The Apothecary Diaries

Chapter 30: Ah-Duo

It was pure coincidence that Maomao sneaked out of the Jade Pavilion on that particular night: she couldn't sleep.

The next day, the Pure Consort would depart the rear palace.

Maomao wandered aimlessly around the grounds. The palace was already firmly in the grip of winter cold, and she wore two cotton overgarments against the chill. One thing hadn't changed in the rear palace: promiscuity was alive and well, and one had to be careful not to look too closely among the bushes or into the shadows. For those who burned with passion, the winter chill presented no obstacle.

Maomao glanced up and saw the half-moon hanging in the sky. A memory of Princess Fuyou danced through her head, and Maomao decided that since she was out here anyway, maybe she would climb up on the wall. She would have liked to "share a drink with the moon," as the old poets put it, but as there was no alcohol in the Jade Pavilion she regretfully gave up the idea. She should have saved the idea. She should have saved some of the stuff Jinshi given her. She suddenly craved some snake wine-it had been so long since she'd had any-but then she remembered what had happened the other day, and shook her head, realizing it wasn't worth it.

Using the protruding bricks in the corner of the outer wall as footholds, Maomao pulled herself up to the top. She had to mind her skirt, lest she tear it.

A proverb had it that only two things liked high places—idiots and smoke—but Maomao had to confess, it felt good to be up above it all. The moon and a sprinkling of stars shown down upon the Imperial city. The lights she could see in the distance must have been the pleasure district. She was sure that the flowers and the bees had begun their nightly communion there by now.

Maomao had no particular business up there on the wall. She simply sat on the edge, kicking her legs and looking up the sky.

"Well, well. Someone got here before me?" The voice was neither high nor low. Maomao turned to discover a handsome young man in long pants. No—it looked like a young man, but it was Consort Ah-Duo. She tied her hair back in a ponytail that cascaded down her back, and a large gourd-flask was suspended from her shoulder. There was a touch of red in her cheeks, and she was dressed relatively lightly. Her footing was sure, but it seemed she'd had a bit to drink.

"Don't mind me, milady. I'll be leaving presently," Maomao said.

"There's no rush. Share a cup with me?"

Presented with a drinking cup, Maomao could find no reason to refuse. She might normally have declined on the grounds that she was Consort Gyokuyou's serving woman, but Maomao wasn't so vulgar as to refuse a last drink with Consort Ah-Duo on her last night in the rear palace. (Perfectly logical, you see: she certainly wasn't simply tempted by the opportunity for some wine.)

Maomao held the cup in both hands; it was full of a cloudy drink. The wine had a strongly sweet taste, without much of the acid sting of alcohol. She didn't say anything, just lapped at the cup of wine. Ah-Duo showed no compunction in drinking directly out of the gourd.

"Thinking I seem a little mannish?"

"Thinking that's how you seem to be acting."

"Hah, a straight shooter. I like that." Ah-Duo raised one knee, bracing her chin on her hand. Here sharp nose and the long eyebrows that fringed her eyes looked somehow familiar to Maomao. They reminded her of someone she knew, she thought, but her mind was a little cloudy, like the drink. "Ever since my son slipped away from me, I've been His Majesty's friend. Or maybe I should say, gone back to being."

She stood by him as a friend, without having to act like a consort. Someone who had known him since they nursed together. She'd never imagined she would be chosen as a consort. She was his first partner, yes, but only she'd assumed, as his guide. One might almost say a mentor. Then, because of His Majesty's fondness for her, she'd remained a consort for more than ten years, though she'd been only ornamental. She'd wished he would hurry up and hand her off to someone. Why had he clung to her so?