(There really are fewer in winter.)
Maomao sat cross-legged in her room, arms folded, groaning. The plants she'd scrounged up during breaks in her work were meager—nowhere near enough for a proper blend. Since there was nothing else to be done, she washed them carefully, wiped off the moisture, and hung them on the wall to dry.
She'd been doing this every day since coming to the palace, and Maomao's room had taken on a decidedly suspicious appearance. For a room given to a live-in servant girl, she supposed it was well-built, but small was still small. It was about the same size as the room she'd been given in the rear palace. That said, at the Jade Palace, she'd been allowed to use the kitchen if she got permission, and supplies had been plentiful, so she could blend things right away—her current room didn't have that luxury, so things were far more cluttered.
(Now what should I do?)
Maomao was used to it by now, but apparently her room smelled quite foul. Well, there was a saying that good medicine tastes bitter, and many herbs did have strong bitterness or pungency. The rooms on both sides of hers happened to be vacant, which was fortunate, but when she saw the servant girls who passed by her door clearly quickening their pace, she understood why. Eventually someone would start complaining about it, Maomao knew from past experience.
(Isn't there some nice empty space somewhere?)
At this rate, she wouldn't be able to blend things properly anymore. The beautiful mushroom she'd been given would go to waste.
Maomao gazed at the paulownia box she'd carefully placed on top of her luggage.
It was sealed with a silk cord and contained grass whose seeds would sprout into worms.
Whenever Maomao looked at it, she couldn't help but feel her cheeks loosening into a smile. The grin spread into an unsettling, twitching grimace.
(No, no, no.)
Just the other day, she'd actually let a sound escape, and the resident of the room two doors down had kicked her door in protest, saying she'd been screaming in the middle of the night and nobody could sleep.
Maomao loosened her tensed cheeks with her fingertips, then flopped down on her bed. Servant girls had to rise early. She had to wake before the roosters crowed. Her mistress, though she had lost her most precious thing, was still a woman of dazzling nobility. She mustn't be in a bad mood on her account.
Piling several layers of clothing under a thin coverlet, Maomao closed her eyes.
"Isn't your current room a bit cramped?"
Over morning porridge, the beautiful eunuch spoke. At Jinshi's words, Maomao blinked exactly once.
"I have been given a room that is more than sufficient for a lowly servant girl."
What she really wanted to say was "Yes, it's cramped. I'd like to move into a room next to a well with a hearth, if possible," but she knew better than to say that out loud. Even Maomao understood that much.
"Really?"
"..."
The eunuch, not yet fully awake, was enjoying his breakfast in a slightly disheveled state. His hair, simply tied back and still messy, gave off an unnecessary air of allure.
Maomao reflected that besides herself, in this eunuch's room there was also Gaoshun.
Now I could clearly understand why only the aging lady-in-waiting was allowed into his room. Were it a woman, she would be overwhelmed by his seductive aura and swoon. Were it a man, he would disregard the barrier of gender entirely and throw himself at him. This was a person of truly sinful nature.
(He's like some insect in mating season.)
Among insects, there are females that emit a mysterious scent to attract males. Drawn by it, dozens or even hundreds of males swarm around a single female. Maomao herself had once exploited this very trait to catch insects used as medicinal ingredients.
When she thought about it that way, it was actually a rather fascinating trait.
(If I could collect that scent and turn it into perfume, it might sell.)
And so, she ended up regarding Jinshi—raw material for love potions, in other words—as she gazed at him. Letting her mind drift whenever stray thoughts crossed it was a bad habit of hers. Because of it, she often failed to keep up with conversations going on around her. She would bob her head up and down as if listening, even when she hadn't heard a single word, which only made things worse.
"If it suits you, I'll have a new room prepared."
(Huh?)
Jinshi, wearing a rather self-satisfied expression, was asking the aging lady-in-waiting—that is to say, Suiren, —for another serving of porridge. Suiren, her gentle expression unchanged, ladled fresh porridge into a new bowl, drizzled vinegar over it, and handed it to him.
Not quite sure what was going on, but figuring she was probably being offered a nicer room, Maomao was trying to convince herself of this when she caught Gaoshun's eye. The perpetually exhausted overworker seemed to have something he wanted to say to her, but Maomao merely furrowed her brow.
(If you don't say what's on your mind, I won't know what you mean.)
Maomao thought this, but she was in no position to complain since she herself was equally lacking in the ability to express herself.
"It's a relief to have you here. Honestly, my joints ache terribly in winter. Getting old is just awful, isn't it?"
Suiren said this to Maomao with a cheerful laugh. Indeed, if a single lady-in-waiting were working alone in Jinshi's spacious quarters, it would certainly be overwork. And once you passed fifty, your body started falling apart all over. Human lifespans ranged from those who lived a full century to those who died the moment they were born. The general consensus was that making it to fifty was more than enough.
"I've had new girls brought in a few times before, but well, things happened and none of them stuck around. In that regard, Kitten seems like she'll work out just fine."
Because Gaoshun had been calling Maomao by that nickname, this good-natured lady-in-waiting had adopted the same address.
Her tongue was quick and nimble, but she was a seasoned lady-in-waiting—her work was fast and her hands never stopped moving. The silver utensils were polished to a shine in no time. Once that was done, she moved on to sweeping the floor. This was clearly a maid's job, so when Maomao tried to stop her, "Then you probably won't make it to your afternoon duties."
was what she was told. Apparently, since a previous maid and lady-in-waiting had pulled some sort of stunt, all of the room's cleaning had fallen to Suiren alone.
(Theft?)
Maomao could easily imagine that it probably wasn't theft for financial gain.
But according to Shuien, it wasn't just items going missing — sometimes they actually increased.
"If someone found underwear they'd never seen before in their chest, anyone would be disgusted."
And apparently, it had been stitched on not with thread, but with human hair.
At this unhinged answer, Maomao's skin crawled with goosebumps.
"That's terrible."
"It really is."
As Maomao diligently wiped down the window bars, she thought that maybe she should just go through life wearing a mask over her face.
After finishing the cleaning of Jinshi's private quarters and a late meal, the next task was scrubbing the office. Honestly, the office was a plainly constructed room, so the cleaning itself was easy enough. The hard part was that you couldn't exactly be seen mopping in front of a person of such high standing, so she had to be mindful of who was around while she worked. For that reason, she often timed her cleaning for when Jinshi was away visiting the rear palace or other officials. During all other hours, she filled the time by doing odd jobs.
What should I do today?
Jinshi's office had a visitor, so Maomao found herself with free time. On occasions like this, she would pretend she had errands and wander around the palace grounds.
I've pretty much covered the western side, haven't I?
A map unfolded in Maomao's mind. Ideally, she wanted to circle around to the eastern side, but she felt a vague reluctance. The eastern side housed the military division. How would it look if a maid were seen sneaking around weeding in an area crawling with military officials?
A spy.
She worried she might be mistaken for one and detained.
Besides, when it came to the military division...
Maomao couldn't help but contort every muscle in her face into a grimace. That was reason enough to dread the place, yet at the same time, there was the possibility that unexplored territory might yield rare medicinal herbs.
As she stood with her arms crossed, groaning, she felt a sharp impact on the back of her head.
What was that?
Clutching the back of her head, she turned around with a baffled expression, only to find a tall court lady standing there with a cool, composed look on her face. She was a strikingly handsome woman with exotic features.
I feel like I've seen her somewhere before.
Maomao recalled the faces of the court ladies who had accosted her a few days ago. This woman was one of them.
She wore minimal makeup, the defining feature being her meticulously drawn eyebrows. Despite having full, shapely lips, she had applied her rouge in the thinnest of lines.
It's a shame, but she's clearly trying hard.
Her bone structure and natural complexion were top quality, yet her makeup kept her from looking refined. If she softened and lightened her eyebrows, applied a wash of pale rouge generously to her lips, and styled her hair in a more elaborate fashion, she would be a stunning beauty — counted among the flowers of the rear palace. It took Maomao's eye, trained by years of watching scruffy little girls transform into butterflies of the night, to recognize that potential. Most people in the palace would never guess she had the makings of such a beauty.
That was precisely why she had been among the group of court ladies who had banded together to confront Maomao the other day. Beautiful court ladies either caught the eye early on and were married off to capable military or civil officials, or they were bullied by their fellow ladies-in-waiting. On rare occasions, a woman navigated it all with grace, but that kind of woman possessed the qualities not of a court lady, but of a courtesan.
Quite the fox, this woman?
The court lady swept past without so much as deigning to open her mouth to a servant. Perhaps it was her way of saying "don't loiter around here." As she swept past, Maomao caught a faint whiff of sandalwood.
Maomao stared blankly after the court lady's retreating back. Then she looked in the direction the woman had come from.
Was she an attendant to a military officer?
The court lady had come from the direction of the military ministry's gate. Indeed, if she had business coming and going from the military ministry, understated makeup would be the wiser choice. While the back alleys of the pleasure district might not be quite as bad, it was best to avoid having a devastatingly beautiful woman wandering around a crowd of hot-blooded military officers.
Maybe she should call it a day.
Maomao turned on her heel and decided to head back to Jinshi's office. Having lost her interest, she thought it would be nice if the office's master had already gone out for the day.