"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