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Her job as a medical assistant ensured that her days were mostly filled with labour; washing bandages, assessing patients, dressing wounds, and her favourite part, compounding medicines. But the days were long, especially as more and more soldiers came in requiring treatment for their injuries caused by in-fighting.
Every day, the two court factions reared their heads in Maomao's life. She was simply bored of random soldiers putting their lives on the line for a cause that wouldn't affect them personally. She just couldn't understand why it mattered whether the Empress or Empress Dowager had more power when they'd be left to their mundane lives either way.
“Another fight,” Yao grumbled beside her as she hung up the bandages to dry on the rack.
Maomao shrugged as she wrapped a clean bandage around the head of a soldier with a nasty gash which she'd already cleaned and stitched. The man winced, his concussion likely going to last him a few days. “They referred to the empress negatively. I was merely defending the Crown of Li.”
En'en, hovering closely over Yao's back, scoffed, “Your attacker got the better of you still.”
“It's not my fault!” The soldier defended himself, “I was attacked by Moon Prince loyalists!”
Maomao raised a brow as her only response, but she unconsciously tied the bandage a little more tightly than she normally would have, causing the soldier to whimper and end his tirade. She sent him away soon after with a cocktail to reduce the headaches and advice to rest for a minimum of two days. Finally free, Maomao moved back to her desk where she had been compounding herbs into a sleep medicine for a certain upstart with loyalists.
“What's this one for?” Yao leaned over her shoulder, always excited when she could learn something new from Maomao.
“A remedy for poor sleep,” Maomao said absent-mindedly as she ground the herbs into dust. “Ever since the Emperor's surgery, I’ve started experimenting with paralytic poisons in small doses. I've found through my experiments that a tiny amount simply puts a person to sleep but no other ill effects as they would in higher doses.”
Yao made a face at her, “And you've been trying it on yourself, haven't you?”
“Ah!” Maomao gasped in glee, one hand moving to cradle her hot cheek as she remembered the numbness of her tongue as she tasted the plant in question a few days before, “If only it weren't so deadly, I could have tried more!”
Annoyingly, she ended up in a three-way fight for her mortar. Yao tried to confiscate the mixture before she get the wrong idea and swallowed it all, while En'en tried to save her mistress from coming into contact with it. Maomao was simply defending herself when the three girls ended up on the floor, her mortar turned over and the dust wafting through the air.
“We're poisoned!” Yao shrieked, while En'en attempted to fan away the particles from her mistress's airway.
“Unfortunately, we're not,” Maomao grumbled, “I already concentrated the poison by the time you decided to throw it all over the room.”
They ended up grabbing brooms to sweep up the mess, including Maomao's broken mortar which lay in pieces under her desk. She usually enjoyed the company of these girls, but sometimes they got too much in her way while trying to be over-protective. Maomao had never required protection in her life; Yao certainly wasn't going to fill that role, no matter how hard she tried.
They exited the medical office together, locking the door behind them before heading towards their dorms. Before they could get too far, a voice was calling out behind them. Maomao turned around to see a familiar carriage, with an even more familiar woman waving frantically at her with her one good arm.
“Miss Maomao! Miss Maomao!” Chue chirped.
“Miss Chue, Miss Chue,” Maomao repeated as if scripted, “You weren't due for physical therapy until tomorrow.”
Smirking, Miss Chue sidled up beside her, escorting her away from her companions as she leaned to whisper in her ears, “You're being summoned.”
“Ah.” Maomao said simply, resigned to her fate as she entered the carriage without another word. Once they were off, Maomao locked eyes with Chue, “Any ideas what he wants?”
“He is…not himself,” Miss Chue admitted, her tone unusually somber. “In truth, Miss Maomao, he didn't summon you. I took the initiative to retrieve you given the circumstances.”
“Is he sick?” Maomao's mouth said before she could think about it. She reached into her robes, pulling out the pouches of medicine she always kept on her person and checked her existing stock, “You should have mentioned that before leaving so I could have gotten more specific supplies!”
Amused, Chue placed a hand on hers to stop her fidgeting, “Physically, he is fine.”
Maomao's shoulders slumped, “Oh. I see.”
“Do you? You understand that I'm bringing you to him because he's in a sour mood and you're the only one who can lift it?” Chue raised a brow.
Huffing, Maomao turned her head towards the window, “I'll see the Moon Prince since I was summoned. I can't promise anything else.”
Once they arrived at his office in the outer court, Maomao bowed politely as she passed his guards, noting that she didn't recognise them. Not that she was ever good at recognising faces, but she was fairly sure Jinshi kept only a select few near him.
When she entered his office, Basen stood dutifully at his side, one hand on his sword as he regarded her before finally relaxing when he recognised who had entered. Jinshi was sitting behind his desk, face flat on its surface and one hand gripping his hair tightly.
“Excuse me, Master Jinshi,” Maomao said as she bowed, “I was told you summoned me?”
At the sound of her voice, Jinshi lifted his head off the desk, his eyes wide as he took in her presence. He seemed entirely shocked to see her, as if she were a ghost. Maomao took a few steps closer despite Basen's glare.
“I didn't summon you,” Were the words that fell out Jinshi's mouth. He tried to make himself look more presentable, smoothing down the hair he had just tussled as he sat up straight.
She nodded, “I know. It was a pretense to bring me here.”
“Why?” Jinshi eyed the woman still standing at the entrance, her one good arm held up in a wave, “I didn't ask for the apothecary, Chue.”
“Miss Chue's job is more than what you ask for, Moon Prince,” Chue said with a happy smile, “A good lady-in-waiting ensures her master has what he needs even before he asks!”
Jinshi sighed, his expression resigned as he waved them out, “Give me a few moments alone with the apothecary.”
“Are you sure, sir?” Basen asked, genuine concern in his eyes, “It hasn't been long since-"
“I'm sure,” Jinshi said firmly, waiting for the room to clear (which included Baryou who slunk out from his hiding place and to Chue's side) before he gestured for Maomao to come closer.
She approached slowly, walking around his desk before stopping just short of him. Her thighs were pressed to his knees as she reached out a hand to check his temperature, humming in satisfaction when it was normal. He was looking at her strangely; a mix of desire but also fear as she continued her routine check-up.
“Stick out your tongue, sir,” Maomao said softly as she inspected him for pallor or dehydration. It seemed the Moon Prince was indeed in good health, although she wasn't so oblivious to deny that something was bothering him.
“Maomao,” Jinshi said softly, but he paused before saying any more. She watched his eyes avoid hers as he came up with the words, “I was attacked this morning.”
“I gathered that,” Maomao said simply as her eyes scanned over his desk. He had piles of paperwork in the corner and none had been touched by her estimate. “I treated quite a few soldiers who claimed to have been attacked by your loyalists.”
He raised a brow, “Armed bandits entered my palace this morning. One of my guards was killed. The ensuing chaos led to some unrest in the military barracks once word got out what happened.”
She shook her head, sighing at the thought of all that violence. “I apologise about your guard.”
Jinshi nodded in acceptance. “The perpetrators have been captured and are awaiting interrogation. But there are those who want to run with the idea that they were sent by the Empress to dispose of me.”
Maomao looked him directly in the eyes, “Well, they might have been.”
“No,” Jinshi insisted, “Empress Gyokyuyou means me no harm. She is well-aware that I am her biggest ally, even if in secret.”
She cracked a smile when he pointed to his flank, “Ah, yes. You carry her symbol on your body as a reminder of your servitude. However, that symbol is known only to a select few. There are still those in her faction who would wish you dead. The perpetrators could have been sent by them, acting in the best interest of the Empress.”
“We don't know that yet,” Jinshi looked away from her, a childish pout settling on his lips. “I don't want to be a symbol for unrest.”
She patted his shoulder twice, a gesture which she hoped he would take as comfort, “I'm afraid that's out of your control.”
“If the Emperor would just keep his promise to me, this wouldn't happen.”
He was referring to his request for a name of his own, thereby releasing him from the royal family. Maomao knew well why the Emperor wouldn't honour his request, but she was fairly sure Jinshi didn't. She let the hand on his shoulder remain, squeezing lightly. “You shouldn't complain about His Majesty to such lowly people, Master Jinshi. It might be treasonous for my ears to hear.”
He scowled at her, his hand grabbing her wrist as he pulled her closer. Maomao stumbled a little before she fell into his lap, her knees bracketing his as her free hand remained on his shoulder as a steadying force. She returned his scowl, displeased with his man-handling of her although they were alone.
“You are far more important than you give yourself credit for,” Jinshi said with a low voice, his eyes narrowing as if he were offended on her behalf. “Can I not share my thoughts and feelings with you?”
“Of course,” Maomao plucked her wrist out of his grasp, placing that hand on his other shoulder as she shimmied herself into a more comfortable position in his lap. “Just don't make me lose my head for it.”
He seemed to shrink back down into the shell he was before, his eyes sad as he remembered his situation. She didn't like how passionate he became at the thought of defending her but then backed down as soon as it came to defending himself. Unsure of how to make him see that, Maomao sighed instead, resting her forehead in the crook between his shoulder and neck. They remained there, Maomao's hands on him while he kept his off her. He was still insisting on minimizing touching her out of fear of what he might do if he lost control, but Maomao appreciated when he would allow her to touch him instead. She didn't know how else to be of use to him, but she found that he would relax when she surrendered herself in this way. Even she couldn't deny that it eased the anxiety that had been building up inside her on the way to the palace, worrying how she might be able to help him. It turned out that she was still entirely useless, so she settled for this small intimacy to make up for her inadequacies. She only wished that he would hold her too.
“Sometimes I want to run away,” Jinshi admitted, his voice muffled from where he buried his face in her hair, “Would you run away with me?”
Maomao shook her head, unwilling to look in his eyes for fear that she'd melt, “I just said I don't wish to lose my head.”
“We wouldn't be found, hopefully,” Jinshi supplied, “That's the point of the fantasy.”
Maomao's hands moved from his shoulders to link around the back of his neck, her lips a whisper away from the skin on his clavicle, “There's no place on this earth where you could go where the Emperor wouldn't look for you.”
“I don't know why, but I fear that's true,” Jinshi said. She could hear the disappointment as his bubble was burst. “I don't think he ever intends to set me free.”
Maomao finally lifted her head although she felt guilt bubble up in her throat, threatening to spill a secret that wasn't hers to tell. She stared into his eyes, drowned in sadness, and wished she could just make him understand. He didn't have the knowledge to make sense of the difficult position he was in. She felt like a traitor, keeping this information from him. But those wiser than her had already decided he couldn't know. Who was she to reverse that?
“Master Jinshi,” Maomao started carefully, “Do you really not know why?”
His pout turned into a frown, and for a second she thought she saw anger flash in his eyes. His eyes looked down, “I've been asking that question my entire life.”
Suspicious, Maomao continued, “Really? You are the son of the former emperor and the only adult male heir. You have to know that it means a lot politically despite your distaste for power.”
His arm finally wrapped around her waist as he adjusted himself in his chair, growing more uncomfortable by her line of questioning. “Of course, I know. But what monarch doesn't wish for his own son to succeed him?”
He does, Maomao screamed internally, but instead pursed her lips together to keep herself quiet until she composed herself. “Perhaps the question itself is the answer.”
Jinshi froze, his muscles suddenly taut. He continued to look away from her, but his reaction gave him away. Despite his insistence, he was no fool, and Maomao knew just how deeply intelligent he was. He had shown her the day he'd drawn her out with a clever trick in the rear palace to identify her as the servant girl who wrote a secret letter to the now Empress.
“I don't know what you mean,” Jinshi said slowly.
“I think you do,” Maomao insisted. She cupped his face, running a finger along the scar which she'd always admired. “Don't you?”
“What do you know?” Jinshi asked carefully, his tone bordering on annoyance. “Huh, Maomao?”
She dropped the hand from his face as she sighed. She wanted to say she wouldn't speak on conjecture, but she had already received confirmation from Lady Ah-Duo that her line of reasoning was indeed correct. But on that fateful day before the Emperor's surgery, they had been dismissed before the secret could be revealed. It was as good as an order to remain quiet. “Nothing.”
“Maomao,” Jinshi's voice was as rough as gravel, “Tell me what you know.”
It was her turn to avoid his eyes again, her bottom lip now caught between her teeth as she cursed herself for saying too much in the first place. “I don't know any-"
“It's an order,” Jinshi said firmly. Her eyes snapped back up to his to see he was holding back tears. His grip on her waist had tightened enough for her to feel his fingertips against her hip bones. “Please.”
Resigning herself, Maomao shook her head. “Do you really want to know?”
“No,” Jinshi admitted, “But I want you to say it anyway.”
“You are indeed the son of an emperor,” Maomao started, struggling to keep her own voice even, “Just not the former one.”
“How can you know that?” Jinshi whispered as the first tears came, falling graciously and running along the scar on his cheek. Her eyes remained transfixed at his beauty even while in distress.
“I had my suspicions when I first met Lady Ah-Duo,” Maomao admitted, “But I didn't get confirmation until after we returned from the Western Capital last year.”
Jinshi's free hand moved to wipe away his tears, embarrassed, “Why would they tell you and not me?”
“I can't answer that,” Maomao said although for the first time she wanted to speak on conjecture if it meant bringing him some peace, “But it seems you already knew.”
“When I was a child, I thought he was my father,” Jinshi said softly, sniffling as he tried to regain his composure, “I remember the Empress Dowager panicking when I'd voiced that thought. Her reaction always stuck with me until I was old enough to put the pieces together.”
“Were there other signs?” Maomao asked, more so to distract him rather than out of curiosity.
“Suiren,” Jinshi clarified, “I found out that she was Ah-Duo's mother and it sort of made sense to me why she’s always doted on me the way she does.”
“You are her master,” Maomao argued, “Nursemaids grow rather attached to their charges, you know.”
He finally scoffed, the sound turning into a quick bout of laughter, “Exactly. She nursed my brother and raised him alongside her own daughter. Of course she'd become my personal maidservant if it meant caring for a child between the two.”
Maomao noticed that he still referred to the emperor as his brother but she didn't comment on it in fear he would become upset again. “None of that is solid evidence.”
“She calls me Yue,” Jinshi said, a small smile adorning his lips, “Even now when she's no longer a consort of the emperor. I knew her growing up- she was always looking out for me. I think that's the part that made the most sense to me. I felt more like I belonged when I was with her than anyone else.”
She mulled over his words, “I'm sorry for not sharing my thoughts sooner.”
“I didn't think you knew,” Jinshi patted her back, “But I shouldn't have underestimated you.”
I shouldn't have underestimated you, Maomao thought. She had believed she was protecting him from the truth when he was really suffering from it. “Does anyone know that you know besides me?”
He shook his head, “I've never known who to talk to about it. Not even Suiren.”
If any moment were the perfect time, Maomao thought it was now. She cupped his cheek once more, aligning their gazes as she pressed her lips to his softly. He didn't move, but she could feel his heart race beneath the hand that slipped just over his left breast. She pulled away slowly, hoping that she had done him a service.
Instead, his face crumpled once more. “If this is true, then that means- we can't- I can't keep my promise to you.”
If, he says. As if he didn't want to believe it despite Maomao's confirmation. “It doesn't mean that.”
“It does!” Jinshi sobbed, “Because this changes everything!
Ah, he's coming to terms with it. Maomao once again cursed herself for even starting this conversation. “Master Jinshi, I am still here. You have made grand promises to remove obstacles and prevent enemies, but the court still argues about your place in the line of succession without knowledge of your true parentage.”
“And if they knew, then it would make things even worse,” Jinshi countered.
Maomao wiped the tears from his face with her thumb, hoping to at least calm him down, “They don't know, and things are still tense. But I'm still here.”
He finally seemed to look at her instead of through her, “You are?”
“Yes,” Maomao nodded, “I have been here despite knowing the truth about your birth. I have chosen to stay by your side.”
“Why?” He whispered, “Why would you stay with me?”
Because…Because…Maomao closed her eyes as she was assaulted by her own feelings. Yes, she knew why she had stayed. That four-letter word had somehow managed to penetrate the walls around her heart and keep her with him despite the obvious signs to run. How could she, when she had never felt safety the way she did in his arms? When he had shown her time and time again that he would move every mountain to protect her, with nothing in return?
Leave him? Maomao laughed internally. She could not go back to the person she was before; she couldn't pretend not to care for others or to let life pass her by with no regard. The thought of leaving him to whatever fate befell him, without any knowledge of how he slept or if he was eating, scared her. What if others tried to poison his food and she wasn't there to intercept their attempts? There was no life where Maomao would stop thinking about him- worrying about him. For her sanity, she had to stay by his side.
“Because,” Maomao allowed herself to be vulnerable, “Because I want to. I want you.”
She could have laughed at the way he gasped in shock. She also could have glared at him. But her walls had come down completely, and all she wanted was for him to understand that she had made her decision a long time ago.
He surged forward to kiss her again, passionately this time. The arm around her waist pulled their bodies flush, only their clothes between them as he kissed her. She was completely taken by surprise, but pleasantly so as she allowed his hands to roam over her body. His tongue had invaded her lips, tangling with hers as he seemed to connect their breath as one. He's hungry, she thought and she was the only meal he wanted to consume. It made her feel light-headed as his tongue reached further into her mouth. Was this how he felt when I did it to him? Maomao could not believe all the progress he had made since then.
She whined when he pulled away abruptly, her tongue sticking out of her mouth as she watched the trail of saliva connecting it to his lips. His eyes blazed like a predator with sight of its prey, but he held himself back as he continued to just look at her. Maomao ground herself down into his lap, feeling something hard poke into her thigh as she did.
“Don't stop,” Maomao said, her voice sounding to her ears as if they belonged to someone else, “Please.”
Jinshi kissed her again, just as passionately as before. She was lost again in the feeling of his tongue overpowering her mouth. She found herself moaning as he licked areas she never knew she could feel. Her skin was on fire as his hands touched her through her clothes, screaming at her to let her feel him without a barrier between them. But Maomao couldn't move. She couldn’t do anything as long as he continued to kiss her.
I love him, Maomao thought- it was the only thing she could think as she felt heat build in her groin. She felt uncomfortably wet between her thighs, as if her sex had become engorged with need despite no physical stimulation. She continued to grind against him, her breath hitching every time she felt that hardness brush against her centre.
Take me, Maomao pleaded although no words could come from her mouth while it remained occupied, I'm yours.
She was lost somewhere between space and time- a world that no one but herself and Jinshi occupied. There was no politics to mind or patients to attend to. Just her, suspended with no weight, no gravity as he held her. The heat reached its peak, and Maomao's eyes rolled over as she felt a release like no other. Just from kissing.
When she finally came to, he was still licking into her mouth, although much gentler this time. His nose nuzzled against her cheeks which felt as if they were on fire from the embarrassment of what had happened. Was that the feeling? The four-letter word in the form of emotion?
“Thank you,” Jinshi said when he finally separated their mouths, “For staying.”
She couldn't speak. She'd said far more than she ever should have today. But the truth was that Maomao was in her safe place, and he now understood what she had been trying to say all this time.
Imperial brother or Crown Prince, she would deal with anything that came his way. He wasn't the one who couldn't live without her; he was born special and with a purpose greater than her own existence. But she couldn't live without him, and she'd rather be felled by assassination than try to leave. It was something she didn't quite understand, but the knowledge that forces against him were moving motivated her to make this clear.
“I'll always stay,” Maomao whispered, her lips brushing his once more, “So please don't let me go.”
He nodded as their lips moved against each other, a practiced dance with synergy that could only come from years of yearning. Finally, he answered, “I won't.”
Maomao left his office, still intact and not deflowered because he continued to insist that she was to be his legal wife before anything more could occur between them. But this time when he sent her away, she didn't feel the regret of the last time. She was reassured in her decision and in his feelings for her. Although she wished that he would lay claim to her, Maomao was satisfied that he'd renewed his promise to keep her.
That night, she looked up at the moon with its light glimmering ever so softly. She closed her eyes as its light reflected on her skin, whispering to her love as sleep came.