The Apothecay Diaries Book 2

Lakan

The night before, Maomao had had a strange dream. She had dreamed of long ago—or rather, of something that must have happened long ago, for there was no way she should have been able to remember it. She wasn't sure if what she dreamed of had even really occurred.

It must have been visiting that woman, she thought. Brought back old memories.

In the dream, a grown woman had looked down on Maomao from above. Her disheveled hair tumbled around a drawn face, and her eyes glinted hungrily as she stared. Her makeup was flaking off, the rouge on her lips starting to smear.

The woman reached out and grasped Maomao's hand in hers. Her skin was stippled with minuscule welts, like a leaf in autumn.

In her other hand the woman grasped a knife. The hand that held Maomao's was wrapped in bleached cotton cloths, layer after layer, all of them seeping red. The fluttering cotton smelled rusty.

Something like the mewl of a kitten escaped Maomao's vocal cords. She realized she was crying.

Maomao's hand was pressed against the bed. The woman raised the knife high. Her lips were contorted and trembling, her red, swollen eyes still running with tears.

Fool woman.

The woman brought the knife down.

"Goodness, are you tired? I'm afraid bedtime won't be for a little while yet," Suiren said as Maomao yawned. She sounded polite about it, but the old lady could be a real disciplinarian, so Maomao straightened up and focused on polishing the silver eating vessel. She would be practically begging for trouble if she appeared to be slacking the very day after she'd taken time off. The fact that it was evening was no excuse.

"I'm quite fine, ma'am," Maomao said. It was just a dream, strange or no. She'd assumed that if she threw herself into the routine of her work, she'd soon forget it, but it had refused to quite go away all day. This isn't like me, Maomao thought, a rueful smile flitting across her face.

Just as she was stacking the dishes back on the shelf (clatter clatter), she heard rapid footsteps. The honey candles were burning in the room. It was time for their master to return. Suiren took a dish Maomao had polished to perfection and began preparing a snack.

Jinshi trooped clear through the living area and appeared in the kitchen. "A gift, from a weirdo. Share it with Suiren." He set some sort of bottle down on the table. The "weirdo" was a particularly unpleasant official who had been making himself something of a nuisance to Jinshi lately.

Maomao undid the stopper and was greeted by a sour, citrusy smell. Some kind of juice, she figured. "We're accepting gifts from weirdos now, are we?" she asked, her voice completely flat. Jinshi had already retreated to the living area and was resting on the couch. Maomao added some coals to the brazier.

Gaoshun observed that they were scraping the bottom of their coal supply and left the room. Going to get more, Maomao figured. Now there was a man you could rely on.

Jinshi gave a great scratch of his head (most uncouth) and looked at Maomao. "Are you familiar with the regulars at the Verdigris House?" he asked.

Maomao cocked her head, surprised by the question. "If they're conspicuous enough about it, yes."

"What kind of people go there?"

"That's confidential."

Jinshi knitted his brow at the brusque response. Then he seemed to realize he was coming at it the wrong way, and tried something else. "Let me ask you this, then. How would one go about reducing the price of a courtesan?" He sounded uncommonly careful as he picked his words.