Several days after Maomao returned to the rear palace, a letter from Meimei arrived, along with a package. The letter spelled out exactly whose contract had been bought out, and by whom. It must have been raining or something when she wrote, for the page was streaked with droplets.
In the small case that accompanied the letter was a lovely scarf of the
kind courtesans used on celebratory occasions. Maomao was about to close the case again but thought better of it. Instead she went over to a chest of clothing, one of the furnishings in her small room, and started digging for something at the very bottom.
The lights of the pleasure quarter glittered in the distance. Maomao thought they looked even brighter and more numerous than usual. From her place atop the outer wall of the rear palace, she could hear jangling bells— courtesans dancing with their scarves, she imagined. They would wear their most beautiful outfits, wave long, flowing cloth, and scatter flower petals.
Being bought out of a contract was a cause for celebration. When all the city bloomed for one woman alone, the other flowers would dance to see her off. There would be wine and feasting, singing and dancing. The pleasure district never slept, so the carousing would go on all night.
As for Maomao, she had the gossamer scarf Meimei had sent her wrapped around her shoulders. She grasped it with her fingers. Her left leg still wasn’t at its best, but she thought she could manage this. She removed her overrobe and dabbed a touch of rouge on her lips. That, too, she had received from Meimei.
It feels like some kind of joke. Maomao thought of Princess Fuyou, who had been given to a military officer in marriage the year before, an old friend of hers. Had she forgotten all about her days in the rear palace by
now? Or did she sometimes remember how she once danced on these walls, night after night?
Now Maomao would do the same thing as the princess. Clad in the
lovely dress her sisters had foisted on her, she called to mind the first steps of the dance she’d been taught so long ago. The rouge she’d received from her sister Meimei was on her lips. Small bells were attached to her sleeves, so she jingled with each movement. Small stones were sewn into the long skirt so that it would billow out each time Maomao spun.
Her skirt circled around her, her scarf traced an arc, and her sleeves slipped through the air. She’d let her hair down tonight, decorating it with a single rose, a small flower dyed blue.
The scarf danced; the skirt rose in time; sleeves and hair fluttered together.
Didn’t think it would come back to me so easily, she mused, surprised to find the dance the old woman had taught her still within.
Her scarf billowed again—and then Maomao found herself looking directly at a very unwelcome companion. That was when she tripped on her skirt.
She fell face-first, and as she tried to protect herself from striking the ground with her nose, she tumbled—straight toward the edge of the wall. She just managed to stop herself, and someone pulled her up.
“Wh-What are you doing here?” the unexpected visitor asked, breathing hard. His hair, which had been carefully bound, was a mess now.
“I should ask you the same question, Master Jinshi,” Maomao said, brushing off her dress. “Why are you here?”
He fixed her with an exasperated look. She was safely away from the edge of the wall now, but for some reason he was still holding on to her hand. “Where else was I supposed to be? When I got word a strange woman was dancing on the wall again, I had to come deal with the matter.”
Huh, and I thought I’d kept a low profile. Now Maomao thought about
it, though, maybe it shouldn’t have been so surprising that she was noticed. Still, did this mean the guards still believed in ghosts?
“I’ll thank you not to add to my workload,” Jinshi said, placing his hand on Maomao’s head.
“Surely you didn’t have to come yourself, Master Jinshi. Couldn’t you have sent someone else?” She slid her head aside, out from under his hand.
“A very kind guard recognized your face and contacted me directly,” Jinshi said. Maomao touched her face. “You may think what you’re doing is innocuous, but remember that it won’t look that way to those who see you.”
“As you say,” Maomao replied. Somewhat embarrassed, she scratched her cheek. This whole endeavor was harder than she’d thought.
“That’s my story,” Jinshi said. “Now it’s your turn. What are you doing here?”
After a moment, Maomao replied, “In the pleasure quarter, we dance to send off a courtesan who’s been bought out of her contract. My celebratory outfit arrived this very day.”
In truth, she’d wished to send off the courtesan who’d given her the clothes. Meimei had stuck with Maomao faithfully as she struggled to learn to dance. “I want you to be able to dance properly when I leave,” her sister had always said.
Jinshi was looking at her intently. “What is it, sir?” she asked. “I just didn’t know you could dance.”
“It’s a basic subject of education where I grew up. I couldn’t not learn it.
Although admittedly, I never got good enough to perform for a paying customer.”
Still, she told him, sometimes when celebrating a woman’s departure, what mattered was the number of dancers more than their quality. When she said that, Jinshi looked out toward the distant lights of the pleasure district. “The rumors are already starting beyond these walls. The stories of how
that eccentric bought out a courtesan.” “I imagine so.”
“What’s more, he’s put in for leave. He plans to take off for ten straight days.”
“He does know how to cause trouble.”
Maomao suspected that tomorrow, another new rumor would begin as well. She didn’t know how much the old kook had spent on this banquet, but judging by the number of lanterns she could see from her perch on the wall, it far outstripped what anyone would spend on the average courtesan. Meimei’s letter made it sound like there would be feasting and celebrating enough for a solid week. So the tongues would wag: who had known that it wasn’t only the Three Princesses at the Verdigris House? That there had been another such courtesan there?
I still think he should have taken Meimei, Maomao thought. The sick woman, ravaged by her illness, surely didn’t have long. She certainly lacked her memories of those long-ago days; all she knew was how to sing
children’s songs and set Go stones beside each other.
But that man had found her, after the old lady had hidden her for all those years.
I wish he hadn’t, Maomao thought. Then he could have picked her wonderful sister. Meimei was overflowing with talent and still beautiful; she would have made an excellent wife. But she’s strange in her own ways.
It was Meimei who had first let the man the madam so reviled into her room. Maybe she thought it was the only thing to do with the strange person who continually came pursuing Maomao. Once he was with Meimei, he hadn’t done anything, but only talked endlessly of Maomao and the woman who had borne her. Sometimes he would seat himself in front of a Go board, but they never played a game together. Instead the man would play out one old game after another from memory.
That, at least, was what Meimei told her. Maomao couldn’t know for sure. Maybe Meimei was just being considerate of her. But it really didn’t matter to Maomao. She would have been happy enough to see Meimei go to that man. His personality aside, at least he had plenty of money; her sister wouldn’t have wanted for anything in her life. Maomao wanted to know what there was not to like about her sister.
“I can’t help wondering who in the world he bought out,” Jinshi said. He’d known of the wager, but evidently hadn’t imagined the celebrations would be so momentous. He was surprised to discover the man was even more eccentric than he had realized.
“Yes, I wonder who it could be.” “Do you know?”
In response, Maomao only closed her eyes. “You do know, don’t you?”
“No woman he chose could be more gorgeous than you are, Master Jinshi.”
“That’s not what I asked.”
He doesn’t deny it, though, she thought. She suspected Jinshi wasn’t the only one wondering. The whole palace—probably the whole capital—
would be asking the same question. The courtesan for whom all this fuss was being made must be resplendently dressed, but she would never appear in public. There would be only rumors, and they would only grow. People would ask themselves what woman could have so caught the eye of a man
like him, how beautiful she must be.
And won’t the old hag be pleased, Maomao thought. People would be talking about the Verdigris House for quite a while to come. More than a few officials would come knocking on the door—purely out of curiosity, of course.
Maomao’s whole body felt hot. Maybe it was because she hadn’t danced in so long. Her feet in particular tingled, and when she looked down, she saw her skirt was tinged with red.
“Oh, shit,” she said and grabbed up her skirt.
“Wh-What are you doing?!” Jinshi cried, his voice scratching.
Maomao looked at her leg and made a face. The heat had become pain.
Her experiments with medicines had dulled her perception of such sensations. She’d been convinced the wound in her leg had healed pretty thoroughly, but her dancing had torn it right open again.
“Huh, guess it opened up again…” “You act like it did that on its own!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll sew it right back up.” Maomao rooted among her discarded overgarments and came up with some disinfectant alcohol and a needle and thread.
“Why are you so prepared for this exact situation?!”
“You never know.” Maomao was just about to make the first stitch when Jinshi grabbed the needle. “You can’t sew, sir,” she said.
“Don’t do it here!” No sooner had he spoken than he hefted Maomao into his arms and made his way deftly down the wall without so much as a ladder. Maomao was so stunned she didn’t even think to struggle. When they reached the ground, she assumed he would put her down, but instead he continued to carry her, though he shifted her somewhat in his arms.
“What are you doing that for?” she asked. “It was getting hard to hold you.”
“Then put me down.”
“And let you make it worse?” Jinshi pursed his lips. He had his arms around Maomao, and she found it most uncomfortable how close her face was to his.
How do I end up in these situations? she thought, but she said, “What if someone sees us, sir?”
“No one will see us. It’s too dark. Besides—” He lifted her slightly and
adjusted his grip so she wouldn’t fall. “—this is the second time I’ve held you like this.”
The second time? she thought. Oh!
It must have been the day she’d injured her leg. She’d been unconscious; someone had carried her away from the scene. It would make a lot of sense if it had been Jinshi. Which would mean he had picked her up in front of an entire ceremony’s worth of people…
There was something more important, though, something she’d been forgetting. She’d meant to say it for so long, and she deeply regretted not having said it before. She pressed a handkerchief to the blood that dribbled down her calf.
“Master Jinshi,” she began. “I know this is hardly an ideal moment, but if I may, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you for quite a long time.”
“Why so formal all of a sudden?” Jinshi asked, somewhat perplexed. “Sir, I simply must say it.”
“Well, then, out with it!” Jinshi responded.
“Very well,” Maomao said, looking Jinshi full in the face. “Sir… Please give me my ox bezoar.”
Jinshi’s head connected with Maomao’s with a thwack, and she saw stars.
A headbutt! Right out of the blue! It crossed her mind that perhaps he’d only been leading her on the entire time.
“Sir, don’t tell me… You don’t have it?”
“Please. Surely you have a little more respect for me than that.” As Maomao looked at him questioningly, the slightest of smiles crossed Jinshi’s face.
The rapid change in the eunuch’s expression from annoyance to amusement reminded her how immature he could seem. But then again, she found him easier to talk to that way, she thought, as she rocked in his arms.
No one knew quite where the rumor had started—but word was that some profligate noble from the great country that occupied the middle of the continent was buying up every kind of rare and unusual medicament he could find. It was during an afternoon tea party that Maomao first heard that Jinshi’s office was so full of get-well flowers he could hardly get inside.
She only took a bite of her peach bun and commented, “Huh.”
