Apothecary Diaries Quotes

Don’t sully my memories with bleak reality, if you please,” Jinshi said ruefully.

Some said the real difference between a foolish ruler and a brilliant one was that a foolish ruler thought the people were inexhaustible, while a brilliant one realized that they had their limits.

Perhaps,” Gaoshun ventured now, “I might ask you to stop regarding Master Jinshi in the same manner in which you might look at a worm.” Damn. They noticed.

They had weighed their lives against their beauty, and in the end had lost them both.

Maomao was probably the only one here who sometimes tried poisons for fun. She was, let us say, an exceptional personality. If I had to go, I think I’d like it to be by blowfish toxin. The organs mixed into a nice soup...

Do they know each other?” Gramps had asked, to which Chou-u had replied, “She practically collects weird guys like him.

Maomao briefly regretted that she hadn’t simply disguised Jinshi as a woman, but then she remembered that dab of rouge and thought better of it. She shook her head: Jinshi must never appear in women’s clothing, lest the very world tear itself apart.

Once the two of them were alone in the room, Maomao took a deep breath, then heaved a sigh. “Master Jinshi.” “Yes?” “Don’t you think you’re pushing yourself too hard?” The last vestiges of the Moon Prince vanished. “Is there ever a time when I’m not?

He took a breath. He was looking at Maomao, but somehow he seemed almost embarrassed. Finally he managed, “Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!” He’d said it. He’d actually said it. To her, it sounded like a death sentence. All his vagueness, all his ambiguity had actually been a show of kindness to Maomao. For with her social status, the words once spoken were as good as a command. She couldn’t fight them, couldn’t contravene what he wished.

There were few if any things in the world that were truly inexplicable; what a person deemed beyond explanation was only a reflection of the boundaries of their own knowledge.

Apparently you weren’t supposed to go shouting in the middle of the night. Allegedly, people were trying to sleep or something.

A woman in ostentatious makeup took one look at the plain, unadorned Maomao and grinned openly. Maomao took a step backward. It was, as always, exhausting getting prettied up.

Shit. Now I’ve done it. She’d given him a piece of her mind, and he was about to give her one back.

Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!

Oh! It’s the Poison Lady!” said one of the villagers who had spotted Maomao. “Think you could whip up some more poison for us?

Isn’t it about time you gave in?” she asked. “Gave in to what?” Maomao asked,

Xiaolan always seemed like she was more interested in snacks than anything else in life;

Don’t pretend I’m not here,” Jinshi said. “Sorry, sir. Old habit.

She didn’t say anything at first—she wanted to tell him no, but he was looking at her with those puppy-dog eyes he got sometimes.

But once Maomao was invested in a problem, she couldn’t let it go. She crossed her arms, trying to put the pieces together in her head.

Once in a while, even Maomao could simply, earnestly do as she was asked. Once in a while.

It’s amazing how easily such unsavory things roll off your tongue.

Deliberately or not, Lahan chose that moment to whisper in her ear, “And when can we expect the pitter-patter of little feet?” His glasses flashed.

Jinshi must have been getting sleepy, for he gradually slumped on the bed until he was lying down. Thinking what a lot of trouble he could be, Maomao sat on the bed and began gently stroking his hair.

She also didn’t doubt that Lahan was completely hopeless, totally worthless, and that if anyone ever asked her if she knew any nice men, he was the one person she would never, ever introduce to them. Ever.

And though the exterior might be lovely, there was the question of what was within. And so Maomao ended up looking at Jinshi like some kind of bug crawling along the ground. She sincerely couldn’t help it.

Draw flowers like a normal person,” she instructed, pointing to the flowers in the courtyard. Apparently, no matter how excellent the renderings might have been, pictures of poisonous mushrooms were off-limits.

I’m very sorry, sir. I’m afraid I might have crushed a frog.” She kept her face completely expressionless. “...A frog.” Jinshi winced. Fine. Let him wince. Maomao would overcome this situation by sheer force of will.

But Jinshi was oddly skilled at reading Maomao’s expressions. Partly because they’d now known each other for a fair amount of time, true, but even by that standard he was quite sensitive to slight changes in her face.

Maomao wasn’t specifically a smarter person or better student than anyone else. She simply cared less about some things most people cared about, and instead shunted that extra attention into fields in which she was interested.

Just who is this guy? she asked herself. But she felt her station was nowhere near high enough to actually ask the question aloud, so she stayed quiet. Besides, she suspected that knowing the answer would only lead to more trouble.

Jinshi’s robe had come open when Maomao had landed on him, but the body it revealed was not soft and indulged; instead it was all taut muscle, the product of discipline and training. His face might be that of a nymph, but his body was that of a warrior.

Although Maomao wasn’t sure how much trouble she could really get into with the mild, juice-based alcohol. “I wouldn’t get drunk.” “I heard you emptied a barrel on the way here.” Who’d snitched on her? It had to be Jinshi or Basen. Maomao clicked her tongue.

For you, I will remove every obstacle that keeps us apart. One day. Just know that.” With that, Jinshi buried himself under the covers. “I won’t let what you fear come to pass. I swear it.” Soon she heard him breathing evenly in sleep. What I fear... Maomao pictured Empress Gyokuyou. I don’t think Master Jinshi knows, she thought. She didn’t think he was aware of the secret of his own birth. What about Empress Gyokuyou? Does she know? And what did His Majesty want for Jinshi? What about Ah-Duo? It’s never good to know too much.

Right... Friends...” Maomao echoed. Come to think of it, she’d been spending a fair amount of time with them outside work recently—sharing meals, going out together, or just chatting. Those were things that could arguably be classified as activities one did with friends.

The young man crossed his arms and lost himself in thought. He was so lovely, he could have been a painting. It almost seemed wrong for heaven to have given a man such unearthly beauty. And to then cause that man to live and work as a eunuch in the rear palace was deeply ironic.

Let us be honest about how Maomao was feeling: the last thing in the world she wanted was to be alone with this creature. It wasn’t that Maomao hated beautiful things. But when something was too beautiful, one started to feel that the remotest blemish was like a crime, unforgivable.

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I seem to be veritably surrounded by strong and intelligent women,” he said. “Nothing of the sort,” Maamei replied. “It’s simply that they’re the only ones who can get close to you.” The remark wasn’t self-deprecating. Jinshi and Basen traded a look, both of them clearly feeling outmatched. Jinshi found himself having to take back what he had thought a few minutes earlier: Maamei understood politics very well.

Ahem. His name is Lakan...” No sooner were the words out of his mouth than Maomao’s expression shifted. Her eyes widened and she took a step away from Jinshi, almost, it seemed, involuntarily. To date she had looked at him like a beetle, like a dried-out earthworm, like mud, like dust, like a slug, and even like a flattened frog—that is to say, in many demeaning and belittling ways—but he realized that all of these were kind and gentle compared to the look she leveled at him now. It was, frankly, hard to describe, but even Jinshi felt he could barely survive it. Maomao looked as if she might smash open his heart and pour in molten metal so that not even ashes remained.

How,” he asked, “is this girl still upright?

As she wandered, Maomao spotted a dog—one with a familiar keeper. So the mutt’s brought his mutt. It was Lihaku, who was something of a big, friendly dog himself.

That squishy-feeling thing had been a frog, she kept telling herself, just a frog. “That was no f—

Unconsciously, she brushed at her skirt with her left hand. It was like she could still feel the frog she’d accidentally grabbed hold of. Yeah, the frog. The frog, she kept repeating, trying to calm herself down.

The shoddy shaving bothered her. (Maomao was sometimes bothered by rather unusual things.)

The object of all this returning and lending was, of course, Maomao. She, Gaoshun, and Hongniang all sighed at once: were they going to see a repeat of last time?

Gyokuyou proceeded to interrogate her for the next thirty minutes, but Maomao would say only: “It was the frog’s fault.” She was starting to think that a few ox bezoars had been too cheap a price for a secret she would have to carry to her grave.

I want to surround myself with capable people and make the best use of them that I can. If they’re trustworthy as well, all the better. He can’t be a bad person if this stray cat of ours has taken such a shine to him.” Stray cat, huh? Nice.

Like I care

Maomao was just a minor palace woman. Things were so much easier when he treated her as such. “Understood, sir,” she said with a bow of her head.

There are certain people who would be unable to distinguish which door was red and which was green,” Maomao said.

It means that those who are chosen by this shrine—those who prove themselves the children of Wang Mu—have one thing in common: they can’t see color.

Coincidence can be a force to be reckoned with, though.

Even Lishu had at least one good story going around, which claimed that she’d once collapsed with a spontaneous nosebleed while reading some book. When she’d heard about it, Maomao had only hoped that nobody would ask too many questions about what kind of book it had been.

O groundskeeper of our garden of lovely blossoms?

Maomao allowed her eyelids to droop so that she looked rather more skeptical; Jinshi let out a relieved breath and sat forward again. Why did he look so...satisfied? Was the eunuch actually a secret masochist?

If you wish to further thin the blood, might I suggest taking someone like this young lady into your retinue?” Excuse me? What was that doddering old coot thinking? Maomao wanted to pull off a shoe and fling it at him. “Amusing as that might be, I’d rather not make an enemy of Lakan. And perhaps more importantly, her bust would have to grow about another fifteen centimeters first!” First: just how intimidated was he by the “fox strategist”? And second: Really?

Maomao knew nothing about politics; she couldn’t have cared less about the subject. She just wanted to learn as much as she could about medicine, research and study it, and invent different drugs. That was all she wanted out of life.

My cat is most wary, yet not only was she willing to speak to you, she seems to be earnestly considering you as a possible match for a woman she thinks of as an older sister.

What exactly did you teach them?” Jinshi inquired. Maomao didn’t quite look at him, but rather, somewhere just past him. “Next time you see the Emperor, ask what he thought of my lesson,” she said. As to the content of her instruction, she would leave that to Jinshi’s imagination.

There were some things which, no matter how transcendent, the world was not meant to see. It was fearsome to realize that with just a dash of lip color, Jinshi might possess the power to bring low at least a couple of small villages.

Why are you so prepared for this exact situation?!

The cat was given a name that meant “furry.” It stuck in Maomao’s craw for one simple reason: this name, too, was pronounced “maomao.

And then, quietly so that no one else would hear her, she gave Consort Lihua some advice. A secret technique one of the older ladies of the night had told her it “couldn’t hurt to know.” Sadly, Maomao lacked equipment of the necessary size. But this particular technique seemed the perfect thing for Consort Lihua. Lihua’s face went as red as an apple when she heard it. What Maomao might have told her was a subject of lively debate among Lihua’s ladies-in-waiting for some time afterward, but it was all the same to Maomao.

She couldn’t imagine what they wanted with such a thing, but the subject was one she would be more than happy to entertain. Forcing herself not to smile, she replied, “I need three things: tools, materials, and time.” Could she make a love potion? Oh, yes. Yes, she could.

She wasn’t the only one who showed no special desire for him, but she was the first to regard him as though she were looking at a worm. She seemed to think she hid the feeling well, but the disdain was clear on her face.

Why, today he reported to me that you gazed at him as though he were a slug.” Well, he certainly seemed especially slimy.

Lihua’s ladies-in-waiting tended to have one of two reactions to Maomao: either they were terrified of her, or they were terrified of her but still fought back. Guess I went a little too far.

Maomao backed away a half step and found herself up against the wall. She looked to Gaoshun for help, but the reticent aide was sitting by the window, idly watching birds flying through the sky. The obviously artificial nature of the pose made him look most disagreeable. I’ll have to sneak him a laxative later.

The old lady really seemed to want to make Maomao a courtesan. She’d been maneuvering toward it for years now. She kept telling Maomao to quit wasting her time with medicine already, but that was never going to happen. What, was she simply going to swap her interest from pharmaceuticals to singing and dancing? Not a chance.

I haven’t seen anything at all, sir and ma’am.” Rikuson was looking studiously at the blue sky as if nothing were happening. Maybe he was a better man than Maomao had given him credit for.

Jinshi himself felt that, notwithstanding her imperviousness to poisons, she was still a small and delicate-looking girl who seemed as fragile as the next young woman—but strangely, he found he couldn’t imagine her breaking like that. Maybe because he’d seen her laugh uproariously as she took poison, or come back from being kidnapped looking as calm as if she’d been away running errands, and on and on.

It was, as always, exhausting getting prettied up.

Once in a while, pictures of Maomao the cat were mixed in with the letters; these came from Chou-u. In lieu of a personal seal, Maomao’s toe beans would be pressed on the pictures in scarlet ink. The scratches on the

Once in a while, pictures of Maomao the cat were mixed in with the letters; these came from Chou-u. In lieu of a personal seal, Maomao’s toe beans would be pressed on the pictures in scarlet ink. The scratches on the pictures suggested she signed them under duress.

Even after he had left the rear palace, women would sometimes sneak bits of their hair or nails into his snacks as a love charm, or simply charge in when he was alone and tear off their clothes. Nothing but trouble. The

Even after he had left the rear palace, women would sometimes sneak bits of their hair or nails into his snacks as a love charm, or simply charge in when he was alone and tear off their clothes. Nothing but trouble.

This time Maomao wasn’t so quick to answer. A station equivalent to a medical official’s: in other words, one that would allow her some access to the drugs in the medical office. She tried to keep her lips in a neutral, straight line, but she couldn’t prevent a slight tremble. A glint entered Gaoshun’s eyes. “You could try out new drugs too. We have people who do that, you know.” Still Maomao was silent, but she felt her cheek begin to twitch and the corners of her lips start to edge upward. No! Don’t give in! There’s a catch. There has to be.

Gaoshun was holding three letters: from Jinshi, Empress Gyokuyou, and the Emperor. They might not be official communiqués, but nonetheless she felt she was being stared down by three of the least say-no-to-able people in the nation.

Maomao’s “older sister,” Pairin, couldn’t write very well; when she tried, the characters often came out backwards, as if in a mirror. The old lady had made several attempts to improve Pairin’s handwriting, but the quirk remained, and she always had to have someone check her writing or simply write for her.

Suiren took Maomao’s robe from her. From the folds she extracted a writing kit, a pad of paper, some medicine, and bandages, one after another, until she looked downright exasperated. “Do you always carry all this with you?” she asked. “I left my sewing kit at home,” replied Maomao.

Well, there was nothing else to treat. Except maybe his head. Life would have been so much easier if she could have tightened down the screws he obviously had loose.

If only Hongniang or Sazen or Lahan’s brother were here now, Maomao thought, thinking of the three best quippers she knew. It was too much work to come up with sarcastic responses for everything Chue did all by herself. She would have appreciated some help.

Whereas you, young lady, there’s a logic to how you behave. Whatever you do, you can bet there’s either poison or drugs at the bottom of it.

When she had first learned that the Grand Commandant was Maomao’s father, she was shocked—but, on reflection, maybe not that shocked.

Somehow, food is never actually the first order of business at a formal dinner. Other things always have to happen before you can eat.

Maomao didn’t blame her, as poisonous mushrooms could be surprisingly delicious, and she had been about to say so when her father had gently stopped her. He seemed to think it might not be as reassuring as she imagined.

She picked up the last of her tools, then fixed Jinshi with a look. I have to make sure this part gets through to him. “What you have to bear, Master Jinshi, I don’t believe I could ever carry. Perhaps that’s why you did what you did.” She took a deep breath, let it out—then grabbed Jinshi by the lapels. “But you will not do it again.” It was a miracle that she didn’t sound enraged. Jinshi awkwardly avoided her gaze.

Never realized I was the nice one, Maomao thought. She looked at the bandits and mentally urged them to give up their life of crime.

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.

Jinshi needed to deal with what had happened—but there was something even more important that required his attention. He asked himself what the demented apothecary would do if she were here.

En’en, I think there’s something wrong with Maomao...” “You’re just now noticing, milady?” As far as Maomao was concerned, they may as well not have been talking. Everything else at that moment seemed trivial compared to her ginseng.

Ordinary people would consider a delivery of a mountain of dead bugs to be nothing short of harassment. Especially when that delivery goes to a young woman.” That left Jinshi speechless. He could only slump his shoulders and slap himself on the forehead.

I’ll bet you could get your hands on some imported medicines here,” offered Ailan. Imported medicines! Maomao very nearly jumped at that opportunity. No! Bad Maomao!

Wait, when would you need to induce vomiting?” “When you’ve taken more than the necessary amount of poison, for example.

Oooh! Your famous poison!” “It’s pesticide!” Maomao snapped. If she let the mistake go once, everyone would start making it, and then there would be no going back.

since Basen had accompanied them last time, he did so again now. His duck was there too. She was practically their mascot at this point.

Maomao looked at Chue. “Miss Chue, do you have a map of the western capital?” “Ha ha!” Lihaku laughed. “You say the strangest things. Who would carry a—” “Here you go!” Chue pulled a map, drawn on parchment, out of the folds of her robes. “Why do you have that?!” Lihaku exclaimed, supplying the quip in lieu of the absent Lahan’s Brother. “Because I’m Miss Chue!” she declared. Indeed, Maomao knew she was; that was why she’d asked. It turned out she’d been right to do so.

The quack doctor was a pudgy, middle-aged man, but in zoological terms he was sort of in the same category as mice or squirrels. He occupied roughly the same place in the hierarchy as Basen’s duck.

Oh, it’s nothing to worry about. I was making pesticide. It’s from experiments with that.” “Experiments? You’re not an insect, young lady!” The quack looked genuinely perplexed. “If it can kill a cat, it’ll work for sure on a bug,” Tianyu interjected.