Xiao Hong's
expression was dead serious.
Maomao
considered what she should do.
This didn't look like a child's prank. If
Chichō
and
Gyokuō's
eldest son was truly on the brink of death, Maomao couldn't just abandon him. But someone of that standing would surely have had a doctor attend to him already.
"I have a question—why me? There are plenty of other doctors, aren't there?"
She wasn't as disoriented as right after the locust plague. Even if his conduct was poor, surely a doctor would have examined the former lord's son.
"...Uncle said he'd be taken to a doctor and then..."
"Killed?"
A word she couldn't ignore had slipped out.
Maomao looked toward the door of her room.
The quack doctor was leisurely sipping tea. Li Bai was on break, and a different guard stood in front of the infirmary.
(The east window was wide open.)
From the guard's position, it was a blind spot, and the quack doctor's eyes were as good as knotholes. She must have made her way to Maomao's room in silence.
Maomao looked at the documents spread across her desk.
(A child probably wouldn't be able to make sense of them,)
but just to be safe, she quickly gathered them up, stuffed them into a document box, and tucked it into a desk drawer.
"What do you mean, killed?"
"..."
Xiao Hong conspicuously averted her gaze. It was good that she had come to Maomao since there were no other doctors to turn to, but the girl seemed to be weighing carefully just how much she was allowed to say.
It would be one thing if this were just a child's prank. But what if it were real?
Maomao knew nothing about the man called Chikyo. Politically speaking, she couldn't even tell where he stood—whether he opposed the central government or not.
So the course of action Maomao ought to take here was—
(Ignore the child's nonsense and carry on with her work as usual.)
That seemed the obvious answer.
But at the same time, she dreaded how West Capital would react if Chikyo died, following on the heels of Yugaku.
(More than anything)
For Maomao, leaving a dying person to perish would leave a bad taste in her mouth. If only that good-for-nothing had come sniveling to her trying to skip out on his medical bills—then she could have cut him off without a second thought.
(What should I do?)
Maomao agonized.
There were broadly three possibilities.
First, Xiao Hong's claims were false or mistaken. She had some ulterior reason for summoning Maomao.
Second, Xiao Hong's claims were true. Someone was after her life, she had no one else to turn to, and she had grasped at Maomao like a drowning person clutching at straws.
Third, Xiao Hong's claims were true. Someone was after her life, and she had no one else to turn to. However—
(There was a chance the one targeting her was the central government.)
Under normal circumstances,
Jinshi
would be the one she'd report to, but that was proving difficult. Maybe she should just ignore it after all.
"Hm—"
Xiao Hong watched Maomao groan with eyes glistening with tears. Why did she have to send a child to do this? If only that insolent
Gyokusun
had come instead, she could have laughed and sent him packing.
(Damn it!)
After much agonizing, she let out a heavy sigh.
"Fine. I'll come with you."
Maomao had broken.
All she left on the desk was a single owl figurine.
Sparrow
had carved it out of wood to pass the time, shaping it like an owl.
She prayed that it was not the third possibility.
Maomao stuffed the bare minimum of medical tools into her clothes and descended the stairs. Xiaohong's plan was to slip out through the window.
"Oh my, what's the matter? Didn't you say you'd be staying in your room today?"
The quack doctor asked.
"I need a change of scenery. I'm going to check on the herbs in the greenhouse."
"I see."
The quack doctor, who harbored no particular doubts, busied himself preparing tea. By the time Maomao had engaged him in conversation, Xiaohong should have already made her way outside through the window.
"Li Bai isn't here yet, is he?"
"He should be sleeping at this hour."
Li Bai stood guard mostly at night, so he slept during the day.
Maomao bowed to the guard at the entrance.
"I'll be heading to the greenhouse. Please take good care of the imperial physician."
She bowed deeply. Currently, there was only one guard on the outside. Officially, the quack doctor, who outranked Maomao as the imperial physician, took priority.
Maomao walked out of the medical office with a nonchalant expression, picked up a small basket, and headed toward the greenhouse.
(If there had been a move on the part of the central government to kill Shisho...)
That possibility was very much real. But she believed it was not Jinshi's intention. Otherwise, he would not have done something as obvious as leaving an owl figurine on the desk.
He was the kind of man who had stayed silent even after being made a fool of by Jade Oriole to that degree. If it was just Shisho-level mischief, he would have considered it endearing.
"Over here."
Xiaohong peeked out from behind a tree.
Maomao linked up with Xiaohong and followed her. Around them, officials and servants moved about here and there, but none paid particular attention to Maomao and her companion.
Rather than sneaking around furtively, it was better to walk with confidence—one attracted less notice that way.
(This is hard on the heart.)
Xiaohong's heart pounded as she headed for the door connecting the main residence to the official buildings. Maomao expected her to open the door and go straight through, but she turned to the side instead.
"This way."
They walked along the wall separating the official buildings from the main residence, eventually reaching a thicket of trees. The trees were impressively large—uncommon for the Western Capital—but they seemed intended more as windbreaks than for ornamental purposes. Maomao had seen this type of tree before, though she didn't know its name. Presumably, it had never stuck in her memory because it was useless as either poison or medicine.
"This way."
Tucked away among the trees was a small door, neatly disguised by a canopy of climbing vines so it wouldn't be spotted at first glance.
(A hidden passage.)
Maomao was beginning to think Xiaohong hadn't been lying after all. The door had a lock fitted with a simple trick mechanism, and fumbling with clumsy fingers, Xiaohong worked it open.
Beyond the narrow door lay a long, slender corridor. Walls pressed in on both sides, and overhead, tree branches formed a canopy.
"...Xiaohong?"
There stood Chishō, his face deathly pale. His abdomen was drenched in blood.
"Wh-who's this?"
"A doctor."
Chishō regarded Maomao with suspicion. His eyes held the calculating look of someone appraising what was before them.
"May I see your wound?"
"Someone like you thinks you can treat a wound?"
His tone was surprisingly steady despite the heavy bleeding. Either the wound wasn't as serious as it looked, or he was simply enduring it through sheer willpower. But judging by his ashen face, he had lost a considerable amount of blood.
"I'm not saying you have to let me treat it, but with that much bleeding, you're going to bleed to death sooner or later, whether you like it or not."
"..."
Chishō was thinking it over. He couldn't very well have Xiaohong bring another doctor. If the wound turned out to be minor, he could simply chase Maomao away. If not, he had no choice but to accept treatment.
(What if it turns out to be nothing serious?)
He worried she might cut his throat to silence him. If that happened, then—as much as it pained him—he would have to take Xiaohong hostage. He wanted to believe that even a ruffian like Chishō would go soft on his own niece who cared about him.
"...Fine."
Chishō bared his blood-soaked abdomen.
(This is...)
The wound wasn't a stab. It was a gouge. Along the flank, the flesh had been scraped away as though the surface were being pared off. That explained the bleeding.
Shōkō nearly collapsed on the spot. For a well-bred young lady, the sight was too much to stomach.
The man called Chishō seemed well-practiced in enduring pain.
"...Was it poison on the arrow?"
At Maomao's question, Chishō let out a snort through his nose.
"You could tell that much?"
"Your judgment seems swift. How long did it take you to gouge it out?"
"Didn't take more than a few seconds."
"Did you feel pain or numbness first?"
"If I'd felt numbness before gouging it out, it would've already been too late."
(He knows about poisons.)
If numbness had been present, aconite would be the most likely culprit. Aconite was a potent toxin—death could come within seconds.
"What kind of circumstances were you shot under?"
"Do I need to tell you that?"
If he'd been found in a hidden passage within the government office, he must have been shot either in the office or in the main estate. And the fact that he hadn't called for help nearby but had gone out of his way to summon Maomao—this showed he couldn't trust those who would normally be called for a doctor.
(The likelihood of an internal family dispute is high?)
If so, rather than a matter involving the central authorities, a conflict between siblings seemed far more probable. If the eldest son were eliminated, there would be no shortage of beneficiaries in the succession. Shōkō appeared to be on good terms with Chishō, but her mother could also be a suspect.
Maomao gestured for Chishō to lie down, then drew a handkerchief from her robe.
"It was an arrow, but a blowgun dart, wasn't it?"
"...What makes you think that?"
She pressed the handkerchief against the wound on his abdomen, applying pressure to stanch the blood.
"The fact that you scraped it out before feeling either pain or numbness tells me the poison was applied from the start. If that's the case, it's more likely a blowgun dart than a bow and arrow. Besides, it would be difficult to nock a bow inside an estate."
Once she felt the bleeding ease under pressure, she took out a needle and thread. The gouging had cut through flesh and skin, but the organs were unharmed. It was rough, but it would be faster to sew it up quickly and be done with it.
"Where's the blowgun dart?"
Chishō handed Maomao a cloth bundle. Alongside a discolored piece of flesh, the tip of the dart was visible. She would examine later to determine what poison had been used.
"It'll sting a little, but please bear with me. Excuse me."
Maomao stitched up the abdomen without hesitation. Shishō, who was skilled at bearing pain, didn't let out a single cry despite his face contorting.
When Maomao finished stitching, she was covered in blood. She had come in secret, but if she returned looking like this, it would be obvious she had treated someone.
(I should have just ignored him.)
Maomao clenched her teeth in frustration as she tightened a sash around Shishō's abdomen. A pained "gagh" echoed through the air, but he'd just have to endure it.
(First aid is done.)
But even if she brought him outside like this, there was no telling who was friend and who was foe.
Xiaolian was still unconscious, and Shishō was dazed from blood loss.
For now, she decided to examine the arrow lodged in the piece of flesh. It was a long, slender conical needle.
(Can't tell what poison was used.)
Just looking at it wasn't enough. If it pricked Maomao's hand, she'd know immediately what poison it carried, but she had no intention of conducting a poison experiment here. Catching a mouse or something and stabbing it with the needle would be the clearest way to identify it.
"What are you doing over there?"
Maomao was startled.
Above her, a face was visible among the trees.
"My, my — things are getting interesting, aren't they?"
That distinctive way of speaking belonged to only one person.
Sparrow.
had climbed up the wall and was looking down at Maomao.