I'd like to request a direct audience with the Son of Heaven about something."
"What!?"
(He said "delivered," did he.)
It wasn't Yabu who had delivered the child, but Luomen—though Yabu was probably exaggerating a bit in her retelling. Maomao still retained enough kindness to hold her tongue.
However.
Yabu's brows furrowed even further, and she set down her chopsticks.
"It's hardly fitting for the likes of me to try and get someone to hear my petition."
"Could you at least attend the favored consort's delivery?"
What an absurd thing to say. Even high-ranking officials had limited license to speak, and a direct petition could be taken as irreverence—costing him his very head.
Maomao had been given the opportunity to speak with the Emperor several times, but in every case it was because he had granted her leave to do so.
The consort was no longer merely a consort; she had become the Empress. Since she had left the inner palace, even getting a message to her would be difficult.
If things went on like this, the physician Yabu would end up being pressured into forcing the request through, so Maomao decided to speak on her behalf.
"The physician who previously served in the inner palace was dismissed after being accused of fault in matters beyond his responsibility and subjected to corporal punishment."
"What!?"
"The rumors say it was because he learned things he shouldn't have."
It was about her father, but it wasn't exactly a lie.
The aunts grimaced and groaned. Then their shoulders slumped.
Seeing this, Yabu leaned forward, waving her hands in a fluster.
"Well, an audience with the Son of Heaven is probably out of the question, but there might be someone else you could speak to. Why don't you tell us what it's about?"
At her words, the aunts and her husband exchanged quick glances. Maomao wondered if she was intruding by staying, but she needed to hear what was said—otherwise, what had been the point of coming along with Yabu?
"This young lady here is no problem. She's a tight-lipped girl."
For once, Yabu the barber-surgeon actually read the room.
"Then..."
With that, he reluctantly opened his mouth.
It turned out the village's land had originally been borrowed. A nearby landlord had leased it to them cheaply since he wasn't using it, but as the years of residence piled up, the arrangement had gradually shifted toward a purchase. The landlord at the time had been a generous man, and the villagers had gotten along well with him.
But a few years ago, when that landlord passed away and his son took over, things changed.
Unlike his predecessor, the new landlord despised outsiders. On top of that, he had a tendency to look down on craftsmen, and he apparently resented the fact that they had become purveyors to the court through their papermaking.
When the quality of the paper had dropped before, he had come to the village multiple times to press them for repayment.
The agreement with the previous landlord, in writing, stipulated that the village's land and forest would be transferred after twenty years. The amount was clearly stated, and payments had been made without issue.
"He keeps making up excuses—saying our water pollution has reduced rice yields, or there isn't enough water to grow rice, things like that."
The second son said, his face twisted with exasperation.
"This time it's even worse than usual. He's demanding we pay up immediately, or get off the land."
There were still five years left on the payment deadline. Being told to pay five years' worth all at once was simply impossible.
They were the tenants. Just as Maomao couldn't best the shrewd old woman, they couldn't afford to make too bold a stand.
"If we're forced to leave, the houses and tools stay behind. And who knows how long it would take to find new land."
"Apparently he's planning to take over our village as-is and make paper himself."
"Why papermaking of all things? Leave that to the professionals."
Yabu said, his wispy mustache fluttering in the breeze.
At his feet, the idle cat watched him, its hindquarters wiggling as it prepared to pounce.
"Well, you see..."
The aunt shook her head as she spoke.
"They suddenly raised the grain tax this year."
"And since our taxes have been reduced starting the year before last, he's even more displeased about it."
Listening to the conversation, Maomao understood what was really behind all of this.
The low tax on paper was clearly a deliberate policy meant to encourage the spread of paper in order to raise literacy going forward.
As for the grain tax, this region practiced double cropping, so even with a tax increase, the yields were more than sufficient to avoid hardship—it was probably being earmarked as a reserve for the future.
(Perhaps countermeasures against the locust damage?)
If grain produced on fertile land was sent to regions hit hard by the plague, fewer people would go hungry. It was clearly Jinshi's group handling things, and she didn't think they were wrong, but for the people who had their taxes raised, it was no small burden.
And now, the point of that spear was aimed squarely at this village.
But as the doctor had said, even if they secured this village, she doubted papermaking would come easily. You needed some kind of
knowledge and experience
with the process in order to produce quality paper.
"And what makes this really troublesome is him."
When the village chief said "him," he was probably referring to his son who had such a terrible attitude earlier.
"He's, well, for certain reasons, not exactly like the farmers around here."
"Oh, the older brother."
The younger brother smiled awkwardly.
The doctor tilted his head in puzzlement, but Maomao guessed it was probably something to do with women.
"I'm embarrassed to say it, but he's an uneducated man. He thinks everyone with the title of 'official' is the same."
So he had lumped together the eunuch and the tax-raising official, and taken his frustration out on the doctor.
"So the favor I'm asking is..."
Would they please try to get the tax reduced?
Technically, this village fell under
Kaō,
a territory under the Emperor's direct control. That was probably why he had initially wanted to try negotiating directly.
But that would be impossible too.
If a corrupt magistrate had raised taxes for personal gain, it might have been understandable, but this time it was unavoidable. Even with the increase, it wasn't as if the taxes were so high that people couldn't eat.
The doctor was troubled too.
Right—this wasn't something the doctor could fix. On the doctor's knee, Maomao was kneading his swaying beard with her front paws. She had left scratch marks on his chin.
"I'm nothing more than a eunuch, so..."
At the doctor's halfhearted response, everyone's shoulders slumped in disappointment.
Even as her shoulders sagged, the lord spoke up.
"Then, at the very least, there's a meeting tomorrow. Could I ask you to come along for that?"
"If it's just that much, sure."
(It probably won't be of any use, though.)
Wondering whether she could even keep up, Maomao caught MaoMao as she scratched at the bushes.