The Apothecary Diaries: Volume 1

by Natsu Hyuuga

  “Oh, but you do. And I will do much more than this to show my gratitude to you—my daughter’s savior.”

  “I’m certain there’s been some misunderstanding. Perhaps you have the wrong person,” Maomao said. She felt herself break into a cold sweat: she was being polite, but she was still contradicting an Imperial consort. She wished for her head to remain attached to her shoulders, but she did not wish to be a part of anything involving people such as this—to be pressed into any kind of service for any kind of noble or royal.

  Jinshi, alert to the concern on Gyokuyou’s face, displayed the cloth to Maomao with a flourish. “Are you aware that this is the material used in the maids’ work clothes?”

  “Now that you mention it, sir, I see the resemblance.” She would play stupid to the bitter end. Even though she knew it was useless.

  “It’s more than a resemblance. This came from the uniform of a girl connected to the shang of sartorial affairs.”

  The palace serving staff were grouped into six shang, or main offices of employment. The shang fu, or Wardrobe Service, dealt with the dispensation of clothing, and it was this group to which Maomao, who was largely charged with doing laundry, belonged. The unbleached skirt she wore matched the color of the fabric in Jinshi’s hands. If anyone were to inspect her skirt, they would find an unusual seam, hidden carefully on the inside.

  In other words, the proof was there before them. Maomao doubted Jinshi would do anything so uncouth as to check for himself right in front of Consort Gyokuyou, but she couldn’t be sure. She decided she had best own up before she was publicly humiliated.

  “What exactly is it that you both want from me?” she asked.

  The two of them looked at each other, apparently taking this for confirmation. Both had the sweetest of smiles on their faces. The only sound in the room was the whispering breath of the sleeping child and, almost as soft, Maomao sighing.

  The very next day, Maomao was obliged to pack up her meager belongings. Xiaolan and all the other women who shared a room with her were properly jealous, and pestered her endlessly about how this turn of events had come about. Maomao could only give her most strained smile and try to pretend it was no great matter.

  Maomao was to be a lady-in-waiting to the Emperor’s favored consort.

  She had, in a word, made it.

  Chapter 6: Poison Tester

  Jinshi found this a most congenial turn of events. The unusual girl he had discovered by sheer chance would now help him solve one of his many problems.

  Lady Gyokuyou, the Emperor’s favored consort, was presently served by four ladies-in-waiting. That might be enough for some concubine of mean account, but for a high-ranking consort like Gyokuyou, it seemed rather too few. The ladies-in-waiting, however, insisted that the four of them were perfectly sufficient to take care of everything that needed doing, and Gyokuyou herself didn’t seem inclined to press for more servants.

  Jinshi understood well why this was the case. Consort Gyokuyou was a cheerful and generally tranquil person, but she was also intelligent and careful. In the garden of women that was the rear palace, a woman who received the Imperial favor and was not suspicious of others was in mortal danger. There had, in fact, been several prior attempts on Gyokuyou’s life. Notably, when she had become pregnant with the child who would go on to be Princess Lingli.

  And so, although she had had ten ladies-in-waiting at first, she now had less than half that number. Typically, a lady only brought her own servants with her when she first arrived at the rear palace, but Gyokuyou had called on special privilege to bring in that nursemaid. She would never accept an anonymous servant girl from some far-flung corner of the rear palace as one of her ladies-in-waiting. But she had her station as a high consort to think of. Surely she could take on at least one more woman.

  And this was where the freckled girl came in. She had saved Gyokuyou’s daughter; surely the consort wouldn’t be averse to her. What was more, the girl knew something about poisons. That could only be useful. There was always the possibility that this freckled girl would put her knowledge to evil ends, but if she tried anything, they would simply have to corner her somewhere she couldn’t do anything harmful. It was all so simple.

  If all else failed, Jinshi thought with a grin, he could always use his charms. Yes, he found it just as repugnant as everyone else that he was so ready to take advantage of his ethereal beauty. But he had no intention of changing his ways. Indeed, his looks were what gave Jinshi his value in life.

  ⭘⬤⭘

  When one became a servant assigned to a specific mistress, and a lady-in-waiting to the Emperor’s favorite consort at that, one found that one’s treatment improved. Maomao, who had heretofore been squarely at the bottom of the palace hierarchy, suddenly found herself in the middle ranks. She was told her salary would see a significant increase, although twenty percent of what she earned went to her “family,” which was to say, the merchants who had sold her into this life. A distasteful arrangement, in her opinion. A system created so greedy officials could line their pockets.

  She was also given her own room—cramped, but a far cry from the overcrowded accommodations she had shared in the past. From a meager reed mat and a single sheet for bedding, she now found herself with an actual bed. Granted, it took up half her room, but Maomao was frankly happy to be able to get up in the morning without treading all over her coworkers.

  She had one more cause for celebration as well, although she wouldn’t know it until later.

  The Jade Pavilion, in which Gyokuyou lived, was home to four other ladies-in-waiting besides Maomao. A nursemaid had lately been dismissed, allegedly because the princess was beginning to be weaned, but Maomao thought she had an inkling of the real reason. It was an awfully small number of women, in view of the fact that Consort Lihua had more than ten ladies-in-waiting attending upon her. Gyokuyou’s ladies were more than a little taken aback to discover that one of the least important people in the palace had suddenly been elevated to their colleague, but they never harassed Maomao in the way she had half expected. If anything, they seemed sympathetic toward her.

  But why? she thought.

  She would find out soon enough.

  A palace meal, packed with ingredients traditionally believed to be of medicinal benefit, sat before her. One by one, Hongniang, the head of Gyokuyou’s ladies-in-waiting, took samples and put them on little saucers, placing them in front of Maomao. Gyokuyou observed the scene apologetically but gave no indication that she was going to stop what was happening. The other three ladies-in-waiting likewise watched with pitying gazes.

  The location was Gyokuyou’s room. It was appointed in the highest style, and it was where the consort ate all her meals. Before the food reached her, it would pass through the hands of many others, and being the Emperor’s favorite, it behooved her to consider the possibility that one or more of those hands might try to poison the product.

  Thus a food taster was necessary. Everyone was on edge because of what had happened to the young prince. Rumors were rampant that the princess might have been sickened by the same poison the infant boy died from. The ladies-in-waiting hadn’t been informed of what the toxic substance had ultimately been discovered to be, and so they were understandably paranoid that it might be in anything or everything.

  It would not have been strange if they’d viewed the lowly servant girl sent to them at that moment, specifically to be a food taster, as nothing but a disposable pawn. Maomao was charged not only with tasting Consort Gyokuyou’s meals, but also the baby food served to the princess. On those occasions when His Majesty was present, she was also responsible for sampling the luxurious edibles offered to him.

  After it was discovered that Gyokuyou was pregnant, Maomao was given to understand, there had been two separate instances of attempted poisoning. In one, the taster had gotten off without real injury, but another had found themselves subject to a nerve toxin that had left their arms and legs paralyzed. The remaining lad
ies-in-waiting had had, with much fear and trembling, to check the food themselves, so they frankly must have been grateful for Maomao’s arrival.

  Maomao furrowed her brow as she looked at the plate in front of her. It was ceramic.

  If they’re so scared of poison, they should be using silver. She picked up the little bit of pickled vegetable in her chopsticks and regarded it critically. She took a sniff. Then she placed it on her tongue, checking to see whether it caused a tingling sensation before she swallowed it.

  I don’t think I’m actually qualified to be tasting for poisons, she reflected. Fast-acting agents were one thing, but with regard to slower toxins she expected to be somewhat useless. In the name of science, Maomao had accustomed her body to a variety of poisons by gradual exposure, and suspected there were few left that would have a serious effect on her. This was not, let it be said, a part of her work as an apothecary, but purely a way of satisfying her intellectual curiosity. In the west, she heard, they had a name for researchers who did things that made no sense to people: mad scientists. Even her father, who had taught her the apothecary’s trade, grew exasperated with her little experiments.

  When she was satisfied that there were no untoward physical effects and that she detected no poisons she knew of, the meal could finally make its way to Consort Gyokuyou.

  Next would come the flavorless baby food.

  “I think it might be best to change the plates to ones made of silver,” she said to Hongniang, as flatly as possible. She had been called to Hongniang’s room to provide a report on her first day of work. The chief lady’s chambers were generous in size, but unadorned with any frivolous objects, bespeaking Hongniang’s practical bent.

  Hongniang, an attractive, black-haired woman not quite thirty years of age, let out a sigh. “Jinshi really had it all figured out.” She confessed with some chagrin that they had deliberately not used silver tableware at the eunuch’s instruction.

  Maomao had a distinct suspicion that it was also Jinshi who had ordered her appointed food taster. She struggled not to let her already cold expression turn into one of outright disgust as she listened to Hongniang talk. “I don’t know why you decided to hide your knowledge, but it’s amazing that you know so much about poisons and medicine both. If you’d told them from the start that you knew how to write, you could have gotten a lot more money.”

  “My knowledge comes from my vocation—I was an apothecary. Until I was abducted and sold into this place. My kidnappers receive a portion of my salary even now. The thought turns my stomach.” Maomao’s hackles were up now and her words came in a sharp rush, but the chief lady-in-waiting didn’t rebuke her.

  “You mean you were willing to put up with receiving less than you were worth to make sure they had one less cup of wine when they were carousing.” Hongniang, it seemed, was more than perceptive enough to grasp Maomao’s motives. Maomao found herself simply relieved that Hongniang hadn’t scolded her for what she said. “Not to mention that women of no special distinction serve a couple of years and then go on their merry ways. Plenty of replacements out there.”

  She didn’t have to understand quite that well.

  Hongniang took a carafe from the table and gave it to Maomao. “What’s this?” Maomao asked, but almost as soon as the words were out of her mouth, a pain shot through her wrist. She dropped the carafe on the floor in her shock. A large crack spidered through the ceramic vessel.

  “Oh, my goodness, that’s quite an expensive piece of pottery. Certainly not something a simple lady-in-waiting could afford. You won’t be able to make remittances to your family anymore with that hanging over your head—in fact, we should probably bill them.”

  Maomao understood immediately what Hongniang was saying, and the slightest ironic smile crept over her otherwise expressionless face. “My profound apologies,” she said. “Please, deduct it from the amount of my salary that’s sent home each month. And if that isn’t enough, by all means, take from my own share as well.”

  “Thank you, I’ll make sure the Matron of the Serving Women knows to do that. And one more thing.” Hongniang put the broken carafe back on the table before taking a wood-strip roll out of a drawer and writing on it in quick, short strokes. “This details your additional salary as a food taster. Hazard pay, you might call it.”

  The amount was almost as much again as Maomao was currently receiving. And insofar as nothing would be taken from it to pay her captors, Maomao came out ahead.

  This woman does know how to use the carrot, she thought as she bowed deeply and left the room.

  Chapter 7: Branch

  The four ladies-in-waiting who had always attended Consort Gyokuyou were exceptionally hard workers. Granted, the Jade Pavilion was not the largest place, but they kept it humming along neatly, just the four of them. Serving girls from the shangqin—the Housekeeping Service, those charged with keeping rooms clean—did come sometimes, but by and large the four ladies-in-waiting handled all the cleaning and tidying themselves. That was not, for the record, something ladies-in-waiting typically did.

  All of this meant that the new girl, Maomao, had little to possess her other than tasting the food. Besides Hongniang, none of the other ladies-in-waiting ever asked Maomao to do anything. Maybe they felt bad that she was stuck with the most unpleasant job, or maybe they simply didn’t want her intruding on their turf. Whatever the reason, even when Maomao offered to help, they would gently rebuff her with an, “Oh, don’t worry about it,” and urge her to go back to her room.

  How am I supposed to settle in here?

  Cooped up in her room, she was summoned twice daily to meals, once to afternoon tea, and every few days to try one of the sumptuous banquets offered when the Emperor came calling. That was all. Hongniang was kind enough to try to find little tasks for Maomao to do, but they were never anything difficult, and didn’t occupy her for long.

  In addition to her tasting duties, she found her own meals became more elaborate. Sweet treats were offered at tea, and when there were extras, they would be sent to Maomao. And because she was no longer working like an ant as she once had been, all those extra nutrients went to flesh.

  I feel like some kind of livestock.

  Her new appointment as food taster had brought with it another thing Maomao didn’t like. She had always been rather slim, but this meant that if a poison caused her to waste away, it would be hard to detect. What was more, the dosage of any given toxin that might be deadly was in proportion to one’s body size. A little extra weight could improve her chances of survival.

  In Maomao’s mind, there was no way she could miss a poison so powerful as to make her waste away, and meanwhile she was confident she could survive an ordinarily fatal dose of many toxins. But no one around her seemed to share her optimism. They only saw a small, delicate girl being treated like a disposable pawn, and they pitied her for it. And so they plied her with congee even after she was full, and always gave her an extra serving of vegetables.

  They remind me of the girls from the brothels. Maomao could be cold, reticent, and unsentimental, but for some reason the women had always doted on her. They always had an extra treat or a bit of something for her to eat.

  Although Maomao didn’t realize it, there was a reason people were so inclined to look kindly on her. Running along her left arm was a collection of scars. Cuts, stabs, burns, and what seemed to be repeated piercing with a needle. That is to say, to others, Maomao looked like a petite, overthin girl with wounds on her arm. Her arms were frequently bandaged, her face sometimes pale, and once in a while she was given to fainting. People simply assumed, with a tear in their eye, that her coldness and reticence were the natural result of the treatment she had suffered to this point in her life. She had been abused, they were sure—but they were wrong.

  Maomao had done all of it to herself.

  She was most interested in discovering the effects of various medicines, analgesics, and other concoctions firsthand. She would take small doses of p
oison to inure herself to them, and had been known to let herself be bitten by venomous snakes. And as for the fainting, well, she didn’t always get the dosage quite right. This was also why the wounds were concentrated on her left arm: it was preferable to her dominant limb, her right.

  None of this sprang from any masochistic proclivity for pain, but was fueled entirely by the interests of a girl whose intellectual curiosity inclined rather too much in the direction of medicines and poisons. It had been her father’s burden to cope with her for her entire life. Yes, it was he who had taught Maomao her letters and first instructed her in the ways of medicine, in the hopes that she would see a way forward in life other than prostitution, even though he had been obliged to raise her in and around the red-light district. By the time he realized he had far too apt a student on his hands, it was too late, and the calumnies about him had already begun to spread. There were a few who understood, just a few; but most turned cold, hard gazes on Maomao’s father. They never for a moment imagined that a girl of her age might commit self-harm in the name of experimentation.

  And so the story seemed to be complete: after suffering long abuse at the hands of her father, this poor child had been sold off to the rear palace, where she was now to be sacrificed to discover poison in the consort’s food. A sorrowful tale indeed.

  And one of which the protagonist was entirely unaware.

  I’m going to be a pig at this rate! About the time Maomao began to fret about this particular possibility, her woes were compounded by a most unwelcome visitor.

  “It’s rather late for you,” Consort Gyokuyou said as a newcomer entered the room.

  The caller in question was the nymph-like eunuch, this time with one of his compatriots in tow. The gorgeous youth evidently made routine rounds of the chambers of the upper consorts. Maomao tasted the sweets the compatriot had brought for poison, then withdrew discreetly behind Consort Gyokuyou where she reclined on a chaise longue. Maomao was standing in for Hongniang, who had gone to change the princess’s diaper. Eunuchs these men may have been, but they were still not allowed an audience with the consort without the presence of a lady-in-waiting.