“Delivery’s here,” Yo echoed, imitating Maomao.
“Well, well, what a sweet young thing you’ve brought with you today,” said the elderly doctor.
“My name is Yo,” she told him. “I just started this year.” Evidently this was the first time they had met.
“We don’t get a lot of young ladies around here. Too many rough-and-tumble types.”
“I’m here,” Maomao said stiffly.
“You and Miss Chue are special cases. In flower terms, I would say you’re an obako and a dandelion.”
So she was in the same category as Chue now?
Dr. Li and the elderly physician were both relatively decent toward young women, so Maomao didn’t worry about having Yo there. If anything, it made her acutely aware that those in charge must have been thinking the same thing when they assigned Maomao to this office.
That was enough chitchat as far as Maomao was concerned. She resumed her delivery.
“When you deliver new medicines, check the date on any medicines left over,” she told Yo. “Put the ones with the oldest date on top, and if they’re too old, throw them out.”
These deliveries were regular affairs, so they didn’t throw too much out. Unlike the rear palace medical office, this was a proper place of business.
I wonder how the quack doctor is doing, Maomao thought.
Luomen was there now, so the rear palace medical office was probably running smoothly. If Maomao had any concerns, they were mostly for the quack doctor’s job. It appeared Luomen had been given some new task, however, and Maomao did worry a little bit about how things would go from here.
She noticed there were no injured patients around at that moment, so without slowing in her work, she decided to broach the subject she’d been wondering about. “Have either of you physicians ever had smallpox?”
Yo looked mildly shocked, but she didn’t stop refilling the medicine.
“The pox? Doesn’t everyone get that?” Dr. Li asked.
“I think you’re thinking of something else,” Maomao replied. He was probably imagining not smallpox, but chickenpox. Most people did get chickenpox when they were children. Maomao wasn’t much clearer on the distinction than Dr. Li was, but smallpox brought you a lot closer to death.
“I have,” said the elderly physician, rolling up one of his sleeves to reveal a red pattern on his arm, visible among the spots on his skin. The marks on his arm were much denser than those on Yo’s.
Presumably he was only so willing to show his scars because he’d had the disease a long time ago, and everyone in this room understood that he was no longer contagious. Dr. Li, just like Maomao and Yo, looked impassively.
“You’re not afraid?” the elderly doctor asked Yo.
“No, sir. I know I can’t catch it from you.”
“That saves me having to explain, then. Excellent.” The physician was relieved by Yo’s attitude. Maomao suspected Yao had long ago chased out any palace ladies who would have quailed at the sight.
“Judging by the extent of your scars, it looks like it was a serious case,” Maomao said.
“I suppose so. They cover half my back as well. It’s not that rare among people of my generation. It was going around at the time, you see. But my first wife looked askance at it.”
“First” wife, huh?
“What about the second?” Maomao asked promptly.
“She’s a good woman. She’s at home, watching over our great-grandchild.”
“Wait...are you feeling lovey-dovey?” Maomao said. The elderly physician only smiled and rolled down his sleeve. “If you’ll forgive me saying so, sir, I’m impressed you survived.”
“That’s fair. At first, we thought it was just chickenpox, but then the symptoms grew more serious. If I hadn’t come from a family of doctors, I’m sure I would have died.”
“I’m afraid I don’t really understand the difference between chickenpox and smallpox,” said Dr. Li, and Maomao nodded.
“Yes, well, they do look very similar, although one is much deadlier than the other. I’ve heard some suggest that the toxins that cause those two diseases must be somehow similar, but not exactly the same.”
The elderly physician opened a desk drawer and took out some tea candies, looking for a little break. He offered them to Maomao and the others; Maomao for one accepted them gratefully. Yo looked hesitant, but since this was a venerable old doctor encouraging her to partake, she couldn’t really say no.
It was only because the factional fighting among the soldiers had calmed down that they were able to enjoy a quiet snack time like this.
“The toxins that cause those diseases,” Maomao breathed.
“Maomao, don’t get any ideas about trying them,” Dr. Li said.
“Of course not, sir,” she answered, albeit slowly, and averted her eyes.
“Not everyone is happy to see smallpox scars, but as a physician, they can have certain advantages,” the elderly doctor said. “For one thing, it shows you the terror of illness firsthand, and for another, it makes it harder for you to catch the same disease.”
“Yes, sir.” The response came not from Maomao, but from Yo. For her, the elderly physician might have seemed a savior of a kind.
I’m glad I brought this up while she was around, Maomao thought.
She’d known, at least, that these were not people who would take smallpox lightly; she would never have raised the subject in front of anyone who was likely to make fun of the scars.
“Then again, as you rise through the ranks, it can be a liability,” the elderly doctor went on. “If you have two physicians with the same qualifications, setting aside any noble background, they’ll take the one with fewer scars.”
Maomao was silent at that. Presently, Dr. Liu was the one in charge of the physicians. He was an excellent doctor, no doubt, but considering their ages, this old man could easily have outranked him. One presumed there were no issues with his abilities or his family background.
Maomao and the others began to feel a bit uncomfortable.
“Well, my dear Liu is a clever man, more gifted than I am, so there’s no problem there. I think I would be too frightened to be His Majesty’s personal physician.”
“His Majesty’s personal physician... I agree, I don’t have the stomach for it. I wouldn’t, no matter how many stomachs I had!” Dr. Li said.
Personal attendant to the Emperor, huh?
They were right; that was a job Maomao would never want. It brought honor with it, certainly, but even more, it brought responsibility. If the Emperor should fall sick or, heavens forbid, die, his physician might well pay with his life. Indeed, Luomen had suffered physical mutilation on account of a medical case involving the Imperial family.
I just hope they wouldn’t punish him again now that they’ve called him back...
Maomao sighed as she poured some tea.
“Oh, yes, that’s right,” the old doctor said, standing up and taking an envelope from atop his desk. “This came for you, Maomao.”
“You, er, don’t think you should have given this to me first thing?”
“My mistake. Us old folks can be so forgetful.”
Maomao took the packet. On the front in large letters was written NOTICE OF REASSIGNMENT.