A rattling, shaking sound reached her ears. As Maomao slowly opened her eyes, she saw a bundle of smooth black silk hanging above her.
With her vision still blurry, she raised a hand to her mouth. Something sticky clung around her lips. A bitter taste lingered on her tongue, and a sour smell filled her nose.
(I must have thrown up.)
They must have forced her to drink an emetic or water to make her vomit up the poison. It seemed they had handled it well—she hadn't choked and died from something lodged in her throat.
Someone had laid her on her side and covered her with a fur pelt from above.
Her entire body still itched, and breathing was difficult.
She wanted to just lie there limply, but there was a reason she couldn't.
The bundle of black silk hung directly above her face. Following it to its source, she found a face so exquisitely beautiful it was almost annoying, its lashes lowered as it gazed down at her.
"You're awake?"
Jinshi's pale face showed a trace of relief.
(Jinshi...)
She tried to speak but couldn't produce a sound. All she could manage was opening and closing her mouth like a fish.
Though her body shook with the rattling, her head didn't hurt. She felt a moderate firmness against the back of her skull.
Considering the position of Jinshi's face and posture, along with where she herself was lying, it seemed she was in an extremely awkward arrangement.
Could you even call it a lap pillow?
This was not something a person of his stature should be doing for someone like her.
She tried to move her sluggish body, but it remained numb and unresponsive.
Jinshi held down Maomao's trembling body.
"Stay still. I'm taking you to that adoptive father of yours."
The rattling was because they were inside a carriage. The banquet was being held near the ceremonial grounds, far out on the edge of the palace complex. Getting from there to the rear palace would make it difficult to transport even one collapsed person without a carriage. The straight-line distance had to be over two ri—a kilometer or more.
She tried to peer out the window, but Jinshi was in the way. For his part, Jinshi just kept staring fixedly at Maomao.
"Were you poisoned?"
Jinshi asked, his tone probing.
All Maomao could do was slowly shake her head.
"You must have informed Gaoshun about what would happen, right?"
When asked to confirm, all Maomao could do was nod.
As Jinshi said.
This wasn't a case of the Imperial Brother being poisoned. It was something Maomao had prearranged together with Gaoshun.
The rashes that surfaced all over his body were not from poison, but rather an allergic reaction to a certain food.
"It didn't seem like there was any real poison involved."
Of course Jinshi wouldn't think it was poison. Maomao, after all, was more resistant to poison than most people. But even someone like Maomao had her weaknesses.
Buckwheat was one thing she simply could not eat.
Jinshi would have noticed if buckwheat had been present in the food. He should have known that Maomao couldn't eat it.
A food taster's dietary restrictions would naturally be investigated beforehand. In the capital, buckwheat was not eaten often—neither the Emperor nor Consort Gyokuyou were particularly fond of it, so it rarely appeared in meals.
And yet there had been a single occasion when it was served in the form of *kawara* soba noodles, and on that occasion Maomao had explained the situation to Hongniang and had someone else take her place as food taster.
So Jinshi must have assumed that buckwheat would never be used in any dish.
Maomao had anticipated that as well. That was precisely why she had deliberately asked for the aperitif to be served as a fruit-juice mix with *shochu*.
It was a distilled spirit made from grain—and in this case, one brewed with buckwheat.
Even though it had been turned into alcohol, traces of the original buckwheat frequently remained in the distillation process. And this time, it contained more than Maomao had expected.
(That was a miscalculation.)
She couldn't afford for the effect to kick in slowly, so she had drunk the entire glass. She regretted not having just taken a single sip.
There had been another option: to mix in other poisons and stage the whole thing herself. But that would have required someone to play the villain. If it were discovered, the blame would fall on her; and even if it wasn't, someone would end up being framed as the culprit. If it came to being charged with plotting the assassination of the Imperial Brother, no one would get off lightly.
She had heard that for wines used as aperitifs, no one would go so far as to inspect the ingredients in detail. No one thought deeply enough about the food taster's constitution to consider such things. Allergic reactions to specific foods simply weren't that widely understood.
Even if Maomao were questioned about collapsing this time, Gaoshun—who knew the truth—would smooth things over. This incident would likely become a topic for future consideration, but Maomao hoped it wouldn't escalate into a matter of accountability.
If anyone had suffered a loss, it might have been that eccentric military strategist who could have stirred up some kind of commotion, but he himself probably wouldn't care.
Maomao simply needed to collapse in front of that man—the insufferable bastard with the monocle. In front of that man who reigned as the one person in court she dared not make an enemy of.
The moment he saw Maomao fall, his first thought would surely be an assassination attempt on the imperial brother. She counted on him putting immediate pressure on whoever was behind such a scheme.
Strangely enough, despite how much she despised the man, she felt a peculiar confidence that the eccentric strategist would do something on her behalf.
In that sense, Maomao considered herself a cunning creature.
A man with senses and perception far beyond the ordinary—he would already have a clear grasp of which officials were plotting foul deeds, and would be content to simply observe from the sidelines. Whether the kingdom tilted or toppled, it was all the same to him. At best, he'd think it made for a poor shogi board.
He was the perfect person to use as bait.
And the only ones who could leverage him were Maomao and, at best, her father Luomen.
There was no deceiving that man. Had they informed Jinshi of the plan, he might have seen through it.
That was precisely why she had deliberately kept Jinshi in the dark.
(Besides, he might have objected.)
Jinshi had a peculiar habit of protesting whenever Maomao pulled something like this. If she was of noble birth, she should treat her role as a mere serving girl more carelessly. That would make things easier.
(Easier, and yet...)
Amid Jinshi's jet-black hair, something cast a dull gleam. It was a silver hairpin, exquisitely crafted. Though its luster had been deliberately muted, the fine workmanship made its quality unmistakable. Some kind of animal appeared to be carved into it.
(A horse? A deer?)
Its mane, like flickering flames, was carved yet somehow alive with vitality. It adorned Jinshi's hair.
Maomao realized what the animal was.
And she stared, her eyes vacant.
An animal shaped like both horse and deer—Maomao was not so witless as to name it carelessly.
A mythical beast. Only a select few were permitted to bear its emblem.
She slowly reached out her hand. The red welts covering it were ugly—not something to show the nobleman before her. She knew this, and yet.
Of course he was so beautiful he barely seemed human. Of course he could pass in and out of the rear palace while remaining a man.
This man calling himself Jinshi possessed precisely that qualification.
"Jinshi" was surely an alias. In truth, this man's name was meant to bear the character "Hua"—just as Luomen and Rakan each bore the family character "Luo."
The Flower of the Kingdom — the imperial character that reigns over three swords.
(The Emperor's Brother) Now that it clicked, it clicked hard.
The perpetually hidden, unfortunate Crown Prince.
The good-for-nothing younger brother of the current Emperor who barely did any real work and simply shut himself away in his room.
If anything, the odd one was Maomao for not noticing. Now that she thought about it, she couldn't deny that he seemed to have been hinting at it — though she wasn't sure whether he actually had or not. But that was human nature: if you weren't told plainly, even things you could understand remained beyond your grasp.
Not knowing what to say, and with her lips unable to form anything clever regardless, she simply lowered her outstretched hand back to where it had been.
Jinshi placed his palm on Maomao's rash-covered forehead and gently closed her eyelids.
"Now go to sleep and stay put."
Jinshi spoke in a gruff tone that didn't suit his appearance at all.
Maomao couldn't bear the weariness in her body, so she decided to take him at his word.