Maomao thought that the world was always full of dark topics.
She sat on a wooden crate behind the laundry area, thinking this.
Today,
Xiaolan
didn't seem to be coming, and with no real work to do even once she returned, Maomao decided to kill some time.
She considered heading to the medical office and bumming some
snacks
off the quack doctor, but with all the commotion these past few days, he seemed busy, so she gave up on that idea.
The "commotion" in question was that matter with the fragrant oil.
Regarding the recent incident, Jinshi had gone to visit the other consorts. In doing so, it came to light that a great number of ladies-in-waiting had been shopping from the merchant caravan.
(It wasn't hard to understand why.)
Trading goods that had crossed deserts, seas, and mountains from faraway lands—if those were available, young women cooped up like birds in a cage were bound to light up and yearn for them.
Even Maomao—if medicines from the western lands were displayed in a tent, she would try to purchase them even if she had to borrow money from the old madam.
She couldn't very well blame the court ladies who had made purchases.
Even the ladies-in-waiting of the Jade Pavilion had bought several items.
Not all of them were dangerous. However, she couldn't leave behind anything that contained even trace amounts of poison, and though it was a waste, she had disposed of them.
Even if each individually held only a trace, combining them could sometimes produce a powerful poison.
Now, the problem at hand was—just who had been planning to smuggle something in?
Currently, there were four high-ranking consorts in the rear palace.
Consort Gyokuyou, Consort Rifa, Consort Risu, and Consort Rouran.
Of these, the one with the most imperial favor was likely Consort Gyokuyou, followed by Consort Rifa. She had also heard that the emperor had taken his hand to several of the mid-ranking consorts.
But when considering the political power of their families behind them, Consort Rouran was the one the emperor should regard as most important.
(Hmm, hmm.)
Maomao picked up a dry twig and drew an orchid on the ground.
The next highest-ranking consort by birth was Rifa, but that was due to her being the Emperor's maternal relative. Her family was not the type to aggressively chase status.
She drew a picture of fruit next to the orchid.
Conversely, the family that had risen in prominence over the last few generations was Risu's. It was easy to see how ambitious they were, considering they had offered their young daughter to the previous Emperor.
She drew a picture of a tree next to that.
Gyokuyou's family was based in the western trade hub. They gave the impression of profiting from trade, but the region was actually near the national border, and a considerable portion went toward national defense. On top of that, it was not a place where crops grew well, so it could not simply be called a land of wealth.
Finally, she drew a leaf.
Maomao had a question.
The attempted poisoning at last year's garden party. That had been carried out by one of Ada's ladies-in-waiting, acting on her own. The motive was not one of someone clinging to power, but rather something thoroughly human.
She understood that much.
But the culprit behind the earlier attempted poisoning of Gyokuyou — who had that been?
Still unknown.
As a result, Gyokuyou's ladies-in-waiting had been cut in half, and even now, the one who had taken the poison in place of the consort was still suffering from its aftereffects.
(Something about Ada's people doesn't feel right.)
Ada was not the type to resort to poisoning. Come to think of it, the same could be said of Rifa and Risu.
Of course, that was Maomao's subjective impression, and she could not say for certain whether it was true.
A lady-in-waiting might act alone, or there could be someone sent in from the consort's family.
It was not just the higher-ranking consorts — the middle-ranked ones were suspects too. Plenty of greedy women who aimed for even higher status inhabited these grounds.
Maomao circled around the four drawings with her twig, groaning.
Then she gave up on thinking altogether.
(What good would thinking do?)
Maomao was just a lady-in-waiting — a disposable pawn in the role of poison taster.
So she decided to change her mood. The inner palace had many gardens, all designed to entertain the Emperor. There were groves of pine, bamboo forests, and orchards.
(The current season should be wild strawberries.)
A month earlier and she could have harvested bamboo shoots, but thanks to some bespectacled fox somewhere, it had ended with cultivating roses in the Crystal Palace.
Truly infuriating — the mere thought of that face was enough to ruin her mood.
When she decided to lift her spirits, her steps grew lighter, and she headed toward the copse of trees tucked away in a corner of the rear palace. Halfway there, however, she ran into a group of ladies-in-waiting from the Crystal Palace.
They were familiar faces, so she gave a slight nod—but the women grimaced and fled at a run. One of them had tiny, almost bound-looking feet, yet she moved with startling speed. Maomao couldn't help but be impressed.
(All that fuss over a little undressing.)
This was a common sight in the pleasure quarters. When a woman of sufficient age came knocking at the gate of the red-light district, the first thing that happened was having her clothes stripped off for an appraisal.
Young women of marriageable age might seem like they'd command the highest prices, but the current trend favored intellect over youth. Surprisingly, the wives of fallen officials fetched top dollar. They had received a decent education, required less initial investment, and—this was the unpleasant part—there existed a distasteful fancy for the fact that they had belonged to another man.
It wasn't as though Maomao enjoyed stripping people down. She had assumed all the ladies-in-waiting at the trend-conscious Crystal Palace would be wearing the scented oil she had been selling, but it turned out some of them weren't. Maomao found this puzzling and had simply wanted to verify whether they truly weren't wearing it.
As a result, she had gotten an earful from that beautiful eunuch.
(Well, I suppose there's bound to be one who doesn't.)
The Crystal Palace had a great many ladies-in-waiting. Over ten handmaids alone, and if you counted the personal maidservants, the total came to around thirty.
Without giving it much further thought, Maomao went off to look for wild strawberries.
When she returned with the laundry hamper stuffed full of wild strawberries, she was told there was a letter at her room—
Airan
—had been the one to tell her. Wondering why the tall handmaid was smirking more than usual, she stepped inside, and just as described, there was a simple letter sitting on the desk.
(Who's it from?)
Checking the sender's name, she saw—
Li Bai.
It conjured the image of a young military officer with the energy of a large dog.
Opening the letter, she found it filled with idle, offhand remarks about how surprised he was that she had returned to the rear palace. And after that, what might pass for the main point: "Recently,
Byakuren
hasn't been around much—could you do something about that?" The request was couched in suitably roundabout terms. The man looked as though his brains were made of muscle, yet he could apparently write rather sophisticated prose, complete with preamble and subtle insinuation. Maomao thought, how truly rude of him.
Byakuren was a popular courtesan, but she was already past the age to remain. Her capable madam was probably weighing whether to have her take over the shop, or—
a major house
—arrange for her to be bought out.
Unfortunately, with Li Bai's current salary, he could never hope to come up with the buyout fee.
(Sorry, give it up.)
As Maomao finished reading the letter with such thoughts in mind, she noticed something that seemed to have been added on at the very end.
"I would like to return the ivory pipe that was previously entrusted to me. There is something else I would like to ask — might we meet?"
Return it? Wasn't the owner found?
The pipe she had entrusted to Li Bai some time ago came back to her memory.
So written correspondence won't do, huh?
At the oddly cryptic wording, Maomao tilted her head while cramming wild strawberries from her basket into her cheeks.