Jinshi found this a most congenial turn of events. The unusual girl he had discovered by sheer chance would now help him solve one of his many problems.
Lady Gyokuyou, the Emperor’s favored consort, was presently served by four ladies-in-waiting. That might be enough for some concubine of mean account, but for a high-ranking consort like Gyokuyou, it seemed rather too few. The ladies-in-waiting,
however, insisted that the four of them were perfectly sufficient to take care of everything that needed doing, and Gyokuyou herself didn’t seem inclined to press for more servants.
Jinshi understood well why this was the case. Consort
Gyokuyou was a cheerful and generally tranquil person, but she was also intelligent and careful. In the garden of women that was the rear palace, a woman who received the Imperial favor and was not suspicious of others was in mortal danger. There had, in fact, been several prior attempts on Gyokuyou’s life. Notably,
when she had become pregnant with the child who would go on to be Princess Lingli.
And so, although she had had ten ladies-in-waiting at first, she now had less than half that number. Typically, a lady only brought her own servants with her when she first arrived at the rear
palace, but Gyokuyou had called on special privilege to bring in that nursemaid. She would never accept an anonymous servant girl from some far-flung corner of the rear palace as one of her ladies-in-waiting. But she had her station as a high consort to
think of. Surely she could take on at least one more woman.
And this was where the freckled girl came in. She had saved Gyokuyou’s daughter; surely the consort wouldn’t be averse to
her. What was more, the girl knew something about poisons. That could only be useful. There was always the possibility that this
freckled girl would put her knowledge to evil ends, but if she tried anything, they would simply have to corner her somewhere she
couldn’t do anything harmful. It was all so simple.
If all else failed, Jinshi thought with a grin, he could always use his charms. Yes, he found it just as repugnant as everyone else
that he was so ready to take advantage of his ethereal beauty. But he had no intention of changing his ways. Indeed, his looks were what gave Jinshi his value in life.
⭘⬤⭘
When one became a servant assigned to a specific mistress, and a lady-in-waiting to the Emperor’s favorite consort at that, one found that one’s treatment improved. Maomao, who had heretofore been squarely at the bottom of the palace hierarchy, suddenly found herself in the middle ranks. She was told her
salary would see a significant increase, although twenty percent of what she earned went to her “family,” which was to say, the merchants who had sold her into this life. A distasteful
arrangement, in her opinion. A system created so greedy officials could line their pockets.
She was also given her own room—cramped, but a far cry from the overcrowded accommodations she had shared in the past.
From a meager reed mat and a single sheet for bedding, she now found herself with an actual bed. Granted, it took up half her
room, but Maomao was frankly happy to be able to get up in the morning without treading all over her coworkers.
She had one more cause for celebration as well, although she wouldn’t know it until later.
The Jade Pavilion, in which Gyokuyou lived, was home to four other ladies-in-waiting besides Maomao. A nursemaid had lately been dismissed, allegedly because the princess was beginning to be weaned, but Maomao thought she had an inkling of the real reason. It was an awfully small number of women, in view of the fact that Consort Lihua had more than ten ladies-in-waiting
attending upon her. Gyokuyou’s ladies were more than a little
taken aback to discover that one of the least important people in the palace had suddenly been elevated to their colleague, but
they never harassed Maomao in the way she had half expected. If anything, they seemed sympathetic toward her.
But why? she thought.
She would find out soon enough.
A palace meal, packed with ingredients traditionally believed to be of medicinal benefit, sat before her. One by one, Hongniang,
the head of Gyokuyou’s ladies-in-waiting, took samples and put them on little saucers, placing them in front of Maomao.
Gyokuyou observed the scene apologetically but gave no
indication that she was going to stop what was happening. The other three ladies-in-waiting likewise watched with pitying gazes.
The location was Gyokuyou’s room. It was appointed in the highest style, and it was where the consort ate all her meals.
Before the food reached her, it would pass through the hands of many others, and being the Emperor’s favorite, it behooved her to consider the possibility that one or more of those hands might try to poison the product.
Thus a food taster was necessary. Everyone was on edge
because of what had happened to the young prince. Rumors were rampant that the princess might have been sickened by the same poison the infant boy died from. The ladies-in-waiting hadn’t been informed of what the toxic substance had ultimately been discovered to be, and so they were understandably paranoid that it might be in anything or everything.
It would not have been strange if they’d viewed the lowly
servant girl sent to them at that moment, specifically to be a food taster, as nothing but a disposable pawn. Maomao was charged
not only with tasting Consort Gyokuyou’s meals, but also the baby food served to the princess. On those occasions when His Majesty was present, she was also responsible for sampling the luxurious edibles offered to him.
After it was discovered that Gyokuyou was pregnant, Maomao was given to understand, there had been two separate instances of attempted poisoning. In one, the taster had gotten off without real injury, but another had found themselves subject to a nerve toxin that had left their arms and legs paralyzed. The remaining ladies-in-waiting had had, with much fear and trembling, to check the food themselves, so they frankly must have been grateful for Maomao’s arrival.
Maomao furrowed her brow as she looked at the plate in front
of her. It was ceramic.
If they’re so scared of poison, they should be using silver. She picked up the little bit of pickled vegetable in her chopsticks and regarded it critically. She took a sniff. Then she placed it on her
tongue, checking to see whether it caused a tingling sensation before she swallowed it.
I don’t think I’m actually qualified to be tasting for poisons, she reflected. Fast-acting agents were one thing, but with regard to slower toxins she expected to be somewhat useless. In the name of science, Maomao had accustomed her body to a variety of poisons by gradual exposure, and suspected there were few left
that would have a serious effect on her. This was not, let it be said, a part of her work as an apothecary, but purely a way of satisfying her intellectual curiosity. In the west, she heard, they
had a name for researchers who did things that made no sense to people: mad scientists. Even her father, who had taught her the
apothecary’s trade, grew exasperated with her little experiments.
When she was satisfied that there were no untoward physical effects and that she detected no poisons she knew of, the meal could finally make its way to Consort Gyokuyou.
Next would come the flavorless baby food.
“I think it might be best to change the plates to ones made of silver,” she said to Hongniang, as flatly as possible. She had been called to Hongniang’s room to provide a report on her first day of work. The chief lady’s chambers were generous in size, but
unadorned with any frivolous objects, bespeaking Hongniang’s practical bent.
Hongniang, an attractive, black-haired woman not quite thirty years of age, let out a sigh. “Jinshi really had it all figured out.” She confessed with some chagrin that they had deliberately not used silver tableware at the eunuch’s instruction.
Maomao had a distinct suspicion that it was also Jinshi who had ordered her appointed food taster. She struggled not to let her already cold expression turn into one of outright disgust as
she listened to Hongniang talk. “I don’t know why you decided to hide your knowledge, but it’s amazing that you know so much
about poisons and medicine both. If you’d told them from the
start that you knew how to write, you could have gotten a lot more money.”
“My knowledge comes from my vocation—I was an apothecary.
Until I was abducted and sold into this place. My kidnappers
receive a portion of my salary even now. The thought turns my
stomach.” Maomao’s hackles were up now and her words came in a sharp rush, but the chief lady-in-waiting didn’t rebuke her.
“You mean you were willing to put up with receiving less than you were worth to make sure they had one less cup of wine when they were carousing.” Hongniang, it seemed, was more than
perceptive enough to grasp Maomao’s motives. Maomao found herself simply relieved that Hongniang hadn’t scolded her for what she said. “Not to mention that women of no special
distinction serve a couple of years and then go on their merry ways. Plenty of replacements out there.”
She didn’t have to understand quite that well.
Hongniang took a carafe from the table and gave it to Maomao. “What’s this?” Maomao asked, but almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, a pain shot through her wrist. She dropped the carafe on the floor in her shock. A large crack
spidered through the ceramic vessel.
“Oh, my goodness, that’s quite an expensive piece of pottery. Certainly not something a simple lady-in-waiting could afford. You won’t be able to make remittances to your family anymore with
that hanging over your head—in fact, we should probably bill
them.”
Maomao understood immediately what Hongniang was saying, and the slightest ironic smile crept over her otherwise expressionless face. “My profound apologies,” she said. “Please, deduct it from the amount of my salary that’s sent home each
month. And if that isn’t enough, by all means, take from my own share as well.”
“Thank you, I’ll make sure the Matron of the Serving Women knows to do that. And one more thing.” Hongniang put the broken carafe back on the table before taking a wood-strip roll out of a drawer and writing on it in quick, short strokes. “This details your additional salary as a food taster. Hazard pay, you might call it.”
The amount was almost as much again as Maomao was
currently receiving. And insofar as nothing would be taken from it to pay her captors, Maomao came out ahead.
This woman does know how to use the carrot, she thought as she bowed deeply and left the room.
