The first impression one had of Lishu, the Virtuous Consort, was that she was not very sensitive to the mood around her. The first part of the banquet had ended, and there was a break before the next part began. Maomao and Guiyuan went to see Princess
Lingli. While Guiyuan was exchanging her hand warmer, which had gone cold, for a fresh one, Maomao took a quick look at the child.
Looks like she’s in decent health.
Lingli, her face as red as an apple, had a healthy chubbiness
that was a far cry from when Maomao had first seen her, and both her father, the Emperor, and her grandmother, the Empress Dowager, doted on her.
Not sure she should be outside like this, though. It was
especially unconscionable considering all the heads that would roll if the princess were to catch a cold on account of the elements.
Just to be safe, they had engaged a craftsperson to create a crib with a sort of cover, not unlike a bird’s nest.
Eh, she’s cute. I guess that’s a good enough reason.
Ah, a fearful thing, babies: this one could tug on even Maomao’s heartstrings, and she had no special fondness for
children. When Lingli began squirming to get out, Maomao packed her assiduously into her carrier and was just handing her to
Hongniang when she heard a pronounced snort from behind her.
A young woman in elaborate peach-pink sleeves was looking at her. Several ladies-in-waiting were lined up behind her. She had a charmingly childish face herself, but at the moment her lips were pursed in obvious displeasure. Perhaps she was upset that Maomao had gone straight to the child without paying her respects to her.
Would this be the young bride, then? Maomao wondered. Hongniang and Guiyuan were bowing respectfully to her, so
Maomao followed suit. Consort Lishu, still looking thoroughly put out, marched off with her ladies-in-waiting in her wake.
“Was that the Virtuous Consort?”
“That was her, all right. She stands out in a crowd.” “But it seems she can’t read one.”
Each of the Emperor’s “four ladies” was assigned a distinctive color palette of her own. Consort Gyokuyou’s was ruby and jade,
Lihua’s ultramarine and crystal. To judge by the color of her
attendants’ robes, Ah-Duo, the Pure Consort, must have been
given the color black. She lived in the Garnet Pavilion, suggesting the garnet was the gemstone with which she was associated.
If they’re going by the five elements, you’d expect the last color to be white. The light-pink color worn by Consort Lishu seemed dangerously close to duplicating the red of Consort
Gyokuyou. The two ladies were seated beside each other at the banquet, creating the impression that their colors clashed.
Actually… She realized the argument among the serving
women that she had inadvertently eavesdropped on had been
about roughly the same subject. One group had been scolding the other for wearing colors that weren’t sufficiently distinguished from those of the mistress they accompanied.
“It makes you wish she’d grow up, doesn’t it?” The way Hongniang sighed said it all.
Maomao took the cooled hand warmer and put it on the brazier they had waiting for just this purpose. She could see several ladies-in-waiting watching from a distance, so with Gyokuyou’s blessing, she distributed a number of the warm
stones. She was admittedly a little perplexed: these women were accustomed to a life of silk and gemstones, but some gently
heated rocks could bring them genuine joy.
Sadly, the women of the Crystal Pavilion kept their distance from Maomao as if magnetically repelled. She could see them shivering—they should have just taken the hand warmers.
“Aren’t you just a bit of a soft touch?” Yinghua asked, exasperated.
“Now that you mention it, perhaps.” She had only expressed her feelings openly. Come to think of it…
It had become rather crowded behind the curtain since the break had started. It wasn’t just ladies-in-waiting; military and
civil officials were there, too. All of them carried accessories in at least one hand. Some spoke to the serving ladies one on one,
while others were surrounded by a small crowd of women.
Guiyuan and Ailan were talking to a military man Maomao didn’t recognize.
“This is how they find the best girls hidden in our little garden of flowers,” Yinghua explained to her. She gave a snort as if she were somehow above it all. What had her so worked up?
“Ah.”
“They give them those accessories, as a symbol.” “Oh.”
“Of course, it can sometimes mean something else…” “Uh-huh.”
Yinghua crossed her arms and pouted at Maomao’s uncharacteristically uninterested responses. “I said, it can sometimes mean something else!”
“Yes, I heard you.” She didn’t seem even about to ask what that was supposed to mean.
“Fine, give me the hair stick,” Yinghua said, pointing to the ornament Maomao had received from Jinshi.
“All right, but you have to do rock-paper-scissors for it with the other two girls,” Maomao said as she flipped over the stones in
the brazier. She didn’t want this to turn into a fight. Besides, if
Hongniang found out she had just given away the stick to the first person who asked, she’d probably be in for another smack on the back of the head. The chief lady-in-waiting had a quick hand.
For Maomao, who had every intention of getting back to her home after her two years of service were up, “making it in the world” held no attraction.
Besides, if he’s going to think it gives him the right to push me around, I would rather go back to serving in the Crystal Pavilion,
Maomao thought with a look like she was observing a dead cicada.
That was when she heard a gentle voice: “Take this, young lady.” An ornamental hair stick was presented to her. A small, light-pink coral decoration bobbed from it.
Maomao looked up to discover a virile-looking man giving her an ingratiating smile. He was still young, and had no beard. He
looked manly enough as far as it went, but his diligent smile aroused no feelings whatsoever in Maomao, who had an
uncommonly strong resistance to such things.
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The man, a military officer, saw she wasn’t reacting the way he had expected, but he didn’t withdraw the proffered gift. He was in a half-crouch, so his ankles were starting to shake.
At length Maomao realized she was leaving this man in
something of a dilemma. “Thank you.” She took the hair stick, and the man looked as pleased as a puppy who’d satisfied its master.
A mongrel puppy, Maomao thought.
“Well, ta-ta, then. Nice to meet you. Name’s Lihaku, by the way.”
If I ever thought I was going to see you again, I might try to remember that.
There were still a dozen hair sticks tucked in the belt of the big dog now waving to Maomao. Presumably he was passing them
out to everyone so as not to embarrass any ladies-in-waiting by omission. Rather polite on his part.
I guess maybe I was unfair to him, Maomao thought, looking down at the coral ornament.
“Did you get one?” Guiyuan asked, coming over to her with the other girls. Each was clutching her loot.
“Yes… A participation prize,” Maomao replied tonelessly. Maybe he was giving them to the girls who seemed to be standing
around with no one to talk to.
“What a lonely way of looking at it,” said a familiar, refined voice from behind her. Maomao turned and was confronted with that well-endowed consort, Lihua.
She’s looking a little plumper. Still, though, not as robust as she had been before. The last of the shadows on her face, though,
only cast her beauty into higher relief. She wore a dark-navy skirt and a sky-blue overgarment with a blue shawl over her shoulders.
Might be a bit cold for her. So long as Maomao was a servant of Consort Gyokuyou, she couldn’t directly help Lihua. After she had left the Crystal Pavilion, even updates on the consort’s health came to her only via Jinshi’s periodic remarks. Even if she had dared to try to visit the Crystal Pavilion herself, Lihua’s ladies-in- waiting would have chased her away at the door.
Maomao bowed the way Hongniang had taught her. “It has been too long, milady.”
“Yes, too long,” Lihua said, touching Maomao’s hair as Maomao
looked up at her. She pierced something through it, just as Jinshi had done. It didn’t hurt this time. It just felt like there was
something stuck in a bundle of hair. “Well, take care,” Lihua said, and moved elegantly away, chiding her ladies-in-waiting for their inability to hide their astonishment.
But the women of the Jade Pavilion were equally nettled. “Huh, can’t guess what Lady Gyokuyou is going to make of that.” Yinghua flicked the protruding hair stick with a look of annoyance.
On Maomao’s head, a train of three quartz ornaments trembled.
After noon, Maomao took Hongniang’s place behind Consort Gyokuyou, for now it was time to eat. At Yinghua’s insistence,
Maomao had tucked the three hair sticks she’d received into her belt. The accessory Gyokuyou had given her was a necklace, so it would have been just as well for her to wear at least one of them in her hair, but whichever one she chose, it would have been
perceived as a slight toward her other two benefactors. It was this constant need to be aware of how one’s actions would impact others that made it so much work to be a lady-in-waiting.
Now that she had the opportunity to observe the banquet from the vantage point of one of the seats of honor, Maomao realized it was really quite an impressive production. Military officers lined
the west side, civil officials the east. Only about two out of every ten of them were able to be seated at the long table; the others stood in a neat line. In one respect, they had it worse than the
serving women working behind the scenes: they had to stand like that for hours on end.
Gaoshun was among those seated with the military officials.
Maomao realized he was perhaps a more important man than she had given him credit for, but she was also surprised to see a
eunuch take his place among the officialdom with such
nonchalance. The big man from earlier was there, too. He was seated lower than Gaoshun, but considering his age, perhaps it
only meant that he was just now starting to make his way in the world.
Jinshi, meanwhile, was nowhere to be seen. One would have thought someone so dazzling would stand out in a crowd. As
there was not, however, any real need to look for him, Maomao focused on the job at hand.
Some wine came first as an aperitif. It was poured delicately from glass vessels into silver drinking cups. Maomao swirled the wine in the cup, taking her time, making sure there was no
cloudiness. There would be dark patches if arsenic was present.
As she let the wine swirl gently, she gave it a good sniff, then took a sip. She already knew there was no poison in it, but if she didn’t try the stuff, no one would believe she was doing her job properly. She swallowed, then rinsed her mouth out with clean water.
Hm? Maomao suddenly seemed to be the center of attention. The other food tasters hadn’t yet put the cups to their mouths. When they saw that Maomao had confirmed there was nothing dangerous, they hesitantly started taking sips.
Eh, understandable. Nobody wanted to die. And if one taster was willing to go first, it would be safest to wait for her and see what happened. And if you were going to use poison at a
banquet, a fast-acting one would be the only way to go.
Maomao was probably the only one here who sometimes tried poisons for fun. She was, let us say, an exceptional personality.
If I had to go, I think I’d like it to be by blowfish toxin. The organs mixed into a nice soup…
The tingling of the tongue it caused—she couldn’t get enough of it. How many times had she vomited and purged her stomach
just so she could experience it? Maomao had exposed herself to a wide variety of different poisons in order to immunize herself to
them, but blowfish was something more like a personal
preference. She knew, incidentally, that blowfish toxin was not one to which the body could be inured, no matter how many times it was exposed.
As these thoughts ran through her head, Maomao’s eyes met those of the lady-in-waiting who brought her the appetizer. The corners of Maomao’s lips had turned up; it probably looked like she was grinning unpleasantly at the woman. Like she was a bit demented, perhaps. Maomao slapped herself on the cheeks, forcing herself to adopt her accustomed neutral expression.
The appetizer that was served was one of the Emperor’s
favorites; it was a dish that appeared sometimes when he stayed the night. Apparently the rear palace was handling the cuisine for this banquet. This dish was quite familiar. As the other tasters were all watching Maomao intently, she quickly brought her chopsticks to bear.
The dish was raw fish and vegetables seasoned with vinegar. His Majesty might be a bit oversexed, but his preferences in food tended toward the surprisingly healthful—thought the impressed taster.
They got it a little mixed up, Maomao thought as she noticed that the ingredients were different from usual. The dish was
typically served with black carp, but today it featured jellyfish.
It was inconceivable that the chefs would make a mistake in the Emperor’s favorite recipe. If there had been a mix-up, it had to be that the meal prepared for one of the other consorts had
come to Consort Gyokuyou instead. The culinary service shang at the rear palace was highly capable, and would even prepare the same dish in distinct ways to please His Majesty and his various
women. When Gyokuyou had been nursing, for example, they had served her an endless array of dishes that promoted good
breastmilk.
When the food tasting was over and everyone was digging into their appetizers, Maomao saw something that, in her mind,
strengthened her speculation that there had been a mistake in who was given what. Lishu, the oblivious consort, was gazing at her appetizer and looking a little pale.
I guess she doesn’t like whatever’s in it. But as this was the Emperor’s favorite dish, it would be unconscionable not to finish what she was served. She was bravely working her way through the food, a slice of raw carp trembling in her chopsticks. Behind her, the lady-in-waiting who served as her food taster had her
eyes closed. Her lips were quivering, and appeared to be drawing themselves up into a slight arch.
She was laughing.
I sort of wish I hadn’t seen that, Maomao thought, then turned to the next course.
⭘⬤⭘
If only it had been just a banquet, Lihaku thought. He didn’t get along with these elite types who looked down on all and
sundry from the lofty heights of the Imperial court. Where was the fun in having a party outside in the freezing cold, with the wind clawing at you at every moment?
A nice meal, that would have been fine. They should all imitate their ancestors, having a drink and a bit of meat in a peach
garden with a few close friends.
But wherever there were nobles, there might be poison. Any ingredients, no matter how fine, no matter how exquisitely prepared, would have gone cold by the time the food tasters were done with them, and with the warmth went at least half the flavor.
He didn’t blame the people who checked the food for poison, but just watching the way they had to force themselves to bring a mouthful to their lips, their faces pale the entire time, almost cost him his appetite. Today, as ever, he couldn’t help feeling it was
taking an inordinately long time.
But in reality, it seemed that wasn’t what was happening.
Normally, the food tasters would all glance uneasily at one another as they brought their utensils to their mouths. But today, there was a taster present who seemed downright eager. The
petite lady-in-waiting who attended the Precious Consort took a mouthful of the aperitif from her silver cup without so much as
glancing at the other women. She swallowed slowly, then washed her mouth out as if the entire thing was no big deal.
Lihaku thought she looked familiar—and then he remembered she was one of the women he had given a hair stick to earlier.
She was not of any conspicuous beauty, neat and tidy but with no special distinctions. She was probably all but lost in the sea of
serving women in the rear palace, many of whom were
unmistakably gorgeous. And yet, the fixed expression on her face suggested a woman who could overpower others with a look.
His first impression was that she seemed rather detached, but no sooner had he judged her expressionless than she proved him wrong with a spontaneous, inexplicable grin—which vanished as suddenly as it had appeared. Now she looked rather displeased.
In spite of all of this, she continued to taste for poison with complete nonchalance. It was very strange. It was also the
perfect way to pass the time, trying to guess what kind of face she would make next.
The young woman was given the soup, and took a spoonful.
She examined it critically, then slowly put a few drops on her
tongue. Her eyes widened a little, then suddenly a rapturous smile spread across her face. There was a flush in her cheeks and her
eyes began to water. Her lips curved upward, revealing white teeth and a plump, almost alluring red tongue.
This was what made women so frightening. As she licked the last droplets off her lips, her grin was like ripe fruit, like that of
the most accomplished courtesan. The food must have been truly delicious. What could be in it that it could transform a completely average girl into such an enchanting creature? Or perhaps it was the preparation, by the palace’s inestimably talented chefs?
Lihaku swallowed heavily, and just then the young woman did something unbelievable. She took a handkerchief out of a pouch, put it to her lips, and spat out what she had just eaten.
“This is poisoned,” the lady-in-waiting said, the flat expression once more on her face. Her voice held all the urgency of a bureaucrat reporting on some mundane matter, and then she
vanished behind the ladies’ curtain.
The banquet ended in utter chaos.
