Two days after bringing up that matter with Hongniang, an elderly man who looked like a wizened old woman arrived at the rear palace.
Maomao was surprised by how quickly things had progressed.
The old man, led by Gaoshun, greeted the residents of the Jade Pavilion and headed for the medical office. He would apparently be staying with the quack doctor for a while.
Maomao had worried about what would happen if the quack got fired, but for now, that concern seemed unfounded.
As Maomao was sorting through her belongings, Yinghua and the others came to see her.
"You really are busy, aren't you — you too."
Saying that, she helped tidy up the room.
Guien grew exasperated by the herbs that kept appearing no matter how much she cleaned, Airan nearly screamed at the sight of a dried lizard tail.
"It's for work."
Maomao couldn't help but wonder whether it really was work.
If she did the job well enough, Jinshi would probably reward her with at least one rare herb — perhaps even a medical text from a foreign land.
But something else entirely was stirring inside her.
(...Ugh, how troublesome.)
She didn't want to do this, but she hated that she was the kind of person who acted on it anyway.
As she sighed while packing her compounding tools into a wrapping cloth, Yinghua looked at her as if something had just occurred to her.
"Oh right — Maomao's father? That was him, wasn't it?"
"Well, more or less."
Close enough — she left it at that. Going into detail would be a hassle, so she omitted the explanation.
"He was really nothing like I imagined. I don't know — he seemed... normal? How would you put it..."
Chapter 2. Behind the Mask "...What were you imagining, then?"
"Well, what *were* you thinking, really?"
As if agreeing with Yinghua's words, Guien and Airan both nodded in unison.
She honestly couldn't help but wonder what kind of image they had all been expecting.
Stepping out of the Inner Palace and walking through the Outer Court for the first time in a while, Maomao felt the atmosphere was subtly different. Inside the Inner Palace, things were sealed off. You almost never got a breath of fresh air. On occasion, you might feel a breeze seeping through a crack in the wall — but that was about it.
Was it that everyone was on edge, or had they all become paranoid? Either way, something must have changed in just the past few months.
"The atmosphere feels a little different, doesn't it?" Maomao said indirectly to Gaoshun.
Gaoshun had come to fetch her. He'd had a servant waiting outside carry her luggage, and now Maomao was heading toward Jinshi's quarters.
"There's going to be a summit with a foreign nation soon," Gaoshun said bluntly as he strode along briskly.
For a man who normally noticed Maomao's pace and slowed down for her, it was a rare burst of speed.
Maomao quickened her steps to keep up behind him.
Politics were beyond Maomao's understanding. Even if she overheard a conversation about it, she probably wouldn't grasp half of it.
Once they arrived at Jinshi's wing, Maomao carefully waited until the man himself was absent before speaking to Gaoshun. She knew that if Jinshi found out about what she was about to do, it would become a headache.
Over the several days it took to make preparations, Maomao took care of Jinshi's daily needs alongside Shuuren. Looking closely at her beautiful master, he seemed to be growing gaunt — though for an entirely different reason than before.
Jinshi usually wore a smile so sweet it was almost sickening. He would sometimes show a sour face in front of Maomao, but in public — especially within the Inner Palace — he rarely let that expression slip. You could call it good social graces, but it almost looked as though he were wearing a mask.
While that mask was on, everyone would be utterly charmed by his otherworldly beauty. Because his looks were so extraordinarily rare, only a very limited number of people could ever spot the cracks.
And one of the few places where he let those cracks show without trying to hide them was probably right here in his private quarters.
Coming home from his duties and entering the sitting room, Jinshi collapsed onto the long sofa. As Shuuren instructed, Maomao handed him a fruit drink laced with honey.
Jinshi drained about half of it, then began poring over the documents Gaoshun had brought.
Maomao glanced at them. They appeared to be materials for the upcoming summit with the foreign nation. She could at least understand something as simple as the meaning of tariffs.
Telling herself that snooping was not a good habit, her eyes still drifted toward anything that caught her interest.
"..."
"Is something wrong?"
Noticing Maomao staring intently, Jinshi asked.
"The place where the talks will be held isn't in the capital, is it?"
Looking at the place name, she saw the name of a town along the northwestern border. Judging by the distance from the capital, it would be a long journey. She didn't know who would be attending, but whoever it was, they probably wouldn't be able to return here for months.
"I suppose even they aren't willing to come all the way here."
Rather, if you considered it as them having come to this side to meet, Jinshi was arguably the one making concessions.
However, what caught Maomao's attention was the location of the city where the talks would be held.
The western side bordered other nations, and while the northern side technically fell within their own territory, it had been home to foreign peoples since ancient times. Though not organized into a formal state, it was the kind of region that required vigilance in two directions—west and north.
"Honestly, it's not a place you'd feel enthusiastic about visiting."
"No, I imagine not. You can never relax there."
Foreign peoples were still people, but the cultures that connected them were different. Her old man had told her he'd realized this firsthand when he went to study in the west.
When languages differ, communication of intent becomes difficult. Add in differences in food, clothing, lifestyle, and religion, and it becomes even harder.
"That's part of it, but they also have a habit of eating peculiar things over there."
Jinshi drained the rest of his fruit water with an oddly exasperated look on his face.
"Apparently, they serve insects as a regular part of meals."
Jinshi let out a heavy sigh.
He really is a sheltered one, Maomao thought. For someone like her who ate snakes and frogs, insects weren't off the table. In the northern regions especially, insects were treated as an important source of nutrition.
In years when locust plagues struck, even things people wouldn't normally eat became fair game—locusts included. There was no helping it. The northwestern region had vast stretches of granary land, and a locust plague there would mean serious trouble.
(A locust plague?)
A plague brought by insects. In bad years, there were deaths from starvation. In some cases, it was severe enough to topple rulers from their thrones—one of the most devastating natural disasters around. It was even said that the character for "insect" was combined with "emperor" because of this.
Maomao recalled one more thing.
*Bad insects carry misfortune.* The last words spoken by the girl who had once been Shisui.
What did "insects" mean? And what was the "misfortune"?
Maomao had been thinking only of disease. But if what she'd meant was this— (A locust plague is going to happen?)
No, how could she know that just because she was knowledgeable about insects? But if she somehow did know, just how valuable that information would be.
No, that's not it, Maomao shook her head and moved on to something else.
(When it comes to insects...)
There is a technique that involves making insects devour each other and using the survivors for curses.
Gu poison, or so it's called, but Maomao didn't believe in curses.
Most likely, when venomous creatures feed on one another, the toxins accumulate. If a more potent poison were produced, you could simply slip it to your target. That's all a curse really is.
(I'd like to try it once.)
While entertaining such unscrupulous thoughts, she studied the map accompanying the documents. Without warning, she recalled the words of a traveling merchant who had once been a patron at the brothel.
It had been about a tribe in the north, hadn't it?
"..."
"What's wrong?"
Jinshi asked as Maomao stared intently at the map.
"Oh, I was wondering whether the people living in this region go hunting."
To the north of the plains, where farmland and grazing pastures spread out, lay a vast forest.
"I hear the people of this country don't. But the tribes in the north supposedly rely on hunting as their main way of life."
"...I've heard there are many tribes that worship insects."
"I don't know much about that. But I have heard that some of them coat their arrows in insect venom for hunting and warfare."
Using poison for hunting was common everywhere. However, the arrow poison typically used in these parts was from bird helmet mushrooms. In the southern regions, some even extracted poison from frogs.
What set this apart was the deliberate use of insects.
(If that omen of calamity-bearing insects referred to this...)
If that factor were to intervene during future negotiations with other nations, it might not bring the country to its knees, but it could certainly land them in a disadvantageous position.
Since it was a matter of national pride.
If it came to that, the skirmishes they'd had so far could escalate into something far worse. And the party who would stand to gain the most from such a conflict would be ——.
Much of the northern forested territories were controlled by the consort Loulan's clan, meaning the child's clan. The Emperor would have no choice but to rely on their strength.
No, that didn't quite add up.
Why did Consort Loulan already know about this in advance? If her clan had known and simply left it alone, what purpose would that serve? Even if they were trying to earn the Emperor's favor, wouldn't that be an awfully roundabout and troublesome way to go about it?
No, that wasn't right.
That wasn't their motive.
Was there really any reason to curry favor with the Emperor at this point?
Rather, wouldn't they be more inclined to reach for something far bigger?
Maomao's thoughts reached that far before she wanted to shake her head.
Ridiculous. Could the officials of this world really be that foolish? They already had more than enough wealth and fame. Reaching for anything higher would be less ambition and more a rush toward self-destruction.
But these were high officials and clan members who had done as they pleased throughout the previous era. It wasn't impossible that some presumptuous notion might cross their minds.
(Ugh, what a pain.)
What would be the point of pulling something like that? All it would do is spill blood for nothing and end with every last member of the clan slaughtered. Or perhaps they were scheming precisely because they believed they had a chance of success?
So that was why Consort Loulan had wanted to tell Maomao.
To stop her foolish relatives.
Or perhaps— "When is this going to happen?"
The words slipped out of Maomao before she could stop herself. "This" referred to the conference with the foreign nation.
"Some time after the new year begins. The year-end and new-year period will be busy."
There was no time.
Maomao furrowed her brow slightly and looked at Gaoshun, who wore a similarly furrowed expression.
As if he had been waiting for exactly that moment, Gaoshun handed Jinshi a new set of documents.
"Jinshi, how would you like to handle this one?"
Having yet another schedule for a different event thrust upon him, Jinshi visibly grimaced.
Maomao leaned in to look as well, and her face soured at the contents. It appeared to be a regularly held ceremony, but the problem was the banquet that followed. One look at the guest list and her shoulders sagged in defeat.
The guest list was impressive. The Emperor would not attend, but it seemed the ceremony would be presided over by the imperial younger brother. And there were several names Maomao recognized.
Consort Loulan's father, Zishi.
—and the one-eyed man with the monocle who somehow exhausted her just thinking about him: Rakan.
Judging by this guest list, the other attendees would be of similar caliber.
Maomao's face nearly twitched involuntarily, but she noticed Gaoshun watching her intently.
(This is…)
It was an opportunity that might never come again.
Maomao stood before Jinshi and stared at his face.
"Jinshi."
"What is it?"
Maomao let out a small breath.
Gaoshun must have shown her Jinshi's schedule in front of her for precisely this purpose—as if to say, this was an opportunity that might never come again.
And Maomao couldn't afford to let it slip by. Who knew when the next chance would come around.
"Might I be allowed to taste-test the dishes at this banquet?"
She had intended to say it as naturally as possible.
However, Jinshi regarded Maomao with suspicion in his eyes.
"Suspicious."
"What about it?"
Maomao kept her expression neutral, fixing Jinshi with a cold, sharp gaze. With this look, she would appear no different from usual—staring at him as if he were a caterpillar. Suiren's gaze, noticing this, was quite frightening, but Maomao couldn't afford to worry about that right now.
"There's no way you'd willingly attend a seat where that strategist is present."
"…"
Indeed, that was exactly right.
She wished he would just ignore it.
"Jinshi, the supper Suiren has prepared will grow cold."
"You're the type who doesn't lie, but also doesn't tell the whole truth, aren't you?"
"…"
Maomao glanced at Gaoshun.
Gaoshun, too, wore a slightly troubled expression, but he stepped forward.
"Lord Jinshi, Maomao seems to be saying what she is out of consideration for you, in her own way."
"…Consideration for what?"
Jinshi wore a somewhat suspicious expression as he glanced back and forth between Maomao and Gaoshun.
"Even if the person is someone she finds somewhat difficult, she is speaking because she has your best interests at heart, Lord Jinshi."
(That's not it, though.)
It might end up that way in the end, but that wasn't the reason. Still, it was too much trouble to bother arguing the point.
"Even if you wouldn't go so far as to bring Lord Rakhan into your service, wouldn't you want to make an enemy of your enemy?"
What Gaoshun was saying was mostly correct. There was no need to correct him.
And then, for some reason, a heated gaze was directed at Maomao.
"Is that true?"
Jinshi gazed at Maomao with an even more alluring expression than usual. His eyes were slightly moist, lending his entire face a feverish look.
Maomao neither nodded nor shook her head—she simply lowered her gaze.
Just as Jinshi clattered to his feet from the long chair, a warm, appetizing aroma drew near.
As Jinshi leaned his face close to Maomao, Shuiren cheerfully offered up the porridge.
"Your meal will grow cold, so please eat."
The mature maidservant's words, as ever, brooked no argument.