Hello folks, and welcome back to Wrong Every Time. Today I am eager to return to the imperial palace, and check back in on the continuing adventures of our dear drug-dealing Maomao. Having ingratiated herself into the rear palace’s upper echelon through her apothecarial know-how and generally keen intellect, she now finds herself in the unfortunate position of being Jinshi’s top field operative, an agent he can employ in situations too delicate for his own imposing presence.
Of course, Maomao being Maomao (gosh her name is fun to say), she’s still going to bring her own rebellious spirit and sense of moral responsibility to her assignments. Thus she ended up holding her tongue through the conclusion of last episode’s drama, as Concubine Fuyou demonstrated the unique peculiarities of back palace politics. By suffering the “disgrace” of being offered to a soldier as a gift, Fuyou was actually able to find freedom with the man she loved, while avoiding the greater sin of directly refusing the emperor’s company. Power works in interesting ways here; like Maomao herself, the concubines are both elevated and imprisoned, fearful of drawing either too much or too little attention. It’s a delicate balance of social performance and backstage plotting, and really the perfect venue for Maomao to strut her stuff. Let’s see what she gets up to next!
Episode 4
This OP really strikes the right tone for this show. A big band performance fronted by a frantic vocalist, like a gala dance staged over a pit of fire. Perfectly evokes both the luxury and the danger of Maomao’s station
Poison also serves as a fine general metaphor for the way power is expressed in the rear court – all smiling faces hiding deadly intent, like a delicious meal laced with a fatal ingredient
We open on one more disruption to the established pecking order, as Lady Lihua’s attendants complain that Maomao is attempting to feed her such “lowly” food. Part of Maomao’s power is that she can move between social rankings according to the needs of her assignments, but there is a limit to that
“Yikes. What a pain.” These attendants are entirely preoccupied with details of presentation that basically have no meaning to Maomao. Medicine doesn’t care about looking fancy – it either works or it doesn’t
Ooh, some really delicate character acting as we see Maomao actually perform her duties as poison tester. There’s a unique rigidity and flow to her movements – she moves smoothly between a series of discreet poses, as efficiently as possible. You can tell she has practiced this, and also that she wants to be done with it swiftly
Maomao is at last presented with a request from the emperor himself
“Famous? I have a bad feeling about this.” In spite of her intentions, Maomao’s fame has only grown
He asks her to look into the health of Concubine Lihua. Presumably her favored position demands a greater degree of fanfare and servility than Maomao’s prior tasks, thus prompting the clash of our opening scene. Even within the palace, it seems there are a fair number of tiers of social performance expected regarding the various concubines
“Why would he say that in front of another concubine?” With a social order this precise, every choice has meaning. Was this meant as a jab against Lady Gyokuyou, or perhaps to chastise her for hiding and monopolizing such a resource as Maomao?
And then we top off all that scheming with a goofy, barely-animated cut of Maomao being flung from Lihua’s quarters and bouncing on the terrace outside. This is a very generous show
Lady Lihua apparently resides in the vaunted Crystal Palace
Xioalan sees this situation as a great honor for Maomao, while Maomao herself suspects the emperor is actually just expressing his distrust of the doctor who failed to recognize Lihua’s condition. Every promotion is also a demotion for someone else, and every act carries multiple meanings
More graceful, efficient character acting as Maomao waves Xiaolan away – her body language is totally different in this cut, celebrating her casual looseness of movement when with trusted friends
She of course looks to improve Lihua’s diet with a healthy porridge and diuretic tea, but such “common food” is intolerable to Lihua’s attendants
“Sick people need nutritious food, not cheap stuff like that. Obviously.” Maomao’s suggestions break a fundamental assumption of the palace – that wealth and virtue are naturally linked, and thus that more expensive food is inherently more nutritious and worthwhile than cheap food
Love that Maomao narrates her own sound effects for getting thrown out of the palace
After accepting that she’s probably going to be executed for failing to restore Lihua, Maomao must now suffer the further indignity of being aided by Jinshi
As always, Maomao’s reactions to Jinshi’s “smooth moves” are a delight
This is certainly a dramatic threshold for Maomao. If she succeeds here, gaining the support of Lihua and her attendants would significantly increase her position within the court
Maomao gets genuinely furious when she realizes the ladies-in-waiting have been applying the same poisonous makeup she previously identified. Ignorance is one thing, but deliberately denying the fruits of knowledge is a much graver sin. Having seen so many suffer from ailments beyond their control, Maomao cannot abide seeing one so blessed actively avoid treatment
“There are no thoughts in your head. You just think you know everything.” It feels like the full weight of Maomao’s contempt for this palace’s false hierarchy and superstitious culture is falling upon this lady-in-waiting
“No sense in worrying about manners at a time like this.” A policy I’m sure she’d love to embrace more generally, if only these damn presentation-obsessed nobles would let her
Maomao seems to have embraced that if she can’t rule by love like Jinshi, she can at least rule by fear
Maomao idly relates that the lady-in-waiting responsible was confined, and the eunuch who procured the powder whipped. Always that threat of violence just beyond these elegant curtains
Caught another remarkably naturalistic flourish of character acting with Maomao talking to Jinshi, and ended up having to check. Yeah, this episode had a prestige team – not only was it directed and boarded by new gen animation prodigy China (Encouragement of Climb, Heike Story, Fate/Apocrypha), but it also had animation direction handled by Moaang, an equally accomplished young talent who’s worked on Apocrypha, Pokemon: Twilight Wings, and even handled character design/AD duties for the excellent first episode of Tatsuki Fujimoto: 17-26. So yeah, no surprise that we’re getting all these preposterously well-executed character acting embellishments
Lihua speaks for the first time all episode, and it’s to ask why Maomao didn’t simply let her die. One of the few ways of gracefully escaping the duties of a concubine
More gorgeous animation for Lihua reflecting on holding her son’s tiny hand, the delicate movements clearly evoking how marvelous it must feel to hold a life you yourself brought into the world. Really appreciate this episode providing such generous treatment to these gentle, ostensibly mundane human moments
Even if her son is gone, his memory provides her a will to live
The confined lady-in-waiting eventually returns, asking to take Maomao’s place so Maomao herself can rest. The journey has been exhausting, but every success brings Maomao new allies to carry the weight
Maomao even comes to like Lihua herself, and Lihua of course sees Maomao as a close friend. Another lovely gentle moment, as Lihua brushes Maomao’s hair while she sleeps off her exhaustion
She offers Lihua a parting gift of romantic advice from her friends at the brothel. Maomao’s influence extends even into the emperor’s bedchamber, apparently
And Done
Whew, what a beautiful episode! The Apothecary Diaries has for the most part been aesthetically defined by its elegant minimalism – its animation resources are undeniably limited, but its layout choices and flourishes of superdeformed Maomaos keep things visually interesting regardless. But this episode was all about the animation, offering sequence after sequence of delicate, realistic, and character-rich acting, all of which did a marvelous job of bringing the distinctive personalities of Maomao and Lihua to life purely through their physical motions. And all of that aesthetic excellence served to powerfully elevate an intimate story of grief and recovery, with Lihua’s sickness serving as a physical embodiment of her feelings regarding her son. A great victory for Maomao and the Apothecary Diaries both.
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