"I might be feeling a little off."
Resting her chin on the table, with eyes half-lidded,
Airan
said.
Maomao pressed a hand to her forehead; she did seem to have a mild fever.
They were in the kitchen, taking a break after a round of snacks. Their supervisor,
Hongniang,
was nowhere to be seen, so they were relaxing at their leisure.
"Don't you dare come down with a cold. What are you going to do if you give it to Lady Gyokuyou or the princess?"
cherries
while popping
Yinghua
said. The cherries were from the Inner Palace's orchards. Just for the record, Maomao had not picked them herself — they were a proper gift, so no complaints, please.
"I've been careful, though."
Airan lifted her face with a weary, displeased expression.
Maomao tried to return to her room to brew some cold medicine, but Yinghua stopped her.
"Sorry to ask, but if you're going to make medicine anyway, could you take her to the clinic on the way?"
"The clinic?"
Maomao tilted her head. Did she mean the medical office? If so, she figured there would be no point dragging Airan there — it would only tire her out. But Yinghua seemed to read her mind and shook her head.
"It's not the medical office. How should I put it? There are no court physicians there, but there is someone else instead. Anyway, Airan knows the way — just take her."
Maomao gave a small nod. "Understood."
The so-called clinic was located on the north side of the Inner Palace. Behind the laundry area sat a detached building, and inside were women dressed in white.
(So there's a place like this here.)
It lay well outside the range of Maomao's usual movements. As she murmured about how she had no idea it existed, Airan gave her a wry smile through her coughing.
"I'm guessing you weren't given much of an explanation when you first came in here?"
Unfortunately, Maomao had come in while sulking, so she hadn't really listened to what was being said. By the time she was brought all the way here and given the briefing, she'd no doubt been too busy observing what was growing along the roadside—
Mugwort.
She had certainly been observing it, though.
That was the kind of person she was.
In the adjacent laundry room, the court ladies were working briskly. What they held bundled in their arms appeared to be—
Bedsheets.
—something of the sort.
(Practical.)
Having the laundry room nearby meant clothes and bedding could be washed at once. For a place of medicine where keeping things clean was essential, it was an excellent location.
"Excuse me. I seem to have caught a cold."
Airan called out to one of the court ladies moving about briskly. The busy-looking lady initially wore a puzzled expression, but she set down her laundry basket and placed a hand on Airan's forehead.
"You've got a mild fever. Stick out your tongue."
The voice belonged to someone with years of experience. Deep lines were etched into the woman's cheeks. She was a middle-aged court lady—quite a rarity within the rear palace.
The lady narrowed her eyes, then pulled down Airan's lower eyelid to inspect it. Her movements were far more practiced than those of a quack doctor.
"Hmm. It doesn't seem that bad. You should be fine as long as you don't push yourself for two or three days. What would you like to do?"
The lady asked Airan directly. Her assessment was thorough.
"I can't risk passing this to the consort. Could I stay here, just to be safe?"
"Hmm."
The lady picked up the laundry basket and strode briskly into the clinic. She set the basket down and beckoned them inside.
The interior of the clinic was plain and utterly devoid of ornamentation. The pillars were smooth and unadorned, the hallway floored with simple wooden planks. The windows were nothing more than corner windows set at regular intervals. But with no decorations to speak of, the place looked easy to keep clean and was thoroughly maintained. There were plenty of windows, and the ventilation was good. As the seasons turned warmer, it seemed like a very comfortable place to be.
It didn't carry the distinctive scent of herbal medicine. But there was a sharp smell of—
Alcohol—
—wafting through the air.
Airan was making a face. It seemed her reluctance to come had been because she couldn't stand the smell. For Maomao, though, she could only admire how thorough the disinfection was. Strong alcohol killed the poison on the surface of wounds. Taking it into one's mouth and wiping it on the skin was, needless to say, a standard method of sterilization.
She had once found it strange that the rear palace never suffered disease outbreaks despite having nothing but quack doctors — but now she could see why.
"Then let them know I'll be leaving tomorrow."
"Yes, ma'am."
Airan received a wooden token from a middle-aged lady-in-waiting and headed for the room whose number was written on it.
Maomao was peering curiously into the clinic when someone grabbed her by the scruff of the neck.
"Hey, you — look at you, not doing a stitch of work. Don't think you can slack off just because you're an escort."
"..."
"What's that look for? Or would you rather wash all the laundry here?"
Maomao shook her head in denial at the grinning older woman.
Maomao reluctantly made her way back to the Jade Palace.
You can be as clever as you like, but there's just no beating a proper auntie.
(I wanted to keep watching, though.)
Seeing as that wasn't going to happen, she gave up. She trudged homeward along the path. While Maomao dawdled, lady-in-waiting carrying laundry baskets hurried past in both directions.
It was the rainy season, so whenever the sun came out, they had a terrible time getting through all the accumulated laundry. Come to think of it, Maomao realized she still needed to pick up laundry later.
(Still...)
Besides that older woman, there had been several other lady-in-waiting in the clinic, but every one of them was well on in years.
Because of the nature of the rear palace, lady-in-waiting were semi-forcibly rotated out once they reached a certain age. Most were given their leave before hitting thirty. Those who remained were either high-ranking officials like the head of palace administration, or personal attendants to the consorts.
She'd get an earful for saying it out loud, but Hongniang, as chief lady-in-waiting, was well past the age when she should have left the rear palace.
Given how skilled that lady-in-waiting had seemed, Maomao figured she must have been retained as an indispensable presence in the rear palace.
However, there was one thing that bothered her.
The woman hadn't smelled of medicine at all. Perhaps the stench of alcohol had masked it?
Or perhaps not —
Maomao was deep in thought, stroking her chin, when she bumped into something with a soft thud. She thought she must have walked into a pillar — but when she looked up, there, for some reason, was a celestial maiden's
Face,
blazing overhead like the sun.
"Don't mutter to yourself as you walk. You'll trip."
"Were you saying something?"
Jinshi let out a long breath, spread both arms wide, and shook his head. Seeing his exasperated expression, Maomao felt a flash of irritation and was about to fix him with the look one gives a worm soaking in a puddle—but she caught Gaoshun's eye instead, his face worn with the serene patience of a bodhisattva. She forced her nearly-narrowed eyes open wide again.
"Where have you been?"
"The clinic. I didn't know there was one there."
"…I believe I told the ladies-in-waiting to show you around first. Could information have slipped through the cracks?"
"No, it's not that."
Watching Jinshi wear such an unusually grave expression, Maomao didn't know what to make of it. Did this eunuch occasionally lose confidence in his work? He normally carried himself with such effortless assurance.
Jinshi slowly guided them toward a quieter side street. With His Grace the Eunuch parading through the thoroughfares, that alone would be enough to disrupt business—a prudent decision.
"I was surprised. The place was better equipped than I expected. If anything, they should designate that room as the medical office."
If they did that, though, the quack doctor would lose his head. And that would mean fewer places for Maomao to slack off.
She was reconsidering her earlier remark when Jinshi lowered his brows once more.
"So that was the medical office. If we could do that, we wouldn't have this problem."
"What do you mean?"
"Because only men can serve as court physicians."
As Maomao tilted her head, Gaoshun stepped in to explain.
"In principle, only official court physicians are permitted to prepare medicines. As for treating injuries, scrapes might be tolerated, but handling serious wounds is out of the question. It's prohibited."
(So that's how it is.)
Maomao understood. That must be why the room had no smell of medicine.
But if that was the case—
"What happens to me, then?"
Maomao had been brewing medicines to her heart's content, it seemed. Of course, she couldn't bring ingredients in from outside the inner palace, but she had been using plants growing within the palace grounds and medicines from the medical office.
"It means they've been turning a blind eye. Among the concubines, it's not uncommon to keep a handmaid who knows her way around medicine. However, in a place like that, the presence of medicines is too conspicuous, making it impossible to have them on hand."
Judging from Jinshi's words, there were some complicated circumstances at play. Maomao thought there might be all sorts of baffling systems and regulations in place, much like the salary system for the inner palace ladies-in-waiting, but since it didn't interest her in the least, she couldn't begin to guess the details.
Alcohol, even if medicine was forbidden, could still serve as a disinfectant—so with some ingenuity, they must have been making use of that.
Simply resting in a clean place was enough to make illnesses easier to recover from. In severe cases, there was always the option of sending the patient back to their family home.
(What a hassle.)
But overturning a system that had already been established would be even more of a hassle. There were plenty of people in this world who took a "live and let live" approach.
"For the sake of the future, it would be nice if we could procure court physicians through some different means."
Jinja wasn't directing his words at Maomao. It sounded like he was speaking to her, but it was really just a monologue to himself.
"So that things can function even without eunuchs."
(Eunuchs, huh.)
Eunuchs made up roughly half the inner palace population. Compared to the court ladies, there was far less turnover, so their average age was quite high.
(Come to think of it, there really aren't many young eunuchs, are there.)
She seemed to recall hearing that the surgery to become a eunuch had been banned a few years ago. That must have been around the time of the current Emperor's succession, or thereabouts.
Maomao didn't know when Jinshi had become a eunuch. However, given his age, he had probably had it done just before the ban took effect.
(Poor thing. If only he'd waited a little longer.)
She couldn't help but let her gaze drift downward to Jinshi's crotch. The eunuch surgery removed everything cleanly, leaving it completely smooth. Since she knew what her adoptive father's looked like down there, she could more or less imagine it.
(Smooth as anything.)
When Maomao slowly raised her eyes, she found herself meeting Jinshi's gaze.
Jinja's expression was somehow complicated. His lips were pressed together slightly unevenly, and he was staring right back at Maomao.
(Did I say that out loud again?)
Realizing her mistake, she clapped a hand over her mouth and looked away—only to meet Gaoshun's eyes next. He hadn't let his bodhisattva-like composure slip one bit, but he seemed to be directing the same pitying smile at Jinshi that Maomao was. Perhaps, as fellow eunuchs, there was some kind of bond between them.
Gaoshun slowly shook his head and—
"Lord Jinshi, you have work that requires your attention."
—uttered those words of urging.
"I understand. Oh right, please let them know later that I'll be heading to the Jade Pavilion."
With that, Jinshi departed with his usual elegant stride.
Maomao released her hand from her mouth and—
(I wonder if I could make a fortune selling a hair-growth remedy.)
She quietly entertained such indecent thoughts.