While working, she'd make small talk with her colleagues from time to time.
Shorty came from a family that had been in medicine for generations, and had been pushed into taking the medical officials' exam whether he wanted to or not.
"It's honestly hell."
He had a strange sort of talent, but lacking the right aptitude made things difficult.
"I'm sorry to hear that."
Maomao
could only say that.
At the clinic, now turned into an experimental site for medicines, the two of them divided up the work.
Shorty couldn't handle blood, and Maomao couldn't handle buckwheat, so they compensated for each other's weak areas. Since it was internal medicine, they didn't often encounter blood, but there had been one occasion when a patient tripped on the way to the lavatory and split their forehead wide open, and Maomao had been the one to treat it.
In exchange, making the fake pills was left to Shorty.
Shorty seemed perfectly competent at first glance, but once you found his weakness like this, you couldn't help but feel an odd sort of closeness to him.
After finishing her first day at the clinic, Maomao returned to the dormitory. Waiting outside was
Suzume
.
"Hello, Maomao-san."
"Hello, Suzume-san."
Maomao understood what Suzume had come for, and headed in the direction she beckoned. Sure enough, a carriage was waiting, and she climbed right in.
The place Maomao was taken to was a library. It wasn't far from Jinshi's office, but its scale was rather modest.
"If you'll excuse me."
Following Suzume inside, she was greeted by a peculiar, damp atmosphere that was oddly pleasant—the space was filled with the smell of paper.
There were hardly any people. One person at the entrance, and another working in the back. What were they doing? They appeared to be soaking paper in something like water and peeling apart pages that had stuck together.
"We're in the middle of restoration work. Try not to get in the way."
A voice came from behind. She turned to see who it was, and it was Jinshi. Behind him, acting as his guard,
Gaoshun
…was right behind him.
(How rare.)
She had heard that Gaoshun had been assigned to the Emperor. Yet here he was, sticking close to Jinshi — he must have some ulterior motive.
That said, Maomao's interest lay elsewhere.
"So that manuscript has been restored, I take it?"
Maomao asked, eyes gleaming.
"Still a work in progress, though."
Jinshi beckoned her over, so she followed.
Sheets of paper were laid out one by one. They were tattered and stained, with ink bleeding through. There were also drawings of what appeared to be the human body.
"...Oh."
Maomao's eyes went round.
The manuscript covered illnesses, injuries, and medicines, but the most prominent feature was an anatomical chart. The interior of the human body was depicted in painstaking detail.
(
Tenyuu
— he'd said something about ancestors.)
She felt a strange sense of kinship.
"..."
"..."
"..."
"Say something."
Jinshi spoke to Maomao, who was utterly captivated by the manuscript.
"Sorry about that."
So saying, her eyes remained firmly fixed on the restored manuscript.
"This is a fascinating manuscript."
"Boring, if you ask me."
"Because he lacks any sense of morality, he goes about things in the most reckless, flamboyant way possible — and that's precisely why the results are so fascinating."
"What does that say about him as a person?"
Jinshi responded with a weary nod of acknowledgment.
The texts dated back roughly a hundred years. They contained records of human abdomens being cut open while the patients were still alive.
"The patients were slaves, I presume?"
"That seems highly likely."
The idea of cutting open a person's belly was utterly unthinkable. The only reason they had been allowed to make an incision during the Empress Dowager's delivery of the current Emperor was presumably because, at worst, if the Empress Dowager died, no one would care.
Maomao glanced around the room to confirm that only Jinshi, Suzume, and Gaoshun were present. She had been wondering why Suzume was so quiet — it turned out Gaoshun had given her a remarkably long piece of candy. Choosing a kind that wouldn't leave crumbs was typical Gaoshun.
Looking at the group assembled, Maomao considered how much she should reveal. But then she remembered — it wasn't as though she could afford to say she wanted no part of this anymore.
"Your Majesty — how is His Majesty's condition now?"
"What do you think?"
Being asked a question in return was answer enough.
"...This is based solely on my own knowledge."
"The usual disclaimer, I see."
Maomao couldn't very well help it — she didn't consider her analysis to be definitive. It was, after all, only speculation.
"...It is my suspicion that His Majesty may be suffering from appendicitis. The reason is that the court physicians are currently testing the effects of medicine for appendicitis. Furthermore, even if it is appendicitis, I believe it may be a chronic case rather than an acute one."
"Why do you think it's chronic?"
"Verifying the effects of medicine takes time. If this were acute appendicitis, there would be no time to conduct drug experiments at this stage. However, if His Majesty had developed appendicitis once before, recovered, and now faces a risk of recurrence, then it would make sense to investigate."
"The correct answer is the latter. His Majesty has suffered from appendicitis once before. At that time, he was cured with medication."
"Then are you saying the symptoms from that time are appearing now?"
"Allow me to explain that point. At the time, I was serving as an assistant to His Majesty."
Gaoshun stepped forward one pace.
(Assisting His Majesty — so that was before Jinshi entered the Rear Palace.)
That meant it was before the change of reigns.
"Back then, His Majesty, who was the Crown Prince at the time, exhibited symptoms of abdominal pain, nausea, and fever. The chief court physician at the time..."
Mental Strain
"I was told it was appendicitis brought on by psychological stress, and it subsided after drinking boiled herbal medicine and changing my diet."
There could be various causes of appendicitis, so that couldn't necessarily be said with certainty. However, for the chief court physician at the time to make such a declaration, the psychological stress must have been significant and obvious enough to point to.
"Do you know what caused the psychological stress?"
"I can't say which one specifically, but His Majesty, as the Crown Prince, seems to have clashed more with his mother than with his father, the previous Emperor."
"......"
(That's definitely enough to cause psychological stress.)
Maomao had never actually seen the former Empress Dowager—the Female Emperor—so she couldn't say for sure, but from the anecdotes she'd heard, it was clear the woman was no ordinary person.
Rumor had it that in her later years, the Female Emperor had quarreled frequently with the current Emperor, who was then the Crown Prince.
"Also,"
Maomao,
"I'm not sure what you'd make of this, but—"
"What is it?"
"At that time, the one who sided with His Majesty—"
was Lord
Luohan.
Maomao's jaw dropped.
"How despicable."
"Maomao, your true feelings are showing."
Suzume had finished her candy, so Gaoshun handed her another. The relationship between adoptive father and daughter-in-law seemed to be a good one.
But when you thought about it, the story made sense. The eccentric monocle man had returned from the western capital to the central government seventeen—no, eighteen—years ago. To climb the ranks from there, he would have needed a powerful backer. If the Crown Prince, who was younger than himself and locked in a standoff with the Female Emperor, was available, backing him would be a way to bolster his own influence.
Above all, there had always been the question of why a man who caused so much trouble—blowing up part of the rear palace and generally doing as he pleased—was never punished.
(He had His Majesty's weakness in his grip.)
It fit together with almost uncanny neatness.
"If anything, wasn't the real cause of His Majesty's psychological stress that monocle-wearing middle-aged man?"
"I'll refrain from offering my opinion."
Gaoshun fled.
"So His Majesty is currently experiencing the same symptoms as back then?"
"Yes.
Liu,
the medical officer,
Han,
the medical officer says that from what he can tell during his examinations, the condition hasn't reached a critical stage yet."
Han the medical officer — that's the old man,
Luomen,
as he's known.
"There's still no sign of recovery?"
Gaoshun nodded.
If continued medication showed no signs of improvement, surgical intervention would become necessary.
(Wound the imperial body?)
Even Maomao could tell. It meant bracing for death, even if the surgery went through. Even if it succeeded, there was no telling what people would say. She could end up branded with some absurd accusation and sentenced to death.
The stakes were incomparably heavier than an emergency cesarean on the Empress Dowager, given that the patient was royalty.
Maomao scratched her head without realizing it.
Not only her adoptive father Luomen, but medical officers of Liu's caliber should never be punished for reasons beyond their control.
In this
Hua Tuo
text, might there be some revolutionary treatment method recorded? As the restoration progressed further, she had a feeling something might turn up.
(There's no time to wait idly.)
There was only so much Maomao could do. But couldn't she at least try something?
"If anything were to happen to His Majesty, the entire country would descend into chaos."
Jinshi's muttering was reasonable. The crown prince was not yet even five. If a regent were to be appointed,
Gyokuyou
the empress's father,
Gyoen
would assume the role.
Many ministers despised the crown prince for his bloodline from the distant western lands. Then there would surely be those who wished for—
Rifa,
the son of Consort Rifa, to be placed on the throne as emperor. And beyond that, if someone were to be raised up—
It would be Jinshi, twenty-two years old, the emperor's own half-brother through the same mother.
(It'll be chaos. Total chaos.)
Even if Jinshi had no interest in the throne, those around him would not stay silent.
And unlike in the past, Maomao could not keep calm either.
(Is there anything? Anything at all?)
Even a little—if she could be of use when something happened.
Maomao stared intently at the text once more.
"Hey, Maomao."
Jinshi called out to her, but right now she was only searching for any straw she might grasp.
Within it, she found a faded character.
"Ma..."
Maomao narrowed her eyes.
She tried desperately to decipher the blurred characters, putting her imagination to work, and read the word.
"Mafeisan."
That was what it seemed to say. Maomao clenched her fist tight.
What appeared to be raw ingredients were listed, but these characters were also faded and hard to make out. Only a handful of the materials—
"What's that?"
"I've heard the name before. It's the legendary anesthetic said to have been created by the divine physician, isn't it?"
"...Can you make it?"
Jinshi seemed to understand what Maomao was after.
"I don't know. I can barely read any of the ingredients, and I have no idea how effective it really is. But I do know one person who's an expert in this."
"Who?"
Maomao smiled.
The only raw material she'd been able to decipher read:
Datura
—which was all that was written there.