Books require maintenance. While spreading out a book riddled with silverfish damage,
Maomao
was copying it down with intense focus.
Old books suffered from both moisture and sun exposure; some had blurred text, others were so brittle they were crumbling. Most were paper books rather than wooden tablets. The decision had likely been made that wooden tablets would be too bulky to fit in the room. Because of that, she now found herself copying books written on poor-quality paper.
"Maomao, what about dinner?"
Yan Yan
arrived.
"I don't need any."
Focusing on reading the book was far more important.
(I don't need this section.)
Her father had written several primers for Maomao to study. However, she wasn't copying all of them, and many of the texts in the current library were descriptions she had never seen before. From the handwriting, she knew it was her father's work, but the content was more detailed.
Some were things Maomao had learned, others were not, and in some cases, the descriptions had changed.
With the advancement of technology, it wasn't uncommon for things once considered correct to later be identified as wrong. This room had probably been used about twenty years ago. At the very least, after more than twenty years, her father's medical knowledge would have been updated and revised.
She bit down on the brush,
turning
the pages. Knowledge was sustenance. While immersed in it, she didn't need food—but...
"Dinner's ready!"
A loud voice shouted right by her ear. It was Yao. If Maomao were a cat, she would have bristled her fur in shock.
"I don't need—"
"Eat."
Yao's eyes were glinting with a look that brooked no refusal. She grabbed the collar of Maomao's kimono and started dragging her. Maomao at least tried to take the book she was reading with her, but even that was snatched away.
"Yan Yan, make sure Maomao eats properly."
"I'm sorry, Young Miss. Maomao was concentrating, and I felt it would be a shame to interrupt. Besides, I thought having some time alone together once in a while wouldn't be bad either."
(The latter was absolutely the main reason.)
The sound of En'en clicking her tongue could be heard. Lately, the meals En'en made had been delicious, and every time was a feast.
"It wasn't just the two of you. When En'en went to get ingredients for the meal,
Rahan
came by."
"Y-Young Miss? I didn't hear anything about that."
Perhaps the shock of learning that Maomao had been alone talking with another man was what did it — En'en's face was stiff with tension.
Yao, on the other hand, didn't seem to care. Yao generally maintained a standoffish attitude toward men, not wanting to lose to them when it came to work, but Rahan apparently didn't bother her one bit. Maybe she had simply gotten used to him, what with him bringing dubious jobs by every other time.
"She said she was making sure the servants were given ingredients for four, so I naturally assumed you had invited him."
Yao gestured toward the dishes spread across the round table. It was too much for two people, and still a bit much for three. Four chairs had been arranged around the table.
At the center, the
main dish
— a whole roasted duck — gleamed invitingly.
Maomao couldn't help but swallow hard.
"...I'll go bake a few more
flatbreads
. Maomao, help me cut the vegetables."
En'en was in a bit of a mood.
"I'll help too."
"No, Young Miss, I'll be done in no time."
En'en declined Yao's offer with a sharp, proper air.
(Maomao sighed inwardly.)
Yao was pouting.
Maomao understood that En'en lived to serve the Young Miss, yet in certain ways she failed to grasp what the Young Miss actually wanted. Perhaps closeness bred a certain blindness.
Maomao chopped the scallions and arranged them on a plate. She wrapped duck meat and condiments in a thin flatbread, dipped it in sauce, and took a bite.
She really ought to thank Yao for putting her reading on hold.
The kitchen had tableware already prepared from the start, but each set came in a number divisible by four.
Maomao narrowed her eyes at the plates.
"When you squint like that, you look just like Master Rahan,"
En'en's remark made Maomao open her eyes wide.
"We're not related, so there's no way we'd look alike."
She made that perfectly clear.
The porridge had been prepared with enough for a late-night snack as well, so there was no need for more.
As for
the fruit dessert,
only three had been prepared from the start, so they briefly agreed to save them and eat after Rahan returned.
"I just want to ask—there shouldn't be any problem if I leave this residence now, right?"
She checked with her overprotective attendant, just to be sure.
"I already told you that wouldn't be an issue. Besides, Lady Yao is eager to go herself."
"That's exactly what I don't understand."
"She was a capable girl, and everyone her age was an idiot."
Speaking in her characteristically blunt manner, En'en kept grilling thin pancakes one after another. Maomao prevented them from sticking as they cooled, then arranged them on plates.
"She always said she'd study hard and not lose to men, so honestly, when she lost to Maomao on the entrance exam, she was absolutely furious—furious enough to act completely out of character."
She must have tripped Maomao or played mean tricks on her. If anything, it was mostly the surrounding court ladies who did such things, so it didn't really matter.
"That was terrible of her."
Maomao hadn't expected her to score so well.
"Even if Uncle was part of the reason, why does Yao want to succeed so badly?"
The question slipped out of Maomao's mouth.
"...It has to do with Lady Yao's mother,"
En'en said after a slight hesitation.
"To Lady Yao, her mother is as good as dead—she vanished the moment the master of the house passed away."
"Why?"
Maomao, for her part, had almost no sentimental attachment when it came to the notion of a mother.
But the circumstances in which she and Yao had grown up were quite different.
"After the master of the house passed away, you can well imagine what would become of a wife who couldn't manage the household on her own."
"My uncle took over."
"And yet, she was still the lady of the house."
The master's wife was the lady.
Yao's mother must have remarried her uncle. It was hardly an unusual story, but for a daughter it must have been a complicated matter—one that could easily become an object of loathing.
"I see."
Maomao picked up a plate of vegetables and thin pancakes and offered just that brief reply.
"Well now, thank you ever so much for the invitation."
The one who came sauntering up with a grin was a small, bespectacled man with an irritatingly smug look about him.
(Nobody invited you.)
Maomao and En'en must have been of one mind on that point, at least. He had thoughtfully brought a gift, but for some reason it was—
snow frog.
It was one of Yao's favorites, and it certainly showed he was doing well for himself.
As it happened, when Yao moved to take a closer look, En'en swiftly hid it away. The young lady still did not know that her favorite treat was made from frog.
(He must have cleaned up at that Go tournament.)
sweet potato
He seemed to be running a business using those as well, and had other ventures on the side. He barely had enough hands for everything, but she could at least give him credit for keeping it all together.
"A meal surrounded by flowers is such a pleasure. Roses, irises, and—
wood sorrel."
She didn't need anyone to tell her who the wood sorrel was meant to refer to.
"I've heard all sorts of things about Lady En'en's cooking, and I've been meaning to try it at least once."
"My, my, how wonderful."
Yanyan's expression was frozen. But at least she hadn't forgotten to serve the food, which was something.
(Where did I even hear about Yanyan's cooking reputation?)
Maomao's question was answered right away.
"Her brother's restaurant is quite popular, and I hear his sister's cooking is every bit as impressive."
"Indeed. Yanyan's cooking is delicious. Good enough to rival the head chef's skills, I'd say."
Yao praised her without hesitation, completely naturally.
She'd heard before that Yanyan's brother had been saved by Yao. He'd been working as a cook at Yao's household, but apparently had struck out on his own afterward.
(Maybe it was because the head of the household changed?)
She felt she now understood one of the reasons why Yanyan had nothing but a bad impression of Yao's uncle.
"I've eaten at your brother's restaurant three times, and my, the cuisine there is truly exquisite."
"Three times? Which seasons did you go? The menu changes with each season, doesn't it, Yanyan?"
"Yes. He should be preparing dishes with seasonal ingredients each month."
Whenever the conversation turned to Yanyan's brother, Yao perked up. And since Yao kept steering the conversation that way, Yanyan joined in as well.
Maomao was simply savoring the crispiness of the duck skin. The rich, fatty skin and the flavor of the condiments were enclosed in a thin wrapper.
She dipped it in sweet and savory sauce
and ate. The more she chewed, the more the meat's umami and nuttiness, the crunch of the condiments, and the simple thin wrapper blended together exquisitely, stimulating her salivation.
In a word: delicious.
"My, this is truly exquisite."
Raban agreed.
Raban also had another quality worth praising: he was genuinely good at conversation. He'd managed to open up Yao, who was by nature rather shy around people, which explained why Yanyan was getting a little irritated.
As they ate in silence, Maomao gradually became full. There weren't going to be any dessert snacks, so she started glancing toward the room with the bookshelf, wondering if she could go read now.
"Maomao, you're not going to suggest rushing off to read a book, are you?"
Yao glared at Maomao. Even without joining the conversation, it seemed she was still expected to be present.
"..."
Maomao obediently sat still and ate some green onion to pass the time.
Come to think of it...
There was something about the arrangement of the bookshelves that caught her attention.
"Rahan, has anyone taken any of the books from the bookshelves?"
"Books from the bookshelves?"
Rahan tilted his head.
"I wouldn't know. My adoptive father wouldn't do anything regarding Great-Uncle's things. If anything, he just had the servants clean the room regularly."
That was an unusual level of consideration for the eccentric strategist. No wonder she had noticed the detached quarters were kept so clean.
"Are you saying some books are missing? If so, the servants who do the cleaning would be the suspicious ones, but my adoptive father wouldn't hire anyone strange. That man is truly troublesome as an enemy."
Books were valuable and did get stolen from time to time, but could the servants working for the eccentric strategist really get away with that?
Unlikely.
"What's missing?"
"Not so much what's missing—more like something that caught my eye."
Maomao got up from her seat, took two books from the bookshelf along with the paper and writing implements she used for copying, and returned.
"Please check the spines."
"What's this?"
Yao tilted her head.
"III-VI-1"
"IV-II-3"
That was what was written on them. In other words, the first book of the sixth volume in the third set. It probably made no sense, but each time a new classification was added, the numbers were increased to subdivide the collection further.
Every book on the shelf—at least several hundred of them—had been assigned a number in the same manner.
"I can read the first number, though."
"Those are Western numerals."
En'en, who knew a bit of the Western language, chimed in.
"Yes."
Maomao began writing the numbers down on paper.
"1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6, 7, 8, 9."
"I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX."
It was Raohan whose eyes lit up at the mention of numbers.
Yao reacted to the paper with "I, II, III, IV, V, VI, VII, VIII, IX" written on it.
"Could it be that the next number is written as 'X'?"
Yao traced the shape on the table with her fingertip.
"That's correct. As expected of you, my lady."
En'en answered on Maomao's behalf.
"The old man had the books arranged neatly by number. But volumes one and two had gaps in them."
"Is that so?"
"I thought you'd notice right away, since you love numbers so much."
"Unfortunately, I rarely come to this wing. I'm busy, you know."
"Then don't eat so leisurely."
Her true feelings slipped out before she could stop them.
"Maomao, please refrain from using vulgar language in front of Lady Yao."
En'en delivered her educational guidance.
"If they have numbers on them, does that mean they're written by category?"
"Yes. Volumes one and two contained foundational information. Volume one was about the structure of the human body. Volume two was about surgical procedures."
Maomao's specialty was crude drugs, but from the perspective of healing people, there were things she wanted to know.
"Unfortunately, I wouldn't know, but I'm curious. I'll ask the servants about it."
Raohan stood up from his seat, pushing his glasses up with a flick. His plate had been cleaned off neatly, and he seemed satisfied.
"I have some errands tomorrow, so if anything comes up, just call someone appropriate."
"Understood."
En'en replied curtly.
"Thank you for the meal. It was truly delicious. You must be tired. Just leave the used dishes as they are. I'll have the servants called."
Maomao had been intending to tidy up as well, but if it wasn't necessary, that was even better. She wanted to get back to writing in her book as soon as possible.
Just as Raohan was leaving and she was about to head to the room with the bookshelves, her shoulder was grabbed.
"What is it?"
"There are still sweets, you know."
En'en was there, smiling, as if to say she wouldn't let her escape.