The Apothecary Diaries Book 9

Prologue

It hurts to have your father get angry at you.

Supposedly, one needed objective proof to change a hypothesis into a certainty. Maomao was trying to find that proof among human emotions. What a very vague and unscientific place to look.

And yet, having seen the Emperor's eyes fill with sadness, and the way he hesitated in front of Empress Gyokuyou, Maomao could think only that Jinshi was the current Emperor's eldest son.

I just keep learning things I'd rather not know, she thought. She sighed as she looked at Jinshi. Things seemed to have calmed down a bit, so she made to go to the other room. But Jinshi immediately grabbed her wrist. "Where are you going?"

"To get medicine. The ingredients are in the other room."

Jinshi rose and began opening the drawers of a cabinet along one wall. There were enough medicines in there to make Maomao's head spin, components of every conceivable kind.

"Ngghaa!" She thought she might devolve into waving and drooling. She wanted to burst into her happy dance, but she fought the urge and took a deep breath instead. Jinshi's eyes on her were piercing. Among the variety of things in the drawers was salve, already prepared. She opened the large clamshell and took a sniff. She was greeted by the aroma of honey and the unmistakable scent of sesame. It didn't seem to contain any other ingredients.

She also located disinfectant alcohol and bandages. Then she took the balm and stood before Jinshi. "Master Jinshi, I'm going to treat your injury now. Please let me see it." She tried to get him to sit back down on the bed, but he spun around and sat her down instead. "What do you think you're doing, sir?" She looked at him, hoping her displeasure was evident.

His fingers brushed her chin. She raised her head, trying to avoid him.

"You're going to pretend you can't imagine, when we've come so far? No one else can serve as my nighttime companion now." Jinshi smirked, but fat droplets of sweat showed that he was reaching his limit.

Maomao simply refused to speak. Annoyed, she grabbed his robe, which he was still only half wearing.

"Which of us is it that lacks imagination? Did you think I wouldn't be angry to be put in this position?" She stretched until they were almost nose-to-nose. "What you're doing is tyranny, Master Jinshi. A damn, dirty trick meant to tell everyone what you want. You don't care about anyone else. You don't care about your status. What you've done is self-centered and masochistic and so deeply exasperating that I don't even know what to say about it!"

Jinshi didn't answer, but his face spoke clearly: You obviously do.

"Empress Gyokuyou's son—the Crown Prince—and Consort Lihua's son are both hardly a year old..."

Children were weak. Until they were at least seven, you never knew if they might die. Even if you weren't using a poisonous face powder, they might succumb to illness. Some accident might befall them. They might even be assassinated.

"What exactly is your plan if something happens to the Emperor?"

"I'm working very hard to make sure nothing does." Jinshi's voice was low and rumbling, nothing like the syrupy nymph's voice he sometimes used. His eyes were dark, and he was obviously clear on what he intended here. Maomao was about to say something else, but the words caught in her throat.

What Jinshi had done was insane. That, at least, was the only thing Maomao or Gyokuyou could have called it. She didn't know what His Majesty must think, but it seemed to have been a bolt from the blue for him.

But then, was it any less mad, what Jinshi had been forced to live with? He had the power; he could have done any number of even crazier things. That he had the generosity of heart to listen to Maomao's words made it hard to shout at him now.