The Apothecary Diaries

Lihaku

The attempted poisoning, it seemed, was a much bigger deal than Maomao had given it credit for. Xiaolan hounded her about it relentlessly. A spot behind the laundry shed had become the serving girls' favorite spot to gossip; now Maomao and Xiaolan sat there on wooden boxes, eating skewers of candied hawthorn berries, a treat Xiaolan seemed to especially love.

She would never believe I was right in the middle of it all.

Xiaolan looked younger than her years as she wolfed down the sweets, kicking her dangling legs. She was another one who had been sold into the rear palace, but this poor farmer's daughter seemed to be enjoying her new life. Cheerful and talkative, she seemed less despondent that her parents had sold her into servitude than she was glad to have enough to eat.

"The one who ate the poison—it was one of the ladies-in-waiting where you work, wasn't it, Maomao?"

"Yes, it was," she said. She wasn't lying. She just wasn't quite telling the truth.

"I don't know much about it. You think she's okay?"

"I think she's fine." Maomao wasn't sure exactly what kind of "okay" Xiaolan had in mind, but an affirmative answer seemed in order. Awfully uncomfortable with the conversation, Maomao dodged a few more questions before Xiaolan pursed her lips and gave up. She sat there holding a skewer with just one berry left on it. To Maomao, it looked like an ornamental hair stick with a decoration of blood-red coral.

"Fine. Did you get any hair sticks?" Xiaolan ventured.

"I guess." Four, in fact, including the one given out of obligation. And counting the necklace from Consort Gyokuyou. (Why not?)

"Huh! So you can get out of here, then." Xiaolan gave a carefree smile.

Hm? This piqued Maomao's interest. "What did you say?"

"What do you mean, what did I say? You aren't leaving?"

Yinghua had been emphatic about the same thing. Maomao had all but ignored her. Now she realized she'd made a mistake. She held her head in her hands and fell into self-recrimination.

"Whazza matter?" Xiaolan asked, looking at Maomao with concern.

"Tell me more about that."

Realizing that Maomao suddenly, and finally, seemed interested in something she was saying, Xiaolan puffed out her chest. "You got it!" And then the voluble young woman told Maomao everything she knew about how the hair sticks were used.

The summons came for Lihaku just as he finished training. Mopping away sweat, he tossed his sword, the blade cracked, to a nearby subordinate. The practice grounds smelled of sweat and carried the warmth of exertion in the air.

A spindly military officer handed Lihaku a wooden writing strip and a woman's ornamental hair stick. The accessory, decorated with pink coral, was just one of several he'd passed out recently. He'd assumed the women would understand he was giving them the ornaments out of obligation, not in seriousness, but apparently at least one of them hadn't. He wouldn't want to embarrass her, but it could be problematic for him if she were really in earnest. But then again, if she was beautiful, it would be a shame not to at least meet her. Idly mulling over how he would let her down gently, Lihaku looked at the writing strip. It said: Jade Pavilion—Maomao.

He'd given a hair stick to only one of the women from the Jade Pavilion, that cold-eyed lady-in-waiting. Lihaku stroked his chin thoughtfully and went to change his clothes.

Men were typically forbidden from entering the rear palace. That of course applied to Lihaku, who still had all his various parts. He didn't expect to serve in the rear palace; indeed, he was quite concerned what it would mean if he did so.