Inside the palace, in one of the districts where civil officials worked, there was a medical office. A rest room for the officials was attached to it, and within that space—
Maomao—
—
Luomen—
—
and Physician Liu had their heads together.
Her adoptive father, whom she hadn't seen in a while, looked even more grim than usual.
Though they both served in the outer court, they were assigned to different medical offices, so they rarely crossed paths during work.
It almost seemed as though Luomen was deliberately avoiding working alongside Maomao.
After all,
Yao and Yenyen were, relatively speaking, permitted to work together.
Maomao figured that was Physician Liu's doing.
"So that's the situation. What'll you do, Luomen?"
Physician Liu regarded Luomen's grim expression with a look tinged with exasperation.
"Maomao..."
(Cut it out.)
She didn't mean to put her father in a difficult position.
But Maomao had things she wanted to do, too.
The reason her father hadn't wanted to make her a doctor—
she could see why.
As far as Luomen was concerned, he wanted Maomao to be as happy as possible.
And so he was trying to steer her away from the choices that would make her life harder.
(He wouldn't go so far as to rule it out completely—that's so like him.)
"Do you really want to become a court physician that badly?"
"I'm not fixated on becoming a court physician. I simply wish to possess the same skills as one."
With Imperial Physician Liu present, he was careful to keep his tone polite.
Her father slowly shook his head.
"If you're that determined, there's nothing I can do to stop you. Besides, the fact that Imperial Physician Liu brought you here means I can more or less guess what you're planning to do."
"I've steeled myself for the most part."
"My, my, Luomen. Can you really say"
"Yes"
"so easily?"
Imperial Physician Liu was egging him on.
"A court physician carries a certain prestige. It is, after all, a role entrusted with people's lives. You need a position that commands a certain degree of respect in order to function. But what happens without that status? People fear death. The professions closest to death would be monks, gravediggers, and perhaps doctors."
He spoke with effortless fluency.
"No matter how much knowledge you have, people won't trust you unless you're in a position to wield it. Even if you do your best to help, what happens when the injured or sick person dies?"
"Wouldn't the same apply to a pharmacist?"
Maomao pushed back as well. If she was going to be opposed here, she couldn't back down.
"A pharmacist and a physician are different. A pharmacist dispenses medicine—at most, treats minor injuries. They might be able to set a bone or stitch a wound. But if an arrow is embedded deep in someone's organs and pulling it out would prove fatal, would you turn to a pharmacist?"
"..."
She couldn't answer. Maomao had never found herself in that situation.
"When it's that severe, nobody would blame the pharmacist. A pharmacist's treatment is administering medicine. People understand that medicine is useless if the patient lacks the strength to keep taking it. But a court physician is different."
Imperial Physician Liu's voice grew lower.
"There's a soldier with an arrow lodged barely away from his heart. A pharmacist could simply throw up their hands and concede, but a court physician must see the job through. Without damaging any blood vessels, you split open the skin and flesh, extract the arrow, and stitch everything back together as it was. It sounds simple, but that's where the difference between a physician and a pharmacist lies. If the patient moves even a fraction of an inch, it's all over. Anesthesia is used, but it barely helps. You strap them to the bed, and several people have to hold them down to keep them still. While being stared at by a face contorted with terror—drool, tears, and the shame of incontinence all mixed together as their chest is cut open—"
"scalpel—"
"not the slightest slip can be afforded. The arrow must come out or they'll die eventually, but if the extraction fails, they die right then and there."
She understood. The level of danger in the lives they handled was fundamentally different for a pharmacist versus a physician.
"If you're a court physician, it's still manageable. Having the proper skills and credentials means that even if you fail, you can excuse it with 'There was nothing more I could do.' But what happens when someone without credentials performs the same procedure and fails?"
It wouldn't end well. In some cases, one had to consider the very real possibility of being killed by the bereaved family.
"If you're a court physician, the state backs your title. If you fail, the state still shields you. But you—"
"I can't become a court physician. Not as things stand now."
Maomao admitted it frankly.
A woman cannot become a court physician.
Changing the law is difficult. And now was not the time for that — no one knew when that time would come. The more likely outcome was that nothing would change at all.
"Even so, you still want the same skills as a court physician?"
Maomao almost turned to look at her father, but stopped. She could imagine what expression he was wearing. She felt her resolve might waver if she saw it.
"Yes."
"...She says so. Luomen."
Physician Liu's voice grew even more exasperated.
"The child you raised turns out to be this stubborn. A difficult personality, but in a different way from you."
There was even a hint of fondness in Physician Liu's voice.
"She really is an incorrigible child."
Her father slowly rose and gently rapped Maomao on the head.
(Father is thinking about me.)
That was precisely why she felt so guilty. But she hated the idea that something she could have done if she knew the truth would become impossible simply because she didn't know.
The first thing prepared was a chicken. It was still slightly warm and hadn't fully stiffened yet. Only the chest and belly feathers had been plucked, and it hadn't even been bled. When Maomao drove a well-sharpened small knife into it, blood spurted out.
"Remove the innards cleanly. Don't cut a single scratch. This will be a meal later, so don't treat it carelessly."
(If you don't bleed it properly, it'll stink when you eat it.)
Prioritizing skill improvement must have taken precedence.
Aside from Maomao, there were five or six others. Judging by the familiar faces, they were all apprentice physicians.
She had been told to come along to oversee the purchase of medicinal ingredients, and the place she was brought to was a section of a chicken farm. It was located a short distance from the capital.
Since they had to start by catching free-range chickens, it was impossible to do in court physician robes. They changed into soiled work clothes like field garments and donned leather aprons before beginning. They caught the chickens outside, wrung their necks, then took them inside a rough shack to butcher them.
"I never said to chop them up while they're still alive. Be grateful."
Physician Liu seemed to be enjoying himself to some degree. After giving orders with an air of superiority, he began negotiating with the chicken farmer, evaluating chicken gizzards, chicken livers, and other medicinal ingredients derived from chickens.
When it came to catching and dressing chickens, Maomao prided herself on being more skilled than the other apprentice physicians. But the one who had caught the very first chicken was the apprentice physician
Tenyū,
and that left her feeling rather vexed.
"Does your family run a farm or something?"
Her frustration made her blurt it out before she could think.
"Nah, this is the third time I've done this training, so I'm pretty used to it by now. Still, it's not exactly a pleasant job."
So he had indeed been feigning ignorance those few days ago.
Tenyū was the kind of loose-lipped man who seemed generally useless, but his hands were surprisingly deft. He skillfully sliced along the slippery skin of the chicken.
"Think about which internal organ corresponds to which part of a human body as you work."
Of course, the structures of humans and chickens were different.
This must be the very first entry point of the training.
If you couldn't even catch a single chicken running around, there was no way you could handle a human body.
If you lacked the nerve to wring a live chicken's neck, you'd never be able to cut apart a human being.
And if you didn't have the skill to butcher a slaughtered chicken, you couldn't dissect a human body either.
It was the most elementary of elementary lessons, yet there were apprentice physicians who still stumbled at this first step.
"What comes after chickens?"
"Pigs. They're big, so it takes three people per head. Cattle take five. Once you're used to it, they have you do it wearing physician's robes so you don't get any blood splashed on you. Then you move on to the next stage."
"You haven't progressed yet?"
"Nope. They made me start from the very beginning. Said my hands still aren't steady enough."
He seemed more composed than the other apprentice physicians, which was why she couldn't help but speak to Tenyū.
"At least having to start over isn't the worst. If they determine you have no aptitude whatsoever, that's the end of any career path."
(No aptitude, huh?)
She thought of the apprentice physician who had been reassigned.
"On an apprentice physician's wages,"
"Enen"
"...can't exactly let you off easy."
(Hang in there, Enen)
This man was truly relentless.
As the chicken was chopped to pieces, the smell of blood filled the air. The apprentice physician, unable to bear it, covered their nose and mouth with a handkerchief, but Physician Liu snatched it away when he returned.
"For treating patients,
a cloth mask
was the right call. But take it off for now."
The apprentice physician, their cloth mask taken away, was ashen-faced. Feeling sick to their stomach, they ran outside the hut.
"Ah... how many times is this now? They'll be saying you don't have the aptitude pretty soon."
Tenyū said, treating it as if it were someone else's problem.
Maomao arranged the organs on the plate. Heart, liver, intestines, stomach...
(Intestines spoil easily, but they're delicious. I could eat them right now, though.)
Chicken intestines are thin, so washing them carefully was a bit of a hassle.
(The gizzard—I'd love to skewer it and sprinkle some salt on top.)
If it had been bled properly, it would have tasted wonderful.
(The gallbladder hasn't ruptured. Good.)
If the bile spilled, the whole thing would be ruined.
She set it down gently. Once everything was placed, Physician Liu spoke.
"Alright then, let's put it all back and stitch it up."
Despite the trouble she had taken to separate them by part.
"I know you're raring to eat, but don't keep going at it like that. You'll start seeing the patient as meat."
"Even I wouldn't go that far."
It seemed Maomao's thoughts were completely transparent.
She put the organs back in their original positions, being especially careful not to rupture the gallbladder.
"Do you know how to use this?"
What appeared before Maomao with a casual flourish was something resembling a fishing hook, carefully wrapped in cloth. Thread was included as well.
"Here you go."
The thread was likely silk, bearing a distinctive smooth luster. She threaded it through the eye of the hook, pinched it between her fingers, and began to stitch.
(At least I've done sewing before.)
She had only ever used straight needles, but the fishing-hook type was surprisingly easy to handle.
(When you work for the government, they really do give you fine tools.)
She sewed with quiet admiration. If she were being greedy, she would have wished for something with a longer grip — a tool she could hold more firmly would make the work much easier.
(
Tweezers —
No, those would be impossible to grip. I wish I had something I could hold onto a bit better.)
She finished while mulling the thought over.
She glanced to the side, and seeing that Tianyou already wore the look of someone who had finished his work, she felt a pang of frustration.
"Here, let me see."
Physician Liu inspected the suture.
"...Hmph. Do whatever you like with the rest."
It seemed she had earned a passing grade.
"Wash the needle properly. It'll be boiled later. It's expensive, so don't lose it."
Given its shape and fineness, it must have been crafted by a remarkably skilled artisan. She resigned herself to the fact that there was no way she could sneak it home.
Maomao cut the sutures and proceeded to remove all the organs for washing.