So he knows. She’d had a feeling about the person Jinshi had been talking about the other day. He was, after all, part of the reason Maomao diligently avoided going anywhere near the military encampment.
She heaved a sigh. The way her breath fogged in the air was proof enough that the cold was still present and accounted for, the footfalls of spring still far off.
There was nobody else in the room. Jinshi and Gaoshun had gone out first thing in the morning. In the two months Maomao had been serving him, she’d begun to get to know Jinshi’s routine. One particular task
seemed to come up about every two weeks. The day before, he would take a long, slow bath, and burn incense before he went out. Maomao took advantage of those days to give the floor a thorough polishing, and that’s what she was doing today, wiping a cloth industriously across the ground.
Her hands were going numb with the cold, but with Suiren watching her, mild but implacable, Maomao couldn’t even think of slacking off.
When Maomao had dusted about half the building, Suiren finally
seemed satisfied and suggested they stop for tea. They pulled two chairs up to a round table in the kitchen and sat with warm cups of tea in their hands. The leaves were leftovers, not new, but were of such high quality that the brew still smelled wonderful. Maomao savored the sweet aroma as she ate a sesame ball.
Wish we could have something more savory, Maomao thought, but it would sound churlish to say so aloud. She suspected Suiren had prepared the snack assuming that a young woman would enjoy a sweet treat. So Maomao felt compelled to look appreciative, but then she noticed that Suiren herself was munching away noisily on some grilled rice crackers.
Maomao said nothing for a moment.
“Ah, that salty tang is like an addiction,” Suiren said. She and Jinshi were certainly of a piece, Maomao thought. She reached out toward the dish of crackers, but Suiren snatched up the last one before she could get to it.
Now Maomao was sure she was doing this on purpose. Very disagreeable, this attendant.
Maomao always ended up the listener when she took a snack with other women, and so it proved at tea with Suiren. Unlike the ladies of the pleasure district or the rear palace, Suiren didn’t favor idle gossip, but was given to discoursing on the master of the house.
“The meal tonight is vegetarian, so make sure you’re not snitching any meat or fish on the sly,” Suiren said.
“Yes, ma’am.” Maomao knew better than to ask why they were eating as though they were undergoing some kind of ritual purification, but Suiren implied just enough with her tone that Maomao could guess. Can eunuchs perform ritual offices? she wondered. Purification was typically performed by those who would be participating in religious rituals. Those of aristocratic or noble birth could expect to preside at such functions from time to time.
There were a number of things about Jinshi that Maomao didn’t understand. For one, why a man of birth such as his should have become a eunuch at all. Then again, when she considered the time of his life at which it had happened, it made a certain kind of sense. The former empress dowager, who had been viewed as all but an empress in her own right in her time, was a woman of considerable abilities. It was said to be her influence, and no thanks to her incompetent son, that had prevented the country from falling into chaos during the former emperor’s reign. But the natural corollary of that fact was that she had leaned on her own authority for many of the actions she took. Such as forcibly making a eunuch of a very capable physician she happened to favor—Maomao’s father. It would be reasonable to suppose that Jinshi had become a eunuch under similar circumstances. “Oh, and I need you to run a little errand for me this afternoon. You’ll
have to go to the doctor and get some medicine—”
“Yes, ma’am!” Maomao blurted out before Suiren was finished speaking.
“I could wish you were always so enthusiastic,” she said, and stuffed the last of the rice cracker into her mouth.
The medical office was located on the eastern side of the outer palace, near the military headquarters. Perhaps it was convenient for all the injuries
the military produced. Maomao remembered what Jinshi had said about this physician, but she was interested in him for other reasons as well. She’d once had firsthand experience with one of his medicines, and it was more than enough to convince her that he was an accomplished practitioner. The rear palace had an absolute quack running its medical office, a real waste, but Maomao was acutely curious as to how things were done in the outer court.
“I’ve come to pick up some medicine,” she said, presenting the tag Suiren had given her. The doctor, a man with high cheekbones, looked at it, then asked Maomao to sit down and disappeared into a back room.
Maomao sat, then took a deep breath in. A profusion of acrid smells and bitter flavors filled her nose and mouth. Over at the desk where the doctor had been until her arrival, Maomao could see a mortar and pestle with some half-crushed herbs in it.
With a supreme effort of will, she managed to control her urge to turn the place upside down. She would have given anything to have a good, close look through the cabinet full of medicines in the next room.
No! she implored herself. Got to stay strong… She could feel her body edging its way toward the other room in spite of herself.
“May I ask what you’re doing?” a woman’s cold voice said. Maomao snapped to reality, discovering behind her a very exasperated-looking court lady. Maomao remembered her: it was the tall woman. Maomao realized she must look profoundly suspicious slinking toward the other room as she was, and promptly returned to her chair.
“Just waiting for some medicine,” she said innocently. The other woman looked like she wanted to say something to that, but at that moment the doctor reemerged with the prescription. “Oh, Suirei. When did you get here?” he said lightly.
The woman he called Suirei frowned as if she didn’t appreciate his tone. “I’ve come to restock the medicine they keep on hand at the guardhouse,” she said. She must have been referring to someplace in the military camp. Now that Maomao thought about it, she realized the last time she’d run into Suirei, it had also been in the vicinity of the military area. At the time, she’d felt strangely as if Suirei had it out for her, and the attitude she saw from the woman now only confirmed her suspicions. Suirei was looking at Maomao as if she wished the young serving woman were anywhere else.
If nothing else, Maomao now understood why Suirei had smelled of medicinal herbs when they’d met.
“I’ve got everything right here. Anything else you need?” the doctor asked.
“Not to speak of. I bid you good day.” Suirei met the doctor’s downright ingratiating tone with near indifference. The doctor looked almost a little sad as he watched her go.
So that’s how it is, Maomao thought, studying the disappointed doctor and reflecting on how easy he was to read. When he realized she was watching him, he frowned and thrust out her medicine at her.
“Does that woman work with the military?” Maomao asked. She didn’t really mean anything by it. It was just a passing thought.
“Yes. Though there’s no need for a qualified woman of the outer court to handle that sort of thing…” Maomao looked at him expectantly, but the doctor didn’t elaborate. He only shook his head and said, “It’s nothing. Anyway, here’s your medicine!” He shoved the packet at her, then gave a dismissive wave of his hand: Go on, get out. Apparently Maomao had said something she shouldn’t have, but exactly what it was eluded her.
Something a court lady wouldn’t normally handle? she repeated to herself. She concluded, though, that there was no special need to tie herself in knots wondering about the portentous pronouncement; instead, she took the packet and peeked inside. There was some kind of powder in it.
Wondering what it was, she put a fingertip’s worth on her tongue. (Her bad habit.)
“Is this…potato dust?”
She left the doctor’s office perplexed.
“Do you need anything from the doctor’s office today?” Maomao asked with a glance at Suiren, but the lady-in-waiting was not to be outfoxed.
“I won’t have you slacking off,” she said firmly.
I don’t think of it as slacking, Maomao mentally replied. She was just so eager for even a sniff of that rich aroma of medicine.
“On that note,” Suiren said, drying her hands, “I gather you’ve quietly been using our storage room to keep some unusual herbs. I don’t want that to continue.”
She never did forget to twist the knife. Maomao’s face twisted into a
scowl as she squeezed a rag and wiped the floor. Suiren was a far more fearsome force than the head lady-in-waiting of the Jade Pavilion. Maybe age really did bring wiles.
“If you feel you haven’t enough space in your room, maybe you could speak to Master Jinshi. We have more than enough rooms here. If you only ask, you might be surprised how accommodating he may turn out to be.” Suiren sounded unusually cheerful.
Maomao wondered if that was true. After all, Jinshi had turned her request for a stable down flat.
“No, ma’am,” she said now. “I could never turn a noble’s residence into medicinal storage.”
Suiren put a surprised hand to her mouth as she took a seat in a chair. “You don’t look like the kind who would care, Xiaomao, but you always turn out to be so circumspect.”
“I am only a low-born young woman. No one is more surprised than I am to find me here.”
“I can understand that. But…” Suiren got a distant look in her eyes. She was gazing out the window. Brief flurries of snow occasionally drifted down. “I urge you not to imagine that those who are high-born are fundamentally different creatures from you. None of us, however princely or however poor, know what will happen in our lives. That by itself unites us across every divide.”
“You think so, ma’am?”
“I very much do,” Suiren said with a smile, standing up from her chair. Then she came over hauling a large basket stuffed to the brim with trash. “And now it’s time to work, Xiaomao. Do you think you could go throw this away for me?” Suiren wore a placid smile on her face, but the basket came up almost to Maomao’s chest and looked very heavy.
Not just any random maid or manservant could be trusted to dispose of the trash in Jinshi’s building. There were any number of people out there who would all too eagerly rifle through it to find anything that might afford a strategic advantage.
“The way to the trash pit goes past the doctor’s office,” Suiren said. “If all you do is go past it, I certainly don’t mind.”
That’s not a favor, that’s torture, Maomao thought with a frown, but nonetheless she hefted the basket onto her back, wobbling under the weight.
Maomao studied the stark indentations the straps of the basket had left on her shoulders, wondering just how much had been in there. Well! At least no one would be able to root through this particular noble’s garbage now. It had all turned to ash. As for Maomao, all she could do was sigh at this important personage’s ignorance of how much trouble he caused for those around him.
She was just about to go back when something caught her eye. Is that what I think it is?! Not far from the trash pit was some kind of building— from the neighing of horses, she suspected it was a stable. Grass, natural and untended, grew nearby. Except clearly, not everything there was forage…
Maomao gave a furtive glance in one direction, then the other, then dashed over and fell upon her target. To the untrained eye, it looked like simple withered grass. It smelled like a plant wasted by winter. Pull it out of the ground, and it showed long roots, along with a small but unmistakable tuber-like growth.
It was a wild plant frequently used to flavor medicine; in and of itself, it wasn’t that unusual. What was unusual was to find it growing seemingly at random among a patch of other grasses.
Lots of fertilizer out here behind the stables, maybe? Maomao thought. But it just didn’t seem like the sort of thing that would normally grow in a place like this.
Maomao looked around again. There was a modest hill nearby, on which was growing a profusion of herbs that looked distinctly medicinal. She put down her basket and ran for the mound.
She found a field of soft, rich soil brimming with flowers and odd- smelling herbs—these were no ordinary kitchen produce. They were still a bit colorless, on account of the season, but it was more than enough to make Maomao’s eyes shine. Elated, she started to inspect each plant, trying to determine what it was—when the sound of footsteps, muffled by the soft earth, approached her.
“And what are you doing?” asked a most irritated voice. Maomao, still crouching on the ground, looked back to discover the tall woman standing behind her. In one hand she held a small basket; in the other, a sickle.
Suirei, that was what the doctor had called her.
Shit. Maomao knew she had to look suspicious here. She decided to try to explain herself, keenly aware that the sickle could come down on her at any moment. “Please, ma’am, there’s no cause for alarm. I haven’t picked anything yet.”
“Meaning you were about to, may I take it?” Suirei remained impressively calm. The sickle wasn’t swung at Maomao, but instead was set gently on the ground along with the basket.
“Any farmer would want to inspect such a fine field,” Maomao said. “And what palace is peopled with farmers?”
She had Maomao there—but Maomao had thought it was a clever line. Where there were fields, there had to be farmers, right? Unfortunately, Suirei didn’t find this logic as coherent or compelling as Maomao did.
Instead, the woman sighed. “I’m not here to hang you by your thumbs or something. This garden isn’t technically allowed, anyway. A word of warning, though—the doctor shows up here periodically, so I wouldn’t recommend making too many visits.” She started pulling weeds as she spoke.
“So he let you be in charge of this place?” “Sort of. He lets me plant what I like, anyway.”
To Maomao’s ears, Suirei sounded notably disinterested. Maomao didn’t exactly overflow with enthusiasm herself; it looked like she’d found a kindred spirit. Suirei, though, seemed to have enough social sense to join the other court ladies when they picked on Maomao.
“And what do you like to plant?”
Suirei looked at Maomao without saying anything—but only for a
second. Then she returned her gaze to the ground. “A medicine to revive the dead.”
That was enough to get Maomao’s heart pounding. She nearly grabbed Suirei and demanded to know what she was talking about, but rationality got hold of her at the last moment.
Suirei eyed Maomao and then said the cruelest thing imaginable: “I’m kidding.” Maomao didn’t reply, but the devastation must have been clear on her face, for the other woman gave a humorless laugh. “Word has it you’re an apothecary.”
Maomao wondered where she’d heard that, but nodded. Suirei was once again expressionless as she plucked dead leaves. She left any thick roots,
trimming the leaves with the sickle. “I wonder just how good an apothecary,” she said, and Maomao, if she wasn’t mistaken, heard a barb in Suirei’s voice.
She looked at Suirei and replied only: “Good question.”
“Mm,” Suirei said, and stood. “I plant morning glories here every year.
It’s not quite the season yet, though.” Then she collected her herbs and went back down the hill.
A medicine to revive the dead…
If such a thing existed, Maomao would do anything to get her hands on it. Humanity had sought a means of immortality virtually throughout its history. Could such a thing exist? Maomao believed, in fact, that the possibility couldn’t be ruled out—but she shook her head at the idea that it would just happen to be a drug that brought people back to life.
She looked longingly at the field for a moment, the part of her that wanted to help herself to a little something and the part that knew she shouldn’t arguing back and forth. In the end, the mental dispute only made her late getting back.
Suiren’s discipline was unassuming but severe: Maomao found herself cleaning and polishing right up to the ceiling beams.
