You never know what things in this world are connected.
Maomao couldn't stop thinking about the painting of the white woman by that popular artist.
It bore such a strong resemblance to the White Lady that it was hard to believe it was someone else entirely.
(Maybe it's just my imagination—or maybe I want it to be.)
Besides, the White Lady had already been captured. There was no need for Maomao to worry about it any further.
The locust problem was being handled by Jinshi and the others, and there was always sweet potato as an emergency crop.
Really, there was no reason Maomao couldn't simply go about her business as an apothecary without a care in the world.
Yet problems had a way of finding her no matter what, and she found it downright baffling.
The letter arrived fewer than ten days after the painter's food poisoning scare, and not quite two months after Maomao had returned from the west.
"Here, take this."
A curt girl from Rokuseikan thrust it into her hands.
While Maomao had been out shopping in town, some sort of messenger had apparently come by.
The sender's name wasn't written on it. Instead, the letter had been infused with incense smoke as a substitute. There were only so many people Maomao knew who would do something so poetic.
Sure enough, the sender was Jinshi, but what was written inside was anything but poetic.
"Consort Risu is about to be punished."
Reading such a message out of the blue left Maomao with nothing to do but stare wide-eyed.
Here's how it happened.
Risu had traveled westward. It was to fulfill her duties as consort, but leaving the Rear Palace for an extended period caused all sorts of problems. Even under strict surveillance, the moment she stepped outside that garden of the Rear Palace, to put it bluntly, there was a heightened chance of outside seed getting mixed in.
Because of this, even now that Risu had returned to the capital, she couldn't simply reenter the Rear Palace right away. As a formality, she needed to undergo the same ceremony she had gone through before entering the Rear Palace in the first place.
For a low-ranking maid like Maomao, getting back into the Rear Palace was relatively easy—just the bare minimum of courtesies and a check to confirm she wasn't pregnant.
But for a high-ranking consort, things got far more troublesome. It wasn't just a matter of going through some ritual-like proceedings; she was apparently confined to the ancestral temple as a means of purifying herself anew.
The whole process took about a month, which meant it should have long since been over by now.
"Well, this is a problem."
Jinshi had removed his mask and looked thoroughly exhausted.
In the apothecary, it gets stuffy and hot when the windows are closed up, so once again I asked the old procuress to arrange a room for us. Usually it would just be the two of us, but today Bashin was sitting in the corner of the room. He sat with his usual stone-faced expression and rigid posture.
(It makes things easier in some ways, harder in others.)
Whenever Jinshi and I were alone together, he would start touching me in strange and awkward ways, which was a bother. But when someone was watching like this, it meant I couldn't let my guard down easily either.
Jinshi, for his part, was looking at Bashin with an annoyed expression, but Bashin himself just sat there silently.
Was he monitoring whether I would try something?
No, perhaps not.
He seemed interested in the "problem" Jinshi had mentioned.
"She hasn't come for her monthly," Jinshi said.
"I see."
The reason Risu couldn't return to the rear palace was that her menstrual cycle had stopped.
Maomao found this entirely understandable.
The rear palace was a garden cultivated solely for the emperor. The flowers within were meant to bear fruit with the emperor.
In such a place, if a consort who had been away from the rear palace for a long time stopped having her monthly, that was something of a problem.
"I don't think Risu would be the type to engage in any sort of infidelity, though."
"I know that. But still. At this rate, she'll be suspected. And even without that, she won't be able to return to the rear palace."
When considering how the rear palace worked, bearing children was an important factor in performing the duties of a high-ranking consort. It may have been cold, but without that, one could not fulfill the role of a consort. That was the kind of place it was.
"She's still quite young. Perhaps it's just a natural irregularity?"
"Still, it's been two months now."
Maomao and Jinshi continued their conversation.
Bashin had his head lowered and, for some reason, was trembling.
"Her circulation seems poor, so perhaps I could prescribe some herbs for that? If that doesn't work, I could add massage as well. Her bowel movements seem to be sluggish too."
"Ah, you're good at listening. That would be better, but the issue is the court physician. There's only that one in the rear palace, as you know."
"If that's the case, then I would suggest using my foster father."
"Yes, that's true. That would be the safest option."
As their conversation continued in this idle manner, Bashin raised his head. He was biting his lips into jagged lines, his face bright red.
「"J-Jinshi."
"What is it?"
The beautiful nobleman looked at Bashin, whose face was flushed red as a demon lantern, with a perfectly nonchalant expression.
"H-how can you talk about such things so calmly...?"
"What do you mean, calmly?"
Jinshi tilted his head in puzzlement.
Maomao understood what Bashin wanted to say.
Jinshi had spent many years in the inner palace, working among women. Maomao could understand that, in a sense, there were topics he had no choice but to discuss that only women would know about.
But.
"Ordinary men don't speak so openly about women's monthly affairs."
"...Ah."
"Incidentally—"
If someone were to spell it out that frankly and in that much detail...
(That would be kind of gross.)
What would she end up saying? It was true that knowing something was better than knowing nothing at all, but knowing too much was also a problem.
He wasn't a doctor, after all.
She closed her mouth, knowing she really shouldn't say anything, but Jinshi pressed up close to Maomao.
"Hey, what were you about to say?"
"Nothing in particular."
Maomao turned her face away, but Jinshi pressed even closer.
"Don't lie. What were you about to say?"
"It's really nothing."
"Tell me honestly!"
"..."
His pestering was so relentless that Maomao narrowed her eyes to slits.
Once she'd been told that much, there was nothing to do but comply.
And because she'd been backed into a corner by all the unnecessary crowding, Maomao's expression had gone stiff too. She was crouched slightly to avoid Jinshi, which meant her gaze was looking down at him.
Which was why, with all those coincidences piling on top of each other, what Maomao had said could truly be called an accident.
And yet.
"How disgusting."
The expressions of both Jinshi and Gaoshun froze solid.
She would say it once more — it was an accident.
It just so happened that she'd been looking down at Jinshi, still wearing half-lidded eyes, and simply said what she'd been told to say. Maomao had no ulterior motive.
And yet.
When she saw how rigid they'd become — as though they'd turn to stone at the slightest tap — she wondered if she'd gone and done something again.
A few days later, the next letter arrived from her adoptive father, Luomen. It seemed Jinshi had promptly arranged to have Luomen sent to Risu.
The other day when Jinshi had returned, his face had been thoroughly soot-stained, but apparently he'd done his job properly.
The letter's contents said that he had administered the medicine, but had been unable to do anything beyond that.
The letter only summarized the essentials, but it appeared that even though he was a former court physician, the maids would not permit him to perform anything like a physical examination.
When the letter referred to "maids," it was not referring to the head maid, but rather the other, high-and-mighty maids in attendance.
(If only they'd just get it over with.)
The quickest solution would be to confirm whether she was a virgin or not.
Risu had not yet completed a night with the Emperor, so if it could be established that she was still untouched, at least the suspicion of infidelity would be cleared.
However, when it came to the method of determining that, even Maomao felt some resistance — and that was with a court physician as the subject.
There was the option of bringing in a midwife or someone similar to perform the check, but knowing Risu, she would probably faint on the spot.
In the meantime, Risu's irregular menstruation was likely due largely to the fatigue of a long journey, so Maomao had figured that with plenty of rest and improved circulation, it would eventually sort itself out.
That was what she had figured.
Risu was placed under house confinement five days after that.
In the end, the medicine had been useless, and her cycle remained irregular. While the house confinement on top of it all was rather pitiable, Maomao figured there were various reasons the higher-ups had decided on this course of action.
However, there were always people who would charge ahead without accepting such reasoning, and a guest had arrived at Maomao's apothecary.
"I'm not convinced."
The one twisting his mouth and furrowing his brow was Mashen.
(She could understand why he wasn't convinced.)
But why had he come to Maomao? This was outright business interference.
"Why did it have to turn out like this?!"
Even as he complained, he kept glancing nervously toward the outside of the apothecary—
Bailing,
the young lady, perhaps. After all, Mashen was still only twenty years old—a man who still had much to lose.
"That may be, but what do you expect me to do about it?"
"And why does Lord Jinshi stay silent about such treatment?"
(Just listen.)
Maomao looked at Mashen with half-lidded eyes. She briefly considered calling over a madam and gathering courtesans to stage a mock harem experience for him. For Maomao, who knew the harem well enough to be sick of it, the idea was revolting—but for wealthy outsiders, it was apparently an earthly paradise. The madam, riding high on the trend, had apparently been raking in money by advertising "demonstrations of techniques learned from my time in the harem."
Of course, the "harem returnee" in question was Maomao herself, but the madam had barely consulted her about it.
Just once,
"How's it going?"
"Pretty good, right?"
That was the extent of their exchange—but to think that was enough. How carefree.
In truth, if anyone tried to recreate the harem, the first thing that came to mind was the eunuchs, and the question of how to handle them had been completely glossed over. The point was, as long as you gave the customers what they wanted, it didn't matter whether it was authentic.
Now, back to the matter at hand.
"So then, what exactly would you like to do, Lord Mashen?"
"Wh-what do I...?"
He suddenly shrank back. Maomao could understand offering advice or encouragement when someone had a clear plan—do this, or do that—but there was no point if he didn't even know what he wanted and was simply griping.
It was then that Maomao, on a whim, decided to voice something she had been wanting to tell Mashen.
"Is there a particular reason you're siding with Lady Risu?"
"That's..."
Maomao already knew the answer. But she said it aloud anyway.
"Lord Bashin serves Lord Jinshi. Would taking sides with a particular consort really be in Lord Jinshi's best interest?"
She had thought the whole affair about Lady Risu being gifted to Jinshi had settled down after the fuss with the Mao clan died out. Honestly, since she herself was never keen on the idea to begin with, she didn't think Jinshi would suddenly be considering making Lady Risu his wife.
And yet, Bashin was the only one still thinking about Lady Risu.
The reason was simple.
(He's got a personal interest.)
Considering his background and upbringing, Bashin was an almost abnormally naive man. You'd expect him to know at least a thing or two about women, and someone of his social standing would have been taught such things as part of his education.
(What on earth was Gaoshun doing?)
He had been so wrapped up in serving Jinshi that he must have neglected his own son's upbringing. Once Bashin set his mind on something, he tended to fixate—and if he got deeply entangled in something like this, it could be truly dangerous.
Dangerous, even now.
(And the other party is Lady Risu, no less.)
Nothing but thorns lay ahead.
Should she try pitching him on the idea: "You should have some casual fun—how about it, the courtesans at Rokusai-kan are a fine bunch"? It was worth a shot, even if she knew it was futile.
Knowing it was pointless, Maomao still felt obligated to drive the point home.
"Developing strong feelings toward any particular consort is inadvisable. Have you considered that before acting?"
"…I know."
He made a bitter face and looked down.
She could simply send him home now and pretend this conversation never happened. But if problems arose and Jinshi ended up coming to her about it, she'd be in trouble.
So she would at least hear him out.
"So, what will happen to Lady Risu?"
"She'll be moved from the capital to a detached palace in the north."
"Outside the capital?"
Maomao thought to herself—not just outside the Inner Palace, but outside the court entirely.
Once she left the capital, no matter how much one tried to explain it away, people would assume Lady Risu had done something.
"She moves tomorrow."
"...Is it really all right to say something like that?"
"Are you the type to blab?"
"No."
She didn't intend to be, but it did seem odd to casually let slip something so confidential.
"Normally, I wouldn't talk about it."
Mashan seemed to have at least that much common sense.
"By tacit agreement, Lady Risu will move to the temple at the detached palace. On the surface, it's being presented as preparations for a ground-consecration ceremony."
On the surface. That phrase nagged at her.
But there was no more room for Maomao to press the matter.
"Lord Mashan."
"What is it?"
Mashan looked at Maomao, his expression still rigid.
"When Lady Risu departs, will anyone be accompanying her?"
"...Come to think of it, I believe he said he'd assign Li Bai — that man Lord Jinshi has been favoring lately. And the others recommended by the strategist."
At the word "strategist," Maomao's face nearly twitched, but she held it together.
*(Li Bai, huh.)*
He was a man built like a large dog, but he was capable and not unintelligent. A quick-thinking fellow.
And as for the eccentric strategist with the monocle — the man himself was insufferable, but when it came to selecting people, he probably wasn't wrong.
Still, something about this bothered her.
"What about you, Lord Mashan?"
"...In a rare turn of events, me as well."
Mm. All Maomao could do was nod at that.
*(Something's going on.)*
If that was the case, then what Maomao could do was...
She reached into the shelf and pulled out all sorts of things — strainers, medicines, and what have you.
She bundled several of them together and made a small package — an even simpler version of the emergency kit Maomao always carried in her robe.
"As long as it doesn't get in your way, go ahead."
"What's this?"
"Simple tools for treating minor injuries. Pain relievers, bandages, things like that. And some candy, for when your stomach starts rumbling."
"Do you take me for a child?"
Basei pulled a face, but Maomao pressed it into his hands.
"It won't get in your way, so please."
"...Fine."
He tucked it into his robe with an air of reluctance.
If he didn't use it, that was fine — it would be wasteful, but he could just throw it away and be done with it.
Still, he ought to remember that Maomao's instincts had a strange habit of being right on the mark.
"I'm entrusting you with Consort Risu's protection."
"I know that."
Nothing had really been resolved, but Basei left for the time being.
Maomao exhaled a long breath. She'd apparently just needed to vent to someone, if only for the moment.
(What a troublesome subordinate to have.)
With that thought, Maomao tidied away the empty teacup.