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As you made your way down the steps of the Bubu Pharmacy, you were a mixture of nervous nausea and regret. Recalling his look of surprise, mild confusion and his hesitant acceptance of the small box of chocolates, you cringed internally and implored the Geo Lord to let the ground open up and swallow you. In an attempt to style your way out of your faux pas, you had bluffed that the very obviously handmade chocolates made especially for him had just been a seasonal freebie with the latest delivery of hand-picked mountain herbs you had supplied him. Now you wondered if that had been too subtle. He must have received dozens of presents every week from grateful patients all year round, let alone Valentines gifts from people who had become besotted by his intoxicatingly soothing manner and aesthetic appeal. A man of his intellect was not so dense as to be unaware that he was physically attractive; the manner in which he dressed, styled his hair and applied flattering eye make-up were indication enough of his vanity. There was no reason for either you or your offering to stand out. The sliver of hope you had had was crushed by the reminder that he was charming and kind with everyone he met; all people were alike to him and of equal importance, almost to a fault. So perhaps you had read too much into his interactions with you. Either way, it was too late now and you couldn’t go back in time to change anything. You’d blown it. So it was with a dejected air that you headed to the wharf to get some lunch from one of the food stalls and maybe drown your sorrows in a glass of something.
A few days later another delivery arrived at the Bubu Pharmacy, this time carried by the Sword and Strongbox Secure Transport Agency.
“Where do you need these?” asked the cheerful young courier with a contagious smile, full of energy and mischief.
Herbalist Gui pointed to behind the counter.
“You can bring them straight through to Dr Baizhu. He’s expecting you.”
Balancing the boxes in his arms with the graceful agility of a dancer, Gaming made his way to Baizhu’s consultation room and sighed with a despondent slump of his shoulders. He had no spare hands to knock on the door, and it seemed rude to kick it to get Baizhu’s attention, no matter how gently. As he awkwardly contemplated how to set down his load in the narrow, dark wood-panelled corridor, he heard a soft monotone voice.
“Ah. Box boy.”
Gaming peered around the stack of boxes to see Qiqi in front of him, standing in the corridor, her fingertip on her lip in contemplation.
“Hey Qiqi.” he said with a kind smile, “You couldn’t get the door for me, could you please?”
With a firm nod of compliance, indicating that the order had been received and approved, Qiqi pattered to the door with noiseless steps and gave it a single hard knock, then turned the handle faster than Baizhu could answer for her to come in.
Qiqi immediately led the way into the consultation room, where Baizhu’s mouth momentarily fell open at the sudden influx of visitors tumbling in like a parade, his hand holding a writing brush mid-air.
“O-oh! Hello Gaming!” he said, once it was clear what was happening, “Just over there is fine, thank you.”
Gaming set down the boxes in a corner of the room, as Baizhu rose to his feet and glided over, bringing a glass of water for Gaming to drink while he thoroughly inspected both the integrity and the quality of the merchandise before signing off on it. With a nod of his head to indicate his satisfaction, an awaiting Gaming seamlessly handed him a delivery note to sign as confirmation. Baizhu then gently took the empty glass with a benevolent smile.
“Would you like some tea or a snack? You must be in need of a break.”
“Nah, I’m good thanks.”
“He’s not giving you a choice, simpleton.” said Changsheng.
Gaming laughed and rubbed the back of his neck bashfully as the ruse came into sharp relief – Baizhu knew that he was notoriously careless with his physical wellbeing, so had tried to be a little more subtle about making him stop a while so he could inquire after his health and maybe coax him into disclosing some of his injuries or ailments.
“Ahhh, yeah, I guess a cup of tea would be good actually.” he replied with an awkward laugh.
“Very well, take a seat. I won’t be long.” replied Baizhu, making his way to the kitchen.
While Baizhu was gone, Gaming sat in the chair at Baizhu’s desk, staring around at the walls lined with treatises and the various jars, tins, and boxes of ingredients. He recognised some of the decorative art scrolls on the wall as depicting scenes of Chenyu Vale, as well as a couple of antiques made in the local style.
After a short while, Baizhu returned with tray of tea and set it down on the desk. Seating himself, he then precisely poured each cup and placed one before Gaming, then slid a small plate of sesame cookies across the desk.
“So, how have you been?” asked Baizhu.
It was clear that this was not simply a courtesy, but rather, a loaded question to one of his patients. In his experience, there was a spectrum of character types when it came to seeking medical assistance. Some people were towards the more sensitive end, seeking help for the most trivial of ailments that could pass quite naturally without any intervention, or were hypochondriacs. Whereas, at the other extreme end were those who only sought medical intervention as a last resort, preferring to simply get on with life and push through the discomfort. But they often put themselves at risk in different ways, especially regarding conditions for which prompt early intervention could literally be the difference between life and death.
Perhaps emboldened by his youth and athleticism, Gaming was notorious for being a little reckless with his health. Having tried – and failed – to get him to be more careful, Baizhu had had to settle for simply teaching him first aid and other tricks such as how to lift and carry heavy things without placing too much strain on the body. Baizhu had tried to talk some sense into him by getting him to see the bigger picture; if he injured himself making deliveries, any career as a wushu dancer would be irretrievably curtailed.
While Baizhu was well-spoken and eloquent, the Chenyu Vale accent of his childhood would subconsciously slip out whenever he spoke to anyone of that region, or went back to visit. It was strange how the mind and body worked, almost as if they had a memory independent of the conscious mind.
As they chatted, Gaming appreciatively bit into one of the crisp sesame cookies, washing it down with some tea. In spite of his casual appearance and down to earth approachable personality, he was in fact a connoisseur with a sophisticated palate and a good eye for high quality merchandise, on account of his family being wealthy tea merchants. Wanting to return Baizhu’s generosity, he insisted that he try some winter melon cake in exchange.
Baizhu laughed softly, “That’s quite unnecessary. You are my guest.”
“Oh but you gotta try these ones. They’re totally dope.”
Chuckling in resignation, Baizhu picked up one of the pastries between his long slender fingers from the box offered to him. Not expecting anything particularly out of the ordinary, Baizhu bit softly and neatly into the flaky pastry, ceremoniously holding a napkin below his chin to catch any crumbs. But his eyebrows shot up as the nostalgic flavours bloomed in his mouth, causing his heart to jolt and almost stop.
“This one! Where did you get it?!” he asked, with an uncharacteristic sense of urgency.
“Ahh, see? They’re good right? They’re from a roadside vendor between Mount Mingyuan and Jademouth. But you gotta be clever about it because he’s at a different stop on the road each time. Don’t know where he gets the energy though; he must be about seventy five years old, no exaggeration!” Gaming said with a warm laugh, “He’s been making them even since my father was a kid!”
Baizhu wore an astonished expression, fighting the welling tears in his eyes as so many memories were unlocked at once. Times, people, places and smells that he had not thought about in a long time. They all came rushing back to him like a dam breaking. Was it possible that this was the very same travelling vendor to whom Baizhu used to excitedly skip with a few shining mora coins as a child whenever he passed though his village. Whenever he would hear the familiar song, he would rush to his parents and plead with them with wide pink eyes until they laughingly relented and counted out some money for him before sending him off with an affectionately teasing ruffle of his fluffy hair. Even on the occasions that money was tight, they would always spare him a coin, sometimes foregoing a luxury or essential item of their own in favour of not disappointing their precious son. Of course, the vendor was younger then; it was before the plague after all. But nowadays he surely must have been around seventy or so.
"Does he...sing by any chance?" Baizhu whispered falteringly.
"Yeah! He sings a song about the guy having to buy his wife back."
A lump in Baizhu's throat, he hurriedly threw open the drawer of his desk and pulled out a cash box, the mora clinking as he urgently rummaged for a suitable amount.
“Would you be kind enough to do me a small service?” he said, cupping the coins in one palm and fighting to mask the wavering in his voice and appear calm.
“Sure thing! What can I do for you, doc?”
“Would you be able to buy a few boxes of these for me? I’ll need them freshly delivered in time for an occasion on March 14th. I will remunerate you of course, both for the cakes and the courier fee.”
Gaming pulled out his notebook with a grin and jotted down the order, before waving a dismissive hand at Baizhu.
“Cash on delivery is fine. I know you’re good for it. I’ll buy you a whole bunch and pile them so high you could swim in ‘em.” he laughed, causing Baizhu to laugh softly with mild embarrassment.
“T-thank you. I’m very grateful.” he replied, a little sheepish after his initial overexcitement.
“No problem. I’ll see you then, if not before.” Gaming replied, as they made their way to the door.
“Now don’t forget what I told you.” Baizhu said sternly, as a reminder of his previous medical advice.
“Of course! You don’t have to worry about me.”
Baizhu sighed and shook his head with a helpless smile as he leaned against the doorframe with his arms folded and watched Gaming leave the Pharmacy. He was convinced that Gaming’s enthusiasm for life and determination risked burning him out in the long run, which would only curtail his higher ambitions. He hoped that he wouldn’t overextend himself in a dangerous situation and learn a life-changing lesson. But his concern soon gave way to a mild excitement at the thought of the delivery that awaited him. His heart quickened a little with trepidation; what if you didn’t like them? What if he didn’t manage to see you? The cake was a pretty simple dessert found even at common roadside vendors – what if you didn’t understand that it was intended as a romantic gift because it wasn’t luxurious enough? What if they didn’t get there in time? Well, as far as that last worry was concerned, his mind was at peace – Gaming had never failed to deliver on a promise.
A few weeks later, you climbed the steps to the Bubu Pharmacy, to make this month’s delivery of the quality mountain herbs you had individually selected, handpicked and carefully dried. While you had always loved your work, it was quite a different motivation knowing that they would end up in the hands of the man you loved, albeit from afar, and that he prized them enough to use them in his medicines. You almost wanted to kiss each little dried leaf for luck and envied them the attention and delicate caresses that they would receive from Baizhu’s fingertips as he measured and mixed. They would get to see a private side of him that you would never witness and accompany him late into the night as he worked. But, after last month’s debacle, you were content to drop the delivery off at the main counter with Herbalist Gui rather than face Baizhu directly; even if you were certain he would not be so ungallant as to say anything about it, or treat you any differently in spite of any implicit rejection, you still couldn’t face him. However, to your dismay, Gui was overrun with customers and insisted that you go through directly to Baizhu’s consultation room.
Bearing the precious cargo, your heart raced and fluttered in your tightening chest as you braced yourself to knock on his door. However, your hand lacked confidence and betrayed you; the muted knock then had to be followed by a much firmer one. How was it possible to mess up something as straightforward as knocking on a door? But Baizhu’s ear was attuned to the customary pattern of his staff, and he instantly knew that somebody else was at his door. It was not uncommon for new patients to act timidly, almost as if they felt they were intruding on a sacred domain.
“Come in.” he called out kindly, as if to reassure his visitor that they were indeed welcome.
Swallowing to relieve your dry throat, you turned the handle and then did your best to smile naturally.
“Hello Dr Baizhu.”
“Ah! Hello! Nice to see you again. Do come in.” he replied, beckoning you to his desk and shifting some papers to make room for you to put the box down.
“How are things with you?” you asked, in an attempt to steer the conversation to banal matters.
Yes, just act naturally and then you can get out of here.
"Well, the weather has been rather sorry of late, and we've had more patients coming in as a consequence. Most have been suffering from wind-cold dampness, presumably because they haven't been looking after themselves properly..."
As he spoke, he opened the drawer of his desk, as though looking for something, before continuing.
"Thinking of you and your outdoor escapades, I was worried that you might have been neglecting your health too. I was almost tempted to go and check in on you." he laughed softly, "It seems like my concerns were misplaced, though. Despite how long it's been since we last saw one another, you're still looking as healthy and energetic as ever."
As the colour started to rise on your increasingly warm cheeks at his words, the gentle atmosphere was abruptly interrupted by Changsheng’s irritated voice.
"Instead of just rabbiting on like this, will you hurry up and hand it over! I've already fallen asleep and woken up again, but somehow the cake you were planning on giving them is still in your hand!"
At her words, Baizhu’s face suddenly flushed pink and he averted his eyes from yours, pressing his lips together bashfully and clearing his throat. Still not making eye contact, he tentatively proffered the exquisitely wrapped box, enveloped in luxurious paper, tied with a gold cord and decorated with a dark jade and gold trinket.
Your mouth was slightly agape, being lost for words, as you hesitantly accepted the precious gift.
“Thank you.” you whispered.
Baizhu smiled and shook his head slightly.
“It’s no trouble at all.” he said modestly, with no intention of revealing just how much thought and effort had gone into it, or what this simple cake truly meant to him.
An awkward lull hung in the air, as your mind was thrown into confusion. What could the gift possibly mean? Was it a reciprocation? Or just a business courtesy? The wrapping suggested that he had gone to some trouble and expense. But then again, Baizhu was an affluent and educated man so this level of presentation was probably normal for him, even for the most basic of gifts. But on the other hand-
“I…I have a few extra, if you’d like to have one with me now? I won’t have another patient for another twenty minutes or so.”
“U-uh, sure, that would be lovely.” you replied, taking your rucksack off your shoulders and sitting down.
He nodded softly and got up to make a pot of Chenyu Adeptea, his heart fluttering in anticipation at the idea of sharing a taste of his childhood with you. He couldn’t wait to see your face and how you would react to its rustic and homely flavour. And if you were already familiar with the cake, how would it compare to others you’d had before? As he carefully measured and scooped the leaves into the pot, Changsheng’s continuing lecture berating him for his dillydallying faded in his ears, instead hoping with all his heart that the beloved flavour of his youth would now become a cherished memory for you too, albeit for a different reason.
