No, wait...
It was only being made to look decent. She could see traces of brushstrokes on his skin; they’d used whitening powder that matched his skin tone.
You probably wouldn’t spot it from a distance.
Evidently, they were making every effort to ensure that his advisors wouldn’t notice that there was something wrong. She suspected it was Gaoshun doing most of the work.
She was still observing His Majesty when they heard footsteps.
“I apologize for being late,” Jinshi said, entering with his hands clasped and his head bowed. Ever since he had given up his eunuch persona, there was only one person to whom he bowed the head.
“Have a seat,” said the Emperor. In essence, Jinshi was the Emperor’s guest, and Maomao was Ah-Duo’s. That would explain why Ah-Duo had been the one to greet her.
“We have no alcohol or anything to eat with it. There’s juice and there’s plain water. Which would you like?” Ah-Duo picked up the two bottles. Maomao made to pour for her, but she shooed her away; tonight, Maomao was a guest.
“Juice,” said Jinshi.
“Water, if you’d be so kind,” answered Maomao. She dearly would have liked to get a bit drunk right at that moment, but if there was no alcohol then that option was off the table. She would go with the plain water.
Once their glasses were filled, the Emperor cut to the chase. “Let me explain why you’ve been summoned here.”
“Yes, sir,” Jinshi answered. He was the only one to speak; Ah-Duo and Maomao remained silent.
Ah-Duo already knew, Maomao suspected. For her part, Maomao wouldn’t—couldn’t—speak until she was given permission.
“I suppose by now the physicians have told you that I’m cool toward the idea of tomorrow’s surgery.”
“Yes, sir.”
“Just to be clear, I’m not being stubborn. I simply told them that I wanted to attempt the surgery only after I had done what I have to do.”
This meeting, she took it, was what he had to do.
“They say the surgery has an excellent chance of success. Is that not so, O Lakan’s daughter?”
“Yes,” Maomao said slowly—she wasn’t thrilled with being referred to that way, but she answered. “We think it may be better than ninety percent.”
“And what if we were to simply allow the current situation to continue without surgery?”
Not happening.
Maomao straightened up. “If your pain were better than it has been, there might not be a problem. But the physicians appear to have judged that that’s not the case.”
She couldn’t ask the Emperor for his subjective opinion—if His Majesty said it didn’t hurt, she would be obliged to believe him.
“What will happen if the condition gets worse?” the Emperor asked.
Maomao tried to answer as precisely as she could. “If it’s appendicitis, meaning an organ near the cecum is inflamed, then a body part called the appendix can get infected and burst. The filth can be scattered all through your abdomen, causing other diseases, which generally leads to death—at least that’s what our cases so far have shown.”
“Very well.”
The Emperor proceeded to pepper her with questions: What if it wasn’t appendicitis? How would they treat it? Was surgery absolutely necessary?
Maomao answered all the questions just as she had for Empress Gyokuyou. She was helping the Emperor and Jinshi to reaffirm what they knew, and Ah-Duo, perhaps, to hear for the first time.
Ah-Duo is clearly being treated as not part of the inner circle on this.
She seemed to know the general situation, but not to have been told the details. The fact that she was sitting here anyway left Maomao unable to shake her anxiety.
“Mm. It would appear they’ve taught you your job very well,” the Emperor said.
Maomao had presumably told him exactly the same thing as the doctors. She was relieved: If she hadn’t been able to explain the situation, he might have decided that the palace ladies were nothing more than pretty accessories in the medical office.
No, wait. I can’t go feeling relieved here.
The really important question now was: What was the Emperor thinking?
“As you can see, the very serious, very honest, very stubborn doctors refused to tell me unequivocally that this will help. I don’t doubt that they’ll do their best, of course, but I think we should be considering every possibility.”
“Please don’t speak of such ill-starred things, sir,” Jinshi said.
“Ill-starred? Mm, perhaps. But Zui, how many times in these past years do you think my advisors have come to me complaining that you were simply using your little prophecy of an insect plague to raise taxes?”
“That plague did in fact occur, did it not, sir?” Jinshi asked, looking put out. Zui must be his given name—the true name of an Imperial family member, which those below were not ordinarily privileged to hear.
“So it did. Which is why it shouldn’t surprise you that I, too, wish to think of what could happen.”
He’s got him there.
The Emperor looked thoroughly pleased with himself, but he was clutching his abdomen. Maomao realized he was trying to get through the pain.
“I want to leave a written record of what should be done if the worst should happen to me,” he said.
What, doesn’t he have a will?
Maomao came dangerously close to letting the words out of her mouth; she clamped her jaw shut in the nick of time.
“For that reason, Zui, I wish to get your opinion.”
“My opinion on what, sir?”
“Do you wish to succeed me, Zui?”
If Maomao had had something to eat or drink at that moment, she would have spit it out. Sadly, there was no food there, and she hadn’t touched her water.
Jinshi’s expression didn’t shift. “You have the Crown Prince, sir.”
“A child not even five years old. It will be years before he can be involved in politics.”
“You have Sir Gyokuen.”
“Gyokuen is an old man.”
“And your other family members?”
Jinshi deftly parried each objection. Maomao had been starting to think she could forget about the stomach medicine she’d brought, but from the twitch in Jinshi’s cheek, she realized she would need it after all.
“Do you not think the Crown Prince would become a puppet for my maternal relatives?” the Emperor asked.
“I couldn’t say. I suspect, however, that it might bring some favor to the west.”
It was plausible: Gyokuen had roots in I-sei Province. If the Gyoku clan were to gain power, trade with the west might come to be seen as a higher priority.
“The Crown Prince is still young. He might yet succumb to illness,” the Emperor said. He certainly didn’t hesitate to say things others might take to be unlucky.
Please don’t talk about this, Maomao thought. Now her stomach was starting to hurt.
“There’s Consort Lihua’s child,” Jinshi suggested. “In terms of pure accomplishments, there’s no one more suited to be the mother of the nation than Consort Lihua.”
Maomao shared Jinshi’s estimation of Lihua. She might be more likely to pay heed to the whole country rather than just the west, as Empress Gyokuyou might.
“Yoh, please. Don’t exercise Yue so.”
It was Ah-Duo who called the Emperor “Yoh.” Granted, it was just the four of them there, but still—Yoh? Was that something to call the sovereign of the entire nation? Maomao felt goosebumps rise on her skin. If there had been anybody else listening, the name would certainly have been interpreted as a mark of profound disrespect. Even “Yue” alone should have been a source of hesitation.
“You should come out and say it. You wish that little prince were alive. Say what you really think—that it’s my fault he’s dead,” Ah-Duo said.
Forget goosebumps; Maomao thought she was about to grow feathers.
All she could do was let a thousand-yard stare take over her eyes. I just want to go home and eat dinner. Too much trouble to make it myself, though. I want to eat one of En’en’s meals.
“No one is saying that,” the Emperor replied, but his beard was quivering.
“And yet, if I’d done everything right, there wouldn’t have been a problem, would there?” Ah-Duo sounded uncharacteristically self-critical. It didn’t sound right coming from her; she was usually brimming with confidence and bravado.
To Maomao, it sounded as if she were saying: If only I hadn’t switched those children.
I guess His Majesty must know about that.
Maomao knew too. The only one who didn’t was the man himself—Jinshi.
“The child would have grown, become a man, and no doubt a fine one at that. Not one who would have banished a brilliant doctor just to lash out. Think how many children have died who might have lived full lives if that doctor had been there to help.”