"Well then, what should I do?" Maomao thought as she wiped her face with a handkerchief.
The face powder had felt unpleasant. The red rouge was stubbornly hard to remove, and her hair stiffened with fragrant oil would need a thorough wash later.
She had cut the tips of her hair thin and short, braided them, and pasted them near her eyes—a trick used by plain-faced courtesans to frame their eyes.
She worried whether it had peeled off yet.
She had worn a longer train than usual and thick-soled shoes beneath to disguise her height, but it may have all been for nothing.
The people at the Crystal Palace hadn't noticed a thing.
Maomao scowled as she kicked off the platform shoes.
She changed into different clothes as well. Earlier, while nursing a gravely ill patient, phlegm had gotten on her outfit.
At least the blood hadn't been mixed in yet. Though the infection risk was low, walking around in soiled clothing didn't sit right with her, so she had asked for a change of clothes.
Since it was prepared at the Crystal Palace, the maid uniform was a bit lacking in practicality, but there was nothing to be done about that.
She would have liked to take a bath too, but she resigned herself to doing without.
Feeling somewhat refreshed, Maomao headed to the room where everyone was waiting.
In the Crystal Palace's reception room, a group of somber-faced individuals had gathered. A splendid lot worthy of the colorful furnishings, but with Maomao's makeup removed, she couldn't help feeling it was all rather mismatched.
Present were Rifa, Jinshi, Gaoshun, and a tall beauty with finely chiseled features.
At Rifa's request, the other maids had been dismissed from the room.
The quack doctor had looked eager to join them too, but she had him attend to other duties instead.
She was Rifa's head maid, a woman named An.
Rifa's cousin, and being of noble lineage, she was a beauty who commanded attention even in the proud inner palace.
Perhaps it was their blood relation, but she bore a passing resemblance to Rifa.
Though called a head maid, considering her standing, it would not have been unusual for her to hold a position as a mid-rank consort.
(Perhaps she was deliberately kept as a head maid?)
Not every woman who gained the emperor's favor became a consort.
If she caught the emperor's eye, even a servant girl could one day become the mother of the nation—it was not without precedent in history.
In that case, wouldn't it be more eye-catching to keep beautiful flowers gathered in one place?
When a maid serving a high-ranking consort was taken to the emperor's bed, if her background was deemed fit for a consort's station, she would be granted a rank immediately.
(But how would those involved feel about it?)
Maomao knew nothing of the Rifa consort's family background. Still, complex emotions must surely be swirling among those involved. If, despite all that, they were wrapped in deep trust, then the world would be at peace.
(Consort Gyokuyou is truly blessed.)
The head maid Hongniang was not a talent dispatched for that purpose—she simply wished to serve as a maid for Gyokuyou's sake. Because of that, she had let her marriageable years slip by, and it would be nice if someday Gyokuyou arranged a good match for her.
The other maids, too, all had lovely, well-composed features, yet not a single one harbored such grand ambitions as to seek the emperor's favor.
In contrast, when it came to Consort Rifa's maids— "What is the meaning of this?"
Jinshi narrowed his eyes and struck the table. There, several types of fragrant oils and spices were laid out.
They had been found in the storage room where the sick girl had been placed earlier. Any one of them alone would not have been conspicuous, but when several were mixed together, the scent became overpowering.
That lingering fragrance had been drifting around the head maid, a girl named An.
This was a maid who had previously never carried any scent at all.
Perhaps because she never wore any fragrance, her purchased goods had never been confiscated the way the other maids' had. Even so, she had managed to conceal them well enough.
"..."
An remained silent, eyes closed.
(Stonewalling me, are you?)
Her crime lay not only in secretly possessing prohibited fragrant oils and spices, but also in attempting to use them to brew something.
As for isolating the serving girl in the storage room, that could not be treated as a crime.
Moving her from the common hall to prevent infection was the appropriate measure. The inner palace had only one medical officer, and technically, a serving girl should not have been shown to one at all.
(Though it's so understaffed it's practically become a eunuch's teahouse.)
Even if they were to take her to the clinic, that decision could not be left to a serving girl. There were those who would object to a woman performing medical treatment.
But if that led to someone dying, it would be a problem—though there was nothing to be done about it.
That was how little the lives of serving girls were worth.
Jinshi, aware of all this, would present the evidence and press what charges he could.
Yet the head maid named An stood there wearing an expression of complete ignorance. Being of noble birth to begin with, she may well have felt she occupied a position where she could voice her displeasure no matter what a eunuch like Jinshi had to say.
And what was strange was Lady Rifa.
She had merely lowered her brows and was watching her head maid. Her face was clouded with concern.
An looked at the eunuch who had come to interrogate her, without averting her eyes.
(Well, well — she's quite the one.)
Most palace women, if confronted by Jinshi, would simply swoon and collapse on the spot. But with this lady-in-waiting, it seemed that even his uncanny powers were of no avail.
"I have no idea what you are talking about. It is true that I ordered the maid to be moved there. But shouldn't we rather be discussing how you barged in out of nowhere, demanded to see Lady Rifa, and then proceeded to rummage through the storehouse? If anyone should be called into question, it is you."
Her words were crisp and composed. The mere fact that items were found in the storehouse, after all, did not constitute proof that they belonged to An.
Since it was where a sick person was being kept, everyone had only gone there to deliver meals — but conversely, that meant anyone could have entered.
"Then we need only ask the maid who was present at the scene."
"How much can the words of a maid delirious with fever be trusted?"
"So you knew she was running a fever."
Maomao said, quick as a flash.
An's complexion changed in an instant.
"How kind of you — going out of your way to come check on the condition of a"
"lowborn"
"woman."
Maomao added, brazen as you please.
"In that case, it would hardly be strange for the scent of scented oil to linger on your body."
Maomao picked up a small bottle from the table.
(Stop — don't get any more involved.)
Even as she thought this, her body moved on its own. She found it unbearably disagreeable.
More than anything about her standing, this was the sort of thing that truly made her angry.
"It smells exactly like this scented oil. This bottle was carefully placed inside the luggage trunk — could the scent really be strong enough to seep through on its own? Would you mind letting me verify, just to be sure?"
Maomao tried to grab An's sleeve. But An batted her hand away. In doing so, her nails raked across Maomao's cheek. They were long, overgrown nails.
While the room buzzed with whispers, Maomao wiped the scratch with her thumb. It wasn't much blood—just enough to peel back a thin layer of skin.
"I do apologize. Someone of my standing should never have presumed to touch it. Let me have someone else examine it instead."
Even as she spoke in that flat, emotionless tone, every gaze in the room settled on An.
An's lips were twisted into a jagged grimace, her eyes bloodshot. The sour stench of nervous sweat wafted off her. Her pupils were wide open.
When people are tense, they sweat. Unlike the sweat from physical exertion, this was slick, clammy perspiration—strong-smelling and unpleasant.
The eyes told the same story. There was no movement as easy to read as a cat's, but human pupils changed size too. Gyokuyou, with her pale coloring, was more transparent in this regard than most, which was why she often kept her eyes half-closed and smiled during tea gatherings with the other consorts.
(Just a little more.)
Just as Maomao took one step forward— "Won't you leave this part to me?"
A voice was heard—proud, but not haughty.
Rifa, who had been sitting on the long sofa, rose to her feet. Her long train trailing behind her, she approached Maomao—and beyond her, An.
(Oh?)
The clothes Rifa was wearing bore a striking resemblance to what Gyokuyou had worn recently— the design was nearly identical. If it had been purchased when the trade caravan arrived, there was nothing unusual about it.
"What becomes of this person's crime?"
"Lady Rifa..."
An spoke. Her eyes held a jumble of emotions, yet somehow there was no pleading in her gaze.
"If one were to attempt to produce an abortifacient, it would amount to the same as killing the Emperor's child."
Thinking that should be enough to make the matter clear, Jinshi closed his eyes.
"Is that so? Does that apply to every consort, regardless?"
"It's the same for high-ranking consorts and low-ranking consorts alike."
Rifa cast her gaze downward, then looked at An.
(Come to think of it...)
"Ri" and "An" — names that sound like they were chosen as a matching pair.
Maomao suddenly thought.
This An, the head maid, didn't seem stupid. But even clever people can be fools — the world was full of millions like that.
Most of them were driven by their emotions.
Maomao figured An was one of them too.
And the one who had reached that conclusion was Rifa.
"Even if I was the only one she was targeting?"
"Your Ladyship! That's—"
Jinshi leaned forward.
Gaoshun's eyes were wide open.
It was Rifa's single remark that made everything click for Maomao.
She had always found it strange.
Rifa had more than enough talent as a consort. And yet, she could never seem to find decent maids.
That wasn't actually the case.
The staff of the Crystal Palace had been assembled by gathering exactly those kinds of people together, and the one doing the gathering was this An.
Back when there had been the poisoned-powder incident, only one maid had been dismissed. But what about those above her? They carried on with their work without a care.
And when it came to this head maid, Rifa had this to say: "An, you never once treated me as 'Your Ladyship,' did you? You must have thought I was unfit to be Empress."
Rifa's words made sense to Maomao. An had never once called her "Your Ladyship."
"You and I — until the very end, neither of us knew which of us would become the consort."
Rifa's voice was sorrowful.
Rifa held affection for An. But how about An? She was biting her lip, directing a gaze filled with hatred at Rifa.
"...And why are you talking down to me?"
A contemptuous voice leaked from the head maid's lips.
"I've always hated that about you. I was better at my studies. There were plenty of other things where I was superior to you, so why does everyone around us..."
(About the size of her chest.)
Maomao felt ashamed of herself for thinking such things. An was no slouch in that department, either.
"Because I'm the daughter of the clan head? That I'm beneath you? Don't be ridiculous. I've been raised—all my life—to become the mother of this nation!"
An bared her double canines like a wolf. Maomao thought she could lunge at any moment and instinctively moved to shield Rifa, but Gaoshun and Jinshi had already stepped between them.
"Can I take that as a confession?"
In response to Jinshi's question, An grabbed a bottle of fragrant oil sitting on a side table and hurled it at Rifa. Gaoshun swatted it away, and the small bottle shattered across the floor.
"
Barren woman— wither away in the garden."
Gaoshun seized An by both arms and forced her still as those curse-like words poured from her lips.
"Don't you touch me, you eunuch! Disgusting!"
An thrashed about, but even if he was a eunuch, she was no match for a man.
Filthy words continued to pour from her noble mouth.
(There are always people like this.)
When An finally finished her tirade and paused to catch her breath, Maomao stepped in front of her and grinned.
"What do you want?!"
"Oh, nothing. It's just that you seem to be quite devoted to the Emperor."
"Of course I am! What kind of question is that?!"
"Well, I was under the impression that you loved the position of Empress more than anything. Unlike Rifa."
Maomao bared her teeth and smiled once more. An stood there with her mouth agape.
What Rifa had that An did not.
That was perfectly clear.
"So that's how you saw me, An."
Rifa spoke with a dignified air, even as her eyes trembled.
And then, stepping before An, she raised her hand high and brought it crashing down across her cheek.
(Well, anyone would be that angry, I suppose.)
Just as Maomao was thinking this, Rifa came out with yet another unexpected declaration.
"Lord Jinshi, I am dismissing this head maid. She uttered gross insubordination — to the point where I had to physically intervene."
Jinshi's mouth hung open in a daze.
"Your Highness, that's..."
"You're saying a slap wasn't enough, then."
Rifa seized An by the collar — still dazed from being struck — and formed her fist this time.
Jinshi and Gaoshun rushed to intervene. Only Maomao couldn't help but burst out laughing.
(Impressive.)
Rifa was no longer the princess consort of old. She was no longer a pathetic woman meekly waiting for the thread of her jade to snap.
"I am dismissing this woman. Furthermore, I request that she be permanently banned from ever setting foot in the inner palace again."
Rifa's words rang out with cold authority.
An remained blank-faced, still reeling from the blow.
How much mercy did this woman even understand? Would she bear a grudge in return?
(Then again, it doesn't really matter.)
No matter how noble her bloodline, a woman who had been expelled from the inner palace over a scandal could never hope to take revenge against a consort.
By Maomao's standards, the punishment was still lenient — but considering that a woman of such fierce pride was being reduced to this treatment, she should think about just how humiliating it must be.
An was then led out of the room by Gaoshun.
A crowd of spectators had gathered outside to see what the commotion was about, but one glare from Maomao sent them scattering like spiders' children.
(I wonder if this palace will be all right.)
While Maomao was thinking this, a large fingertip appeared before her eyes.
She instinctively took half a step back.
"What is it? Don't sneak up on me like that."
The fingertip belonged to Jinshi.
"...You're hurt. Let me treat it."
Jinshi held out a handkerchief to Maomao with a sullen look on his face.
Maomao finally remembered that her cheek had been scratched.
(It's not even that big a wound.)
The handkerchief Jinshi handed her was a fine one, fragrant with incense.
Maomao squinted. Not wanting to stain it with blood, she tucked it into her robes and wiped her face with her own handkerchief. Normally, she ought to return it, but Jinshi wasn't the stingy type, so she figured it was fine to accept. She'd sell it to someone later, Maomao mused.
(I suppose that settles it, more or less.)
Even as she thought this, Maomao glanced toward the window of the room.
A consort of breathtaking beauty, like a full-bloomed rose, was gazing outside.
It went without saying who she was looking at beyond the glass.
"Can I ask you something?"
"What is it?"
Jinshi spoke as they walked along the Crystal Palace corridor. His gaze rested on the storage shed where the maids had been locked away.
"Even if you've been to the Crystal Palace before, you wouldn't immediately know where a sick person is being kept. And you even went so far as to disguise yourself, as though it wouldn't be strange to visit multiple times."
Right — the disguise had been a precaution because Maomao's face was known at the Crystal Palace and she'd stand out. Being posted to the consort as a medical attendant drew attention either way, but he'd judged it was better than appearing as herself.
The Crystal Palace maids were tight-lipped. Maomao could tell they'd been firmly warned by the senior attendants above them.
"I found her right away."
Maomao had already scouted out the likely spots. She figured the sick maid would be somewhere slightly removed from where the other maids slept, or in some inconspicuous location.
While Maomao had been stationed there, a considerate arrangement had been made for sick maids to change their bedding so they wouldn't spread their illness. There was a dedicated space for that within the palace.
(A storage shed, of all places.)
The scent of apricot blossoms drifting through the air had given her an odd feeling, but she never imagined it had come to that.
Finding it had been pure chance.
"That's it."
In the direction Maomao pointed, flowers were planted — leadwort. They'd been transplanted recently, judging by the different color of the soil beneath. The arrangement was crude for something a gardener would have done. It sat right next to the storage shed.
The plant bore black fruit packed with a white powder inside — the source of cosmetic powder.
"What about it?"
"In feng shui, they say green things are good for health. I've heard that pairing them with white is beneficial."
All the flowers blooming were white. The plant was called the powder flower, but it should have mostly bore red flowers. She realized someone had deliberately selected only the plants bearing white flowers and replanted them.
She was certain the Crystal Palace hadn't originally had them. They must have been blooming somewhere in the rear palace.
She didn't know who had replanted them. But they must have done it out of concern for the sick person. The thought that someone like that existed made Maomao feel somewhat relieved.
(And yet, to think it was called the powder flower...)
Thinking of what had been found alongside the sick person, Maomao found the name ironic.
She let out a deep breath, but then she noticed someone's gaze.
When she turned around, she saw someone peering at her from behind a pillar, half their body hidden.
"What's wrong?"
Jinshi looked at Maomao, who had stopped in her tracks.
The one hiding behind the pillar swayed unsteadily, looking caught off guard.
"Jinshi, please go on ahead."
"Why?"
"You'd be in the way."
When Maomao said this so bluntly, Jinshi made a somewhat displeased face. Gaoshun, who had returned, coaxed him away as though soothing a bull.
Maomao clasped her hands together in thanks to Gaoshun, thinking how wonderful it was that he could read the room.
"Is something the matter?"
Maomao looked at the girl hiding behind the pillar. She appeared older than Maomao but was somewhat flustered. Maomao couldn't tell if it was directed at her specifically or if she was like that with everyone.
"Ah, um. About the girl who was over there..."
In the girl's hands was a fresh white flower. Green and white — vivid colors. She spoke haltingly and was flustered, but she didn't seem unkind.
"She's no longer here. She's been moved out of the rear palace, but she'll be able to receive treatment in a better environment than before."
"So... she's gone, then."
The maid lowered her face, though at the same time she seemed somewhat relieved.
The girl rubbed her face to disguise her glistening eyes, bowed to Maomao, and went back to her work.
After the girl left, only small white petals lay on the ground.