The Apothecary Diaries Book 8

The Go Book

The wind was getting colder every day. Maomao began to sleep under an extra blanket.

She wasn't sleeping at that moment, though. She was staring open-mouthed at a veritable mountain of books piled in the entryway of the dormitory and marked To Maomao.

"What are those? I mean, they're books, obviously," Yao said as she emerged from her room. She'd managed to recover from her episode of poisoning, thankfully. It had taken a while for her to get back into action, but she would be starting work again in a couple days.

She came and stood beside Maomao. Her lovely face was now marked with jaundice. Her liver and kidneys had been badly compromised by the poison; she would have to avoid alcohol and salt, probably for the rest of her life. And they'd have to find her food that would be good for her skin.

"They're all the same book," En'en observed. She could naturally be found whenever Yao appeared. She was holding a bag of ingredients for their dinner—she'd been furiously gathering medicines and foods that would alleviate Yao's jaundice. It saved Maomao the trouble. "It looks like it's about Go. It says it's by Kan Lakan."

This was the doing of the freak strategist. Associating with troublesome people could only bring you trouble, Maomao knew, but knowing it and staying out of trouble were different things.

"I told him we didn't want these sitting around here, but he wouldn't take no for an answer. He gave me a letter for you too," said the middle-aged woman who ran the dormitory.

She gave Maomao the letter. It contained a great many fulsome and indirect expressions, all written in a lovely script, but translated into plain language it said, I made a bunch of copies of this book about Go. You can have some too. It was clear that he'd forced some subordinate to write it for him. The poor guy.

"What are we supposed to do with these?" Yao asked. The stack of books was tall enough for her to lean against. Books were valuable objects—just one could cost enough to pay for a month of meals. Yet here was a whole stack of them. They were printed books, so somewhat cheaper than hand-copied manuscripts, but producing so many of them was still no mean feat. Maomao could picture the strategist's adopted son Lahan hyperventilating over the amount of money involved. Oh, well. Not her problem.

"We burn them," Maomao said flatly. But then she changed her mind. "No... That wouldn't be nice." It wasn't the books' fault that they had been written by this particular author.

She flipped through one of the books and found that it was surprisingly well done. It contained game records, diagrams of games of Go, accompanied by explanations of the salient features of the board situation. It would probably go over the heads of beginners, but it seemed like something experienced players might enjoy. There was even an illustration of calico cats playing Go together, but Maomao chose to ignore it.

En'en was peeking at the book with evident interest.

"Want a look?" Maomao said.

"Sure!"

Maomao passed her a copy and she started flipping through it, eyes sparkling. Who knew she had interests besides Yao? thought Maomao (who did pick unusual things to be impressed by).

"Does it look interesting?" she asked.

"Yes, it does! You can tell this is the work of our honored strategist—it's very well done. The first half consists mainly of games that rely on a lot of joseki, while the second half shows off less-conventional play."

Maomao's "older sisters" had taught her the basics of Go and Shogi, but she still didn't quite follow what En'en was saying. Instead she asked, "Want one?"