"Ah, so it really is true."
"Yes, I saw the doctor go in with my own eyes."
Maomao listened with interest as she slurped her soup. In the spacious dining hall, hundreds of servant girls were
eating
their morning meal. It consisted of soup and
multigrain
porridge.
The maid sitting diagonally in front continued her gossip. She wore a sympathetic expression, but curiosity burned even brighter in the depths of her eyes.
"At
Gyokuyou's
place too, and at
Rifa's
place too."
"Wow, both of them? It's only been about a year and three months, hasn't it?"
"Exactly. It must be a curse after all."
The names mentioned belonged to the Emperor's favorite consorts. The year and three months likely referred to the age of the princes each had borne.
In the palace, rumors
ran rampant.
There were stories about the consorts who had been intimate with the Emperor, talk of the succession, malicious slander born of bullying and
jealousy,
and even ghost stories befitting the oppressive summer heat.
"That's right. Otherwise, there's no way three of them would have died."
She was referring to the children born to the consorts — the princes in line for the throne. One during the Crown Prince era, two after ascending to the imperial throne, all of whom had perished in infancy. A high mortality rate among young children was nothing unusual, but when all three were children of the court nobility, something was decidedly wrong.
At present, only the children of Consort Gyokuyou and Consort Rifa still survived.
(Could it be poisoning?)
Sipping her lukewarm water, Maomao considered the notion but quickly dismissed it.
Of the three children, two had been princesses. In a world where succession rights were granted only to males, there was virtually no reason to kill a princess.
The two sitting across from her
couldn't even pick up
their chopsticks, muttering about curses and vengeful spirits.
(That still doesn't mean curses exist.)
Ridiculous — that was the one-word summary. In a kingdom where merely casting a curse could result in the extermination of one's entire clan, Maomao's way of thinking was practically heretical. But in her mind, she held the knowledge that could justify that conviction.
(Could it be some kind of illness? Perhaps something hereditary? How exactly did they pass away?)
It was then that the maid reputed to be surly and tight-lipped approached the chatty maids.
She would come to regret letting her curiosity get the better of her — though that realization came only some time later.
"I don't know the details, but apparently they all gradually grew weaker—"
The chatty maid,
Xiaolan,
seemed intrigued that Maomao had spoken to her, and from that point on shared gossip with her at every opportunity.
"Judging by how often the physician visits, could Lady Rifa's condition be more serious?"
She spoke while wiping down the
window
lattice with a wrung-out rag.
"Lady Rifa herself?"
"Yes, both mother and child."
The physician attended to Lady Rifa not so much because the illness was severe,
but because of the
Crown Prince. Consort Gyokuyou's child was a princess.
The Emperor's favor may have leaned more toward Consort Gyokuyou, but when the children differed in sex, it was clear which would be prioritized.
"I don't know the exact symptoms, but she says there's headaches, stomach aches, and nausea too."
Xiaolan, seemingly satisfied after relaying everything she knew, headed off to her next task.
In return, Maomao gave her
licorice
tea. She'd brewed it from some growing in a corner of the courtyard. It smelled medicinal but was quite sweet. The maid, who rarely got to eat anything sweet, was delighted.
(Headaches, stomach aches, and nausea...)
The symptoms matched, but there was no clinching detail.
Her father had always scolded her for jumping to conclusions based on mere speculation.
(Maybe I should go take a look.)
Maomao decided to finish her work quickly.
Even grouped together as the Rear Palace, its scale was vast. There were regularly two thousand court ladies, and the live-in
eunuchs
numbered over five hundred.
Maomao and the other maids were crammed ten to a room in the dormitories, but the consorts' quarters grew larger with rank—the lower consorts had individual rooms, the middle consorts had entire wings, and the upper consorts had whole palaces. Including the dining halls and gardens, it was all far bigger than a nearby town.
As a result, Maomao never strayed from her post on the eastern side. She only had time to go elsewhere when sent on an errand.
(If there's no errand, I can just make one.)
Maomao approached a court lady carrying a basket. Inside were bolts of fine silk that had to be washed at the water station on the western side. Whether it was due to differences in water quality or the people doing the washing, silk washed on the eastern side quickly deteriorated.
Maomao knew the deterioration came down to whether or not the silk was dried in shade, but there was no need to mention that.
"I'd love to see the really beautiful eunuch who works in the central quarters."
When she casually relayed what Xiaolan had mentioned, the court lady happily accommodated her.
In this place, where romantic stimulation was scarce, even eunuchs apparently served as objects of interest. Maomao had heard rumors that some court ladies, after leaving their posts, went on to become eunuchs' wives.
Compared to the real thing,
it was probably still more wholesome, but she still tilted her head in puzzlement.
(Will I end up like this someday too?)
At her own question, Maomao folded her arms.
Ugh.
She groaned.
After swiftly delivering the laundry basket, she glanced at the red-lacquered building standing in the center of the compound.
A more refined, elaborate palace than those at the eastern edge.
Currently, the person residing in the largest room in the inner palace was the Crown Prince's biological mother—
Rifa,
Consort. With the Emperor having no empress, Rifa—the only consort to have borne a son—was the most powerful figure here.
Yet the scene before her was not
so different from the common world—
it was no different from the streets below.
A shouting woman, a woman
bowing her head,
panicking women,
and a man stepping in to mediate.
(
Not so different
from a brothel.)
With this remarkably cool-headed assessment, Maomao joined the bystanders—that is, the rubberneckers.
The shouting woman was the most powerful person in the inner palace, the bowing woman was second in rank, and the panicked ones were maids—
the man stepping in to mediate was a doctor who was no longer a man. She figured this out from the whispers around her and their appearances.
"It's your own fault! Just because you gave birth to a daughter, you want to curse—
my own son—
to death, don't you?!"
A beautiful face, when twisted, became terrifying. Ghostly pale skin and eyes like a demon's were fixed on the beauty holding a hand to her cheek.
"You know perfectly well that's not true.
Xiaolin
"is suffering just the same."
The woman with red hair and
jade-green
eyes answers calmly. Consort Gyokuyou, who carries a strong heritage of Western blood,
Gyokuyou
lifts her gaze and looks at the doctor.
"So I would like you to examine my daughter's condition as well."
Though she had stepped in to mediate, the fault seemed to lie with the physician.
It appeared she had come to protest that the doctor attended only to the Eastern Palace while ignoring her own daughter.
As a mother, it was understandable, but within the rear palace system, prioritizing males was only natural.
From the physician's perspective, he wore the look of someone who wanted to protest his innocence.
(What an idiot, that brute.)
To be so close to two consorts and not even notice—no, before that, could it be he didn't even know?
An infant's death, headaches, abdominal pain, nausea. And Lady Rifa's pale skin and unsteady body.
Muttering fragments under her breath, Maomao left the scene of the commotion.
(Is there any written record?)
She pondered as she went.
And so, she paid no heed to the person passing by.