In the rear palace, there were fewer than a hundred women who held the rank of consort.
When a high-ranking consort departed, it was always the subject of much gossip, but for those of lower rank, it was not uncommon to simply notice one day that they had vanished. Some were given away as gifts, while others were returned to their families without ever having caught the Emperor's eye.
Many court ladies scoffed at those who left the rear palace, but Maomao herself thought it wasn't necessarily a bad thing.
A room with a placard bearing a flower and a number. It was the room of a lower-ranking consort, but a black cloth was draped over the door.
The black cloth signified mourning—in other words, that the consort who occupied the room had died. The same had been done when the former Crown Prince passed away.
Maomao, her father, the quack doctor, Yao, and Yan Yan were making their rounds through the rear palace. It was their second visit.
"Could it be illness?"
The one who blurted this out was
Yao.
If it had been an illness, her father would have examined the woman during their previous visit. Which meant—
"It was probably suicide."
In truth, it was not uncommon. When a clear-cut suicide bore no suspicion of foul play, the rear palace did not make a fuss about it. It wasn't exactly an everyday occurrence, but neither was it rare enough to cause a stir.
Most of the women who entered the rear palace had come with their beauty as their pride, regardless of which flower they were assigned. Many had high self-esteem, and it was not uncommon for them to be crushed by the gap between their ideals and reality after entering.
"Apparently she had become dependent on alcohol."
Maomao could hear the voices of court ladies chatting away. They had been so absorbed in gossip that they hadn't noticed a doctor walking nearby. Upon spotting the white coat, they hurriedly scurried back to their posts.
(As expected—a graveyard for women. No, a battlefield.)
Those who lost the competition had no choice but to vanish.
In a way, the maids who were worked to the bone actually had it better—at least their terms of service had a clear end, which you could call a kind of freedom.
Today's schedule was to tour the rooms of the lower-ranking consorts before heading to Airin's quarters last. Perhaps eager for answers to the riddle, she had deliberately sent word that she "had a fever and wanted a doctor to come look at her."
"There are no particular problems."
The consort with the overpowering perfume spoke while having a palace maid fan her with a round fan. It was already summer, so the cloying scent wafted toward them, making Maomao want to pinch her nose. To make matters worse, the room was sealed shut, with nowhere for the smell to escape.
(Her figure is just the Emperor's type.)
She had a well-defined figure, which was evident even from the way her clothing was properly fastened at the collar. Her features were somewhat severe, but she didn't look unintelligent. For an energetic Emperor, she would certainly be within range.
Maomao quietly glanced at the ledger the quack doctor was holding. On the page was the name of the perfume-drenched lower-ranking consort standing before them. It recorded what illnesses she had suffered in the past. But that wasn't all—it also noted the number of times the Emperor had visited her.
Ah, so she was his type after all.
The ledger recorded one visit from His Majesty. The fact that there were none after that was probably because her perfume had been too overpowering.
Maomao thought it was crass and vulgar, but every intimate visit within the rear palace was meticulously recorded. It was mandatory for the court physicians to report on these matters as well. Mandatory it may be, but it was honestly a tough burden to bear.
Especially back when Empress Gyokuyou was here.
When she had been in the Verdant Palace, the Emperor visited at least once every three days.
Someone had to be stationed outside the room to confirm the intimate activities were actually taking place. Normally this was the job of Hongniang, the chief lady-in-waiting.
Hongniang.
But when the Emperor visited on consecutive days, it was apparently quite grueling, and in those cases, Maomao would sometimes take over.
Well, I was used to it from the pleasure district, but still.
Even to Maomao, who was somewhat accustomed to such matters, the Emperor and Empress Gyokuyou's intimate activities were on an entirely different level. Even just listening through the walls was quite the ordeal. She always thought it must have been pure torture for Hongniang, a single woman in her thirties.
The very fact that these visit counts were being recorded like this drove home the point that this place was nothing like the outside world.
It was unlikely the Emperor would resume visiting this lower-ranking consort as things stood. Perhaps because she had once received His Majesty's attentions, she carried herself with a strange dignity—but to Maomao, that only made her seem all the more pitiable.
Once a woman had been intimate with the Emperor, any hope of leaving the rear palace grew ever more distant.
If only she didn't have that smell.
With that much perfume wafting off her, Maomao wondered if it had damaged her sense of smell.
No—she wasn't mistaken. The woman genuinely appeared to have lost her sense of smell.
Her small, well-shaped lips were frequently parted. Rather than a habit, it seemed she was using her mouth to draw in air.
Normally, living creatures breathe through their noses. Dogs and cats use their noses. Humans, in principle, are capable of the same.
If she was breathing through her mouth, it probably meant her nose was blocked. A childhood habit of mouth-breathing could affect the alignment of one's teeth.
Her teeth.
The old doctor happened to be having her open her mouth. Her teeth were well-aligned. It seemed he had been thinking the same thing as Maomao.
"Do you sneeze often?"
"Yes."
"And nasal congestion?"
"It's particularly bad from spring to early summer. It's gotten much worse since I came to the rear palace."
"What troubles you about sleeping?"
"As long as my nose isn't blocked, I can sleep."
She jotted it down with quick, flowing strokes.
Since the quack was just staring blankly, Maomao handed the medicine chest to her father.
What her father selected was a remedy for nasal congestion.
"Please use this. If it interferes with your sleep, discontinue use. You may also find yourself needing the chamber pot more frequently, but that shouldn't be a concern."
Then, her father added.
"I believe the incense you've been using may not agree with your constitution. If you wish to continue using it, I'd recommend burning only a light amount. Your condition should improve."
"Very well."
Perhaps the concubine was glad he had understood her nasal troubles, for she accepted the advice readily.
Maomao had been the one to notice, so of course her father must have known as well. What's more, he had gently softened the remark about the incense being too overpowering. Once the congestion cleared, she would have realized just how pungent she had smelled.
After leaving the concubine's chambers, her father stopped to examine the garden shrubbery. Vibrant summer flowers were in full bloom.
"Where was that concubine from, again?"
"Somewhere far to the northwest, apparently. Near the desert—the climate must have been quite harsh."
The quack doctor spoke while leafing through the records.
Her father slowly turned back to face Maomao and the others.
"Well then, since we have the opportunity, let me pose a question. What do you think is causing the concubine's nasal condition?"
He narrowed his eyes gently, framing it as a riddle. Maomao started to raise her hand, but her father fixed her with a stare, and she slowly lowered it. The question was directed not at her, but at Yao and—
En'en.
—the pair of them.
It was Yao who slowly raised her hand.
"Was it because the room was sealed too tightly?"
Indeed, it had been kept shut tight. That was why the smell hadn't dissipated and had grown so foul.
(That was certainly part of it.)
The room had looked clean, but she couldn't be sure whether it had been properly ventilated. She hadn't seen the bedroom, but it may well have been quite dusty.
"If the sleeping quarters are dirty, bugs will breed and it will be harmful to one's health."
That was certainly not impossible. But Maomao had a different opinion.
(She didn't think that consort had given up on the Emperor visiting her chambers.)
A consort like that would never neglect the upkeep of her sleeping quarters. The overly strong incense could, in a way, be seen as part of her grooming. Her nose had been stuffed up, though, so she hadn't been able to gauge the right amount.
Maomao looked at the grass and trees growing in the garden.
(Severe hay fever from spring to early summer.)
She crouched down and plucked at the grass growing along the path.
Mugwort.
The plant Maomao frequently used as moxibustion fuel. It grew everywhere, but perhaps it didn't grow in the consort's homeland.
When Maomao wore a bored expression, the old man took the mugwort she had plucked, looking at her as if to say "What a hopeless child."
"The consort's sleeping quarters are spotless. They should be kept in a state that's no problem whenever His Majesty visits—especially if he's been there at least once."
Having been told his answer was wrong, Yao pulled a disgruntled face.
The old man deftly praised him to smooth things over.
"Your thinking wasn't bad. Illnesses do tend to lurk in unsanitary places. Sleeping quarters are especially important, you know."
Yao's expression was a mix of not entirely displeased at being praised, but also somewhat reluctant to accept compliments from a eunuch.
(If it were me, I'd give the correct answer.)
It was childish to be competitive with someone younger, but the old man was one of the few people around whom Maomao could let her guard down.
"Sneezing can sometimes be caused by grasses and flowers like these."
It was different from a cold. When plant pollen or spores were inhaled into the body, it could trigger sneezing and an unstoppable runny nose.
"The pollen wreaks havoc inside the body. That's what causes the sneezing."
The old man stated this definitively, though he wouldn't normally speak so bluntly to Maomao. He suspected there was some other, different reason causing harm to the body. But in this situation, stating it plainly would be easier for the two of them to understand. Besides Yao and Enen, even the quack doctor looked impressed.
(No, you're the one doing the teaching here.)
Maomao almost let that thought slip from her mouth before catching herself.
"Um..."
It was Yao raising his hand again. He could be a handful, but she had to admit his eagerness to learn was commendable.
"Then if pollen is harmful to the body, shouldn't everyone have to sneeze?"
The old man gave a warm smile.
"That's right. But just as some people catch colds and others don't, some people are affected by pollen and others aren't. And sometimes it can suddenly start causing problems on a particular day. For instance, if your body isn't feeling up to par. Or when you've traveled a long distance from somewhere far away and settled into a new place."
In other words, she was talking about the consort from earlier.
(She'd already known that.)
Maomao pouted. The old man gave her an exasperated look.
When you thought of court physicians, you'd expect the arrogant type who'd tell you to steal techniques on your own, but the old man was different. He properly and patiently taught anyone who asked.
It was a little vexing, but Maomao was an adult too. Reluctantly, she composed her expression and headed to the next consort's quarters.
After visiting around ten consorts, the last stop was Airin's quarters. Somehow, it felt awkward to call that foreign woman a consort. It wasn't because she was a foreigner. If she were the type to discriminate for such reasons, then Gyokuyou, a consort of barbarian descent, would be no different.
The reason Maomao couldn't see Airin as a consort was simply that she didn't believe Airin had entered the inner palace in the role of consort.
A pleasant, exemplary maid opened the door and escorted her to the same room as before.
Before she could enter, she felt a poke at her sleeve — it was Yan Yan.
(Yes, yes, I know.)
Maomao was an accomplice, but the plan called for Yao to take the lead. In Maomao's view, Yan Yan would have been better suited to handle things on the fly, but that wasn't how it worked. Yan Yan's role was simply to support Yao.
The question was when to bring it up.
True to having been summoned, Airin appeared with a feverish look on her face. Whether it was an act or genuine, it was hard to tell. Either way, her flushed cheeks gave off a peculiar allure.
(She's got big boobs.)
Her hands moved of their own accord, wiggling with interest. Since Airin was feeling unwell, she was dressed in something close to nightclothes. One of the maids kept glancing over with a look that said, "How indecent."
"Well then, let me take your pulse."
No matter how alluring the outfit, the men in this room lacked the essential equipment. Between the old man and the middle-aged one, they were already dried up, so the seductive act wouldn't work.
After examining the symptoms, the old man prepared medicine. It seemed her neck was stiff, so he mixed up a remedy containing kudzu root.
She looked at Yao hovering eagerly beside her. It was clear he'd missed
the timing
to bring it up. At this point, it would be better not to say anything at all.
But that was exactly what a good subordinate was for — stepping in when the timing fell through.
A crisp, pleasant sound echoed through the examination room.
It was the sound of someone eating the thin rice crackers that had been set out as tea snacks. En'en was eating the crackers with her usual blank expression.
"En'en!"
Yao scolded her. Since Yao had already spoken up, there was no need for anyone else to step in. Normally, En'en would never have been so rude and forward.
"My apologies. They just looked so very delicious."
"It's quite all right. That's what they're there for, after all."
Still wearing her languid expression, Airin spoke.
As though she had been waiting for that, En'en shot a quick glance at Yao. It seemed Yao had finally caught on to what was being implied.
"They certainly did look delicious. The
sweets
you gave us the other day were also very delicious. They were such unusual white sweets."
It was a slightly unusual-looking
biscuit,
but it wasn't white. In other words, this was a hint that the code had been cracked.
Airin's expression didn't change, but the maids looked puzzled instead. Perhaps they didn't know that a slip of paper had been hidden inside the biscuits. Or perhaps they'd been told it was merely a fortune slip or something of the sort.
"I'm glad to hear that. Actually, making sweets is a hobby of mine. I have some with me today as well, so please take them home if you'd like."
Airin gave a faint smile. Whether she had picked up on the intent behind Yao's words was hard to tell from her expression. What kind of sweets she would offer them was something to look forward to.