Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m eager to get back to the intimate intrigues of the rear palace, as we join Maomao and her fast-proliferating entourage for a fresh episode of The Apothecary Diaries. Having somewhat accidentally ingratiated herself with two of the emperor’s top concubines, Maomao has recently been tasked with a new responsibility: joining the lady Gyokuyou at an approaching garden party, wherein all four of the highest-ranking concubines will vie for the treasured title of empress.
This is all a source of consternation and complaint to Maomao, of course. From the start, she has mostly just resented the fortune and fame her talents have brought her, preferring to quietly wait out her terms of servitude as a low-level washwoman. But though she frequently laments her increased responsibilities, she is in truth incapable of lurking in the shadows – from her curiosity to her empathy to her industriousness to her sense of righteousness, too much of Maomao seems born for the spotlight to forever avoid its gaze. Our last episode offered a clear visual metaphor for her ascension into palatial prominence, as she wiped away the false freckles that embodied her desire for anonymity, and in turn received a pledge from Jinshi that he would protect her on this strange battlefield. Exposure is inherently dangerous for women, as the cruel assumptions underpinning this royal culture constantly attest. Can Maomao maintain her defiant identity now that she’s risen to the main stage? Let’s find out!
Episode 6
The imagery of the OP seems all the more pointed now that we know her freckles are an intentional disguise. They were a shield she employed to avoid notice – but as this OP seems to imply, she must eventually learn to wield beauty, confidence, and the nuances of palace etiquette as expertly as she manages her creams and potions. A convincing performance of traditional feminine power can theoretically be a shield as well, as implied through her palace persona wrapping her arms defensively around the original Maomao
We begin with handmaidens gossiping about another of the four top concubines, the particularly young-looking one
“It’s not like it’s going to kill her.” Much of Maomao’s investigation has involved navigating this awkward realm where propriety demands falsehood – like the handmaiden who kept acquiring poisonous makeup because she didn’t take the danger seriously, many threats are disregarded simply because they pertain to or challenge elements of courtly etiquette that the rear palace deems sacrosanct. Maomao’s lack of respect for such conventions is a major part of her power
We then jump to another foolishly rigid custom, as Maomao’s fellow handmaidens cling together to fend off the cold, because it’d be unthinkable to alter the plans for a garden party just because the weather is absurdly hostile
“Couldn’t we get a tent or something?” And there’s Maomao right on cue, pining for common sense in the face of this foolishness
“This arrangement seems intended to instill rivalry between the four concubines.” Maomao’s lack of respect for convention in the abstract also makes her more likely to sense the hidden dimensions of such performances. Her main weakness is she tends to be so blunt and disrespectful that she undercuts her own ability to manage the tides. Just because these conventions aren’t worthy of her respect doesn’t mean they don’t possess power in their own right!
Excellent unimpressed look from Maomao as she observes the proceedings
The Empress Dowager is apparently very young, and gave birth to another sickly son alongside the current emperor. Her youth emphasizes again what role even these allegedly powerful women are ultimately resigned to
Meanwhile, Lady Lihua’s handmaidens have already begun talking trash about Gyukuyou’s team. As the Lihua saga demonstrated, they seem particularly caught up in the superficial values and rivalries of the rear palace
Their arguing reveals that Maomao’s disguise works; she appears so different now that she isn’t even recognized by Lihua’s handmaidens
We learn the Virtuous Consort Lishu is only fourteen years old, while the Pure Consort Ah-Duo is thirty-five, a fairly advanced age for a role that, as the Empress Dowager demonstrates, is most fundamentally about propagating the royal line
Apparently they were once daughter- and mother-in-law, as the Pure Consort was previously a concubine for the preceding emperor. So one would presume she’s more of a trusted elder family member to the current emperor
We also learn Lishu was made a consort at nine. Good lord
Oh my god, it was actually Lishu who was the previous emperor’s concubine. The cruel extremes of a culture where women are essentially property and youth is the measure of their value
Huh, I was wondering about that. Maomao actually points out that Lishu’s pink dress clashes with Lady Gyokuyou’s generally pink aesthetic – the young, uncertain contender is essentially picking a fight with her most distinguished competitor. A choice that emphasizes her youth, insecurity, and likely overconfidence
Maomao attempts to offer aid to the crystal pavilion handmaidens in the form of warming rocks, but they’re all terrified of her. Her pragmatism once again clashes against the suspicion and adversarial culture of the palace
She deliberately avoids being informed of the “hidden meaning” of being offered jewelry – I suppose Jinshi himself is another of her weaknesses, as her general curiosity shifts to incurious disdain when it comes to discussions regarding him
Then a courtier named Lihaku offers her a lovely coral brooch
Next up is Lady Lihua, who places a pin in Maomao’s hair while flanked by her entire battalion of handmaidens. The fact that she offered this gift in such grandiose style only emphasizes its significance; she is officially declaring she also considers Lady Gyokuyou’s Maomao a respected member of her entourage
In typical Maomao fashion, she elects to tuck the competing pins in her dress rather than boldly declare all her allegiances
Excellent goofy half-smile from Maomao as she savors the taste-testing to come
“I guess I’m the only one who enjoys eating poison.”
Maomao’s close reflections on the meals reveal how even cooking can be politics; swapping an ingredient from the emperor’s favorite dish might be an honest mistake, or it might be a way of covertly attacking one or another of the concubines. There’s definitely room for drama in digging into Maomao’s actual job as a taste-tester, rather than relying on her general medicinal knowledge
Yep, seems like that’s actually the case here – we see that Lishu is terrified of tasting this altered dish, which presumably links in with that “it’s not like it’s going to kill her” line from earlier, implying she’s actually deathly allergic to this meal. But to refuse the emperor’s meal might be its own kind of death sentence
Maomao is resplendent in soft colors and motes of light as she savors a poisoned soup
Jinshi being more concerned about the poison than Maomao herself seems to echo their general relationship. Maomao is intelligent, but not necessarily wise; her blunt affectation points towards the larger issue of her not taking court politics all that seriously. But Jinshi understands it’s only a short step between basking in the sunlight of this false peace and being destroyed for stepping outside your boundaries
“I prefer him like this, somewhat.” While Maomao’s formal makeup has drawn her closer to Jinshi’s world, his own disheveled state brings him closer to the sincerity Maomao prefers
Maomao asks Jinshi to bring Lady Lishu in for questioning. Once again, she demonstrates a frankness that seems to underline her inexperience, as she drools over Jinshi but scoffs at Maomao’s appearance. You gotta hold your cards closer than that, Lishu
As expected, Lishu suffered an allergic reaction to the meal. Classic Holmesian detective work here, as Maomao immediately notices her scratching at her arm
Her sharp eyes also note the reaction of Lishu’s own food tester, that hint of fear as Maomao draws closer to the truth. When it comes to her preferred field of battle, Maomao understands the importance of subtlety and significance of small tells – it just seems her disdain for courtly etiquette makes her act sloppier when it comes to foreign territory
Maomao essentially scares Lishu’s food tester straight, hanging on that repeated refrain of “it could be deadly” that’s ostensibly regarding Lishu’s own health, but clearly intended to underline the consequences for the food tester herself if something were to go wrong. For the food testers, the only thing worse than consuming poison is actually missing the poison
“I am of lowly birth. Please don’t touch me.” With the garden party over, Maomao again retreats behind her usual shield of attempting to be overlooked. And yet her frank, “low class” nature is actually something Jinshi appreciates about her
An intriguing sparring match as Jinshi attempts to extract more information from her. She clearly only sees danger in being more honest with him, both for herself and for the guilty party she’s protecting, but Jinshi is understandably frustrated by her continued lack of faith in him
And Done
Thus Maomao manages to survive the garden party, having imbibed a bit less poison than she would have wished, but also affirmed a number of informal alliances both old and new. Our apothecary was clearly out of her element among the elaborate ceremonies and puffed-up officials of the court, and that sense of misalignment seemed to voice itself through her deliberate, almost petty efforts to reassert her low birth and distance from Jinshi. But disdaining the values and mannerisms of court life does not make her immune to their consequences – even with all her gifts, she will have to gain fluency in this nest of vipers’ dialect if she wishes to survive.
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