by Natsu Hyuuga
“I never cease to be impressed by what a fine talker you are,” Jinshi said.
“If you say so, sir,” his ever-intense aide said curtly.
“Whatever the case, it was clearly an inside job.”
“The circumstances would seem to suggest so,” Gaoshun said, furrowing his eyebrows. He always got right to the point.
Jinshi’s head hurt. He wanted to stop thinking. Among other aggravations, he’d had no time to sleep since the day before, nor even to change his clothes. It was enough to make him want to throw a temper tantrum.
“Your, ahem, poker face is slipping, sir.”
Jinshi’s usual sweet smile was gone. He wore a sullen look that honestly looked more appropriate for a man of his youth. And Gaoshun seemed to read him like a book.
“No one else is here. Does it really matter?” His minder was always so strict.
“I am here.”
“You don’t count.”
“Yes, I do.”
Jinshi had hoped the joke would get him out of this, but Gaoshun, serious and diligent, never did have a sense of humor at the right times. What a burden it was to have someone minding your every move from the day you were born.
“You’re still wearing your hair stick,” Gaoshun said, pointing to his head.
“Oh. Crap.” Jinshi didn’t usually talk that way. “It was fairly well hidden. I doubt anyone noticed.” Jinshi pulled out the stick to reveal an accessory of considerable craftsmanship. It was carved in the shape of the mythical qilin, a sort of cross between a deer and a horse. It was said to be the chief of the sacred beasts, and the right to wear its likeness was conferred only upon those of considerable rank.
“Here. Keep it somewhere safe.” Jinshi tossed the stick nonchalantly at Gaoshun.
“Be careful with that. It’s immensely important.”
“I understand.”
“You certainly don’t.”
And then, having gotten in the last word, the man who had been responsible for Jinshi for well nigh sixteen years left the office. Jinshi, still comporting himself like a child, laid down across the desk. He still had so much work to do. He needed to hurry up and make some free time for himself.
“All right, let’s get to it.” He gave a great stretch and picked up his brush. In order to have too much time on his hands, first he had to finish his work.
Chapter 21: 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.
Terrifying though the place could be, however, with special permission women could be called from its precincts. The means—one of several possible—was a hair stick like this. Lihaku waited in the guardhouse by the central gate for the young woman to be brought to him. In the somewhat cramped space were chairs and desks for two people, and eunuchs standing, one before the door on either side.
Through the door from the rear palace side appeared a petite young woman. Freckles surrounded her nose. Hers was the rare plain face in a place populated by exquisite beauties.
“And who are you?” Lihaku growled.
“I’m often asked that,” the girl replied indifferently, hiding her nose behind the palm of her hand. Suddenly he recognized her. It was the very woman who had called him here.
“Anyone ever tell you you look very different with makeup on?”
“Often.” The young woman didn’t appear put off by this remark, but candidly acknowledged the fact.
Lihaku understood, intellectually, that this was her, the lady-in-waiting, the food taster. But in his mind, he just couldn’t reconcile the freckled face with the alluring courtesan’s smile. It was the strangest thing.
“Listen, you understand what it means to call me out here like this, don’t you?” Lihaku crossed his arms, then crossed his legs for good measure. Not the least bit intimidated by this display from the bulky army officer, however, the petite young woman said, “I wish to go back to my family.” She sounded completely emotionless as she said it.
Lihaku scratched his head. “And you think I’m going to help?”
“Yes. I’ve heard that if you’ll vouch for me, I might be able to procure a temporary leave of absence.”
This girl said the darndest things. He wondered if she actually understood what the hair sticks were really for. But as it happened, the girl, Maomao, evidently wanted to use him to get back to her home. She wasn’t just fishing for a nice officer for herself.
Was she bold, or reckless?
Lihaku rested his chin on his hands and snorted. He didn’t care if she thought it was rude. This was how he was going to be. “So, what? I should just play along with you?” Lihaku was known for his decency and goodness of heart, but when he glared he could still manage to look suitably intimidating. When he gave lazy subordinates a dressing-down, even those who’d had nothing to do with it felt compelled to apologize. And yet this Maomao didn’t so much as furrow an eyebrow. She simply looked at him without emotion.
“Not exactly. I believe I have a way of showing my gratitude.” She placed a bundle of writing strips on the desk. It appeared to be a letter of introduction.
“Meimei, Pairin, Joka.” They were women’s names. In fact, Lihaku had heard of them. Many men had.
“Perhaps a flower-viewing excursion at the Verdigris House.”
They were names of courtesans of the highest class, women with whom one could spend a year’s wages in silver in a single night. The women named in the letter were collectively known as the Three Princesses, and they were the most popular ladies of all.
“If you have any concerns, you need only show them this,” Maomao said, and the slightest of smiles played across her lips.
“This has to be a joke.”
“I assure you, it’s quite serious.”
Lihaku could hardly believe it. For a mere lady-in-waiting to have connections with courtesans even the most highly ranked officers had trouble gaining an audience with was almost unthinkable. What was going on here? Lihaku tugged at his own hair, completely at a loss, and the young woman sighed and stood up.
“What?” Lihaku asked.
“I can see you don’t believe me. My apologies for wasting your time.” Maomao quietly withdrew something from the neck of her uniform. Two things, in fact. Hair sticks: one in quartz, the other, silver. The implication was clear: she had other options. “Again, I’m sorry. I’ll ask someone else.”
“N-Now hold on just a second.” Lihaku slapped his hand down over the bundle of wood strips before Maomao could take it off the table.
She gazed at him, expressionless. “Is something the matter?” She looked him straight in the eye, meeting the gaze that could overpower experienced men of war. And Lihaku had to admit she’d bested him.
⭘⬤⭘
“Are you sure about this, Lady Gyokuyou?” Hongniang watched Maomao through a crack in the door. Her color seemed healthier than usual; she appeared almost cheerful as she packed up her things. The strange thing was, Maomao herself seemed to think she looked perfectly normal.
“It’s only three days,” the consort replied.
“Yes, ma’am, but...” Hongniang picked up the little princess, who was clasping at her skirts to be held. “I’m certain she doesn’t actually understand.”
“Yes, I’m sure you’re right.”
The other ladies-in-waiting had showered Maomao with congratulations, but she didn’t seem to grasp exactly why. She’d just blithely promised to bring them souvenirs.
Gyokuyou stood at the window, gazing out. “Really, the one I feel most sorry for of all is... well.” She let out a long breath, but then a mischievous smile appeared on her face. “It is very amusing, though.” She spoke in a whisper, but the words didn’t escape Hongniang.
The head lady-in-waiting worried: it seemed to her that there would be another argument.
Having finally finished his work and become a man of leisure again, Jinshi at last visited the Jade Pavilion, only to discover that he had missed Maomao by a single day.
Chapter 22: Homecoming
The red-light district to which Maomao had been so eager to return was not, in fact, that far away. The rear palace was the size of a small city itself, but it was situated within the nation’s capital. The red-light district sat on the opposite side of the metropolis from the palace complex, but if one could only get past the high walls and deep moats of the Imperial residence, it was within walking distance.
We hardly needed to go to the trouble of getting a carriage, Maomao thought. Beside her, the hulking man called Lihaku sat whistling a tune, holding the horse’s reins in his hands. His high spirits could be attributed to the fact that he now realized Maomao’s story had been true. The prospect of meeting the most famous courtesans in the land would put any man in a good mood.
Courtesans, it should be said, were not to be simply lumped together with the run of common prostitutes. Some of them sold their bodies, yes, but others sold purely their accomplishments. They didn’t take enough customers to be “popular” in the crass sense. Indeed, this helped drive up their perceived value. To share even a cup of tea with one of them could take a substantial amount of silver—let alone a night! These revered women became idols of a sort, objects of the common people’s admiration. Some city girls, taken by the idea of becoming one of these enchantresses themselves, came knocking on the gate of the red-light district, though only a scant handful would ever actually achieve that exalted status.
The Verdigris House was among the most venerable of the establishments in the capital’s pleasure quarter; even the least notable of its ladies were courtesans of the middle rank. The most notable were among the most famous women in the district. And some of those were women Maomao thought of almost as sisters.
Familiar scenery came into view as the carriage clattered along. There was a street stall selling the meat skewers she had longed to eat, the aroma wafting to her as they drove past. The branches of willow trees drooped over a canal, and she heard the voice of someone selling firewood. Children ran by, each carrying a pinwheel.
They passed under an ornate gate, and then a world painted in a riot of colors spread out before them. It was still midday, and there weren’t many people about; a few idle ladies of the night waved from the second floors of their establishments.
Finally the carriage stopped in front of a building whose entry was noticeably larger than that of many others. Maomao hopped out and jogged over to a slim old woman who stood smoking a pipe by the entrance. “Hey, Grams. Haven’t seen you in a while.”
Long ago she had been a lady said to possess tears of pearl, but now her tears had dried up like faded leaves. She’d refused offers to buy her out of bondage, instead remaining as the years passed, until now she was an old hand feared by all and sundry. Time was cruel indeed.
“A while, indeed, you ignorant brat.” A shock ran through Maomao’s solar plexus. She felt the bile rise in her throat, a bitter taste welling up in her mouth. And strangely, even this she registered only as familiar, nostalgic. How many times in the past had she been induced in this way to vomit out poisons of which she had ingested too much?
Lihaku was at a loss what exactly was going on, but, being a fundamentally decent person, he rubbed Maomao gently on the back. Who the hell is this woman? his expression seemed to ask. Maomao scuffed some dust over the sodden ground with her foot. Lihaku looked at her with concern.
“Huh. So this is your so-called customer, eh?” The madam gave Lihaku an appraising look. The carriage, meanwhile, was entrusted to the establishment’s menservants. “Good, strong body. Manly features. An up-and-comer, from what I hear.”
“Grams, I don’t think you usually say that right in front of the person you’re talking about.”
The madam pretended not to hear, but called for the apprentice, a prostitute-in-training, sweeping in front of the gate. “Go call Pairin. I think she’s lazing about somewhere today.”
“Pairin...” Lihaku swallowed heavily. Pairin was one of those famed courtesans; it was said her specialty was exquisite dancing. For the sake of Lihaku’s reputation, we should add that what he felt was not simple lust for a female companion, but sincere appreciation for a woman of genuine talents. To meet this idol who seemed to live above the clouds, even simply to take tea with her, was a great honor.
Pairin? I mean... Yeah, maybe... Pairin could do extremely fine work for those who were to her liking.
“Mast
er Lihaku,” Maomao said, giving the big but currently vacant-eyed man beside her a jab. “How confident are you in your biceps?”
“Not quite sure what you mean, but I like to think I’ve honed my body as well as any man.”
“Is that so? Best of luck, then.”
Lihaku gave her a final, puzzled tilt of the head as the young apprentice led him away. As for Maomao, she was thankful to Lihaku for bringing her here, and wanted to provide him with something that would adequately express her gratitude. And a night’s dream could provide a lifetime’s memory.
“Now, Maomao.” The owner of the hoarse voice wore a terrible smile. “Not a word for ten freakin’ months?”
“What was I supposed to do? I was serving in the rear palace.” At least she’d sent a wood strip explaining the general situation.
“You owe me big. You know I never take first-time customers.”
“Believe me, I know.” Maomao pulled a pouch out of her bag. It contained half her earnings from the rear palace to date—she’d specially asked for an advance on her salary.
“Huh,” the woman sniffed, peering into the pouch. “Not nearly enough.”
“I admit I didn’t expect you to actually produce Pairin.” She’d thought the money would cover a night’s dalliance with a highly ranked courtesan. Besides, the likes of Lihaku would probably have been satisfied even to get a glimpse of the Three Princesses. “At least pretend it’ll cover a cup of tea together. Please, for me?”
“Dumbass. A muscle-brained bozo like that? Pairin’ll bite, and you know it.”
Yeah, I might have guessed. The most esteemed courtesans didn’t sell their bodies, but that didn’t mean they couldn’t fall in love. Such was the way of things. “Let’s just say it’s out of my hands...”
“Never! It’s going on your tab.”
“There’s no way I can pay that much!” Don’t think even the rest of my salary would make up the difference. No way...