She put a piece of paper on the table. (Maomao couldn’t help noticing how crumpled it was.) “I confess, I couldn’t believe the consort would write such a thing!” The woman leaned dramatically—almost theatrically—against the table.
When Maomao saw what was written on the page, she could only frown.
“A love letter!” the former chief lady-in-waiting announced. “To someone who is not His Majesty!”
The page was covered in pretty, girlish characters—and a plenitude of sweet nothings and proclamations of love.
So that’s why she took us on the scenic route, Maomao thought, finally understanding why the attendant had led them to the wrong room before finally bringing them to Consort Lishu. She hadn’t been playing a nasty little joke—she’d been buying time.
The former chief lady-in-waiting called for an official who was outside the room. Maomao wasn’t sure why she would be so eager to do that—the consort’s infidelity would have consequences for her ladies-in-waiting as well. Above all, the question of whether the letter was really Lishu’s bothered Maomao, but the handwriting had already been examined and determined to be hers.
Maomao and the doctors were shooed out of the building before they had a chance to question the consort. It seemed the former chief lady had wanted to act before Maomao could do her examination, but the delaying tactic hadn’t gained enough time for that. Instead, one might say, she’d resorted to force.
Maomao and her companions decided to go back to the palace medical office. Maomao was an outsider, while Luomen and his two fellow physicians were none of them forceful personalities