The next day, Maomao went to check on yesterday's water bucket. The brownish water in the barrel had become so murky it was nearly black.
"Here, look at this."
Maomao
slowly tipped the barrel. As the murky black water drained away, a white, muddy substance could be seen settled at the bottom.
"What's this?"
Leaning in to peer inside
was Sazen.
And beside him, with nothing better to do,
Chouu
stood as well.
"The stuff settled at the bottom becomes kuzu powder. It's heavier than water, so if you let it sit, it collects at the bottom. The top water is dirty, so you pour it off, then rinse with fresh water over and over, discarding the top each time, until you've got clean kuzu powder."
"So this is what turns into yesterday's mochi, huh—"
"Hey, don't stick your finger in! You'll mix it up!"
Maomao shoved Chouu aside when he got in the way.
"When you repeat the process, the sediment gets whiter and whiter. There are still wood shavings mixed in, so you remove them as you pour off the water."
"Right."
"After doing it about four or five times, reduce the water and transfer it to another container. Pour off the top water again, then let it dry out once."
"W-wait,
I need to
write this down."
Sazen scrambled to fetch his writing supplies. Maomao had already compiled the instructions in a document he didn't really need to copy, but writing it out himself would probably help him remember.
"If you're just going to stand around, go play somewhere."
Maomao treated the lingering Chouu as though she were shooing away a stray dog.
"I'm offering to help, you know. Show some gratitude, freckles."
"A cat's paw is better than nothing, huh?"
"Nya~"
Mao Mao
brought over, and with its paw pads
punched
did Zhao Yu.
"There's fur getting in."
Maomao released Mao Mao.
"If you're going to help, bring water again. Yesterday,
Youkyou's
share of kuzumochi — you took it, didn't you?"
Youkyou, the head of the male servants who loved children, always spoiled Zhao Yu.
"Ugh, heavy labor again?"
Saying that, he grabbed a bucket and headed for the well.
"Oh right, freckles."
"What?"
Maomao replied while skimming off the surface.
"You're heading home today, right? When are you coming back?"
"Hmm..."
Officials received one day off every ten days. Court ladies took their leave in sync with that schedule, but since their duties were less critical than the officials', they had more holidays. Additionally, seasonal occasions added extra days off, though there were few holidays after the New Year break.
(Next day off should be in ten days? Coming back and forth in a single day would be such a hassle.)
Since Hasuzen was proving more capable than expected, there was no point in Maomao showing her face too frequently — it could actually backfire. She'd arranged for messages to be sent if anything came up, so there shouldn't be any problems.
On her days off, Maomao had laundry, medicine-making, and review of what she'd learned — tasks she couldn't fit into work days.
Recently,
Yao and the others sometimes invited her out shopping, so it wasn't as though she had nothing to do.
(Mustn't forget about Yao and the others)
I hope nothing bad comes of that document I found at the eccentric strategist's house.
"Maybe about a month from now?"
"What? That's ages from now."
"I've got all sorts of things to do."
Chou U sulkily grabs a bucket and heads for the well. As he leaves, Sasazen returns.
"Hey, did you make Chou U feel bad again?"
Sasazen used to treat Chou U like a "young master," but apparently he handles him normally now. He's one of the few who knows the secret of the child's clan, but for the time being, he's unlikely to be quietly eliminated.
"It's nothing. I just told him I can't go back because I'm busy."
"Ah. The poor guy."
With a look of exasperation, Sasazen writes down what he'd been taught on the wooden tablet. Originally a farmer from the Northern Province, he's skilled enough to read and write.
"Kids, even when they're putting on a tough front, still want to be spoiled, you know. Especially Chou U — he's got no family, and he doesn't even remember those days."
"I don't know about family, but he sure clings to the courtesans."
"Even so, they get attached to whoever took care of them when they had no memories. It's like
duck
— ducklings."
"Ducklings."
Newly hatched ducklings imprint on the first living thing they see.
"I'm not his parent, though."
"Chou U knows that much. But still, he's just a kid."
Having finished writing on the wooden tablet, Sasazen slowly begins to pour out the water from the bucket.
"When I was his age, I was already earning enough to feed myself."
"...That's the thing — people who can do it just can't understand how it feels for those who can't. But the really capable ones understand just how much the incapable can't do."
It felt like some sort of admonition. Not like the usually flustered Sasazen at all.
"...Sasazen, isn't that something you picked up from Ukkyaku?"
"How did you figure that out⁉"
It seemed she'd hit the mark. The older male servants, who had a somewhat resigned outlook on life, had often lectured Maomao in a similar fashion since she was little.
"Fine, I get it. Okay, I'll tell you the next step, so write it down."
Maomao picked up the wood shavings left in the bucket and tossed them aside as she spoke.
The first workday after a long holiday was exhausting.
Maomao rubbed her sleepy eyes as she ate breakfast.
"That's terrible manners."
Yao said, looking somewhat displeased. What she was eating was congee with abalone in it. It had a slightly puzzling green hue—an unusual way of eating in Huayang Province, where Maomao lived.
(Abalone has skin-beautifying properties, after all.)
The one nonchalantly eating was…
Yanyan.
…the one who had made it. She must have been thoughtful about the health benefits.
Incidentally, Maomao was also eating congee that Yanyan had made, but hers was plain white congee with black vinegar drizzled over it—no abalone. Abalone was a luxury ingredient, so apparently there was only enough for Yao's portion.
Whether Yao felt self-conscious about eating something different from everyone else, she occasionally asked for the same thing to be prepared. But Maomao was simply enjoying the hospitality and didn't need anything special. Yanyan understood this as well, so she prepared things in moderation—just enough that Maomao wouldn't feel awkward.
After finishing breakfast and heading to wash the dishes, Yanyan came up alongside her.
"Thank you very much. Thanks to you, I didn't have to meet any strange people during my time off."
"If anything, I'd say you were staying at a strange person's house."
Maomao replied, thinking there were precious few houses stranger than that one.
"Right after you left, the master of the mansion returned. He was treated with a certain… respect, in his own way."
The phrase "in his own way" suggested the hospitality had been peculiar and far from ordinary.
"He gave me a souvenir too."
What Yanyan quietly produced was a rod-shaped object that radiated an overwhelming sense of terrible taste. Maomao knew—she'd had similar items brought to her before—that it was technically a hairpin. Whether it had been bought or handmade, she couldn't say, but she'd sooner stick a fallen twig in her hair than wear this thing.
"Why don't you just throw it away?"
"Yes. It's quite unsuitable for Lady Yao, but the materials themselves are actually good quality. I was thinking of taking it apart to reuse or sell them."
"Mm. That sounds like a good idea."
Maomao had adopted much the same approach when it came to disposal.
"Maomao, I've been holding onto something for you as well."
She produced another hairpin. Compared to the one Yan Yan had received, this one was even more flamboyantly gaudy.
"Could you dispose of this one too?"
"Of course."
Yan Yan took the practical view and simply tucked it back into her sleeve.
The two of them clattered away, washing the dishes.
"If it's about Lady Yao, please rest assured—I'll take responsibility for that."
"That's a huge help."
Back at the Green Alum House she had tried not to dwell on it, but now that she was actually starting the job, she couldn't help worrying about what Yao might do.
Still, even if Yao carried on with the medical assistant work as though nothing had happened, Maomao now had the ability to make her uneasy.
Sharp-eyed Yan Yan would surely not have failed to notice that.
"...Maomao, I have a question."
"What is it?"
"What exactly is the difference between a court physician and an apprentice physician in this country?"
At Yan Yan's question, Maomao thought for a moment.
"Well... I've heard that an apprentice physician first passes an examination, then studies under a physician before being promoted."
"Right. So I looked into what kind of exam is required to become an apprentice physician. It turns out the questions are nearly identical to the exam we took."
"Nearly identical?"
Maomao had assumed the test only covered basic medical knowledge.
"Yes. And between apprentice physicians and medical assistants—our work has more menial tasks, but the fundamentals are the same. If the only difference is a change in the official title, while the substance remains equivalent..."
"Are you saying there might be a path for us to become physicians down the line?"
"Yes."
It wasn't such a far-fetched idea, not so strange as to be called eccentric—if not for the single barrier of the law.
(It wasn't as though Yan Yan actually wanted to become a physician.)
If there was anyone who could, it would be Yao, her master.
And if she could pass some kind of examination between court physician and apprentice physician, and thereby become a physician…
(As for what that something was…)
"As a condition for becoming a physician, I can't help feeling that the forbidden text has something to do with it."
Her father's hidden forbidden text. It had to be connected somehow.
Yan Yan had reasoned her way that far.
And if she had a reason for saying this where Yao couldn't hear, it was this:
"I do not wish for Young Mistress Yao to become a physician."
Maomao thought this was ethically unacceptable on the face of it. But Yao was more flexible than she appeared, willing to make the effort to accept things. That was the kind of person she was.
Yan Yan's words were surely just a precaution.
"…Understood."
Maomao shook the water droplets from the tea bowl and set it down.
"I won't say anything to Yao."
However…
"If Yao has chosen this for herself, then there is nothing either you or I can do."
This much, at least, she made sure to convey.