(Sure enough, they were there.)
Holding the laundry basket in one hand, she beamed with delight.
The pine grove near the East Gate — the trees growing there were red pines.
Within the inner palace,
by and large,
the garden maintenance was thorough. The pine grove was also cleaned of dead leaves and dead branches once a year, which encouraged the growth of a certain mushroom.
What she held in her hand were matsutake mushrooms whose caps were not particularly broad.
There were people who disliked the smell,
but for Maomao,
they were a delicacy. Tearing them into quarters, grilling them over a mesh, adding salt and
squeezing citrus
juice over them to eat was sheer bliss.
It was a small grove, but she had fortuitously found a cluster, so the basket held five matsutake mushrooms.
(Should I eat them at the old man's place, or in the kitchen?)
At the Jade Palace,
if she ate them there, she might be asked where she got the ingredients. "I picked them in the grove" — well, that was something a court lady probably ought not to be doing.
So she made her way toward the well-meaning but professionally inept physician. If he liked them, all the better; even if he didn't, he would probably let it slide.
On the way,
Xiaolan's
place — she made sure not to forget that stopover. For Maomao, who had few friends, Xiaolan was a valuable source of information.
Rifa
Consort's nursing had left Maomao so
wasted
away that the moment she returned, the senior maids set about fattening her up. Despite having been at the consort's side for two months, their reaction was both welcome and troublesome. In the basket were things she received at every tea gathering...
Mooncake
and
crackers
sat there, more than she knew what to do with.
Xiaolan, who always had room for sweets no matter how many, lit up at the sight and chatted away to Maomao throughout the entire short break.
As usual, most of the stories she told were dubious, ghost-story-type tales, but
"I heard a lady-in-waiting in the inner palace used an aphrodisiac to seduce a stiff, woman-hating military officer."
When Maomao heard that one, she broke into a cold sweat.
(Yeah, it's probably unrelated. Probably.)
Come to think of it, she had a feeling she'd never actually asked who it was supposed to be used on.
The term "inner palace" referred to the rest of the imperial court outside of this place.
Because normal men could be found there, it was a glamorous profession with fierce competition.
For the record, this place — with no normal men to be found — was a rather lonely workplace.
In the medical office, besides the loach-mustachioed old man, there was an unfamiliar, pale-faced
eunuch
who was there.
He was rubbing his hand over and over at something.
"Oh, miss, perfect timing."
"What is it?"
"It seems I've gotten a rash on my hand. Could you whip up a
salve
for me right away?"
It really didn't sound like the words of the man who oversaw all the physicians of the Inner Palace.
Well, it was business as usual, so she headed for the room next door where the medicine shelves were kept.
Before that, though, she set down the basket and took out the matsutake mushrooms.
"Do you have any charcoal?"
"Oh my, you've brought back something impressive."
Soy sauce
and salt would be nice too."
They must really like it—they were quick to agree. In high spirits, she headed for the dining hall to get the condiments.
The poor patient was left behind.
(If he doesn't mind, I'll give him one.)
She thought this, stirring the ingredients with a clatter while thinking of the pitiful eunuch.
By the time the quack doctor returned with the condiments, a charcoal brazier, and a grill, the thick ointment was ready.
She took the eunuch's right hand and carefully applied it to the red
rash.
The smell was a bit strong, but he'd have to bear with it.
After she finished applying the medicine, his slightly pale face seemed to have recovered some color.
"My, what a kind maid."
"Isn't she? She's always helping us out."
The two eunuchs chatted away pleasantly.
Speaking of eunuchs, depending on the era they're often portrayed as power-hungry villains, but in reality that's only a small handful. Most have mild-mannered personalities like these two.
(There are exceptions, of course.)
A disagreeable face briefly flashed through her mind, so she promptly erased it.
She lit the charcoal, set up the grill, and placed the hand-sliced matsutake mushrooms on it. She also sliced up the sour citrus she'd "borrowed" from the orchard.
The distinctive aroma wafted up, and when the mushrooms had a slight char, she plated them, sprinkled on salt and sour citrus, and ate them up.
Both middle-aged men had partaken as well, making them all accomplices.
While Maomao chewed away, the quack doctor made idle conversation.
"The young lady can do anything, which is a real lifesaver. She makes all sorts of medicines, not just ointments."
"Oh my, that's wonderful."
He treats me as though I were his own daughter, which is a bit embarrassing.
It reminded me, suddenly, of the old man I hadn't seen in over half a year.
A little
moment of sentimentality —
while I was lost in it, the quack doctor made a perfectly characteristic blunder.
"Well, there's no medicine you can't make, is there?"
(Huh?)
"Anything at all?"
"Anything."
The quack doctor snorted with a self-satisfied "hmph" — ah, that was what made him a quack.
"Then can you make a potion to break a curse?"
The man said this while stroking his irritated right hand.
His complexion had returned to the pale look from before.
○●○
That was the evening before last.
Work always ended with garbage disposal.
Waste collected from all over the rear palace was gathered onto carts and burned on the west side.
Strictly speaking, setting fires after dusk was prohibited, but with no wind and the air so humid, I authorized it on the grounds that it posed no problem.
The lower-ranking officials tossed the garbage into the pit.
Wanting to finish the work quickly, I threw myself into the task alongside them.
Something among the cart's contents caught my eye.
A woman's garment.
It wasn't silk, but it was fine quality — too good to throw away.
When I picked it up to examine it, I found scattered wooden slips wrapped inside.
The garment that had been wrapping them had large scorch marks on its sleeves.
What in the world is going on here?
Worrying about it wouldn't finish the job.
She picked up the wooden slips one by one and tossed them into the fire in the hole.
○●○
"So then the flames surged up violently and changed to an eerie color?"
"That's right."
The uncle shuddered, as if even recalling it was terrifying.
"Were the colors red, purple, and blue?"
"That's right."
Maomao nodded in understanding.
So the rumor Xiaolan had told her about today had originated here.
(Even though it was a story from the west side, it traveled this far?)
As for court ladies' rumors—
faster even than Vikata—
that part was probably true.
"That there? It's the curse of a consort who died in a fire long ago. See, lighting fires at night was a bad idea, just like they always said. That's how his hands ended up like this."
The eunuch's skin condition had apparently developed after witnessing those flames.
"Hey, miss. Can't you make me a medicine to break the curse?"
"There's no such thing as a curse-breaking medicine."
She said that coldly, rose from her seat, and began rummaging through the medicine shelf beside her.
Paying no heed to the flustered quack doctor and her uncle, she placed something on the table—several powdery substances, along with scraps of broken wooden slips.
"Weren't the flames a color something like this?"
She lit a piece of charcoal from a wooden slip, and once she confirmed it had caught fire,
with a spatula,
she scooped up the white powder and dropped it into the flames.
The orange flames turned red.
"If not, then try this."
When she added a different powder, it turned blue-green.
"See, you can do it with this one too."
When she added a pinch of the salt used for matsutake mushrooms, it turned yellow.
"Miss, what exactly is this?"
The quack doctor asked, clearly taken aback.
"It's the same as colored fireworks. The color just changes depending on what burns."
The Pavilion
There had been a fireworks craftsman among the guests at the pavilion. Even secret techniques never shared outside the family,
The Bedchamber
...became nothing more than casual conversation within the bedchamber. Without even realizing that a child was sleeping right beside them.
"So what is this supposed to be? It's not a curse, is it?"
Maomao held out the white powder.
"If you touch this with bare hands, it can cause a rash. Or perhaps lacquer was used on the wooden writing tablets. Either way, isn't your skin rather sensitive?"
"...Is that so?"
He slumped down limply, as though his bones had been removed. On his uncle's face were
relief
and surprise, plastered there for all to see.
It must have been clinging to the wooden tablets. By burning them, multicolored flames had been born.
That was all there was to it.
(Though I have to wonder why he had something like that in the first place.)
Maomao's thoughts were cut short.
She heard the sound of hands clapping.
"Well done."
Before she knew it, an unwelcome guest had appeared.
Wearing that same heavenly smile as always.
The protagonist is completely a science person.