The Apothecary Diaries Book 5

The Fire-Rat Cloak

Maomao's apothecary shop closed its doors as the lanterns were being lit at the Verdigris House. There was no point doing business after dark—it would only attract unsavory customers, and the lamp oil would be a waste of money, anyway. Maomao totaled up the day's earnings and handed them over to the madam. Keeping large sums of cash in her little shack would attract thieves and burglars. Having the money kept somewhere safe was far better, even if she did have to pay for the privilege. Then she gathered up the coals and the herbs and locked up the cramped little shop.

"All right, we're going home," she announced.

"What, already?" Chou-u groused, but she took him by the scruff of the neck and headed back to their shack. Though it was located just behind the Verdigris House, the walls were riddled with cracks that let in the wind, making it very cold.

Maomao placed the coals among the starter paper in the stove, and when there was a decent fire going, she tossed some kindling on it. Chou-u, feeling the cold, was curled up on his sleeping mat, wrapped in his blanket. Maomao heated some soup in a pot on the stove, stirring gently. It involved a base of dried meat, along with vegetables and kudzu she'd picked in the garden. She even shaved some ginger into it to take the edge off the chill.

"Not going to have any?" she asked.

"Sure am," Chou-u said, trying to shuffle over while still under his blanket like a giant pill bug. Maomao smacked him with a knuckle, but tossed a cotton jacket at him in exchange for taking away his blanket.

I wouldn't mind another winter outfit, Maomao thought. She was being pretty fairly compensated for "bringing up" Chou-u, but she didn't intend to waste the money. Chou-u might grumble, but so long as Maomao was the one getting the cash, the education he would receive was: those who don't work don't eat.

She poured some soup into a chipped bowl and handed it to Chou-u, who sat on a chair with his knees up and sipped at it. "Needs more meat," he said.

"If you want meat, go earn the money for it!" Maomao said. Then she took a sip of the soup herself. They didn't have any congee, but she'd been able to get some bread. She took a bit from their supply and set it beside the soup pot to warm it up. Then she broke it in half and stuffed some simmered vegetables inside. She didn't think the bread tasted particularly good—maybe on account of last year's bad harvest. A poor crop led to poor-quality grain, perhaps.

"You've got money, right, Freckles? Why don't we get some decent food, then?" Chou-u said, reaching for another piece of bread despite his complaining.

"I'm renting the shop from the old lady, moron. Do you have any idea what she charges?"

"Why not find another place, then?"

"Listen, you. It's not as simple as that." Maomao dipped her bread in what remained of her soup and put it in her mouth. She might have been able to lead a slightly richer life, had she so wished. But she had reasons for not doing so. "You're coming with me tomorrow. We're going clothes shopping. You're cold like that, aren't you?"

"Yay!" Chou-u said, tossing up his hands, but the motion threw him clear off his chair. His paralysis left him unable to catch himself, so he tumbled pathetically to the ground.

Maomao looked at him for a moment, her expression cool as she washed her bowl in the water bucket.

The next day, she and Chou-u went to the market, which lined the great thoroughfare that bisected the capital from north to south. The farther north you went, the richer the shops became, while the class and quality declined as you went south. The pleasure district was in the south of the capital, so the first market stalls they found didn't even have awnings; they were just wares laid out on rush mats.