Work Text:
Everything happened at once. The White Lady appeared and let out a horrific, screaming laugh. Lishu cowered against the railing and fell through as it collapsed. And Maomao–
Maomao was racing toward Lishu as the balcony disintegrated beneath her.
Jinshi threw the White Lady back toward the guards and promptly forgot about her. On instinct, he grabbed the door frame with his left hand and scooped his right arm around Maomao’s middle. Just in time, he pulled Maomao up against his body. The force made them swing inward from his death grip on the door frame until Jinshi’s body hit the inside of the tower wall.
It took him a beat, but Jinshi regained his senses. “Restrain her!” he shouted at the two utterly useless guards. He wanted to ream them out, but there was no time for reprimands right now. “Restrain her and hand her off to the guards at the ground floor. Don't let her out of your sight,” he repeated when he had regained enough composure to give a proper order.
The guards complied and tied the White Lady’s hands together, then the small party descended.
Somewhere below, Basen had shouted for the consort. Jinshi looked over his shoulder and through the destroyed balcony. His adjutant and best friend had caught Lishu, and now they were falling together. Jinshi winced as Basen kicked off a roof and most likely broke his leg, but Lishu was in good hands. With that under control, he stumbled farther from the balcony door before collapsing against the wall and sliding down to the floor.
Finally, Jinshi looked down at Maomao. He still held her tight against himself, his arm like an iron bar across her stomach. They had barely started to make up as of an hour ago, and once again he'd almost lost her for good. If she'd fallen, if he'd been a second later… Jinshi knew without a doubt that he would dive after her without a single thought. Even if he broke every bone in his body, it would be worth it if he could cushion her fall.
Maomao herself seemed frozen in shock. She normally objected to being manhandled, but she hadn't said a word. She hadn't even struggled. For maybe the second time in their lives, she was pliant and passive (and conscious) in his arms–
And all he wanted was for her to mock him, scold him, hit him, any of the normal Maomao things that drove him to his wits’ end. Just to know she was OK.
Jinshi craned his neck forward to try and glimpse her face. “Maomao?”
She blinked a few times, then shifted in his one-armed embrace to return his gaze. “Consort Lishu?” she asked.
“Basen caught her.”
“...from what height?”
“... I'm not sure,” Jinshi admitted. “But he's built like a mountain. He'll be fine, if a little worse for wear.”
Neither of them moved.
Neither of them said anything else.
Jinshi barely breathed.
He knew he should stand. He knew Basen was probably a mess, and Consort Lishu probably wasn't stable yet either. He didn't trust any of the guards here, not after their lax surveillance of the most dangerous woman in the country.
But Maomao’s hand was clutching his robe.
The Consort should have been his priority. Until his brother said otherwise, Lishu was technically still one of his wives, even if the emperor considered her a surrogate daughter. Jinshi should have lunged farther and reached for Lishu instead–
And yet, in that one heartbeat he'd had to make the decision, there was no decision to make.
Lishu had fallen in the opposite direction from Jinshi, and he wouldn't have a prayer of reaching her without falling through the balcony himself. But even if Lishu had been closer, even though he knew Basen would catch whichever woman fell, he would always reach for Maomao before his mind even registered that anyone else was there.
Distantly, Jinshi heard Basen calmly asking Lishu if she was all right, and he relayed the information to Maomao. Her ramrod posture slumped, and intentionally or not, she leaned into him.
They had been here once before, sort of. It was only two months ago that Maomao had stared down the muzzle of a lion while Jinshi remained stuck on the other side of the room behind a layer of guards. By the time he shouted for Basen, his friend was already in motion to save the day. Maomao had seemed fine. She emerged from under the table, exposed Uryuu and his older daughter as scumbags, treated Basen’s hand, then flounced out of the banquet the first chance she found. Jinshi was impressed and a little bit intimidated, the usual symptoms he experienced whenever his apothecary showed off.
But she hadn't been fine, and he’d taken far too long to realize it. He'd gone to her for comfort, to reassure himself she was alright, to hold her in his arms until he was convinced she was real. What he had failed to realize was that his unbreakable Maomao was human too. She hid her fear well, but she'd been terrified, and Jinshi had barged in while she was trying to reassemble her pieces back into a roughly Maomao-shaped whole. And then he'd run his mouth and pushed her into a corner (well, bench) and spent weeks wondering how he'd managed to screw it up so badly.
Here they were again, even with all the same players, but this ending was going to be different. Jinshi wasn't going to push his luck this time because it wasn't about him . It never had been. His only job, if he even had one in this situation, was to listen to Maomao. Not smother her, not dominate her, not even to talk to her if she didn't want him to.
Maybe he should stop touching her, too, but the shock seemed to have passed, and she was making no move to extricate herself. Jinshi desperately wanted to crush her against his body and never let go, to massage her stiff back, to run his hands through her hair, and kiss her until someone sent a search party for them.
Instead, he sat still as a chair while she gathered herself once again.
Had it really been only an hour ago that he was exacting payback for her (hopefully) feigned indifference by way of tickling her feet and making her laugh and squirm in his lap?
The sound of sobbing echoed from below, and that seemed to snap Maomao out of her trance. “Master Jinshi, we should really see what's happening,” she said, but there was no urgency in her voice.
“I know,” he answered, “but first… are you OK? Do you need anything? I'm sure the palace physicians have been summoned, so Basen and Lishu aren't your responsibility.”
Maomao shook her head, but still didn't get up. “I’m OK,” she said. “Shaken, but OK. Thank you for catching me.”
She didn't meet his eyes, but that was fine. She was talking again, and she wasn't running away. Perhaps, perhaps he could allow himself one moment of weakness.
Jinshi bent his neck forward and kissed the top of Maomao’s head. “I'd say ‘any time,’ but could you not make a habit out of running onto collapsing structures?” he asked lightly.
She nodded mutely.
With that, Jinshi released Maomao and got to his feet. He didn't expect her to take the hand he offered to help her up, but she did, and she didn't release it until they reached the ground floor.