Time for the butchering.
The air had grown considerably warmer, and the butterbur was just about to go to seed and become inedible when Maomao was led to a gloomy place.
"Well, this is it at last, I suppose."
The one cracking that joke was Ten'yu.
He was about the only one with any composure; the apprentice physicians around them had all gone pale. Every so often they would glance at Maomao with bewildered expressions, wondering why she was there, but never said it aloud.
"She must be getting some special treatment from someone, eh?"
All except Ten'yu.
He seemed like a frivolous sort, but he had plenty of nerve. When it came to butchering livestock, he was probably the most composed of them all. His book-learning was inferior to the other apprentice physicians, but when it came to practical skills, his composure put him above the rest.
"Special treatment, is it?"
There was no particular reason to talk, but this gossipy man apparently could not settle down without chatting with someone. Compared to the other physicians who were tense and on edge, he tended to direct his words at Maomao.
"If you're getting special treatment anyway, could you put in a word for me to get one of those white physician's coats too?"
"That wouldn't be possible, would it, Consort?
"
(No, my name is Maomao.)
Ten'yu deliberately got her name wrong on purpose.
Since correcting him was too much trouble, she left it be.
Still, she could see what Ten'yu was getting at.
(Special treatment, huh... Can't really argue with that, I suppose.)
Under normal circumstances, Maomao would never have found herself among the physicians, walking down a dim corridor. As for where it led — to the room where those sentenced to death were kept. They took a special passage so no one would see the physicians heading to the morgue together.
What did Jinshi want Maomao to do?
(Did he have some scheme in mind?)
Perhaps it was simply that having a wider range of Maomao's medical expertise would prove convenient — or perhaps not.
The man whose face alone was heaven's greatest masterpiece lacked the substance to match it. No — that was putting it wrong. His inner self suffered from an inferiority complex in comparison to his appearance, and the two were out of balance.
Perhaps that was why. He was capable of surprisingly ruthless behavior. When she had been in the rear palace, he had used his looks to keep the consorts and ladies-in-waiting in line. More recently, there had been the game of Go against the eccentric military strategist.
(That had been ruthless.)
He was the sort who would not hesitate to use any means necessary to achieve his goals.
Was this push to have Maomao treated as a physician along the same lines?
(She had been treated as a convenient tool from the start, after all.)
She didn't much care anymore, and besides, this was exactly what Maomao wished for.
While she turned these thoughts over, they arrived at the morgue. The damp air clung to her skin.
"Over here."
Liu The physician pointed at the dark door at the back. With a groaning creak, he pulled open the heavy door, and the dampness grew stronger still.
(There's a smell of alcohol in here.)
For a sake-lover like Maomao, it should have been a pleasant smell, but she couldn't bring herself to want a drink. In the center of the room stood a single bed, and upon it lay a completely naked man. Around his neck, the marks of a rope were clearly visible.
This was the body of a criminal who had been hanged.
The smell of alcohol was presumably from wiping down the corpse.
"Put on the apron. Try not to get it too dirty."
Maomao put on the apron she was handed. She was also given a white triangular cloth. It wasn't for wrapping her hair — it was meant to cover the lower half of her face.
"I'll be making the incisions. Watch carefully and memorize each part as I go."
In Physician Liu's hand was a small dissection knife.
"Don't you dare forget any of this."
A threatening tone.
Advance preparation Taking notes was forbidden. In fact, what Physician Liu was attempting to teach here was something that simply shouldn't be happening. There was no choice but to memorize everything on the spot and leave.
(Ethics or the advancement of medicine?)
Keeping it discreet was likely the compromise the physicians had reached.
The sharp little knife slid smoothly into the distended abdomen of the corpse. Blood didn't gush out, but that didn't mean the flesh was tough either. They must have chosen a body that had already passed rigor mortis.
The organs, slowly split open and spread apart, were far easier to compare than those of freshly slaughtered livestock. However, dealing with an actual human corpse meant the rawness of it was on another level. Even the others, accustomed to working with other animals, had one or two people covering their mouths.
"This is the heart. No matter what, don't cut the large blood vessels connected to it."
"Stomach, small intestine, large intestine. The digestive organs. You've processed intestines into ground meat plenty of times."
They'd been made to do that as part of making effective use of slaughtered livestock.
"Reproductive organs. When a female criminal is brought in, call me immediately. Needless to say, the shape is different."
As if Maomao would be surprised just from looking at male reproductive organs at this point.
"Can you tell what illness this person had before death?"
Physician Liu directed the question at her.
(What illness, he says...)
The corpse had been dead for several days. At this point, it was difficult to judge from skin color. There seemed to be patchy discoloration in places.
It was her first time seeing internal organs up close as well.
If pressed to say something...
"The liver, perhaps?"
Since no one else answered, Maomao spoke up. Being too forward wasn't ideal, but if she didn't answer the question, things wouldn't proceed.
"Why do you think so?"
"Compared to other animals, the color and shape of the liver look poor. Also, the skin has yellowish patches throughout. If it's jaundice, there's a high likelihood of liver damage."
Yao The same symptoms.
"I'll pass you on a technicality. This one got rowdy from drinking too much. Caused a huge scene at a shop, got into a fight with other customers, and killed someone. Then killed his own mother when she tried to stop him."
That meant execution by hanging.
"Compare it with a healthy liver and it's easy to see, but this one is inflamed. Alcohol is the most likely cause, but occasionally infections can spread through blood. So be careful not to injure your hands. Poison can enter through a wound and make you sick."
His tone was threatening at every turn, so even Tianyou didn't dare crack jokes.
Maomao stared at the dissected corpse with ravenous attention, determined not to miss a single word from the stern medical official.
When the special lesson ended, she changed quickly and headed straight for the bathhouse.
"Hahh."
It was past noon. The sun was still smiling cheerfully.
The water was a touch too hot, but the place was nearly empty, making it blissful for Maomao.
She had been told she could go straight home today, so she washed her hair thoroughly as well, scrubbing away the gloomy atmosphere that clung to her.
The ability to soak in the tub and think of nothing at all was precious.
(It's a shame I couldn't record any of it.)
If she put it all in writing, it would become forbidden literature.
(Come to think of it.)
Maomao remembered the forbidden texts that Luomen had kept hidden.
(Dad, there's no need to write it all down. It's not like you'd forget.)
She thought of her extraordinary adoptive father. If they were forbidden texts that no one else could see, there would have been no need to go out of his way to preserve them.
(I wonder if something happened in the West.)
Curiosity flickered through her mind.
Her father had studied abroad for years and was arguably the most capable physician in the country, but he rarely spoke of the past.
(He was suddenly called back to his homeland, and then they made him a eunuch — I suppose it's no wonder he doesn't have fond memories.)
As she let out a sigh, a group of young women entered the bath.
"Hey, are you really going to apply?"
"Yeah. I've got to apply."
Maomao pricked up her ears, wondering what they were talking about.
"But haven't there been any recent openings? The recruitment for palace ladies?"
"That's exactly why. Now that the numbers have thinned, it's the perfect opportunity."
(Palace lady recruitment?)
Maomao furrowed her brow.
Ever since the incident with the concubine's clan, the rear palace had been on a downward trend. If new palace ladies were to be recruited, it would likely only be when a new consort was to be admitted.
"Everyone keeps talking about the Crown Prince this and that, but His Majesty currently has two sons. There's still room to aim for a position."
What an ambitious young woman.
(It's good to dream big.)
As Maomao nodded, droplets fell from her wet bangs.
(Come to think of it,) Jinshi had been the one managing the rear palace, but was he still doing so?
(If so, that would be a pain.)
Maomao splashed as she stood up and headed toward the changing room.