There was progress on the matter of Consort Risu ten days after Jinshi's arrival. As for what had triggered it—the catalyst was an unexpected person's proposal.
"What do you want?"
"That's a cold way to speak to your brother-in-law."
"Hmm? I don't have any brothers."
Before Maomao stood a small man. He had fox-like eyes, curly hair, and wore round spectacles—other than that, his face had no particular distinguishing features.
Normally she would have been in the apothecary's shop, but today—because there were so many medicines mid-preparation—she had borrowed the entrance of the Rokuseikan, which had not yet opened for business.
And when she was in such a conspicuous spot, those cheeky little brats would inevitably come wandering over.
"..."
"What is it?"
Maomao seized Zhao Yu by the collar, as though grabbing a kitten by the scruff of its neck. Zhao Yu, for his part, was holding the cat Mōmō in both hands. The cat—whose name she found irritating for one reason or another—had ended up staying with them after that. Since the courtesans had taken a liking to it, she couldn't very well get rid of it. Both of them were thoroughly exasperating.
"Hey mister, are you freckles' big brother?"
"Why?"
She had just told him no a moment ago. Was he not listening?
"You look just like freckles."
"..."
Maomao narrowed her eyes. Without another word, she hauled Zhao Yu over to the head of the male servants on guard duty at the entrance— Yūkyō— and handed him off. Yūkyō, for his part, seemed to be finding the morning shift rough, and was in the middle of a yawn as he stood with the apprentice male servants— To Sazen, she left him.
Sazen made a face that clearly said what a hassle this was, but he apparently had some particular fondness for Chō'u, as he meekly agreed to go along with the babysitting. For now, Chō'u showed no signs of remembering anything from the past, so the judgment was that there should be no trouble. The man was more deft than expected—it was actually helpful that he would bring back medicinal herbs on his walks. Perhaps she would teach him how to make medicine someday.
What was truly infuriating was that this man, Rahan, looked remarkably like Maomao. If you softened his fox-like eyes just a bit, took away his glasses, and changed his sex, he would have been her spitting image.
Truly infuriating.
"So what do you want?"
To get back on track—Rahan had occasionally tagged along with that strange person and shown up at the Rokushōkan. As far as Maomao was concerned, he was nothing more than an unpleasant accessory.
If there was nothing particularly important, a standing conversation right there should have been perfectly fine.
"Is the apothecary not free?"
"I'm in the middle of preparing a special medicine right now. I can't exactly let just anyone in."
A lie. She just didn't want to bother tidying up.
Rahan grimaced and reluctantly produced a money pouch from inside his robe.
He placed the coins in Maomao's palm.
"With this pittance, the old woman here won't even lend you the eaves over her doorstep."
"What a cheapskate."
(You're one to talk.)
Maomao knew he was the second-biggest cheapskate after the sharp-tongued old woman who ran this place. With outrageous family members to support, his official salary alone wasn't enough, so he had his hands in all sorts of ventures.
He reluctantly added more coins, but Maomao shook her head. Only after he tripled the initial amount did she finally nod, then she turned to the servant standing nearby— the bald one— and told him to fetch the old woman.
The bald servant scurried to the back of the shop, and before long, a withered old woman who looked like a dried tree branch appeared.
"Old woman, I'm renting a room."
"For this amount, half a period—"
"Exactly right."
The madam put her pipe to her lips as she spoke, lighting an incense stick from the ember and sticking it into the ash.
"That's quite steep."
"Then you don't have to use it. But if you take her outside the shop, I'll need payment for that."
Maomao didn't actually belong to the Rokushoukan, so the madam had no business telling her she couldn't leave on her own. But honestly, dealing with Rahan was a hassle, so she kept quiet.
Besides, there was no reason she should have to tidy up the apothecary just to make room for him.
The room Baldy led them to was one used by mid-rank courtesans when receiving clients.
Nobody was using it at the moment, so there was nothing but bare wooden boards and a meager straw mat.
Since sitting directly on the floor looked painful, Maomao fetched a pair of seat cushions from the apothecary and set them down. She'd provide cushions, at least, but she had no intention of serving tea as well.
The Rokushoukan's rooms were fundamentally well-built.
The walls were thick to prevent the sounds of lovemaking from leaking out. Some clients minded the noise, and besides, the rooms were sometimes rented out for private meetings.
"Do you know anything about this person?"
The moment the door was shut tight, Rahan pulled a sheet of paper from inside his robe.
It bore a portrait sketched with a fine brush.
"This is..."
It was a portrait of a woman—still young enough to be called a girl, with refined features. That alone wouldn't have been enough to identify her, but the annotation read: "Red eyes, white hair, white skin." That description pointed to one person without a doubt.
"A white-haired lady?"
"I know plenty besides myself."
"I figured."
But he showed her another sheet of paper.
"Who's this?"
This time it was a portrait of a man. But illustrations never quite matched reality, and more to the point, Maomao couldn't be bothered memorizing the faces of people she had no interest in.
In other words, she had no idea.
Rahan laid the two portraits side by side.
Hmm? What was it—she felt like she should recognize them but couldn't quite place them. Could they be people she had seen before?
"Recently, this man showed up at a certain gathering. Of course, he probably didn't intend to — he was playing a background role, trying not to stand out."
But he'd been momentarily exposed, and that was the problem. The person who spotted him was equally unfortunate — for him.
"My father-in-law has a subordinate who never forgets a face once he's seen it."
"I see."
Coming from a subordinate of that eccentric strategist who couldn't tell other people's faces apart, having someone with such a talent certainly wasn't a disadvantage.
"That gossipy fellow of ours had already seen the White Lady's show — it was enough of a talking point, at least. So I borrowed his subordinate and went to check things out myself, and sure enough, I spotted him."
The man was an official, but he had his hands in all sorts of businesses. This was the kind of gathering he'd attend.
"When was this?"
"A couple of days ago."
He'd probably spent the first day getting authorization from the eccentric strategist, had a composite sketch drawn up, and circulated it through the chain of command. By the time it worked its way back around, it had landed here.
"So how did it make it all the way here? Normally this wouldn't be any of our business."
"The trading partner at that meeting was—"
Saiou.
"—a merchant from there."
Saiou was a nation beyond the western desert from this country. Apart from mountainous terrain in the south, it was hemmed in by larger nations on three sides. It might have seemed cramped and vulnerable at first glance, but it had turned that very disadvantage to its benefit and established itself as a vital hub of trade.
Maomao's expression clouded.
"…Isn't that bad?"
"If you look at it normally, I'd say so."
The person causing all manner of trouble in the capital was now hiding among a foreign nation.
Even Maomao, who was anything but politically astute, understood that a foreign country harboring such a person was a serious problem.
"Furthermore, by its very nature, Saiou is considered inviolable territory."
In other words, even if they wanted to capture him as a fugitive, they couldn't simply act on their own authority.
"Normally, you'd be told to back off."
If a merchant had gone out of his way to come all the way to this country, it was hard to believe he was acting independently of his own nation.
"And that's precisely the problem — we can't say for certain either way."
After all, only one sharp-witted subordinate had offered testimony. Even if the man himself had made such a claim, if only one person had witnessed it, the others would surely say it could have been a mistake.
And as it turned out, that was how the matter ended up reaching Maomao.
"So?"
"I'd like you to come along as a poison taster."
In other words, this was an important trade negotiation, and regardless of whether that particular man was the genuine article or not, she couldn't refuse on those grounds. But she still wanted to protect herself.
If that man was real, Lady Bai would likely be with him. And if that were the case, there was a chance she could be slipped unknown poisons crafted through alchemy.
"You're curious, aren't you? You might get to see some rare poisons."
What a despicable trick.
So he was going to drag Maomao along by dangling that in front of her?
Still, there was one thing she was worried about.
"What about that man?"
"Don't worry. He won't be coming along with this, and I won't tell him you're involved."
"That man" went without saying — the eccentric.
But even so, it was infuriating to simply agree right then and there.
"Isn't my old man there?"
The "old man" she meant was Luomen — not the eccentric, naturally.
She wore a spiteful little smile as she said it.
Compared to Maomao, he should have far more knowledge of western poisons.
"Isn't your father always at the medical office?"
In any case, a local apothecary was one thing, but there was no way you could just casually drag a court physician away.
And so, that was exactly why he had come to try to take a local apothecary along instead.
"I'll pay."
"Hard to trust the word of a cheapskate."
"You'll get to see western medicine."
"Fine."
And so, it was decided that Maomao would be joining them as well.
"..."
She gazed blankly ahead.
There stood a middle-aged man of medium build.
He was chatting with Rahan.
"So anyway, Uryu— my lord."
She felt she had heard that name somewhere before.
Maomao would have preferred to pretend she hadn't heard it, but the name came up again and again. It seemed he was the one put in charge of this occasion.
Every last one of them, slacking off from their real jobs, she thought—though she supposed matters couldn't very well progress with merchants alone.
(If only they'd keel over from poisoning.)
While entertaining thoughts wholly unbecoming of a poison taster, Maomao sighed.