"Well, well, what to do?"
Lahan sounded downright giddy as he slid his glasses up the
bridge of his nose, thinking furiously. For him, the emissary's
request for political asylum was probably less interesting to
consider than how best to make the business negotiations pay off.
Business meant the flow of money, the flow of goods; it was a
world drenched in numbers, and that had to be engaging for him.
"I think you can answer that question better than I can."
"Whatever we do or don't do, wasn't it a fascinating
conversation? Oh. Ahem, yes, of course I'll at least have a talk. I
assume that's her objective."
He made it sound so simple, Maomao thought. Insects
"bringing catastrophe" had to refer to a plague; of that she was
sure. Rising grain prices meant there was a threat of famine. The
emissary they'd spoken to was from Shaoh. But then there was
the woman Ayla, who'd been conspiring with the Shi clan.
Evidently, Shaoh was not monolithic. Even so, a request for
political asylum was beyond anything Maomao had expected.
Maomao didn't like to spend her time worrying about other
people's problems. And the problems of entire nations? Count her
out! So why, why did she keep finding herself drawn into things
like this? They could have brought Lahan along and left it at that.
I wonder if she recognized me, Maomao thought. She
wondered whether the emissary realized it wasn't the first time
they'd met. The light had been fading the last time, but they had
seen each other face-to-face. Even if the woman did remember
her, though, surely there must have been another way to go
about things. Maybe she just wanted to be able to show some
kind of connection to us.
If so, then maybe Maomao talking about it would have been a
part of her calculations. A way of putting a check on somethingelse. Maomao wasn't one for gossip and games, though. She was
more keen to see what was going on in the banquet hall. Why
would you go off and have a secret conversation when you
thought there might be suspicious characters lurking about?
When they got back, they found that the eating and chatter
had ceased entirely, and something new was going on.
"Is this also a western custom?" Maomao asked.
There was music playing, and men and women were facing
each other and dancing along to it. Well, if you could call it
dancing—it wasn't a performance like a proper troupe might put
on; more just spinning around the room in time with the rhythm
of the music. This, evidently, was why the men and women had
been requested to come in pairs.
I'd trip over someone's feet before I knew it, Maomao thought,
confident that this was one thing she absolutely did not want to
do. She looked at Lahan.
"Oh, don't worry. I'm hopeless at this, myself."
Thank goodness they had that in common, at least.
As they looked around, they spotted a crowd that had formed
—and who should be in the middle of it but a very familiar, very
beautiful man. Jinshi was mobbed, and was flashing the heavenly
smile Maomao had already seen her fill of back when he was
supposedly a eunuch. Basen was beside him, but frowning.
Poor choice of sidekick. Basen was never going to be much
help here; he flinched back visibly from every young woman who
approached. With his strength, he's probably so nervous right now
that he couldn't dance even if they got him out there.
Maomao rubbed her wrist where he'd grabbed her the day
before. There were still faint red marks on it. What she wanted to
know was, if the men and women were supposed to pair off, what
were those two doing standing there by themselves?
"I believe Lady Ah-Duo pulled a little prank. If she were to
pose as a man, that would be too many of them, no?"
"Ah, I see."
If Jinshi were to accompany Consort Lishu, then Basen (who,
as a member of a named clan, had the status) could accompany
Ah-Duo, even if he might feel a little funny about it. But, with all
due respect to Jinshi and Basen, knowing Lishu, it would be muchbetter for her if Ah-Duo acted as her escort. There was no telling
what that scheming half-sister might try—Maomao wouldn't put it
past her to at least slip a scorpion into the consort's bed.
That reminds me, I wonder if I can get some of the grilled
scorpions to go. Supposedly, scorpions were also sometimes
served still alive and kicking, but she didn't hold out much hope of
sampling that particular dish either here or at Gyokuen's mansion.
She made herself a mental note to be sure she got a chance
before they went home. Much to Maomao's disappointment, they
hadn't run into any scorpions or other poisonous insects on the
road—Suirei had been too scrupulous about the bug repellant.
Maomao felt that surely they should have seen at least one such
creature on the way.
Lahan had a hand to his chin and was continually muttering to
himself, calculating.
"Looks like you had quite an interesting conversation,"
someone said politely. Maomao looked up to discover Rikuson, a
gentle smile on his face. He had a glass in one hand, which he
handed to Maomao. She gave it an experimental sniff and
detected the faint whiff of alcohol.
"Thank you," she said and drank it down, assuming that one
glass wouldn't hurt. It was carbonated fruit wine that popped as it
went down; it tasted so good she could have stuck out her tongue
with pleasure. She could feel the bubbles still fizzing in her mouth.
"That's quite tasty."
"Yes, one of the western merchants brought it. I hear it's quite
precious, and that was the last glass." Rikuson grinned. Suddenly,
Maomao had a bad feeling about this. "For the record, I didn't
drink any," Rikuson said.
Then she felt him grasp her wrist. She was startled by the
suddenness of it, but unlike Basen, his grip was gentle. She found
herself pulled toward where everyone was spinning around.
"Perhaps you'd be so kind as to join me for one dance?" His
expression seemed to change from gentle to shrewd.
Hey! He is that freak's subordinate! Maomao, not quite able to
hide what was going through her mind, gave him a very severe
look, but Rikuson only smiled. He looked like he was trying to
keep from laughing out loud. "I see that what I heard was true,"he said.
"I don't know who you heard it from, but let's hurry up and get
this over with."
"Just until the one song is over."
Maomao falteringly imitated what everyone else was doing;
she at least found the wherewithal to avoid stepping on her
partner's feet. (Although if her partner had been Lahan, his toes
would probably have been forfeit by the end of the song.)
"Do you know why the Emperor's younger brother specifically
chose to bring you here?"
"I assume because I'm so useful."
Rikuson placed one of his hands on Maomao's hip and held her
hand with the other—she saw that this was the western style, but
it would have been unthinkable in the capital. Strange that it felt
so ordinary here. Funny, what the right time and place could do.
"True enough. But I think you could stand to have a slightly
clearer sense of your own value," Rikuson said, carefully
maintaining his polite mode of speech. "It demonstrates the
power of the La name at court."
"I'm a base apothecary born in the pleasure district," Maomao
said bluntly. She didn't know how much Rikuson knew, and she
didn't care. As far as she was concerned, this was the truth.
"That's well and good. Just one thing, though." Rikuson smiled
again and glanced to the side, in the direction of the crowd. The
beautiful man at the center of it was looking directly at them.
"Please remember that you aren't a disinterested third party.
Never forget the import of what you wear on your head."
Does he mean the hair stick? she thought, but Rikuson was
already taking her hand; he brought her fingers slowly to his lips
and kissed them. Come on, really? Maomao thought. It was the
same sort of thing that traveling performers jokingly did for the
prostitutes.The moment the song was over, they went back to standing by
the wall. Lahan was still muttering to himself, calculating, and
Rikuson disappeared someplace. Maomao felt someone watching
her closely from a distance, but chose to ignore it. She lightly
brushed her hand where Rikuson had kissed it, then looked
around.
She found a young woman sitting right up against the wall; the
veil over her face gave away that it was Consort Lishu. There was
no one near her. The consort appeared to be looking fixedly at a
middle-aged man who was swirling a cup of alcohol and chatting
amiably. Lishu's half-sister was with him, smiling broadly,
confidently. If her father hadn't doubted her mother's faithfulness,
perhaps Lishu would also be grinning and talking. Maybe she
wouldn't have become the timid young woman she was today.
"May I ask where Lady Ah-Duo is?" Maomao said, approaching
Lishu. But then she involuntarily pressed a hand to her nose,
exclaiming, "Oh!" Lishu looked up, shaking a little. Maomao
suspected she'd been crying behind the veil. "And may I also
ask...what that smell is, milady?"
"Someone bumped into me and their perfume bottle spilled on
me," she said.
The billowing, rich fabric of Lishu's dress seemed to have
soaked the stuff right up, and now the unusual, very fragrant
fragrance was all around her. Certain perfumes were made from
animal musk, and properly diluted, they could be perfectly fine
aromas, but in larger quantities...well, they smelled like
excrement.
"Lady Ah-Duo went to prepare a room for me."
"I see." And Consort Lishu, knowing she couldn't mingle
smelling like that, was pinned in place. Maomao thought about
summoning a server to get something for her, but there didn't
seem to be any around. "Who was it who bumped into you?" she
asked.
"I think Lady Ah-Duo is looking for them too. She said to sit
here and wait."
The table of food was up against the wall; everyone else had
already lost interest in the now-cold dinner and was focused on
dancing, chatting, or just generally being seen. Maomao tookseveral pieces of meat from the table and put them on a plate.
Sure, they were cold, but they still tasted fine. She tucked in, not
caring in the least that she was ruining the rouge on her lips.
"Want some?" she asked Lishu.
"Yes, please," the consort said hesitantly. She'd eaten one of
the local meat dishes at the formal dinner the other day. It might
be cold, but for want of anything else to do, Lishu accepted a
plate.
The dancing came to an end, and something most unusual was
brought into the banquet hall. Several large, strong men hauled a
huge square thing covered in a white cloth into the room, pulling
it along on a cart.
What's that? Maomao wondered, her eyes widening a little.
With a flourish, the men pulled off the covering to reveal what
was inside. A low growling could be heard, and the crowd was
confronted with a reddish-brown creature whose presence was
only accentuated by its great mane. Even lying down, it was
obvious how much bigger it was than any person.
So it wasn't a tiger. The thing wasn't striped. A lion?
She'd never seen a live one, only a skin. Unlike the flat, empty
pelt, the real animal was overwhelming. Even chained inside a
cage of thick bars, its terribleness all but wafted through the air.
The lion—essentially a gigantic cat with a scarf—was looking
around angrily.
Yikes, Maomao thought, although she studied the scarf-cat
intently. The fur of the pelt had been rougher than that of the
average feline, although she wasn't sure about that of the living
creature. The tiger, another large cat, had some medicinal uses,
and Maomao looked at this new creature hungrily, wondering if it
might make any good medicines itself.
Maomao was practically vibrating with interest, but Lishu was
quaking with fear. Each time the lion's roar echoed around the
room, she would flinch back. It was all too much for the timid
consort.
It's not like it's going to eat her. Well, all right—if it got out of
that cage, it could very well attack someone, but they seemed to
have taken suitable precautions that the lion stayed where it was.
The men who had brought the lion in produced a plate piledwith raw meat. The lion reared up, such as it could in its cramped
confines, and reached out with one massive foreleg through the
bars.
"Would anyone like to try feeding it?" one of the men inquired.
The lion had been brought here to be entertainment, and
apparently had been starved for the purpose. It was growling,
hungry for the meat, drooling as its long tongue emerged from its
mouth.
Several interested spectators came forward. One of them
skewered some meat on a stick and slowly approached the cage.
The lion smacked the meat down with its great paw, causing the
man holding the stick to fall on his behind. The crowd murmured.
Each time the lion was given a hunk of meat, it would be
moved closer to the crowd to give people a better view. The lion,
annoyed at only getting one meager bit of food at a time, began
to growl again.
"Shall we move somewhere?" Maomao asked Lishu, who
trembled each time the lion got closer. At this rate, Maomao
feared she might faint clean away when the lion was right in front
of their eyes. Consort Lishu, however, didn't move.
"You'd prefer to stay here and watch?" Maomao asked.
"I can't s-seem to..." the consort began, but her voice was
hardly louder than a fly, and Maomao didn't catch the rest of what
she was saying.
"What's that?"
"I can't seem to stand up..." Lishu's earlobes, just visible
behind her veil, were bright red. Ah, yes, of course. With this
consort, she should have guessed. Maomao didn't so much as
laugh—she didn't really feel the impulse—but looked around,
hoping to find Ah-Duo.
At that moment, the lion on the cart began to growl
threateningly. At first Maomao thought it was angry at being fed
piecemeal, but no, that wasn't quite it. Its nose was twitching,
and it began throwing itself against the bars of the cage. Several
strong men pulled on the chains restraining the agitated animal,
but that didn't calm it down; in fact, it seemed to make things
worse. The lion slammed against its cage again, and then again—
and then finally, one of the bars gave way with a crack, breakingapart and giving it enough room to squeeze partially out. Then a
second bar snapped, and the lion was free. The broken bars
bounced off the animal and rolled along the carpeted floor.
"Hey, somebody stop that thing!" someone shouted, but it was
much too late. Even the men holding the chains weren't strong
enough to hold the lion as it bounded away. They were dragged
forcibly into the bars on the other side of the cage, one man's
nose shattering in the process. The rest of the handlers were at
least able to hang on, but it did little good; they were simply
dragged along, unable to stop the beast.
The entire affair took only a few seconds, but it felt like an
eternity to Maomao. Her father had told her that when humans
become intensely afraid, their perception of time slows down. She
had just experienced it firsthand. Before she knew what she was
doing, she was flinging the packet of medicine that she kept in
the folds of her robe.
The lion came running at her. Its wide, bloodshot eyes showed
that it was in a heightened state of agitation; it wouldn't be
bothered by a little thing like that. Running away would have been
the right answer; throwing something at it was a waste of time.
And in the time it took Maomao to come to that conclusion, she
realized somebody was clinging desperately to her sleeve.
Oh, shit.
It was Lishu, still paralyzed with fear. This could hardly have
been worse. Maomao could easily have shaken out of the
consort's feeble grip. Perhaps she should have.
The next thing she knew, Maomao was tumbling gracelessly
along with Lishu. They ended up under a table. It was probably a
useless gesture—one swipe of those mighty paws would take out
not only the table leg, but probably Maomao and Lishu as well.
Lishu was looking at the lion, unable to even blink. The veil
had come off in the fall, and on her face was an empty
expression, as if all she could do was wait for her impending
death.
Those terrible claws never came to tear them in two, however.
No one moved except the lion, which lazily raised a foreleg
high. But then there was a figure between it and Maomao.
Somebody holding a broken iron bar.Before the lion could bring its paw down, the figure smashed it
in the nose with the iron bar. There was no hesitation in the
action, only a single-minded attempt to strike a place that was
vulnerable on both humans and animals. There was a thump, and
the lion's blood flew through the air. It was joined by shards of
iron as the bar shattered further.
Again without hesitation, the figure struck out with what was
left of the bar, hitting the animal between the eyes. Then the
person looked at the shattered bar and said almost nonchalantly,
"Well, that didn't last long." It was hard to tell whether he was
talking about the iron bar, or the lion, which was thrashing about
with the pain of its broken nose.
The voice was one Maomao had become quite familiar with
during their travels. She had long been wondering what this man
was doing as Jinshi's attendant. She'd always thought there must
be people more suited to the task.
But there you have it.
Her wrist still ached where he'd grabbed her days before—and
he presumably hadn't been using his full strength then. He had,
after all, managed to break some limbs while apprehending the
bandits. As Jinshi had said, he was enough to handle them all on
his own. He was right to worry whether women would be afraid of
him. Suddenly it all made sense.
Now someone else spoke up, someone with a lovely voice:
"Quickly, now's your chance to recapture it!" The lion keepers
responded by wrapping the chains around the pillars holding up
the building. Then they brought new chains to make sure the lion
was completely restrained.
The man who had attacked the lion tossed the useless iron
stick away and crouched down, appearing under the table with a
wrinkle in his brow. "Are you all right, milady?" Only after that did
the man notice Maomao was there too. He frowned openly.
Another thing Maomao had been realizing recently was that he
did not consider her to be among the women he was charged
with protecting.
His expression quickly shifted again, though, thanks to the
young woman next to Maomao.
It was Basen who had attacked the lion with nothing morethan an iron bar for a weapon. But now he blushed and didn't say
anything more. It was more or less his usual reaction to any
woman more womanly than Maomao, but even so, the silence
seemed rather longer than usual.
Consort Lishu, tears beading in her eyes, was blushing too, and
didn't say anything either. Quite a change from the way the color
had drained from her face in terror at the lion. Her pallor changed
quicker than the sky at twilight, Maomao observed.
And as for Maomao, she didn't say anything either. The main
difference between her and the other two was that her face
remained its usual color, although the awkwardness was getting
to her a bit.
Um... Hm. Hmmm...
What was going on here? The only thing Maomao could tell for
sure was that the other two were so busy blushing at each other
that as far as they were concerned, she didn't exist.
It was like this: in those illustrated novels that had been all the
rage in the rear palace, the stories always ended with a picture of
the man and the woman together. It was practically a given. The
one thing you never saw in an illustration like that was a third
wheel.
Get it together! Maomao thought at them. It reminded her of
the landlord's daughter and the quack's nephew back at the paper
village—they hadn't been able to take a hint either.
For better or worse, the awkwardness was promptly dispelled.
With the lion subdued and moved into a new cage, a lot of noisy
chattering began.
"Someone call a doctor! We have an injured man here!"
That got Maomao's attention; she scrambled out from under
the table. Consort Lishu was still staring into space and didn't
seem to realize she'd left. When Maomao saw Ah-Duo
approaching, it was an even better excuse to make tracks.
She worked her way over to the injured person, thinking
maybe it was one of the keepers, but when she got there she
discovered Uryuu with a scratch on his cheek.
"Father, be strong! Don't leave us!" Lishu's half-sister was
clinging to her father and wailing like the heroine of a tragedy.
Uh... It's just a scratch. Maomao, a look of annoyance on herface, was just about to leave the scene again when the half-sister
cried, "How dare he! How dare he injure my poor, beloved father
just to stop some silly lion!"
Evidently, the scratch had been inflicted by a piece of flying
metal when Basen had brought the iron bar to bear against the
animal.
"He hurt my father! He'll pay for this!" she yelled. It was
almost comical; it was obvious she was less concerned for her
father's well-being than she was interested in looking concerned
so as to make herself more attractive to the watching crowd. The
real issue was who had injured her dear, beloved father.
There was a voice like a sharp blade: "I must apologize for
that." It was beautiful, yes, but what was beautiful could also be
terrible. "I see you've taken exception to my servant's actions." It
was Jinshi, a slight frown on his lips; Basen stood behind him,
looking stunned. His right hand, the one that had been holding
the iron bar, was red and swollen. "However," Jinshi said, "if he
hadn't intervened, Consort Lishu would have been in danger. I
must ask you to forgive his impropriety."
Jinshi was being extremely reserved. If anything, Uryuu should
have been in his debt after Basen had saved his daughter, but
Uryuu acted less than impressed. "I see. My thanks, then..."
Consort Lishu was watching her father from behind Ah-Duo.
She was obviously anxious for him, knowing he was hurt, but with
her sister there she wasn't willing to get close.
Come to think of it, we still don't know, do we? Maomao
thought, remembering the request Lishu had made of her. There
were things even Maomao couldn't figure out. She'd thought that
if she couldn't work out the truth on their trip, maybe she would
write a letter to her old man to ask if he knew any way of
ascertaining parentage. The bond between a parent and a child, is
it? Maomao thought, letting her gaze settle on Uryuu and the half
sister. The young woman appeared to be trying to figure out a
way to walk back her comment, but nothing was coming to her
and her mouth simply flapped open and shut.
Boy, she's got bad teeth. The decay was well advanced, to the
point that they had turned black. Maybe it was all those sweet
foods. At her age, she certainly didn't have any baby teeth left;there would be no fixing this. Maomao thought about selling the
young woman some toothbrushing powder to help keep it from
getting any worse—but hard on the heels of that thought, she had
another. Almost before she knew what she was doing, she was
standing in front of Uryuu.
"Wh-What are you doing?" the half-sister asked.
Maomao grinned at her. "I'm not a doctor, but I'm something
of an apothecary." Then she grabbed Uryuu's chin violently. He
reacted with intense surprise, but Maomao simply went on, "This
scratch is nothing much. Rub some spit into it and it'll heal, no
problem."
"Sp-Spit?!" Uryuu exclaimed.
She'd only been joking. In fact, human saliva could be toxic
itself, so it was best not to use it in one's medical procedures.
"But how about the inside of your mouth?" she said.
"Hrgh?!" Uryuu exclaimed as she forced his mouth open. She
was greeted by a faint whiff of alcohol. She carefully inspected his
teeth, which were crooked, as one would expect for a man of his
age.
Then Maomao grinned again. "Here, a free bonus."
"What?" the half-sister said—immediately before Maomao
wrenched her mouth open too.
Geez! Clean your teeth! Maomao thought. It wasn't just the
young woman's front teeth—the ones in back were in pretty bad
shape too. Was that why she was always covering her mouth with
her folding fan—to conceal the state of her teeth? This was one
overindulged young woman. But now wasn't the time to be
thinking about how to do effective dental treatment.
Finally, Maomao stood up and marched over to Lishu. "One for
the road."
Lishu couldn't speak for shock as Maomao opened her mouth,
revealing a set of small, white teeth. Her nurse must have had a
good sense of discipline, because her teeth were still clean.
"Wh-What do you think you're doing?" the half-sister
demanded, but Maomao ignored her and returned to Uryuu.
"Do you know how many teeth your late wife had?" she asked.
"How the hell am I supposed to know that?" he demanded,
giving her a don't-ask-me-stupid-questions look."Fair enough," Maomao said. "But she wouldn't happen to have
been missing a front tooth, would she? Like you?"
At that, Uryuu's expression changed.
In general, human adults have between twenty-eight and
thirty-two teeth, depending on whether their wisdom teeth—the
ones farthest back in the mouth—come in or not. But every once
in a while, someone may have fewer than twenty-eight teeth. In
about one out of every ten people, other teeth besides the
wisdom teeth fail to come in. The exact reason for the
phenomenon was unknown, but often the trait was passed from
parents to children. An inheritance, as it were.
"You might be interested to know, Master Uryuu, that you, this
young lady here, and Consort Lishu are all missing a lower front
tooth. Considering how the teeth fit in the mouth, I think you
were each born that way."
Maomao had felt like something was a little off when she
looked in Lishu's mouth—that's what it had been. Teeth were
essential to living a healthy life. If they went bad, toxins could
even enter the body from them and make a person ill. When a
person lost their teeth and could no longer eat easily, that was
when they began to waste away.
If the chances of a naturally missing tooth were one in ten, it
was always possible that any three given people would each be
among that ten percent. However, for them all to be in the same
place, and all missing the same relatively unusual tooth? It started
to look a lot less like coincidence.
"Relatives often share certain traits. For example, Consort
Lishu can't eat white fish. You wouldn't happen to have the same
dietary restriction, would you?"
"How did you know that?" Uryuu asked suspiciously.
"Simple enough. I observed how upset you were by the fish
platter at dinner. I can hardly think a man as old and no doubt
mature as yourself would react like that simply because he didn't
like the food." She recalled how he'd sent the tray of fish flying.
"And I'm certainly confident that no high official of this nation
would treat someone so poorly because of simple personal
preferences or misunderstandings." Maomao smiled thinly and
looked from Uryuu to Lishu and back. "Perhaps you might showyour other daughter some parental affection from time to time."
Maybe, she thought, she'd gone a little far. But now, even the
densest listener would grasp her point.
I hope that'll do the trick.
She had provided as much of an answer as she could.
Epilogue
It really does get cold, Maomao thought. She had a light wrap
around her shoulders but she was still shivering. She was
definitely regretting not having another cup of wine.
It would have been warmer inside the building, but quite
frankly, there was too much trouble in there. She worried about
what would happen to the lion now that its nose was broken, but
she wasn't feeling compassionate enough to help the big cat at
the risk of being eaten herself. Yes, the lion was just a poor
animal who'd been caged and put on display, but it had still
attacked someone. Lahan had nonetheless thought it would be a
waste not to try to fix the creature—and he'd attempted to get
Maomao to do the job. Evidently he saw the tousle-haired beast
as another beautiful collection of numbers, and he wouldn't shut
up about how the shattered nose disrupted that beauty. That was
when she'd escaped out here.
The sky seemed so vast. There was no moon, making the stars
appear to shine all the brighter. Three of them shone brightest of
all, forming a triangle in the heavens. Perhaps those stars were
the two lovers, and the river that separated them.
I wish they'd hurry and wrap things up in there. Maomao was
just contemplating whether there might be a way for her to sneak
back to Gyokuen's mansion when she heard footsteps behind her.
"Your honored cousin is looking for you."
"It's perfectly all right to just ignore him." So Maomao wasn't
the only one who'd fled the hubbub. "Don't you have more work
to do?" she asked. All right, so Basen had stolen the spotlight
when the lion attacked, but surely this man could still be of some
help.
"Are you hoping I'll drop dead from sheer overwork?"
"Perish the thought," she said.
Jinshi—who had indeed ducked away from his responsibilities—
didn't seem to think her answer was entirely sincere. The woodenbench creaked softly as he sat down beside her. Then he set
something between them. It appeared to be a piece of metal.
"Basen was right," Jinshi said. "It was weak. Quality iron would
have held together better." There were a number of ways of
casting iron, and if you got it wrong, the inside could turn out
hollow, weakening the structure. "It's almost like someone wanted
it to break."
"An unsettling idea."
There was something Maomao had been wondering about as
well: the way the lion had gone straight for Consort Lishu, as if
specifically targeting her. It had seemed to ignore Maomao in
favor of the consort.
Just because it was starving? she thought. That was a
possibility. Maybe because she'd been holding meat. Another
possibility. But Maomao couldn't stop thinking about the perfume
the consort had been doused in. Something so pungent would
certainly have been detectable to a wild animal. What if that was
what had attracted the lion's attention? Maomao sat and thought
silently.
"Hey, don't just go quiet," Jinshi said after a moment.
He should have known very well by now that Maomao rarely
initiated a conversation. Why had he decided to sit by her,
anyway? He should stop slacking and get back to work already.
"I suppose you're wishing I would just go back to work," said
Jinshi.
"Me, sir? Never."
He did know what she was thinking occasionally; that was the
trouble with him. Maomao had to work very hard to pretend that
her face didn't want to convulse into a major scowl.
"If I went back, one of two things would happen. Either I
would have to work, or I would be mobbed by women."
"The less popular men in the world might call for your head to
hear you complain about such things."
Men who had money and status and looks to boot were just
different. A moonless night like this—he ought to be more careful.
"What they're really after is the Imperial blood, don't you
think?" Jinshi said. Meaning his children, she supposed. Or
perhaps his life."I should think at least half of it is your looks, sir."
"Don't say that." Jinshi frowned as if he'd eaten a particularly
unpleasant bug. For some reason, even though he possessed
beauty beyond virtually anyone Maomao had ever seen, he
seemed to have some kind of inferiority complex about it. His
fingers brushed the scar on his cheek. The stain on his beauty
was lamented by all and sundry, yet was it her imagination, or did
he almost seem fond of it?
Maomao, quite honestly, wasn't offended by the scar. No
human was perfect. And Jinshi's appearance had been so flawless
that it had belied what was within. What was wrong with this
modest alteration to the appearance he'd been born with?
Anyway, a scar it might have been, but Maomao's father had
stitched it up, and he'd naturally done an excellent job. Each time
Maomao had applied salve or makeup to Jinshi's cheek—which
was not infrequently—she'd felt the wound growing less
pronounced under her fingers.
"I would rather say my face had been burned, and continue
wearing that makeup," Jinshi said.
"Eventually the color would cease to come out, sir. But if it's a
burn you want, I'd be happy to help you." She could use him as a
test subject for her burn medications at the same time.
"Stop that." After twenty days of wearing the makeup, a faint
patch of red dye could still be seen on Jinshi's cheek; he'd been
using a dusting of white powder to conceal it. "If I were actually
burned, I think Gaoshun might collapse. But I admit, it would be
easier in its own way. The makeup is certainly somewhat
troublesome. I've found myself rather relaxed during this trip,
though."
He seemed to be referring to the fact that no town girl would
willingly make a move on a gloomy man with a burn on his face;
and at the same time he was free of his usual desk work.
Meanwhile, Maomao had felt that there had been nothing to do
but watch the scenery roll by from the carriage window as her
behind got sorer and sorer. Just the thought of the trip home was
enough to depress her.
"Would you like to work on your horsemanship? I know you're
getting tired of the carriage," he said."Yes, but I would rather just have a proper bed." She'd worked
on hers during the trip. The problem was that she'd rarely had a
chance to use it, since other people, very pleased with her work,
always seemed to be lying there instead.
"Ah! Yes, I hope you'll be able to make it even more
comfortable than before."
A shock of annoyance ran through Maomao. Jinshi had been
the biggest offender as far as stealing her sleeping space. He
would ride horseback as far as he wanted, and when he was tired
he would come loll around. No wonder he thought it was relaxing!
"His Majesty did tell me to try to enjoy myself on this trip,"
Jinshi said with a slightly twisted smile. "And to make a good
choice."
Which choice he was referring to went unspoken: he meant
choice of bride. Many women had been gathered here for just
that purpose. Whatever choice he made, there would be politics
involved. It might affect the very government of the nation. He
could strengthen ties with a neighboring country, or gain the
support of a domestic faction. Jinshi's own status might even
change, depending on what he decided. The fact that Sei-i-shu
had been willing to provide the venue for all this activity made
their message clear: align yourself with the west. No doubt that
also explained why Uryuu had brought his other daughter.
I wonder who he'll pick, Maomao thought. Not that it really
mattered to her. She was just a humble apothecary. That was her
perspective, anyway...
No sooner had she registered something brushing her fingers
than a hand grabbed her wrist. It pulled her until she was palm
to-palm with his other hand, their fingers intertwined. The other
hand was a good bit larger than hers, and rougher. Long fingers
clutched Maomao's hand so that she couldn't get away.
"Perhaps you'd be so kind as to let go of me, sir?"
"But if I let go, won't you run away?"
"Are you going to do something I'll need to run from?"
"You do make me want to hit you sometimes." Jinshi looked at
Maomao like a wild animal hunting its prey. His expression made
her think of a starving wild dog. It wasn't the face of either the
eunuch Jinshi, or of the Emperor's younger brother. It wassomeone else again.
"Not in the face. It would be too obvious."
"I wasn't actually going to hit you."
"I know, sir." Jinshi wasn't the type who would lay a hand on a
young woman. No, wait, actually he was—to make them vomit
when they had ingested poison. "I know you wouldn't do worse
than pin me and force me to empty the contents of my stomach."
"You brought that on yourself. Why would you even drink
poison?!"
"I'm not sure I know how to answer that."
Firsthand experience was just so much more memorable than
merely asking questions. That was all. Maomao wasn't any
smarter than the average person, just a little more...dedicated.
And when it came to emotion, that she actually had less of than
most people. She felt sadness and happiness, anger and joy—less
acutely than ordinary people, but they were there. But there were
other emotions that people allegedly possessed which Maomao
still didn't understand.
She could feel Jinshi's pulse in the palm of his hand. He had
started to sweat, and the place where their hands joined was
slick. She looked up to see long eyelashes lying low over eyes the
color of obsidian. Those eyes watched her intently, from so close
that she could see herself reflected in them.
The courtesans had a saying: once you know it, it's hell.
But the men, too, had a saying: to know it was exactly why
they went there.
That word, that simple four-letter word with its o and its e, was
sometimes called vulgar, and sometimes turned out to be nothing
more than a game—but some people said it was impossible to live
without it.
Jinshi's free hand reached for Maomao's head, his fingers
stroking her hair—but they stopped behind her head. "You're
actually wearing it," he said. His hand had found the hair stick,
the silver piece with the moon and the poppy. Maomao had
thought maybe it had come from Lahan—but apparently not. No
wonder everyone had seemed so intrigued by it.
"Oh, it was from you, Master Jinshi? The moon is well and
good, but the poppy is a questionable touch." She was thinkingabout the White Lady. The flower on the hair stick looked like a
larger version of the common poppy, but it was technically an
opium poppy. It could be used to make the drug.
"Please. I had that made before we left on this trip. To replace
the other one." His voice came from above her, his chin resting on
her head. His fingers played through her hair, and she could feel
his breath on her. Anyone who happened to see them could be
forgiven for assuming they were in an intimate embrace.
"Master Jinshi, please keep your distance."
"Why should I?"
"What will you do if someone sees us?"
They couldn't be the only ones who had ducked away from the
banquet. The trees shielded them from sight, but there was no
guarantee someone wouldn't happen by. Jinshi of all people knew
exactly why this banquet was being held.
"Sir, Consort Lishu is not your niece. You don't have to worry
about closeness of blood," Maomao said calmly. Jinshi's face,
though, grew tighter. Maomao went on, "Wouldn't she be the
safest choice?"
She would forget all about the moment she'd seen Lishu and
Basen gazing at each other. Yes, she'd pretend it had never
happened. Even if something were to blossom between them, it
could have no meaning. Better to act as if it had never existed.
"The safe choice. Like hell!" Jinshi's voice in her ear was like a
cold blade. His fingers stopped running through her hair and slid
down to the nape of her neck, curling themselves around her
throat. Long, slim fingers that began to press.
"It hurts..."
"Oh, does it?"
It was painful—but Jinshi only squeezed harder. His other
hand, still intertwined with hers, worked its way up her back. No,
no! He was going to twist her arm out of joint.With her throat crushed and her arm wrenched, Maomao's face
contorted with agony. She tilted her head back in hopes of
somehow managing to get some air, her mouth flapping open like
a fish. She must've looked ridiculous—and there was Jinshi,
looking down at her.
Until finally—
Maomao greedily sucked in the air she was suddenly allowed.
An aroma of flowers tickled her nose. Jasmine. Somehow, she'd
always thought a celestial nymph would smell like peaches. Her
thin lips felt dry and hot.
The hand that had choked her moved to support the back of
her head, while his other hand disentangled itself from her fingers
and wrapped around her waist instead.
She didn't know how long they sat that way. All she knew was
that Jinshi was looking down at her with a faintly triumphant
expression, as if he saw that the breath had reached every corner
of her body now. He wiped away the tears that had sprung to her
eyes as she struggled to breathe.
It was then that Maomao felt a flash of intense anger. "I said
that if you were going to kill me, you should do it with poison,"
she told him.
"I refuse to let you poison yourself," Jinshi said, his fingers
tracing her lips. "You can't pretend you didn't know that you were
one of the candidates. As much as I'm sure you'd like to." He
wasn't done, either: "Who was that man, anyway? I'm sure you're
not a dancer."
So he had been watching them!
"I was just paying for my drink," Maomao said. "It didn't cost
much." She tried to look away, but with his hand on her head, she
really couldn't. Maomao was thinking fast, trying to come up with
any way out of this situation. "Exactly what use did you think I
could be to you?"
"Lahan accompanied you, didn't he? That's what everyone else
will see."
Maomao understood what Jinshi was getting at. Perhaps it was
even what Lahan had been counting on from the beginning. She
felt the anger again; she would have to give his toes a good
crushing later.The La family was unique among the named clans in that they
had no faction at court. One could argue that made Maomao a
safe choice in her own way—much as Rikuson had said. There
was just one problem.
"You'd make an enemy of you-know-who."
She meant the monocled freak, of course. She could only
imagine what might have happened here had he been present. He
would have made a scene so big that an escaped lion would have
seemed like child's play in comparison.
Jinshi shivered—how could he not?—but it quickly passed.
"We were going to continue things later, weren't we?"
She found herself pinned again. He was pushing her down
onto the bench. His hand in her hair pressed so hard. Something
more than breath came past her lips. Now she saw those obsidian
eyes, that feral look, from inches away. They shone brighter than
any star, and yet there was a subtle darkness to them. This was a
man who'd had everything in life, and yet sometimes he seemed
to hunger for something that he struggled to satisfy.
Why can't he pick someone else?
There had to be someone out there who could give Jinshi what
he was seeking. There were certainly plenty who wanted to. Why
did he need to go out of his way to pick a creature who lacked
precisely that desire?
She wanted to run. This could only bring more trouble, more
uncertainty. She wanted to dodge all those problems—but those
eyes, the eyes of an untamed dog, weren't going to let her
escape. He was going to devour her, and all in pursuit of
something that wasn't even there. Maomao could only look back
at him with empty eyes, like those of a puppet or a doll.
That only seemed to further agitate the dog's anxieties; he
leaned his weight onto Maomao as if he was going to crush her.
So now he wants to suffocate me, she thought. He must have
weighed twice what she did. She knew the courtesans sometimes
took customers three times their size. Didn't it hurt them? But
even if it did, what would her sister Pairin, a professional among
professionals, make of such griping?
"You can't let him grab the initiative just because he's the
customer." Maomao remembered hearing her say that once, a bitof advice she'd accompanied with a sultry gesture. That was back
when she'd been teaching Maomao the courtesan's trade (very
much over the younger woman's objections).
Maomao said nothing. Honestly, perhaps it would have been
better to remain still and quiet, like a doll. Or maybe not. What
we can say is this: remembering Pairin meant remembering the
techniques Pairin had taught her, had drilled into her despite her
protests; she'd worked Maomao to the verge of tears, until
Maomao was able to perform them to her sister's satisfaction.
Until those techniques became not just a response, but an
instinctive reaction. So let it be said that Maomao could not be
held responsible for what she was about to do.
Meaning what? Meaning...
Maomao swallowed the saliva in her mouth with a heavy gulp.
Her lips began to drift apart, then opened, an invitation to him;
and then, again instinctively, she slid closer to him.
Jinshi's expression was a mixture of surprise and happiness,
but it didn't last long. Soon his body responded with gentle
spasms, and his grip on Maomao loosened.
To say again: none of this was Maomao's fault. This was
beyond her control.
She responded to him with the most refined techniques of the
pleasure quarter.
How long was one beholden to a weathered old promise made
as playful children?
Ah-Duo chuckled to herself. She sat on a cold rock in the
garden, a blanket across her shoulders and a drink in her hand.
The night air could truly chill here in the sandy capital. A good,
strong alcohol was just what she needed.
She'd already put Consort Lishu, all but feverish with tension,
to bed. Now she was enjoying the drink she hadn't had a chance
to savor before.
"I've no interest in anyone but you for my bride."
Don't make promises you can't keep, she said in her mind. You
don't have the authority. She knew perfectly well that some of his
closest advisors had hounded him after she had lost the ability tobear children. And her own hands weren't exactly clean. She'd
tried to get her kind, beautiful friend to be unfaithful.
Her poor friend had been forced into a marriage with a partner
who had been chosen for her, purely to perpetuate the family line.
Why not ignore that situation, Ah-Duo had thought. Why not
rather be a flower that bloomed at the very crest of the nation?
But it hadn't gone the way she'd imagined it would. The
conversation had ended with her friend slapping Ah-Duo's cheek
as hard as she could and crying, "Don't mock me!"
Ah-Duo knew this young woman to be kind. To be beautiful. To
be intelligent. She'd prepared a far better, a more fitting place for
her—and yet it had only made her friend furious.
Ah-Duo just didn't understand the female heart. Maybe it was
because she herself was no longer a woman, or maybe she had
never understood it. In any case, she saw that she had badly
wounded her friend's pride.
She became a consort as an extension of friendship, without
love. And then she'd borne a child. Ah-Duo had always thought
she was a rather twisted excuse for a woman, but apparently she
still possessed what they called the maternal instinct. She had
loved the child she bore at the cost of her own womb more than
anything. The infant was wrinkled like a monkey; it waved its
hands, so small they looked like they would break at the merest
touch, and cried for milk.
There was a nursemaid there, but Ah-Duo had insisted on
holding her own child. She'd tried to give it milk, but there wasn't
enough to satisfy the baby. Ah-Duo's body was no longer that of a
woman.
The infant was returned to the nursemaid.
Wracked with despair, Ah-Duo thought only of her child. She
thought only of how to help the tiny, vulnerable thing survive. And
she reached a decision.
"They look so much alike." Her child and his uncle had been
born at almost the same time. Concerned about her infant's
failure to put on weight, Ah-Duo had marshaled herself to go see
her mother-in-law. "You could switch them, and it seems like no
one would know."
She'd been half joking, but half serious—gauging which waythe other woman took her. All of their various attendants and
nursemaids had been dismissed from the room.
"You might be right. Could you take care of him, please?" her
mother-in-law said, picking up Ah-Duo's child. She removed his
swaddling clothes, preparing to change his diaper. Meanwhile, Ah
Duo accepted her brother-in-law and did the same, replacing his
diaper with the one she'd brought along.
Each of them had just given birth, and each of them felt like
she was missing a piece of her heart. There was nothing in
Anshi's eyes as she looked at her own child. Nobody seemed to
notice because Anshi constantly kept a smile on her face. But she
looked at Ah-Duo's baby with genuine warmth. Perhaps she found
her son's child lovable even as her husband's seemed hateful to
her. Perhaps that was why she said nothing, even when Ah-Duo
left and went back to her pavilion with Anshi's child still in her
arms. They exchanged the healthy, bouncing babies as if it were
the most natural thing in the world.
Later, the child that Ah-Duo was raising died. Perhaps, without
that switch, it would have lived. Ah-Duo mourned the loss, for she
had come to love the child—but she was also glad to know that
her own offspring was still alive. Anshi's child had died unloved by
its own mother, with its rightful place usurped by its nephew, and
all before it could even bewail its own fate.
The death appeared to shake both Ah-Duo and Anshi. The
naughty little troublemaker who had always given the serving
women such headaches was now enough of a grown-up to sense
it—but he was also young enough that he had to lash out
somehow. A doctor was banished from the rear palace.
Fate was a strange thing, though: that physician's adopted
daughter was now her son's favorite. There were the princesses
from foreign lands, the daughter of Empress Gyokuyou's
household, Consort Lishu, the girl in question, and—just for good
measure—Suirei as well. Ah-Duo hadn't brought her along simply
on a lark. She might have her...issues, but when it came to
bloodline she was every bit as qualified as the others. Although if
that had become known here in this place, it would have caused
quite the commotion.
Ah-Duo chuckled again.A promise between playful children. That's all it had been, and
yet he was intent on trying to keep it. Yet he hadn't been able to
refuse a request from the little moon, little Yue. He had picked a
flower from the vast garden that was the rear palace and made
Yue a little brother. The reason he had sent Yue to the rear palace
as a eunuch—was it a punishment for a promise broken? Or was it
compassion, a way of giving him more chances to see Ah-Duo?
Whichever, Ah-Duo took full advantage of the opportunity to
tease the lovely eunuch each time he visited her. It was the most
delightful thing.
Ultimately she had been dismissed from her position as one of
the Four Ladies, but now she lived in a villa and listened to him
complain. She wished the bearded old grump could send someone
a little younger in his place. She was glad the children had been
able to come live with her. Yes, youth was a wonderful thing. And
it was so much fun to tease Suirei.
But there was something else Ah-Duo must not forget—a
second playful promise. A vow made when the question of whose
status was appropriate for what had not yet entered her mind.
"Sure, why not? I might as well let you make me a mother of
the nation."
And the idiot, he'd agreed immediately. Had he understood
what he was really saying? And did he still remember it now, now
that he had a great flower of the west for his Empress?
"We'll just have to see what happens," Ah-Duo said to herself,
swirling the drink in her cup, resolving to watch over Yue and
discover which flower he chose
