The attempted poisoning, it seemed, was a much bigger deal
than Maomao had given it credit for. Xiaolan hounded her about it relentlessly. A spot behind the laundry shed had become the
serving girls’ favorite spot to gossip; now Maomao and Xiaolan sat there on wooden boxes, eating skewers of candied hawthorn
berries, a treat Xiaolan seemed to especially love.
She would never believe I was right in the middle of it all.
Xiaolan looked younger than her years as she wolfed down the sweets, kicking her dangling legs. She was another one who had been sold into the rear palace, but this poor farmer’s daughter
seemed to be enjoying her new life. Cheerful and talkative, she seemed less despondent that her parents had sold her into
servitude than she was glad to have enough to eat.
“The one who ate the poison—it was one of the ladies-in- waiting where you work, wasn’t it, Maomao?”
“Yes, it was,” she said. She wasn’t lying. She just wasn’t quite telling the truth.
“I don’t know much about it. You think she’s okay?”
“I think she’s fine.” Maomao wasn’t sure exactly what kind of “okay” Xiaolan had in mind, but an affirmative answer seemed in order. Awfully uncomfortable with the conversation, Maomao
dodged a few more questions before Xiaolan pursed her lips and gave up. She sat there holding a skewer with just one berry left on it. To Maomao, it looked like an ornamental hair stick with a decoration of blood-red coral.
“Fine. Did you get any hair sticks?” Xiaolan ventured. “I guess.” Four, in fact, including the one given out of
obligation. And counting the necklace from Consort Gyokuyou. (Why not?)
“Huh! So you can get out of here, then.” Xiaolan gave a carefree smile.
Hm? This piqued Maomao’s interest. “What did you say?”
“What do you mean, what did I say? You aren’t leaving?”
Yinghua had been emphatic about the same thing. Maomao had all but ignored her. Now she realized she’d made a mistake. She held her head in her hands and fell into self-recrimination.
“Whazza matter?” Xiaolan asked, looking at Maomao with concern.
“Tell me more about that.”
Realizing that Maomao suddenly, and finally, seemed interested in something she was saying, Xiaolan puffed out her chest. “You
got it!” And then the voluble young woman told Maomao everything she knew about how the hair sticks were used.
⭘⬤⭘
The summons came for Lihaku just as he finished training.
Mopping away sweat, he tossed his sword, the blade cracked, to a nearby subordinate. The practice grounds smelled of sweat and
carried the warmth of exertion in the air.
A spindly military officer handed Lihaku a wooden writing strip and a woman’s ornamental hair stick. The accessory, decorated with pink coral, was just one of several he’d passed out recently. He’d assumed the women would understand he was giving them the ornaments out of obligation, not in seriousness, but
apparently at least one of them hadn’t. He wouldn’t want to embarrass her, but it could be problematic for him if she were
really in earnest. But then again, if she was beautiful, it would be a shame not to at least meet her. Idly mulling over how he would let her down gently, Lihaku looked at the writing strip. It said:
Jade Pavilion—Maomao.
He’d given a hair stick to only one of the women from the Jade Pavilion, that cold-eyed lady-in-waiting. Lihaku stroked his chin
thoughtfully and went to change his clothes.
Men were typically forbidden from entering the rear palace.
That of course applied to Lihaku, who still had all his various
parts. He didn’t expect to serve in the rear palace; indeed, he was quite concerned what it would mean if he did so.
Terrifying though the place could be, however, with special
permission women could be called from its precincts. The means
—one of several possible—was a hair stick like this. Lihaku waited in the guardhouse by the central gate for the young woman to be brought to him. In the somewhat cramped space were chairs and desks for two people, and eunuchs standing, one before the door on either side.
Through the door from the rear palace side appeared a petite young woman. Freckles surrounded her nose. Hers was the rare plain face in a place populated by exquisite beauties.
“And who are you?” Lihaku growled.
“I’m often asked that,” the girl replied indifferently, hiding her nose behind the palm of her hand. Suddenly he recognized her. It was the very woman who had called him here.
“Anyone ever tell you you look very different with makeup on?” “Often.” The young woman didn’t appear put off by this
remark, but candidly acknowledged the fact.
Lihaku understood, intellectually, that this was her, the lady-in- waiting, the food taster. But in his mind, he just couldn’t reconcile the freckled face with the alluring courtesan’s smile. It was the strangest thing.
“Listen, you understand what it means to call me out here like this, don’t you?” Lihaku crossed his arms, then crossed his legs for good measure. Not the least bit intimidated by this display from the bulky army officer, however, the petite young woman
said, “I wish to go back to my family.” She sounded completely emotionless as she said it.
Lihaku scratched his head. “And you think I’m going to help?” “Yes. I’ve heard that if you’ll vouch for me, I might be able to
procure a temporary leave of absence.”
This girl said the darndest things. He wondered if she actually understood what the hair sticks were really for. But as it
happened, the girl, Maomao, evidently wanted to use him to get back to her home. She wasn’t just fishing for a nice officer for
herself. Was she bold, or reckless?
Lihaku rested his chin on his hands and snorted. He didn’t care if she thought it was rude. This was how he was going to be. “So, what? I should just play along with you?” Lihaku was known for his decency and goodness of heart, but when he glared he could still manage to look suitably intimidating. When he gave lazy
subordinates a dressing-down, even those who’d had nothing to do with it felt compelled to apologize. And yet this Maomao didn’t so much as furrow an eyebrow. She simply looked at him without emotion.
“Not exactly. I believe I have a way of showing my gratitude.” She placed a bundle of writing strips on the desk. It appeared to be a letter of introduction.
“Meimei, Pairin, Joka.” They were women’s names. In fact, Lihaku had heard of them. Many men had.
“Perhaps a flower-viewing excursion at the Verdigris House.”
They were names of courtesans of the highest class, women with whom one could spend a year’s wages in silver in a single
night. The women named in the letter were collectively known as the Three Princesses, and they were the most popular ladies of
all.
“If you have any concerns, you need only show them this,” Maomao said, and the slightest of smiles played across her lips.
“This has to be a joke.”
“I assure you, it’s quite serious.”
Lihaku could hardly believe it. For a mere lady-in-waiting to have connections with courtesans even the most highly ranked officers had trouble gaining an audience with was almost
unthinkable. What was going on here? Lihaku tugged at his own hair, completely at a loss, and the young woman sighed and stood up.
“What?” Lihaku asked.
“I can see you don’t believe me. My apologies for wasting your time.” Maomao quietly withdrew something from the neck of her uniform. Two things, in fact. Hair sticks: one in quartz, the other, silver. The implication was clear: she had other options. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ll ask someone else.”
“N-Now hold on just a second.” Lihaku slapped his hand down over the bundle of wood strips before Maomao could take it off
the table.
She gazed at him, expressionless. “Is something the matter?” She looked him straight in the eye, meeting the gaze that could overpower experienced men of war. And Lihaku had to admit
she’d bested him.
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⭘⬤⭘
“Are you sure about this, Lady Gyokuyou?” Hongniang watched Maomao through a crack in the door. Her color seemed healthier
than usual; she appeared almost cheerful as she packed up her things. The strange thing was, Maomao herself seemed to think she looked perfectly normal.
“It’s only three days,” the consort replied.
“Yes, ma’am, but…” Hongniang picked up the little princess, who was clasping at her skirts to be held. “I’m certain she doesn’t actually understand.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”
The other ladies-in-waiting had showered Maomao with congratulations, but she didn’t seem to grasp exactly why. She’d just blithely promised to bring them souvenirs.
Gyokuyou stood at the window, gazing out. “Really, the one I feel most sorry for of all is… well.” She let out a long breath, but then a mischievous smile appeared on her face. “It is very
amusing, though.” She spoke in a whisper, but the words didn’t escape Hongniang.
The head lady-in-waiting worried: it seemed to her that there would be another argument.
Having finally finished his work and become a man of leisure again, Jinshi at last visited the Jade Pavilion, only to discover that he had missed Maomao by a single day.
