Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I’m feeling a craving for some prickly palatial intrigue, a hunger that can clearly only be sated by Maomao and her rambling Apothecary Diaries. This production has so far proven a crunchy mixture of personal and mystery drama, grounding its various inexplicable illnesses in the pragmatic realities of political capital and gender within the rear palace. And all the while, Maomao’s own status has risen precipitously, to the point where two of the emperor’s top courtesans now consider her a trusted confidant.
Our last episode was a particular stunner, benefitting from the tremendous talents of young gun director/AD China and Moaang. In their hands, a production generally reliant on its layouts over its limited animation was able to pull off some gorgeous feats of character acting, realizing the subtlety of Maomao’s professional poise and the tenderness of a mother’s love with equal acuity. We’re probably not in for another standout like that, but I’m excited nonetheless to see how Maomao continues to navigate this treacherous theater. Let’s get to it!
Episode 5
We drop in with an aerial shot of the palace at night. The estate is sprawling but largely horizontal, never really stacking higher than two stories. I wonder if there’s a point to that – subtly protecting the courtesans via the relative anonymity of their quarters, or something else
We once again lean on the aesthetic tools of horror for our cold open, complimenting a man huddling in a corner with an ominous held note. Mystery and horror are close cousins when it comes to their genre mechanics, with the differences between them largely resting in the particulars of the initial narrative disruption and its eventual resolution. Between those peaks of either intellectual revelation or violence, the two genres largely employ the same bag of suspense-fostering tricks
This connection is particularly relevant for Apothecary Diaries, because Maomao is frequently employed to drag narratives from fantastical horror and superstition into the realm of mundane poisons and human motives
His hands appear to be covered in either blood or some kind of rash
“Covert Operations”
Ooh, some solid cuts as we join Jinshi during a morning swordfighting bout
He clearly hasn’t let his desk job weaken his physical aptitude; he’s actually a terror with a blade
A discussion with Gaoshun reveals that it’s been some significant time since he’s interacted with Maomao, but that he’s still clearly preoccupied with her. An efficient way of underlining time’s passage since our last episode
Meanwhile, our girl is rustling around in the undergrowth for mushrooms. Love ya Maomao
Maomao shares some fancy snacks with Xiaolan, who updates her on the latest gossip regarding a palace servant who seduced an allegedly women-hating military officer. Xiaolan provides a necessary role in this story, connecting the aloof and indifferent Maomao with the everyday concerns occupying the palace’s attention. It’s basically the same role played by Sherlock’s Watson or House’s Wilson – such antisocial detectives necessarily require a conduit, a personal companion connecting them to the mundane world. That way their own antisocial nature isn’t tempered through general socialization, allowing a greater contrast between their personalities and the mundane suspects they interact with
She then shares her discovery of the fresh mushrooms with the court doctor. We’re doing a series of relational check-ins here, which makes me wonder if this was originally the beginning of the second light novel
Their mushroom revelry is interrupted by the man from the opening, desperate for a cure for his “curse”
He relates a tale from two nights earlier, of burning a woman’s dress and some sticks during regular trash disposal, and subsequently watching the fire light up in various colors, followed by the appearance of his rash. Easy to see why “curses” would be so prominent in an era before our general understanding of cross-contamination and personal cleanliness. Proper sanitation and waste disposal has saved more lives than any specific medical advancement
Of course, as Maomao explains, even people in this era understand the concept of adjusting fire colors through chemicals for things like fireworks
Next up is Jinshi, who also has a question about chemical reactions regarding various colors, but mostly wants to mooch on her fresh mushrooms
“Find everyone who’s suffered burns on their arms recently.” So these wooden sticks point towards a greater problem, some sort of conspiracy that’s likely using colored fire as signal flares
“Nothing a food taster should be concerned about.” Maomao once again denies her own curious, ambitious nature
A long profile shot gives us our clearest view yet of Gyokuyou’s palace. Quite a remarkable structure, regal and delicate and elegantly appointed
Maomao will apparently be attending a garden party, an occasion the show exploits to offer some exposition regarding the system of power here. There are apparently four upper first-rank concubines, all of whom are contenders for the role of Empress Consort, the one who actually marries our currently unwed emperor
Thus Maomao could easily find herself just a step removed from the emperor’s ear
Gyokuyou’s ladies-in-waiting of course understand this event to be a key battlefield
“It’s a candy made of ginger and oranges.” Maomao seems to have accepted her role as the palace confectioner
She is then conscripted into making pocket warmers to counter the garden’s chill. As she says, tradition can stifle even small innovations – as the only one here who apparently has no reverence for the way things have always proceeded, she’s able to see any number of avenues for improvement
A montage of daily chores carries us closer to the day of the garden party. This very much feels like an “odds and ends” episode, sweeping together little fragments of narrative intended to precede the next major plot event. A natural consequence of adaptation; unless the dramatic rhythm of your source material matches the structural fundamentals of your adapted medium, there will be times when your adaptation either has to cut material to maintain momentum or retain that material and end up feeling a little shapeless
Granted, here these interludes also serve another purpose: spacing out the sequences between reflections on this conspiracy plot, thus making it feel more like a slow-burning mystery thread
Still some solid character acting as Maomao takes a moment to rest. Good attention paid to how her bed folds beneath her, and how that would affect the lay of the shadows surrounding her
With Jinshi’s investigation having turned up no leads, we arrive at the day of the garden party
Lady Gyokuyou “marks” Maomao with a piece of her jewelry, essentially signaling her as an extension of the lady’s power. So this is one of the tools this war will be fought with – gestures of favor, emphasizing the relative prestige of each concubine
We finally see Maomao dressed up for the garden party, revealing she’s actually been faking having freckles all along. A defensive use of makeup, designed to make her seem more plain, and thus less likely to be assaulted or kidnapped. A grim reminder of the violence surrounding them; the palace has its own threats, but women beyond its walls must be even more vigilant
“A buyer can’t tell if you were kidnapped, or just sold off legally so there’s one less mouth to feed.” Maomao’s cynical indifference to the legal nuances of human ownership only emphasizes the barbarity of the emperor’s alleged justice. It’s a good thing she rarely talks politics willingly
“Doesn’t that make you angry?” In contrast, Jinshi seems to still believe in justice. But as this conversation emphasizes, that’s a privilege he can embrace because he is a man – women know this world runs on brute strength, not any sort of higher law. A truth that holds from the back alleys around the brothels to the court of the emperor himself
“Obviously it does. But it’s not your fault.” A cut to Jinshi’s tightened lip emphasizes he cannot so easily discount his own complicity in this system
And in perhaps his greatest moment of sincerity all show, he offers her a hairpin, a sign that she is officially under his protection. He cannot change the path that brought her here, but he will do his best to support her in this life
Of course, Maomao herself doesn’t seem to understand the significance of this gift
And Done
Thus we arrive at the garden party, with all four top-ranking concubines and the emperor himself in attendance! This episode started slow but really ramped up by the end there, gesturing towards a potentially deadly conspiracy while also challenging the social dynamics that define life both within and beyond the palace. The removal of Maomao’s freckles basically served as a sort of induction into the formal drama of palace life – she is now classified as a “beautiful young maiden,” a designation that carries both political capital and clear danger. As such, it felt appropriate for her to finally offer her own unvarnished thoughts on this patriarchal society, and at last forge a personal, mutually accommodating bond with Jinshi. We’re clearly expanding our scale of drama here, and I’m eager to see how Maomao will conduct herself as an established political actor!
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