“Changsha,” Maomao said, turning to her junior, “would you be so kind as to eat dinner by yourself tonight?”
“Of course.”
Maomao gave Changsha the ingredients she’d purchased and then got into the carriage.
The carriage rolled into the Empress’s pavilion. As it went, Hongniang peppered Maomao with questions.
“Do you know why we’ve summoned you?” she asked.
“Does it have something to do with the Emperor?” The high officials wouldn’t quit jabbering about the surgery. There was no way Empress Gyokuyou didn’t know about it.
“That’s right. I suppose, then, you have a sense of what you’re going to be asked.”
Maomao thought about what a patient’s family would most want to know. “I’m guessing you want to find out from me whether what the doctors have said is true.”
“Exactly,” Hongniang replied.
“Of course, you couldn’t have asked my superiors for permission before you brought me here.”
From Maomao’s perspective, talking too openly about her work could lead to disciplinary measures.
“Of course. We couldn’t have you coordinating your stories.”
I have my own position to think of, you know...
Maomao might not like it, but here and now there was no way she could refuse. There was simply too vast a gulf between an ordinary palace lady and the Empress.
Hongniang led Maomao out of the carriage.
The leaves are red, she noted, realizing how deep into autumn they now were. She’d been so busy recently that she had hardly noticed the changes in the season.
Hongniang took her to a room with a guard standing outside. She motioned to him, and he opened the door.
Empress Gyokuyou was within, reclining on a couch. In addition to her ladies-in-waiting, whom Maomao recognized, there was another young woman with red hair much like the Empress’s. The young lady sent by Gyoku-ou, perhaps. Publicly, she was described as Gyokuyou’s niece.
That’s the girl Tall Senior was talking about.
Maomao was no Tall Senior, but she could tell that all the ladies in this room, the Empress not least of all, were beautiful. It wasn’t just their looks—the way they did their makeup and the way they comported themselves was ineffably refined. It struck Maomao all the more because she’d spent all her time of late in workplaces full of unwashed guys.
There was one other young lady there, with braids and narrow eyes. She was plain-faced and tall, and looked to be in her mid-thirties, like Hongniang.
Is she from the west?
With her suntanned skin and slightly unusual clothing, she looked to Maomao like someone from I-sei Province.
Who’s that?
Even as she pondered the question, Maomao bowed deeply.
“It’s been such a long time. How are you doing?” Gyokuyou asked, and only when the Empress had spoken did Maomao raise her head.
“Yes, far too long, milady. I’m doing much the same as always.”
“So I see. Have a seat.”
“Yes, ma’am. Thank you.” Maomao sat in a chair.
Yinghua and the other two girls were looking at Maomao fondly. They gave her little waves; she wanted to wave back, but since Hongniang was there, she thought better of it.
Hongniang noticed what the girls were up to. “All right, surely you have something else to keep you busy. These two have something very important to talk about, so if you would kindly leave?”
“Awww,” Yinghua said.
“Don’t ‘awww’ me!” snapped Hongniang.
“Yes, ma’am!” all three replied in unison.
The rapport between Hongniang and the three of them seemed alive and well. Empress Gyokuyou watched the exchange with evident amusement.
Then the three young ladies and Gyokuyou’s niece left the room. The unfamiliar girl with the braids stayed. Hongniang locked the door, while the guard remained outside to make sure no one listened in.
Empress Gyokuyou was the first to speak. “I assume Hongniang has filled you in. My apologies for dispensing with the pleasantries, but could you tell me what his condition is?”
“It’s the doctors’ opinion that he is already beyond treatment with medicine. His symptoms suggest a high probability of appendicitis, which is when the organ called the appendix becomes inflamed. If it gets worse, the appendix could rupture, scattering the filth inside it all throughout his body. That would invite further illnesses and drastically increase the likelihood of his death. As such, they believe it’s necessary to do surgery and remove the appendix before the situation gets any worse.”
Maomao thought fast as she spoke, but she answered honestly—she decided that there was no way that Dr. Liu or Luomen had given the Empress a false diagnosis; they had no reason to do so.
Everyone had grown skeptical toward the doctors, even Gaoshun. From the looks on the faces of Gyokuyou and the others in the room, Maomao suspected she was right: They had heard this before.
“And removing the appendix... That involves cutting into his stomach, doesn’t it?” Gyokuyou asked.
“Yes, ma’am.”
“Will the surgery succeed?” She sounded worried. Maomao could tell she wasn’t just thinking about her son’s future, but was genuinely concerned for the Emperor.
The relationship between the Emperor and his Empress was not one that could be described as love or romance. Yet nonetheless, it was not as if Empress Gyokuyou felt nothing for His Majesty at all.
If only that had been anything like enough to make him better.
“The physicians are doing everything they can to make sure it will,” Maomao answered.
“But it could fail, couldn’t it?”
Maomao stopped and thought for a moment. It was hard to say what would be the best way of explaining this. Finally she said, “In his current condition, the success rate is likely better than ninety percent. However, it will decline as time goes on.”
“Why?”
Maomao tried to put the matter as simply as she could. “As I said, if the appendix bursts and sends filth everywhere, it can cause other illnesses. Meaning that the longer we wait, the more this becomes a matter of life and death.”
“All right. And what other causes of failure might there be?”
“It’s possible that toxins could enter the surgical site after the procedure and cause it to become infected.”
“Toxins? You mean he might be poisoned?”
“No, ma’am. It’s like... Suppose you scraped your knee and didn’t wash it off. Toxins could enter your body through the wound and cause it to become infected. It’s the same principle. One shouldn’t touch a wound with dirty hands, for example—but patients often inadvertently touch the surgical site and introduce toxins that way.”
Maomao was as honest about the possible failures as she was about everything else. Trying to hide anything would only make her seem suspicious.
“One last question, then,” said Gyokuyou. “If the physicians are wrong and it isn’t appendicitis, what will you do then?”
“We’ll just have to cross that bridge when we come to it. However, I don’t think it would mean that the surgery was in vain.”
If they could physically see where the illness was, that would be worth a lot. Moreover, if they could even just remove the filth from his belly, it would almost certainly contribute to the lessening of his symptoms. They might or might not be able to treat the fundamental problem then and there, but it would be better than waiting around.
Empress Gyokuyou, Hongniang, and the woman with the braids looked at each other.
“Did I say anything that contradicted the other medical staff?” Maomao asked.
“No,” Gyokuyou responded, a troubled smile on her face. “I don’t suppose you’ve all agreed on a story, have you?”
“If we had, I might be better able to dissemble about the rate of failure for the surgery.”
“True enough.” Gyokuyou sighed and looked at the braided girl. “You heard her. Would you be so kind as to explain to Father, Honored Elder Sister?”
Elder sister...
So she finally knew who the woman with braids was—one of Gyokuyou’s many half-siblings.
“I will,” the woman replied. “However, I take no responsibility for how those around him may receive this.”
“Meaning you think Father will understand.”
The other woman nodded silently. It was obvious from the conversation how intelligent she was.
“Sigh... I’m sorry to have called you so suddenly, Maomao,” said Gyokuyou.
“Not at all, ma’am,” Maomao replied, relieved to find that she hadn’t offered anything mistaken.
“You haven’t had dinner yet, have you? Since you’re here, why not eat before you go?”
Maomao reflexively put a hand to her tummy.
I want to! Oh, how I want to...
But if she ate here, her careful, correct explanation would be in vain.
The meal might look like a bribe.
Maomao bit her lip hard and bowed her head. “I’m terribly sorry, milady. In fact, I’ve had my meal already.”
Then she left the room, trying to keep her stomach from growling.