When she reported the foreign girl's story
to Jinshi,
he was thoroughly exasperated. She had steeled herself for news of some grave illness, so learning it was nothing more than a cavity was deeply anticlimactic.
It was such a trivial report that she had thought a simple message might suffice, but once Jinshi sent for her,
Maomao
had to go in person.
Still, woven into that pointless report were a few pleasant exchanges. Every time she saw Jinshi's face soften with the faintest hint of relief, Maomao found herself reflecting on what her presence truly meant to him.
Life in the Western Capital had now passed the half-year mark.
Throughout that period,
Maomao's
assigned servants had largely settled into fixed roles.
"Maomao-sama, I've brought the materials you requested."
He was a boy not yet old enough to come of age. Too large to be called a child, too small to be called a man. She had heard he was thirteen, but he stood a full fist shorter than Maomao. His growth was probably on the slower side.
Small in stature but reserved and perceptive — in the male-dominated Xuixi Province, he was a rare
sort.
Perhaps that was precisely why he had been assigned here. As an attendant, he proved quite handy.
"Thank you very much."
Maomao sorted through the materials she had received and was about to hand him some dried fruit as a tip, but —
"No, I'm already receiving a wage, so I can't accept."
(Well now, how proper.)
Maomao was impressed, even as she thought of the little rascals at the
Verdigris Hall
back in the capital.
Zhao Yu.
...and about the same age. He wished that little glutton would shape up a bit, but personality wasn't the sort of thing that changed easily.
(Perhaps he'd write something for the first time in a while.)
As he was thinking this, a sound came from outside the medical office.
Thinking someone had arrived, he looked outside—
Raohan—
it was his older brother. He set down the basket he'd been carrying on his back.
"Oh, welcome back."
Maomao approached big brother Raohan.
Raohan's brother was always busy, going off to cultivate one place or another and then returning.
Peering into the basket, she found meager-looking
sweet potatoes
sitting inside.
"Those are more like roots than potatoes, aren't they?"
"They're edible. Technically."
If you steamed them and ate them with the skin on, they'd probably be passable.
"I've got a bumper crop over here."
Raohan's brother tossed him some potatoes.
"Potatoes suit you better, I think."
"Probably. If it weren't for the locusts, the harvest would've been better, but oh well—this is good enough."
No point counting on pelts from tanukis you hadn't caught.
"So, would you like to eat some?"
"Hmm—leave the sweet potatoes a bit longer. They're not tasty right after harvesting. Let them sit for about half a month and they'll get sweeter."
"Even these root things?"
"Even a slightly better taste is worth the wait, don't you think?"
That was perfectly reasonable.
"Ah, um..."
A page boy timidly stepped forward.
"What is it? A new recruit?"
"Yes. I know it's belated, but would you permit me to introduce myself?"
He had often crossed paths with Rahan. The humble young page probably wanted to make sure he got a proper introduction in.
"An introduction, huh? Sure, that's a good attitude."
Rahan's eyes were practically glowing. He wore the expression of a man granted a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity.
"Yes. My name is"
Shunketsu.
"I'm told it's the sort of name you find everywhere, so I thought it might be easy to remember."
Maomao had heard it too, of course. But she'd already forgotten as usual, so she decided she would remember it today.
"..."
Rahan's face was frozen.
"Your surname, I think—"
"Yes. 'Kan.' It's also a very common surname. I understand the strategist currently serving here shares the same one."
The strangely timid page—or rather, Shunketsu.
"Kan really is a name you find everywhere. Not that I'm one to talk."
Before anyone noticed,
Rihaku
had joined the conversation. He was carrying a basket of potatoes, which meant he'd probably been helping Rahan.
"Yeah, that's true. Definitely a common name. I know about three people with it myself."
The quack doctor had arrived too, peering into the basket of potatoes to see if they could be used in some kind of snack.
"Exactly. But I'm a little worried—is there anyone else here who shares my name? At my previous workplace, having the same name made me a target for bullying."
"Huh. People can really be something, can't they? What happened back then?"
Rihaku set down the basket of potatoes.
"Yes, being the eldest son,
Hakuhun
was the name I went by."
"Another perfectly safe
name
choice."
"Yes, it really is the most generic name you can imagine."
"..."
Rahan's expression darkened again.
"Oh, if someone else happens to have the same name, you can just forget mine. Call me whatever you like — that's perfectly fine."
Shunketsu smiled.
You could tell he had his share of troubles on account of his small frame.
"Just being allowed to work here makes me very happy. Everyone is so kind, and there's nowhere else that pays proper wages during such difficult times. A name change is hardly a problem."
"Sounds like you've had a rough go of it. You can rest easy — there's nobody here who'd force you to change your name. Here, want a snack?"
The quack doctor handed over a rice cake. Shunketsu tried to decline, but the quack doctor put on an expression that was impossible to refuse. It was Shunketsu who caved first.
"Thank you very much. Um, well, I'm not hungry at the moment, so would it be all right if I brought it back for my brothers?"
"Oh, you've got brothers? Take some more, then."
(Doctor, our food supplies aren't infinite, you know.)
That said, the atmosphere wasn't one that invited intervention, so it was left at that.
Rahan was looking down.
"What's wrong, Rahan?"
"Oh, I'm sorry. I'm the only one who introduced myself. Um, what is your name?"
Shunketsu asked Rahan for his name. For Rahan, these were perhaps the words he had been waiting half a year to hear.
"...Rahan."
Something came out of Rahan's mouth.
"Well... what's wrong?"
Wasn't his catchphrase "I'm not Brother Rahan!"?
"My name is Brother Rahan."
With that, Rahan turned his back and walked away.
"'Lord Brother Rahan,' is it?"
Shunketsu was confused too, but since his brother had said so, there was nothing to be done about it.
Rahan's retreating figure carried more melancholy than ever before.
A few days had passed since the sweet potato harvest began, and various other crops were being harvested as well. Most plants tried to leave behind seeds before winter. It was probably rice-harvesting season in the capital too.
It was a busy season for farmers, but there were all sorts of other things that kept people busy as well.
"Maomao, Maomao, could you please help me with this?"
Suzume
came to Maomao's room and dropped a pile of documents with a thud. They turned out to be records of crop yields.
"Suzume, Suzume, why are you bringing something like this to me?"
"Well, it's on Tsukino Kimi's orders. She said, 'Isn't there someone good with calculations? The quantities are simply too much,' so I accepted them on her behalf. She mentioned it would be convenient to have Brother Rahan's younger brother around for things like this, but there isn't one."
Becoming Brother Rahan's younger brother would just make one "Rahan" — but let's drop such nitpicky corrections, as they're too much hassle.
"So you came to me instead, but I have other things to do, you know?"
"Herb cultivation? Or the work of mixing medicinal ingredients and rolling them into pills? There's no shortage of people who can do those things in your place. Unless it's something only you can do — stitching wounds, treating diseases of unknown origin, or surgery — I don't think there's any need for you to bustle about."
"Yet here you are, shoving documents onto someone else."
"There's no one else who can do it, so I have no choice. The person you entrust numbers to needs to have a certain level of trust, after all."
Somehow, when put that way, Maomao had nothing more to say, so she quietly looked through the documents.
"When you look at them together with last year's crop yields, it gets quite interesting."
Suzume dropped yet another hefty stack of books on the table.
"So basically, you want me to calculate how short we'll fall compared to last year while factoring in various considerations?"
"You're so quick on the uptake, Maomao. That really helps."
Suzume stuck out her tongue playfully.
"Then I'll go give instructions to everyone outside."
Maomao looked at the papers Suzume had left behind and held her head in her hands.
Even if others could handle it, she wanted to be playing around with medicinal herbs, not doing this work. The personnel shortage was a real headache.
Anyway, she had been assigned a job and had to do it. She looked through the papers, thinking that maybe if she replaced the crop names with medicinal herbs she'd feel more motivated, but no such luck.
The wheat harvest was devastatingly low. The potatoes Rahan's brother had grown were already a drop in the bucket, so they'd have to make do by covering the gap with reserves and relief supplies brought from the capital.
"About eighty percent, I suppose."
There was an expression about eating until eighty percent full. If you asked whether someone who normally ate their fill would be satisfied with eighty percent, the answer was absolutely not. What's more, there were those among the poor who weren't even eating to half capacity on a good day, just barely surviving.
If they could unite the wills of hundreds of thousands into one, perhaps they could manage on eighty percent of the food. But that wasn't how things worked. In reality, the poor would starve to death first.
(No, no.)
She shouldn't let herself get emotionally attached to numbers. Brooding over them here wouldn't help anyone and would only slow down her work.
She groaned and muttered to herself for a good while, then noticed someone quietly peeking into the room.
"May I help you?"
When Maomao turned around, there was a young girl standing there. She was, if she recalled correctly,
Yuying's
granddaughter.
She went by Xiaohong,
wasn't it?
"Can I help you?"
Maomao gave her a flat stare. The quack doctor must have a soft spot for children and let her wander in freely.
Xiaohong flinched and stepped back.
It was rather unsettling to be feared like that.
Maomao tried to put on a smile, but it must have come out awkward, because the girl retreated even further.
"Um, it's rather inconvenient when you come to the infirmary without any particular reason. Also, this is my private room."
It was as much of a concession as Maomao was willing to make.
"...There's a sick person. I want you to look at them."
Xiao Hong spoke in a voice that seemed ready to fade away.
"Where is the patient?"
"...Over there."
Xiao Hong simply pointed with her finger.
"I can't understand from that."
"...Please help him. The Chief Minister will die."
Xiao Hong spoke while holding back tears.