The Apothecary Diaries Book 9

Smack Up Against the Wall

It had been a very...characterful day. And a long one, for that matter. It was still only just past noon.

Just as Maomao had suggested, the quack doctor had dropped the key in the toilet.

"That's right! Then I was so depressed about not being able to get into the medical office—and then someone asked me to run an errand."

She'd called it, all right. The cleaning woman hadn't even given the quack a chance to explain, and in the end he'd shuffled sadly away from the ship. By his own report, the market was nearby and he had figured he would be back soon.

Maomao gave the quack the extra key, then returned to the palace. She had no interest in looking after the freak strategist, and she was hoping to unload him on someone as soon as she could. In the event, she didn't have to worry. Having had a nice walk and plenty to eat, all that was left was to take a nap. He was as drowsy as a three-year-old—and living about the same life—and when he was told to go to his room and get some sleep, he obediently did so.

It was hard not to feel bad for the freak's aide, though. Maomao hoped he would be able to take a break himself. As for her, she went back to her room as well.

"I'll be in the next room," Lihaku said, stationing himself in the adjoining chamber. It was nice to know that if anything out of the ordinary happened, he would come running.

Well, looks like there's nothing going on. I think I'll get a little sleep too.

Maomao lay on her bed with every intention of not getting up again for the foreseeable future, but suddenly she found herself in the grip of a surge of anger. It was the quack doctor's own fault that he had gotten into trouble, because of the way he just wandered from one thing to another. At a very deep level, he lacked any sense of danger. He had no business being on this trip.

Why the hell did they even bring him?!

Yes, that was the question. The quack was too laid-back to have so much as a twinge of doubt about it, but he was there as Luomen's body double, and if he was unlucky, he could find himself kidnapped or worse. She knew they had done this for Luomen—or had they? Who had they done it for?

If anything happened to my old man, who would take it the hardest?

The freak strategist? Or maybe even...

Maomao buried her face in the sheets and kicked the bed.

"I'm glad to see you're keeping busy," someone said. It was Chue. She had witnessed the petulant display, much to Maomao's chagrin. How long had she been there?

"I'm sorry. I seem to have kicked up some dust," Maomao said, sitting up and straightening the bedsheets as if nothing had happened.

"No worries. We're going to go see the Moon Prince now, okay?"

"The Moon Prince? But it's barely noon."

Typically, Maomao changed Jinshi's dressings after he had washed for the day. Putting on fresh salve only for him to take a bath would defeat the purpose.

"Don't worry, you'll see when we get there. I've brought boiled water—wipe yourself down." Chue trotted in with her squeaky footsteps and laid out some fresh clothes for Maomao. It seemed to be a not-so-subtle message that she needed to change after hiking around outside and getting all sweaty. Chue's behavior was every bit that of a lady-in-waiting, but watching the way she veritably danced around, her tail shaking, as she got ready—she was obviously having fun, but it also looked very tiring.

No wonder she eats so much.

All the dancing and sleight of hand and other little things must use a lot of energy. Thus enlightened, Maomao took the new clothes—although they weren't completely new; they were the same as the ones she had gotten yesterday. Chue looked like she probably had a supply of several more sets.