Maomao’s three days at home went by in a flash. It hurt to have to leave after becoming reacquainted with so many familiar faces, but she couldn’t just abandon her work at the rear palace. Not least because of the trouble it would cause for Lihaku, who had vouched for her. The final push came from the madam of the Verdigris House, who was even now trying to pick the perfect
sadist to make Maomao’s first customer.
I’ll just pretend I had a very pleasant dream. When she saw the slick Pairin and Lihaku, who resembled a pile of melting
honey, Maomao reflected that maybe she had paid too rich a reward. The next place Lihaku would visit for pleasure was set in stone. Having tasted the nectar of heaven, he could never again be satisfied with the tepid offerings of earth. Maomao felt a little bit bad for him. She was sure the madam would take him for all he was worth.
But that wasn’t Maomao’s problem.
And so she returned to the Jade Pavilion, bearing gifts, only to discover a nymph-like young man who seemed quite on edge. She could detect something toxic just the far side of his delicate smile. Why did he seem to be glaring at her?
His personality aside, he certainly was beautiful. The glare he fixed on her was a little intimidating. Maomao ducked her head, hoping to avoid the trouble of dealing with him, and tried to make a beeline for her room, but he got a solid grip on her shoulder.
She felt his nails dig into her flesh.
“I’ll be waiting in the sitting area,” he said, his voice like honey in her ear. Wolfsbane honey, that was. Poisonous. Behind him, Gaoshun was urging Maomao with his eyes not to fight it. She saw Gyokuyou, too, whose eyes were sparkling even though she seemed a bit troubled. Finally, there was Hongniang, looking at
Maomao with what she took to be reproach, and the other three
ladies-in-waiting, looking on more with curiosity than concern. She expected to be well and truly interrogated after this was over.
Whatever this is.
Maomao set down her baggage, changed into her uniform, and went to the sitting area.
“You asked for me, sir?”
Jinshi was alone in the room. He was dressed in a simple official’s uniform, but he wore it well. He was seated in a chair with his legs crossed, resting his elbows on the table in front of him. And to Maomao’s eyes, he appeared to be in a worse mood than usual. Maybe it was just her imagination. She hoped it was just her imagination. Yes, that’s what she would go with: it was her imagination.
Jinshi’s customary sedative, Gaoshun, was nowhere to be seen.
Neither was Consort Gyokuyou.
And that made the situation unbearable for Maomao. “I see you had a little visit home,” Jinshi began.
“Yes, sir.”
“And how was it?”
“Everyone seemed in good health and good spirits. That’s what matters.”
“Oh, indeed?”
“Yes, sir.”
Jinshi said nothing further, so neither did Maomao. It was clear they weren’t going to have much of a conversation at this rate.
Finally Jinshi prodded, “This Lihaku. What kind of a man is he?”
“Sir. He vouched for me to leave the palace.”
How does Jinshi know his name? Maomao wondered.
Lihaku would yet become a regular customer. A major source of revenue. A very important person indeed.
“Do you know what it means? Do you understand?” Jinshi said, the irritation plain in his voice. There was none of his usual sweetness.
“Of course. One must be a high official of impeccable background in order to vouch for another.”
Jinshi looked absolutely taxed by this response, as if enervated
by the statement of the obvious. “Did he give you a hair stick?”
“Me and quite a few others. He was passing them out to every girl in sight—apparently he felt obliged to do so.” For all his intimidating look, Lihaku could actually be quite generous. The design of his accessory was clean and simple, but the workmanship was solid, and it was overall a quite lovely piece. If Maomao ever lacked money, she could probably sell it for a
decent price.
“You’re telling me I lost out to that? That I was bested by a bauble some hack felt obliged to give you?”
Wow, I’ve never heard him talk like that, Maomao thought, puzzled by Jinshi’s unfamiliar tone. Clearly, something was wrong.
“I gave you a hair stick, too, as I recall,” Jinshi went on, “but I didn’t see hide or damned hair of you when you needed someone to vouch for you!” He looked positively sullen. His alluring smile had been replaced by the pout of a petulant boy, and suddenly he looked hardly older than Maomao. Perhaps younger, even.
Maomao marveled that a single change of facial expression could alter how a person looked so drastically.
This much she understood: Jinshi was displeased that she had leaned on Lihaku for help rather than coming to him. Maomao couldn’t say it made sense to her. Why should he want one more thing on his to-do list? Wouldn’t his life be easier without? Or was it precisely having so much time on his hands that made Jinshi so eager to get involved even in things that might mean inconvenience for him?
“My sincere apologies,” Maomao said. “I couldn’t think of compensation that would be worthy of you, Master Jinshi.”
Would’ve been rude to give a eunuch an invitation to a brothel, right?
Maybe if it had been one of those innocuous places where the ladies only served tea and played music for the entertainment of the guests. But Maomao knew full well that wasn’t all that happened at the Verdigris House. She balked at the idea of
inviting a man who was no longer a man to come there.
What was more, she had to consider who Jinshi was. Maomao could all too easily imagine the average courtesan falling
completely under his spell. She was sure she would have caught hell from the madam for introducing him to her ladies.
“Compensation? What’s that supposed to mean? Did you pay this Lihaku?” He looked deeply disturbed; a touch of insecurity was now added to his overall ill humor.
“Yes. I offered him the pleasure of a night’s dream.”
And I don’t think he’ll be back to reality for a while, she added privately. A man like Lihaku might be a lion with his troops, but he was probably a kitten in the hands of Pairin. And folk belief held
that a cat well cared for might bring its master luck… or money.
Maomao looked at Jinshi and realized the blood had drained from his face. His hand, clutching a teacup, was shaking.
Maybe he’s feeling cold. Maomao turned to heap a few more pieces of charcoal on the brazier and fanned the flames gently. “He seemed entirely pleased,” she reported. “It makes me feel all the hard work I did for him was worth it.”
And now I’ll have to work hard to find more new customers.
Maomao clenched her fist to demonstrate her private determination. From behind her, she heard the sound of a teacup shattering.
“Whatever are you doing?” she asked. Bits of ceramic were scattered on the floor. Jinshi was standing there, his face
absolutely pale. Tea stained his neat uniform. “Oh, I’ll grab something to wipe up with,” Maomao said, but when she opened the door, she discovered Consort Gyokuyou, clutching her stomach with laughter. Gaoshun was there, too, seeming exhausted. Finally there was Hongniang, who looked at Maomao with an expression of pure exasperation: she didn’t need to say anything more. Maomao looked at them, baffled. Without a word, Hongniang walked over to her and smacked her on the back of the head. The chief lady-in-waiting was quick on the draw.
Maomao rubbed her head, still not understanding quite what was
going on, but she headed for the kitchen to get a rag just the same.
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⭘⬤⭘
“And how long can we expect you to sulk?” Gaoshun asked, thinking what a great deal of trouble this was going to be. Even after they got back to his office, Jinshi refused to do anything but lie slumped across his desk. Gaoshun heaved a sigh. “Must I remind you that you are supposed to be at work?” The desk, so recently and with such effort cleared off, was already piled with new papers to attend to.
“I know that.”
I hate work. This person, Jinshi, would never have actually
given voice to such a childish response. He wouldn’t become too attached to his toys.
After Jinshi’s conversation with Maomao, Gaoshun had
painstakingly extracted a clarification from Consort Gyokuyou. The “payment” for Maomao’s guarantor had consisted of a meeting
with a “star” courtesan, she said. It had never occurred to Gaoshun that a girl like Maomao might have such connections.
So what, exactly, had his master been imagining? Ah, the terrors of youth, the withered thirty-something mused.
Jinshi had calmed down considerably since then, but his bad mood remained. He had powered through his work and rushed off to find Maomao, only to discover she’d gone back to her home
with a man he didn’t know. It must have hit him like a bolt from the blue.
That was too bad, Gaoshun thought, but he couldn’t spend all his time soothing the tantrums of an overgrown child.
At length, Jinshi started putting his chop to the accumulated papers. If, at a glance, he judged a paper was one he couldn’t
approve, he set it to one side on his desk. No sooner had he gone through the pile than an under-official arrived with a new armload.
Jinshi could stand to ponder some of the papers just a little longer, Gaoshun thought, watching his master work. Many of
them were proposals from officials whose ideas would benefit no one but themselves. Gaoshun lamented that the young master’s workload should increase for such a sordid reason.
Before he knew it, the sun was going down, and Gaoshun lit
the lamp.
“Pardon me, sirs.”
Gaoshun saw a subordinate coming and moved to intercept him. “We’re done working for the day,” he said. “Perhaps you’d be so kind as to come by tomorrow.”
“Oh, it’s not a business matter, sir,” the man said with a hurried wave of his hand. “In fact…”
And then, furrowing his brow, the messenger related a most urgent situation.
