Apothecary’s Diary is one of my favorite anime of recent years because it connected with me in more ways than just the plot, characters, and atmosphere. It takes place in imperial China and is an impressively historically accurate depiction of the country’s complex system at the time. As Maomao traverses between the impoverished world of the red light district and the wealthy world of the royal family, I saw my own family inserted into these stories in ways I never expected to see in anime.
My family covers both ends of the spectrum in the same way that the Apothecary’s Diary does. On my grandmother’s side, we had a long family history of belonging to the aristocracy, living in luxury and comfort but harboring complex and tragic relationships. Meanwhile, on my maternal grandfather’s side, we have a long family history of farmers who had to resort to drastic measures to survive but continued to get through life through resourcefulness their own or the kindness of strangers. Even though my relatives lived in China’s last dynasty before modernization, there are still many similarities between their time and the Apothecary’s Diary.
“Buying” prostitutes in the red light district
One of the prostitutes in Apothecary’s Diary
Apothecary’s Diary delves into how prostitution houses operate in the red light district. In the second episode, Maomao explains the concept of “buying prostitutes” when the people in the palace appear confused about the concept. Many women in the red light district did not come here voluntarily – most were likely sold by their own families. Some of them may have been trafficked, while others would have voluntarily sought a place to stay in desperation. The second time the woman entered a house of prostitution, she “owed” money to the people who brought her in. The value would be the amount of money the house paid to their family or traffickers to buy her or the amount of money spent to save her life from starvation and homelessness.
My great step-grandmother was that woman.
Sold at a young age by her starving family, who could not afford to marry her out or even support her, she entered a brothel as a teenager and began working as a prostitute. quite fast. Just as Maomao described, her best hope for freedom is to have a man repay her debt and bribe her. However, just because a man is willing to buy prostitutes does not guarantee pleasure or independence. Many men who buy prostitutes are those who want to legally own the women as their own—forcing them to be mistresses in a new home often leads to abuse from their families and primary wives. man’s consciousness. It is rare for men to buy prostitutes for true love, and many men who want to do so are not rich enough to do so. This means that a prostitute can only hope for a man with considerable influence and a lot of money to truly love her.
Luckily, my great-grandmother caught the eye of my great-grandfather, the heir to a noble family, during a visit to a house of prostitution. Soon, he falls in love and pays the price for her debt and freedom. Apparently, a noble fell in love with a forbidden prostitute so he ran away with her to another city, where they married separately and lived together for the rest of their lives.
However, the ending of this story is like a fairy tale. is, it doesn’t come without pain and betrayal. After all, he was married to another woman when he ran away: my great-grandmother.
Political marriages between royalty and aristocrats
A concubine had no choice in marrying the emperor
The main plot of volume 3 of Apothecary’s Diary focuses on one of the emperor’s concubines being sent home. Although initially portrayed as something bad, the more Maomao delves into the concubine’s history, the more she realizes that the concubine wanted to be taken home. Her family offered her to the Emperor, and she spent her time avoiding his affection and attention while waiting for the man she truly loved back home to rise in rank and claim her. This leads Maomao to point out that while one world is filled with luxury and the other is filled with hardship, in both worlds women have little choice about how their lives unfold. . In some ways, the red light district and the royal palace are not much different.
My great-grandmother was that woman.
Arranging to marry my great-grandfather, she entered the marriage fully prepared to be a dutiful wife. Like all concubines in the royal palace, noble women would be officially separated from their families and not allowed to return home. Instead, they must accept their husband’s parents as their new parents, siblings, and cousins.
However, when my great-grandfather saw the man he was about to marry, he was so upset by his parents’ decision that he left before the ceremony was officially over. The family had to drag him to the altar to force him to marry her and then locked them in a room to complete their marriage. That’s how my grandmother was conceived – for compulsive sex.
The concubine in The Apothecary’s Diary, who married against her will, would eventually find true love by reuniting with her childhood friend, but my great-grandmother did not. shared happy fate. My great-grandfather was free to love someone of his choice and run away, thanks to his money and education. However, my great-grandmother only had one daughter and was trained to be a good wife. She was never taught to read, write or do anything other than take care of her husband and future in-laws. Abandoned by her husband, my great-grandmother could only shamelessly hug her children and return home, where she would be shunned forever because she could not “keep” her husband.
Generous and talented doctor among the poor
Luomen – skilled apothecary
Meanwhile, on my grandfather’s side, his family tended to support the positive aspects of The Apothecary Diaries. Maomao was raised by an extremely skilled apothecary who lived in the red light district and provided free services to those who could not afford to buy medicine or see a doctor. While my poor grandfather never met a famous doctor but was exiled from the royal palace, a generous wandering doctor saved his life.
Believe it or not, “wandering doctor” was an official title back then. They were doctors who roamed China’s poor countryside providing free services and often saving lives in the process. These wandering doctors were private doctors employed by the rich, but why they were allowed to temporarily leave their employers’ jobs to do such generous charity work remained a mystery to the family. I.
My grandfather was a poor farmer boy. and is the weakest person in his family. When he was a teenager, my grandfather mishandled farm equipment, injuring his leg. The wound quickly became infected—so infected that it rotted through his leg and created a hole large enough to see the ground through it. When the pain became too great to bear, my grandfather bided his time by dropping a leaf through the hole and watching it fall through the other side.
One day, a wandering doctor saw him playing with the hole in his leg and rushed to treat him. My grandfather’s family was so poor that his mother had to run out of the house to inform the wandering doctor that she really had no money to treat her son. However, the wandering doctor treated my grandfather for free, providing antibiotics to wrap around his leg. My grandfather swore it burned worse than fire, but there was no doubt that this generous doctor saved his life. After treating my grandfather, the doctor packed his things and left.
My grandfather never saw the doctor again, but it inspired him to pursue an education. Later, after successfully leaving the countryside to work in the city as a teacher, he also studied medicine on his own. He became so good that neighbors would come see him for a free preliminary diagnosis before seeing an actual practicing doctor.
Drug manufacturing
Maomao and drugs
An interesting thing about the series is the fact that Maomao tends to experiment with her own medicines and antidotes and tests them on herself. Although the gag has less to do with the royal palace than the red light district, it shows how impoverished people can be extremely resourceful and creative, such as in the case of my great-grandfather .
During his time, China was still struggling to overcome its addiction to opium due to its apparent trade during the Opium Wars. Whether he morbidly observed the fall into addiction or learned through the experiments of others to create lower-grade opiates, my great-grandfather figured out the exact ratio of the drug Opium is needed to create an effective pain reliever without addictive side effects.
So special that he later told my grandfather to only use one drop from a poppy seed to make medicine. In fact, there is even a method of cutting the seeds so that a perfect drop can be extracted. Despite knowing how to do it, my grandfather was never able to successfully replicate it, and my great-grandfather took that particular skill to his grave.
The magic of The Apothecary’s Diary is how effectively it portrays the hardships that people faced in ancient China, regardless of whether they lived in poverty or wealth. Watching the movie made me nostalgic because I knew that my family had gone through the situations depicted on screen. However, despite all the difficulties to survive, they still try to find joy and hope when given the opportunity. Living and existing is complex and, as a result, it creates complex people and relationships.