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Chapter Text

The messenger raced up the road leading to the villa as if he could outrun a vengeful ancestor spirit with a quick enough pace. Ah-Duo’s household was well trained. The moment he was spotted at the bottom of the hill, the housekeeper waited with a cup of honeyed water ready at the entrance. A groom stood beside her, waiting to take custody of the messenger’s horse, even as the sound of children’s laughter retreated, their caretaker herding them toward the courtyard at the back of the villa, and the lady of the house was summoned.

The messenger slid off the horse, handing the reins to the waiting groom and gulping the water. “My thanks. Lady Ah-Duo - “

“Will be present momentarily,” the housekeeper responded calmly. “Do we need to evacuate?”

“No,” he answered. “The household is not in danger. I have news from the Imperial Court.”

A gallant figure appeared on the front doorstep, her demeanor as calm as her eyes were grave. “Urgent news, it would seem.”

The messenger bowed low. “Lady Ah-Duo. I come bearing news about the Moon Prince.”

The corners of her lips tightened, even as her heart began to race. “I see. Come inside and report,” she managed with a reasonably level tone.

“Yes, my lady.” The messenger followed her into the parlor and knelt before her.

Ah-Duo took a deep breath and braced herself as if to receive a blow. “What has happened?”

“Lord Hao challenged His Majesty in front of the entire court to remove the Empress’ son from the line of succession and reinstate the Moon Prince’s title as Crown Prince, on the grounds that the Moon Prince was truly His Majesty’s firstborn son, not his younger brother.” The messenger’s eyes never left the carpet, his tone never wavered, but the set of his shoulders was tight.

She let out that breath in a rush. “On what grounds did he make this accusation?”

“It seems that one of the Empress Dowager’s former ladies-in-waiting became suspicious after her dismissal with the others. She appears to have spoken of her suspicions to two people - Lord Gyoku-ou shortly before she died and her sister shortly after her dismissal.”

“I recall Chue’s report. It seems Lord Gyoku-ou had quite a lascivious imagination on him as well as an indiscreet disposition. The rest of his siblings would not dare spread such a story, however. Surely, Lord Hao could not have brought this version before court?” Ah-Duo crossed her arms in front of her - a bad habit, to be sure, but one she felt free to indulge in within her own home.

The messenger shook his head. “No, my lady. Lord Hao sourced this rumor via the sister, who was previously in Lord Hao’s service. She is now elderly and has begun to show signs of dementia.”

Ah-Duo’s eyes went wide. “He brought an accusation like that to bear in front of the entire court on nothing more than the ramblings of an old lady who is beginning to lose her faculties?!” She began to pace. “What an utter fool!”

“Indeed, my lady. Unfortunately, he was foolish enough to make his case publicly. He first told the story as it was told to him - that the two babies looked so much alike that it was difficult to tell them apart at a glance. Also, due to the close timing of the births, my lady and the Empress Dowager had been known to spend a great deal of time together, unattended. How the Empress Dowager seemed especially shaken after the death of a mere servant’s child. How the very doctor who had saved the Empress Dowager’s life and her fertility was driven out of the rear palace before the Empress Dowager’s ladies-in-waiting were dismissed as well - as if to make certain that anyone who could have told the two boys apart had left the palace.” The messenger’s tone had begun to lose its distance, a fine tension threading his voice. No doubt it had been a dramatic scene.

She continued to pace. “Go on.”

The messenger raised his hands respectfully. “Of course. From there, the story devolved into base speculation. How the Moon Prince’s whims have been indulged, time and again. His ruse to appear as a eunuch and only appear masked and coddled by the Emperor and Empress Dowager made absolutely no sense. The fact that he both led the Forbidden Army to subdue the Shi Rebellion while also suppressing any thought of war with Shaoh during his time as acting governor of I-sei Province was a demonstration of his competence and virtue in matters of war and foreign policy. The fact that the Moon Prince’s foresight prevented a plague of insects from plunging this country into famine while gracefully handling the workload of multiple officials without a hint of complaint is a sign of his wisdom in matters of domestic affairs.”

“In other words, why wait for an infant of dubious value to grow up when a perfectly trained Crown Prince is sitting right there?” Ah-Duo pinched the bridge of her nose with her fingers.

The messenger huffed. “That sentiment was expressed, almost word for word, by other members of the Empress Dowager’s faction - especially given that the Moon Prince’s virtues as exalted by Lord Hao did not require his theory be correct.” There was a pause as the messenger took a deep breath. “But then Lord Hao took it one step further.”

Ah-Duo felt a chill go down her spine. “What did he do?”

“He challenged His Majesty before the entire court and the Moon Prince, to go ahead and deny his son to his face, if it wasn’t true.” The messenger finally met her eyes, his own wide with horror - and sympathy.

“Yoh…” she whispered, covering her mouth with one hand. A wise ruler he might be, but he could also be unbearably sentimental. “Did he do it? Did he throw Lord Hao out on his ass, like he should have?!” she demanded, almost desperate to hear an answer she knew would never come.

“No, my lady. He did not. The court was utterly silent for a full minute as he failed to deny the Moon Prince’s paternity.”

The words fell like lead weights in the room. “And Yue…” she trailed off.

The messenger took another deep breath. “No one in the court who saw his reaction has any doubt that the Moon Prince did not know before today. He was utterly shocked, just staring at His Majesty before silently walking out of the court without so much as a by-your-leave.”

Her ears began to ring, tears springing to her eyes and her fists clenching as she attempted to simply breathe. If her foster brother had been standing in front of her at this moment, she would have slapped him, mandate of heaven be damned. “Fool,” she breathed. “You just threw this nation into chaos, all because you couldn’t deny Yue was your son in public?! No matter how it might destroy him?”

“My lady, I’m sorry, but there is more.” The messenger’s tone became more urgent.

Ah-Duo looked at him. “What else is there?”

“Lord Hao is on his way here, to see you specifically, as the rightful mother of the nation.”

She squared her shoulders. “I see. I shall prepare a suitable welcome for him, then.”

Lord Hao arrived with all the pomp and circumstance that could be expected of a man who had won the most significant political skirmish of a generation on sheer luck alone. His guards preceded him into the room, obviously checking for threats to their master before the scrawny little man entered himself, his still boyish face attempting an expression of gravity. “Lady Ah-Duo, I thank you for receiving me.”

She stood in the parlor, offering a bow of pure courtesy and nothing more. “Lord Hao,” she said, her face studiously blank.

He gestured to a seat, inviting her to sit in her own home. “I imagine you must wonder why I have come?”

She took her accustomed seat. “I can’t imagine why you would have cause to seek the company of His Majesty’s milk sibling. It has been years now since I was in any way affiliated with the court.”

“Come, now, my lady.” He leaned toward her with a smile that was clearly intended to be ingratiating. “His Majesty clearly holds you in high esteem, still. The reason why does you credit.”

She arched an eyebrow. “Is that so?”

“My lady, you do not need to exercise such delicacy and caution with me.” He opened one hand in a gesture of confidentiality. “Your true status has finally been revealed to the admiring eyes of the court. The Moon Prince has been acknowledged by His Majesty as his firstborn son, and yours.”

Ah-Duo smiled ever so slightly, but with no mirth behind the expression. “I see.”

Lord Hao continued, oblivious to the bite behind her words. “The current Empress is a beautiful woman, no doubt, but her…exotic appeal cannot hold a candle to the grace and dignity of a true mother of the nation.”

“And yet, Empress Gyokuyou is, in fact, the mother of the Crown Prince.” Her tone was flat, final. A wise man would have known not to push any further.

Lord Hao continued to prove his foolishness. “Crown Prince is nothing more than a title, my lady. It can - and must be - bestowed upon another, more fit to stand at the apex of the nation than a foreign born infant.”

“Babies do grow, Lord Hao. His Majesty is yet in good health. There is no reason to assume that the Crown Prince will not grow into a fine young man, with his father’s wisdom and his mother’s beauty before such a sad occasion as our current ruler’s death.”

Her unwelcome guest made a convincing show of sadness. “I love my nephew dearly, Lady Ah-Duo, but I cannot allow that to blind me to the risks of losing him. Only a few months ago, surgery was necessary to save his life! Imagine the chaos that would have engulfed the nation had the country been left in inauspicious hands!”

You think you’re being clever referencing Yue’s true name? I wonder if you’re bold enough to say it to my face? She growled the question mentally, since she did not yet wish Lord Hao to stop speaking. He took her silence for assent, like the foolish, avaricious man he was.

“The Moon Prince led the country quite ably while His Majesty was indisposed. Many others, not just I, were impressed with the grace and dedication with which he handled the responsibilities of office. My nephew had the luxury to recover from surgery while knowing the country was in safe hands. Surely there is no greater qualification to stand at the apex of the nation?” Lord Hao smiled, an expression he must have thought was confiding, but his words revealed his pettiness. “And now that Zuigetsu’s true parentage has been revealed, you no longer need to hide away, shamed and discarded. Truly, His Majesty’s treatment of you both has been quite shabby.”

“What did you call him?” Oh, this was a bold fool indeed!

Lord Hao winced slightly. “Truly, I forget my place when provoked to passionate defense of my family and country.”

Ah-Duo stood. “Let me see if I understand your position correctly. Rather than bring your suspicions quietly to either His Majesty, your own honored sister the Empress Dowager or even me, as the Moon Prince’s blood mother, you chose to force His Majesty’s hand in public, before the court?”

Lord Hao straightened in his chair, taken aback at the cold tone of Ah-Duo’s words. “Well, my lady, I’m afraid - “

“Or did you attempt to speak to His Majesty privately on the subject and were rebuffed?” She let her countenance begin to show the chill of anger.

“My lady - “ Like any fool, swimming in political waters too deep for him, Lord Hao stuttered, frozen at the unexpected reaction from Ah-Duo, who he had obviously expected to find grateful for his championship and resentful of the ruler who had cast her aside.

She stared down at this petty minister who had single handedly thrown the nation into turmoil. “Tell me, Lord Hao, what was the Moon Prince’s reaction when you revealed his parentage in public, before the entire court?”

Hao blinked, as if the prince’s feelings on the matter were of no importance. Certainly not worth registering in the face of ambition. “He…he was surprised, to be sure! But, my lady, when he has had a chance to understand his true position - “

“Please tell me that you were not so foolish as to think that my son would be grateful to you for your actions? That a potential Crown Prince who has guided the nation so ably, as you were so quick to praise him, in its hour of need would look kindly on a minister forcing His Majesty’s hand?” She folded her arms, using the gesture to squeeze her bicep firmly as her tone remained even.

He raised his hand, as if to try to calm Ah-Duo. “My lady!”

She shook her head. “No. You have spoken quite enough today, Lord Hao. It is time for you to listen. My son was the heir apparent from the time His Majesty ascended the throne until Empress Gyokuyou became His Majesty’s legal wife and their son was conferred with the title of Crown Prince. You appear to think that was an accident, but may I remind you who championed the Empress to His Majesty in the time he managed the Rear Palace?”

Hao’s eyes were stretched wide, his mouth gaping open uselessly. He rather looked like an ornamental carp, desperately hoping for some scrap of food to keep his grand aspirations fed.

She continued. “Upon the succession, His Majesty was fully prepared to permanently bestow the title of Crown Prince upon the boy he had raised so proudly. The only reason he did not is because the Moon Prince himself requested to enter the Rear Palace as a eunuch.”

“But why?!” The question echoed in the middle of the room. Lord Hao’s shock was, at least, understandable. The lot of a eunuch was not a respected one.

She took a careful, deep breath. “As you have managed to discover for yourself, the Moon Prince is wise, especially for one so young. He learned something very important, Lord Hao. Do you know what that was?”

Lord Hao attempted to regain his equilibrium by folding his hands in his sleeves. “I do not, my lady. To debase himself as a half-man is beneath the noble blood he carries.”

She bared her teeth with a smile. “To truly judge a man, do not look at how he treats his superiors, but his inferiors. His Majesty offered as much protection as possible, bestowing him with rank and his own personal guard who followed the Moon Prince undercover, as well as his open favoritism. Do you imagine it was enough to inoculate the Moon Prince from slander? Assault?”

Lord Hao swallowed. A foolish man he might be, but not a deliberately cruel one. Whatever his opinion of eunuchs, his own inclinations would not lead him to molest one - nor would he bother discussing someone so obviously beneath him.

Ah-Duo pressed her advantage. “After six years of that treatment, the Moon Prince became an excellent judge of character. He is not easily fooled - nor is he easily influenced. The best any minister or advisor will ever be able to hope, should the Moon Prince take the throne, is that their advice will be heard and considered as a piece in a larger tapestry.” She stared at this sad, foolish man and shook her head. “He is twenty-two years old. It is too late for me to become his mother in truth as well as blood.”

Lord Hao attempted to rally. “Yes, but it is past time for the Moon Prince to take a consort. Surely, even if your relationship is not as close as you might like, your advice on the subject would be - “

“The Moon Prince has not taken a consort because he has already chosen the woman he wishes to marry, Lord Hao.” Her words landed with the weight of finality, her tone flat.

He blinked. “But who - “

Ah-Duo shook her head. “Who he wanted to marry is irrelevant. That union may never happen, now.”

“Who would be so foolish as to refuse the hand of the Moon Prince?!” Lord Hao cried. “That’s madness!”

“Is it?” Her tone was openly cold now. “It is downright rational for a woman who does not wish to become a mother of the nation. But there is also the fact that the Moon Prince, after spending six years overseeing the Rear Palace, understands the ugliness of the imperial flower garden. The Inner Court is more treacherous by far than the world of men and under no circumstances would a man who has experienced its poison ever condemn a woman he loved to its walls.”

“My lady, clearly you are overwrought. The Inner Palace is the jewel of the court and many ladies flock to its protection.” Lord Hao rolled his shoulders with a peeved frown on his face. “But if this union has fallen through, then forgive me, but the Moon Prince is still young, beautiful and of the noblest blood. He will find a multitude of brides who would be overjoyed to give him sons.”

“But would he ever accept them?” She arched her brows. “Do you think a man who spent six years as a eunuch and another two remaining chaste and cold, taking no mistresses or lovers, would allow something as base as lust to control him?”

As Ah-Duo laid out every traditional avenue of influence and how it had been closed, Lord Hao grew paler and paler, saying nothing in the face of her cold judgment.

She finally walked over to a small table, picking up the small art piece displayed there - a ceramic the size of her palm, irregular and badly painted with an image of rabbits making rice cakes. A project one of her charges had recently experimented with that she had kept out of whimsy. Her fingers trailed over an absurdly long and lopsided ear. “Lord Hao, let me be clear. You may have gotten what you wished for, if your goal was to push aside Empress Gyokuyou’s son and install Yue as the Crown Prince. But it will be a hollow victory.” She turned around and looked him in the eyes. “My son does not, and has never wanted the throne. He has done everything he could to see to it that he would never stand at the apex of the nation. If you have thrust him there, he will most likely hold the throne long enough to see Empress Gyokuyou and Consort Lihua’s sons grown and educated before he abdicates, taking no wife or consort that could potentially confuse the line of succession.”

“He can’t….” Lord Hao breathed.

“He can. And he will. And do you think he will look kindly on the man who destroyed all his hopes and wishes for his future?” She shook her head at him. “No, Lord Hao. In one fell stroke, you have destroyed any influence you had with His Majesty when you forced his hand. You have ensured that the Moon Prince will only ever, at best, look fairly upon you. And the result is unchanged. Assuming the current Crown Prince grows to adulthood - and assuming that the Emperor does not father any more sons by his Empress - then I-sei Province’s influence will continue to rise within the Empire, as per His Majesty’s intention when he took Gyokuyou as his legal wife.”

Lord Hao stood. “I see I have disturbed you. I can only hope your natural, motherly concern for your son’s happiness has blinded you to the reality of his position. Lost dreams give way to new ambitions. Broken hearts do mend. It is the fate of the young to think that transient hurt will always remain the same, but time will teach him the wisdom of his elders.”

“With another young man, I daresay you would be right, Lord Hao. But my Yue has always had a tendency toward devotion that no amount of training has ever been able to correct. Otherwise, he would have been declared the Crown Prince eight years ago and I would be the mother of the nation.” She made a gesture with one finger and a manservant opened the parlor door. “I believe this interview is at an end.”

Lord Hao’s bow was curt and perfunctory, his displeasure at how this conversation had gone quite obvious, even as his brow furrowed over Ah-Duo’s evaluation of his sunk political hopes. He left in a huff of silk and perfume, inspiring the maid to throw open the shutters, airing out the room that had grown stuffy in his presence.

Ah-Duo sank onto the couch, her head in her hands. “Oh, Yue. I’m so sorry.”

Chapter Text

His Majesty did not leave the Imperial Palace that night, nor the following night and Ah-Duo breathed a sigh of relief. She wasn’t sure she could have resisted the urge to tear her younger foster brother’s beautiful beard right off his face if he had shown up, her anger ever-present under the calm surface she showed to her household. Sui had at least picked up on the fact that something was wrong, but as long as it didn’t affect her directly, she continued to help look after the rest of the Shi children without comment. The former Shaou shrine maiden listened to a condensed explanation before shaking her head and wishing Ah-Duo good fortune in the coming days.

She received a letter from Anshi the third morning, informing her that the conversation between her and Yue had gone about as well as could be expected, considering the circumstances. He had been calm, asking questions about what exactly had happened, and why. Anshi wrote that she had been careful to emphasize that, at the time, they had been trying to make the best decisions possible for both babies and that Yue seemed to at least understand that there had been no malice behind their actions.

But a lack of malice didn’t mean that he wasn’t hurt.

On the third night, one of the guards approached, bowing his head. “Lady Ah-Duo. The Moon Prince has been spotted on the approach path. He’s riding masked, with a minimal guard.”

She pushed her tea away, what little she’d managed to eat for the day sitting like a stone in the pit of her stomach. “I understand. When he arrives, please see to the horses, and that his guards are welcomed. You may direct the Moon Prince to the garden.”

“Understood, my lady.” The guard left to fulfill his orders as Ah-Duo made her way to a particularly lovely corner of the garden, a painted wooden bench set beside a tiny, burbling creek that filled the night with the trickle of water. Small, fragrant white flowers bloomed in one last burst before the autumn chill, scenting the air, while the stars and half moon provided enough light to see by. She reached down behind the bench to pull out a mostly full flask and took a drink, wincing only slightly at the burn of the liquor inside.

Despite the temptation, she limited herself to that one sip to steel her nerves, waiting for her son.

He was heralded by the soft crunch of gravel beneath his feet, black silken hair ruffled by the breeze, the scar on his face hidden in the shadows. Others might have seen a celestial maiden who had deigned to descend to the earth to walk her garden, but lovely as he was, Ah-Duo still saw the little boy she’d had to love from a certain distance, the youth who had matured too young to understand the use others wished to make of his body, the man who had attended to her as the Pure Consort with careful diligence, ruling the Rear Palace with the proverbial iron fist inside a silk glove.

The obsidian eyes were hard, his mouth tight with control as he approached her for the first time with the full knowledge that she had sacrificed her womb to bear him, had struggled to nurse him at her breast and, ultimately, had given him up to save him.

The moon illuminated them both, her characteristics echoed in the mold of his grandfather’s face, staring at each other in silent acknowledgement for a moment that felt agonizingly long before Yue bowed his head to her, arms before him, the genuflection of a child to a parent. “Mother.”

Her chest clenched at the unexpected shock of finally hearing him call her that. She breathed slowly, forcing back the tears that had sprung to her eyes. “Yue.”

He took a deep breath. “Surely you could call me by my true name now.”

“It was almost half a day between when you were finally born and when His Majesty was able to see us. I had you to myself for that time - and as I held you, I named you Yue. Because you had a little, round face like the moon.” A tear dropped to fall on the back of her hand. “When the day came for your official naming, after you had been established in your uncle's place, my mother in law insisted on the name Zuigetsu to the Empress Regnant and His Former Majesty. She told them it was so that her sun and moon would always be paired, but it meant I could keep the name I had given you.”

The mask broke and his face all but collapsed into agony. “Why didn’t you tell me?!” he cried out.

“Before the succession, we didn’t dare do anything that would have threatened revealing your true parentage. Your great-grandmother would have killed me, at the very least, if she had discovered who you were.” She winced. “She might very well have killed both of your grandmothers as well.”

Yue gasped. “Suiren is…she’s my grandmother.” Somehow, in the chaos of everything, that realization had just occurred to him, a new shock written across his face to poke Ah-Duo with silent recrimination.

“When your father ascended to the throne, he had already been the de-facto ruler for about eighteen months. I believe he intended to tell you then along with permanently declaring you as Crown Prince rather than the heir apparent - and officially making me mother of the nation, even though I could no longer bear children.” She paused and arched a brow at him. “I understand that you challenged him to a bet before he could do so?”

He laughed without mirth. “I challenged him to a game of Go.”

“Well, you won it, and the right to take the name Jinshi for yourself, as a eunuch. You gave His Majesty one hell of a shock, but after he’d had a chance to think, he believed it might be for the best. You didn’t look like a child anymore, but in some ways you were still one. I think your father hoped that acting as a eunuch would give you a chance to make some peace with your appearance and the possessive desire it can evoke, while also giving you a bit more time.” She moved to the side of the bench, making room for him to sit if he would.

Yue sat down next to her heavily, all precise grace forgotten, burying his face in his hands. “He said it would be useful to sniff out corruption - and I guess it was,” he mumbled to the ground.

Ah-Duo smiled at that. “Why do something for only one reason when you can do it for many?”

“Hah.” He huffed out an approximation of amusement. “Please tell me you have something to drink?”

She handed over the gourd and her son immediately put it to his lips, tilting his head back and closing his eyes. Ah-Duo watched his throat work, swallowing over and over again until the flask was dry and he finally broke off gasping, his shoulders forcibly relaxing under the alcohol. “I also thought he meant to tell you that evening before undergoing surgery - instead he and I finally cleared the air about how the baby swap happened.”

“He didn’t know from the beginning?” Yue looked up, eyes a little wild.

She shook her head. “Not at first. He honestly thought you had died and drove Doctor Kan from the palace in his rage and grief. It only added to the Empress’ distress; she gave her son to me to raise because she was terrified she couldn’t actually be a mother to the baby, given the circumstances of his conception.”

“Circumstances?” Yue looked puzzled.

Ah-Duo took a deep breath, wondering if she even had the right to tell her son this part of the story. But if she wasn't honest with him now, after everything he had learned, would he ever trust her again? “She never confessed it directly, but very shortly before she was discovered to be with child again, His Former Majesty abruptly stopped visiting his favorites and withdrew into his chambers.”

A shudder next to her - they all tried to avoid thinking too hard about those poor girls who had been sent as sacrifices into the Rear Palace. “You think she made him stop?”

“Yes, I do. But the consequence of forcing him to stop meant she fell pregnant with a child whose conception cast a very long shadow, no matter how innocent the poor boy himself actually was. The fact that I failed to raise him properly still weighs on me to this day. He was a sweet little baby who smiled early and loved to snuggle. He deserved a chance to grow up too.” She looked her Yue in the eyes and placed one hand on his cheek. “But I was also so relieved it wasn’t you. Your poor uncle died proving my worry about what would happen if I raised my own child.”

Tears welled, spilling over before he closed his eyes and sniffled, nuzzling into the embrace of her hand on his cheek.

Ah-Duo scooted closer to her precious boy on the bench and wrapped her arms around him for the first time. “I’m so sorry, Yue. We never, ever meant to hurt you with this knowledge. All I wanted was for you to live and find some happiness in this world.”

A heartbeat of time passed, followed by a second before his tears began to soak her shoulder. She felt him inhale sharply before a single sob ripped from his chest and he returned her embrace, clinging to her, his whole body shaking with the force of three days of pent-up misery. She did her best to cry her own tears silently into his hair as she rocked him, arms holding him safe for this single moment before the world could intrude again.

The bench was hard under her bottom and her arms were stiff before Yue finally began to calm. He picked up his head, eyes swollen and red merging with the flush rising on his face from the alcohol. “His Majesty is sending me on a tour of the empire. To get me out of the court while things calm down, he says.”

It was not the worst move Yoh could have made. “That sounds like a good idea. How long do you expect to be gone?”

He shrugged. “Given the number of stops, the glad handling and other diplomatic pap, not to mention the scandal? About six months.” He did his best to wipe the tear tracks away with the palm of his hand.

“Here.” She pulled a handkerchief from her pocket and handed it to him.

Yue blew his nose and cleaned his face as best he could. “The escort will be fairly small - Basen, enough bodyguards not to be an easy target, but traveling light enough to move quickly. A few staff. And a food taster.”

She smiled at that. “You always find a way to bring Maomao.”

“No.” His voice hardened, hands clenched into fists on top of his thighs. “Not this time.”

“What does she think about that?” Ah-Duo probed gently. This news would not have shocked Maomao, when she had been specifically warned about her son’s true heritage - and what a relationship with him could mean.

Yue pressed a hand to his side, covering the brand she had learned about from Chue’s spying. Empress Gyokuyou’s seal and Yue’s oath of loyalty. “I promised her. I swore to her that I would never let her become Empress Gyokuyou’s enemy. That I wouldn’t let my feelings tear her loyalties in two.” He started to laugh softly, with an edge of hysteria that brought fresh tears to Ah-Duo’s eyes. “I was a fool to believe I could keep that promise. It seems I was destined to become Gyokuyou’s enemy no matter how hard all of us tried to prevent it.”

“You’re not the Crown Prince yet, unless His Majesty decreed it sometime between dinner and now?” She rubbed his back in gentle circles.

He scrubbed at his face with his hands. “No. But this trip is just delaying the inevitable. His Majesty has the nation to think of. His direct line isn’t an excuse anymore for why a grown man shouldn’t be given the title as opposed to a two year old boy.” He shook his head. “Besides, it doesn’t matter if I’d condemn the assassination or not, the poor child would be just as dead when some idiot who thinks they’re securing my claim to the throne kills him.” He hung his head again, his fingers threading through his bangs to pull violently on his own hair. “I wish he’d just declare it now and get it over with,” he ground out.

“Hey.” She twisted a lock of his hair between two fingers and pulled, hard enough to sting his scalp and shock him into looking at her. “Do not give up. Not before it’s done.”

He gently tugged his hair out of her grip. “Fair enough. Someone may try to off me first.”

“A distinct possibility - and one I will drag you out of your next life to yell at you for if you die on me, Yue. Do you understand?” She looked him dead in the eyes.

A soft, heartbroken smile. “Yes, Mother.”

She returned his smile at the address. “Back to my original question. What does Maomao think of this?”

“I…” he broke off, looking at the ground. “I haven’t seen her since everything happened.”

She sighed. “A mother should know better than to intervene in her grown child’s love affairs. I won’t tell you what to do - but may I make a suggestion?”

Yue nodded, eyes bright, the flush across his face deepening as the consequences of emptying the gourd as quickly as he had began to catch up with him.

“Whatever your decision, be brave enough to see her before you go.” She wiped away the fresh tears that had begun to fall down his cheeks with her thumb.

He swallowed hard at that, but nodded. “I will.”

She stood. “Now. There’s no way you’re fit to ride back home in that condition - you’ll tumble off your horse and end this succession crisis in the most embarrassing possible manner.”

He started laughing again, but the hysterical tone had faded. “I’m fine - whoa!” He stood up quickly and swayed alarmingly where he stood. Ah-Duo wrapped an arm around his waist to steady him. “Okay. Crap. Maybe not.” His words began to soften around the very edges, even as he fell back on shorter, clear phrases.

“Come on. Things usually look a bit less overwhelming after you sleep. Let’s put you to bed.” She kept one hand on his back as she guided him through the garden and into the house where his bodyguards to a man began glancing at each other at their master’s unsteady gait and flushed face.

Basen stepped forward. “Lady Ah-Duo. A pleasure, as always,” he managed to dredge up courtesy before looking at Yue with utter exasperation. “If you think I’m letting you get on a horse like that, I will tie you facedown over the saddle and let you puke the whole way home.”

Yue waved his hand. “ ‘Mm not an idiot, Basen.”

“If you say so, sir.” He shook his head. “I’ve got him, my lady.” He slung one of Yue’s arms over his shoulder. “Where can I settle him?”

“I’ll have guest chambers prepared for all of you to spend the night.” The housekeeper nodded and took over where to house the contingent of bodyguards for the night, even as one pulled away and followed Basen. “You three, follow me.”

“I can walk, y’know,” Yue complained.

Basen shook his head. “If we want to sleep sometime before dawn, I doubt it.” For all that, he let Yue take more of his own weight as they guided him into a guest chamber and poured him into bed, pausing just long enough to strip him down to his inner robes and put his boots by the side of the bed.

“Master Basen?” The other bodyguard stuck his head through the door. “I can take the first shift outside the door. Are we still on schedule?”

Basen nodded. “Yes. I want everyone to be well rested and alert. I’ll stay in the room with him, though.”

“Understood.” The other man took up his position on the outside of the door.

Yue was asleep almost before his head hit the pillow, the exhaustion on his face clear in the brighter lamplight. “Let me guess - he’s been pushing himself?” Ah-Duo asked Basen, who was pulling a couch over so that he would be between Yue and the window.

“Yes. I’m not sure he’s actually slept since…well.” Basen sighed.

Ah-Duo smiled. “You were very good with him, tonight. I see a lot of your father in you.”

“Oh!” Basen began to blush, furiously. “Um, thank you. Father…he pulled me aside after. Well. Everything. He told me that there were some times to defer etiquette and that this situation was one of them. And I wasn’t letting him ride drunk, so…” he shrugged.

“I’m glad he has a friend with him. He’s going to need that more than ever, now.” Ah-Duo placed her hand on Basen’s shoulder. “Look after each other.”

He nodded, quite seriously. “Yes, my lady.” He offered a short bow. “Now that he’s sleeping, though, I think we should follow his example.”

“So wise for one so young,” she teased her son’s milk sibling for the mischievous pleasure of watching him flush bright red yet again. This boy was so easy to tease - and it wouldn’t hurt to evaluate him as Lishu’s likely husband, now would it?

She made her way to her own suite. Anshi was right - that had gone just about as well as could be expected. Perhaps a little better.

She was awoken in the small hours of the morning by her housekeeper’s hand on her shoulder. “Lady Ah-Duo. Master Gaoshun has arrived, with what appears to be the rest of the Moon Prince’s escort.”

She sat upright quickly, reaching for her sleeping robe. “Has something happened?”

“I don’t know. He’s waiting for you in the parlor. Shall I wake the Moon Prince?”

She shook her head. “Let me speak with Master Gaoshun first and see what’s going on. We can wake him afterwards, if necessary.” She bound her hair with a simple tie, preferring speed over anything else. Her other milk sibling wouldn’t care how she was dressed in any case.

When she entered the parlor, she found her older foster brother waiting for her, a furrow in his brow. The poor man always seemed perpetually put upon, even when the three of them had been children, but this morning his shoulders were also set with a fine tension. “What’s happened?” she managed to ask calmly.

“Ah-Duo. Listen to me.” Gaoshun looked at her. “Before I say anything else, I want you to know that your mother is going to be all right.”

Her heart clenched and she immediately sat down on a nearby sofa. “Oh dear ancestors - was there an attack?”

“Not as such. A small group of malcontents from the Empress’ faction threw torches into his pavilion last night. Most of them hit the flagstones, but one was unlucky enough to catch the roof of the servants’ sleeping quarters. Fortunately, Lady Suiren woke quickly enough to escape, but the building burned and she inhaled some of the smoke. She was moved to Lady Anshi’s residence and Xiaomao was summoned to the Inner Palace to provide treatment.”

And to make sure that two pieces of her Yue’s heart were safely behind the aegis of the Empress Dowager’s own protection. Although that wouldn’t be worth much. “Were the instigators caught?”

“Very quickly - they were quite young, drunk and easy to find. The gallows are going up as we speak.” Gaoshun’s face was hard - young and stupid boys or not, he had no sympathy in him for this crime.

“Gallows? Not whipping?”

Gaoshun shook his head. “Arson by itself would already be borderline between the two. Arson directed at the Imperial family? An example must be made.”

She passed a shaking hand over her face. “So Yoh is sending him now?”

“Yes. A moving target is harder to hit. His itinerary has also been juggled - he’ll be spending some time outside the main cities as well, which should please him. I believe the Red Plum Village will be one of their first stops, in fact. A chance to give the prince a chance to rest in a quiet setting with no urgent political obligations for a week or so.” Gaoshun smiled slightly at her - of course, the fact that Lishu was there and Basen was courting her at a pace that could only be described as glacial had not weighed heavily on the Emperor’s mind when making this decision. But it was certainly a nice bonus.

“Can we let him sleep just a little longer? He wasn’t in good shape when he arrived and I applied some alcohol to the situation.” She twisted her hands in her lap.

Gaoshun sighed. “Until dawn. No later.”

She nodded before her agitation drove her to stand, then pace. “I could kick him.”

“So could I,” Gaoshun responded, eyes dark. “I suspected something when I saw just how much Yue resembled you as he grew, but it wasn’t my place to say anything. If he was going to be told, it should have been years ago, not in front of the whole damned court.”

“How is Lord Hao faring?” her smile more of a chance to bare her teeth than an expression of pleasure.

The furrow on his brow somehow deepened. “Well, his faction has gained ascendancy overnight. The Moon Prince has more support than I suspect he realizes in some quarters. Many who were neutral on the current Crown Prince’s appointment have been pushed into supporting him now that the Emperor’s direct line would continue either way. The appendicitis didn’t help the situation either - the fact that His Majesty could die early is no longer a vague possibility in many eyes. So, for now, the bastard is riding high, although apparently you sent him back with his tail between his legs?”

“Yes. I pointed out that it’s not as easy to control a twenty two year old man as it is an infant. If that was what he wanted, he’d have been better off sticking with Consort Lihua’s boy.”

“Talk about a man who lives on luck alone.” Gaoshun shook his head. “I suspect the Emperor intends to freeze Hao out over the next six months. The Empress Dowager is refusing to see him as well.”

She sighed. “Sit down, at least, if we’re going to wait a couple of hours.”

Gaoshun sat on the couch, watching her continue to pace. “How are you doing?” he asked gently.

“Apparently I’m not as good at keeping secrets as I thought.” She huffed. “It feels like this has been trickling out around the edges for years until the dam finally burst. Now everything’s destroyed - and nothing has actually changed.”

“I suspect both of you are jumping to the worst case scenario,” her friend tried to reassure her. “If nothing else, the Emperor is beyond angry. Leaving Yue out of it for a moment, he loves all of his children and Gyokuyou’s boy is now in even more danger than he already was.”

“That’s because he won’t make a decision!” she nearly shouted, just barely keeping her voice down in time. “It doesn’t seem to matter how many times Yue says he doesn’t want that damned throne, Yoh keeps asking as if he’ll change his mind!”

Gaoshun raised his brows. “A great many young men do change their minds about what they want. For something as momentous as the succession, I can’t blame him for wanting to be absolutely sure that Yue’s resolve was set. If he were to suddenly change his mind in a year or so?”

“He wouldn’t!”

“Because you never did?” Gaoshun continued to watch her closely.

Ah-Duo paused her pacing. “What’s that supposed to mean?”

Her guest leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees and steepling his fingers together for a moment. “There is a great deal of you in the Moon Prince - the fineness and coloring of his features, the charisma that draws people to him, the quickness of thought coupled with a kind heart. But you are not who he inherited his devotion from. That’s all his father.”

“I fail to see your point?” She tilted her head, puzzled.

Gaoshun sighed. “Making Yue the Crown Prince has never only been about restoring his firstborn son’s rights. It was also about making you the mother of the nation.”

Ah-Duo blew her breath out in an angry huff. “All because I asked him to make me the mother of the nation when we were children! I didn’t mean it!”

“He did.”

The words fell into the pre-dawn silence of the parlor. Gaoshun watched her with a steady gaze that, to her surprise, held an unmistakable light of criticism. “You have never truly reckoned with the depth of Yoh’s feelings for you, Ah-Duo.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” She sat opposite her older foster brother in a chair, feeling as though the fine tension holding her upright had suddenly snapped.

Gaoshun pressed his lips together for a moment, a gesture she knew meant he was considering exactly how much to say. “To you, he has always been your younger foster brother, your milk sibling, your playmate. You seem to think that he decided to ask for you to be his first lover because it was a whim for him.”

“I know it wasn’t just a whim. He was young and I was getting ready to finally leave the palace and explore the world - and that frightened him. He was clinging to what he knew rather than being willing to explore the new avenues that were opening to him as well.” Ah-Duo sighed, feeling the old disappointment rise.

“Strange, then, that a decision made on the whim of a thirteen year old boy resulted in maintaining only one consort from that day until the day of his ascension when he was twenty nine.” Gaoshun watched her closely. “Sixteen years, Ah-Duo. Fiercely resisting any and all other possible consort candidates, despite the fact that your physical relationship only lasted until the Moon Prince’s birth and settled into a stable, warm friendship that you could tolerate.”

“That wasn’t a sentimental decision. The Empress Regnant had made it clear that Yoh was disposable once there were alternate heirs. If he was going to take power, he had to keep Yue as far away from her influence as possible and deny her any more spares. He and I agreed that we would have more power to do that as a united front, along with his mother.”

It had been a near-perfect arrangement, as far as she had been concerned. She could stay close to Yue, even if she couldn’t raise him herself. And by helping the Crown Prince stay in his position, slowly building his own alliances within the palace, she secured her son’s safety. One had to be careful with their only spare, after all.

Gaoshun pinched the bridge of his nose. “All of that is true, but it’s not why he did it.”

“What are you saying?” Ah-Duo breathed, the shape of some realization she had never wanted to look too closely at began to come into focus.

“I am saying that, until his duty demanded that he beget more heirs, he remained absolutely faithful to you.” His eyes bored into her, demanding that she hear and understand him. “That he was content with whatever affection you were willing to give him, just so long as he could have you near. Regardless of whether or not you could bear children. That is not indecisiveness in politics, nor is it whimsy. That is utter devotion inspired by all the passionate love of a youth who looked up and realized that the girl he’d grown up next to was all he ever wanted.”

Ah-Duo sat, stunned into silence. Was this -?

Gaoshun passed his hand over his face. “Like father, like son, it seems. We tried so hard to train what we thought was a tendency toward obsession out of Yue, to ensure that we did not repeat the mistakes of our generation. If he became too attached to a toy, we removed it, trying to get through to him that fixation on a single object was a weakness he couldn’t indulge. In retrospect, I wish we had not done it. That we had defied the Empress Dowager’s order. All we taught him is that everything he loves will eventually be taken away from him.”

He put his hand back down on his knee, squaring his shoulders. “What Yoh did was wrong. I will not defend him on that point. What he wanted was something that only had value if it was freely given - and he learned that lesson too late, after he had already clipped your wings. But it does not change the fact that making Yue the Crown Prince has always been about showing his love and pride in Yue by restoring his son’s birthright - and honoring you as the only woman he has ever loved.”

She buried her face in her hands, breathing deeply. How utterly sentimental, and stupid and hopeless he was! She sat, rearranging the pieces of her life, checking to see if how she felt about Yoh had changed its shape at all.

Only to discover that she did not have devotion to offer in return. Indeed, she didn’t think she had it in her to allow anyone that close to her own heart, except for Yue, and that was an altogether different kind of love. If her life had not turned out as she had dreamed, she still had her duties and her pleasures. All in all, she had settled into a sort of contentment that had deepened after Yoh had extended the leash and moved her out of the Rear Palace into this villa she now called home.

But now she wondered if Yoh ever looked at Yue and his apothecary and wondered ‘what if?’

Regardless of whatever revelations the night held, the dawn broke. Ah-Duo’s housekeeper, well trained, spoke to the guard on duty in front of the Moon Prince’s door and instructed him that Master Gaoshun had arrived with the rest of the royal traveling party. It was less than ten minutes after that when the prince himself arrived in the parlor to find a light breakfast laid out that Gaoshun and Ah-Duo had already begun to partake of.

“Gaoshun. What happened?” No trace of any hangover in his face or voice - ah the invincibility of youth! - as his demeanor hovered somewhere between formality and worry.

As Gaoshun explained the events of last night to him, reassuring his former charge that his household was safe, but with some damage to the pavilion itself, Ah-Duo watched her son’s face change. Anger, terror, worry at first, followed by grim acceptance of the necessity for both the executions and an early departure. “I understand. We’ll be on the road in under an hour.”

“Eat something before you go,” Ah-Duo encouraged, pushing a bowl of congee toward him.

Yue shook his head. “No, thank you. But may I use your desk? I have a couple of letters to write.”

Ah-Duo nodded. “Of course.” She lifted a hand and the housekeeper silently stepped forward to show Yue the way to her office.

Her son was nothing if not prompt and diligent. Thirty minutes later he emerged and immediately began coordinating with his men. Basen appeared and Yue smiled grimly when he realized that every single one of his guards would be traveling masked - allowing them to use a decoy in the carriage while Yue himself rode, as was his preference.

It had taken young Basen some time, but he really was coming along quite nicely. Gaoshun clearly disagreed with his son’s decision - his preference would have been to keep the prince in the protected position - but seeing the tension in the set of her own son’s shoulders, she rather thought Basen had managed an acceptable compromise between safety and his charge’s need to be doing something.

In a short moment when Basen and Gaoshun were speaking about the changes to the itinerary, Yue approached her, sealed letters in his hand. “Will you deliver these for me?”

“Of course.” She took them and glanced at the recipients. His Majesty, Suiren and Maomao. Exactly as she might have guessed, if it were not so obvious.

“Mother?” The lovely voice was quiet, slightly hesitant still.

“Yes?” She looked her boy in the eyes, still feeling her heart clench in her chest at the address she’d never allowed herself to imagine coming from him.

He swallowed and held her gaze, heartbreak coloring his expression. “Will you watch over Maomao for me? Just…I need to know she’s safe.”

Her fingers tightened on the letters. She had a feeling she knew what her son’s decision had been. He has said as much, the night before Yoh’s surgery. If I must bind her to me alone, setting her free would be the better option.

Her boy would make his own mistakes, but his father’s would not be repeated over another generation. He understood that what he wanted, Maomao could only give him freely. And her ability to do so would become strained if the man who loved her was forever trapped in the palace. The prince was powerless to escape his duty and his duty would be the death of their love.

It might even be the death of her prince.

She squared her shoulders. No. This fight was just beginning. Yue was doing his part and she would do hers. But in the meantime, she smiled at him. “Should I ask Chue to make a point of spending time with her?”

“No.” His face fell further. “Chue’s arm means she’s not suitable for bodyguarding anymore except in desperate circumstances. Besides, she’s known to have been attached to my household. It would draw the wrong kind of attention.”

Ah-Duo couldn’t disagree with his assessment. “I’ll speak to His Majesty about putting an eye on her, then.”

“Thank you,” he breathed in relief.

She cupped the side of his face with her hand, fingers tracing over the scar that had faded into a soft white line against his cheek. “Take care of yourself.”

His eyes closed briefly for a moment. “I will.” When he reopened them, however, the proverbial court mask was firmly back in place, his expression calm and dignified, his shoulders squared and his stride sure as he got his new traveling household moving.

The sky had just begun to turn a hazy blue when the masked company left Ah-Duo’s villa, the prince anonymous among the outriders, their dust slowly disappearing over the horizon.

Chapter Text

The scent of the alchemist’s lab was truly noxious - Maomao’s eyes burned and her skin itched as she sat hunched over a table next to an open window. Covered ceramic pots were stained orange around the edges, while apparati she had only ever seen pictures of in some of her dad’s books were neatly arrayed on the plain lab table in the center of the room. A book written in the spidery, flowing script of a western nation lay open beside her and she occasionally glanced at it for reference as she carefully dripped a clear solution into a bright orange one, fascinated as each drip of clear liquid turned the orange solution brown around the edges, until it settled to the bottom.

As she watched, careful to only drip in a little at a time, the orange color slowly dissipated to leave the strange brown sludge in the bottom.

“Is that it?” An annoying voice came from the doorway, slightly muffled by the handkerchief he held over his nose and mouth, Lahan began to pick his way around the cluttered lab toward Maomao.

“According to the instructions, it should be.” She tilted the ceramic teacup toward Lahan, showing him the brown sludge in the bottom.

His eyes narrowed further behind his glasses. “Um, little sister, that sure doesn’t look like gold to me.”

She forced back the urge to attempt to stomp his toes - for one, since he’d started wearing his new boots with their reinforced toes, it no longer worked. More important, the liquid in the teacup she was holding was highly toxic and corrosive - and while she had wrapped extra bandages around her hands for some protection, that might not save her if it were to splash. The alchemist’s gloves were worn, but too big for her to do any kind of delicate work in. “It needs to be rinsed first - several times - to get the last of the caustic chemical off of it, then dried and taken to a jeweler who can melt it down, according to the text.” She glances back at the book she was referencing.

Lahan stared at it. “I believe you, but let’s get that done so we can try melting it and proving it.”

“Hand me the gauze and another cup, then. Oh, and some water.”

Wonder of wonders, Lahan did exactly that, still immensely curious about the process. “I still can’t believe you can actually dissolve gold into water and then just render it back out.”

“It’s not water and I wouldn’t risk putting your bare hands anywhere near it if you don’t want to end up poisoned.” Maomao draped the muslin gauze over a clean teacup and oh so carefully poured everything into it, catching the muddy powder while allowing the remnants of the liquid to drain away below into the teacup, before carefully lifting up the edges of the gauze and dunking it into cold water. “It’s not all that common in the west either, but Dad told me about it, once. Said it was one of the more interesting tricks they’ve learned while trying to figure out how to transmute metals.”

Lahan’s eyes widened. “Transmute metals?”

“Uh huh.” Maomao began to repeat the process, rinsing and draining the sludge again. “It comes from their own attempts to create a Pill of Immortality.”

Lahan smirked unpleasantly. “I see why it caught your attention, then.”

Kick! She got his shin and smiled in satisfaction to see the frizzy headed glasses guy wince. “Apparently, the idea is that if you can transform lead into gold, you can take that idea to transmute the human spirit into a perfected form.”

“Like the White Immortal?”

Maomao nodded. “Very similar - in her case, if you remember the materials were plated and she simply burned each layer of plating off.” She looked around. “Depending on how long this guy’s been in business, this might be where she acquired the plates, actually.”

Lahan watched as Maomao continued to rinse the sludge, eventually using the muslin to wring it into a wet, crumbly powder. “That’s interesting. Shame he ended up using it for tax evasion.”

“Will he be shut down?” Maomao looked around - there were so few alchemists trained in western techniques in all of Li, let alone in the capital. It seemed a shame to throw him into prison.

Lahan shrugged. “That depends on the numbers. Tax evasion, plating scandals - I might just have to put him to work instead.”

“Are we sure prison isn’t preferable?” Maomao muttered, spreading the wet powder out to dry in the sun.

“What was that?” Lahan asked, glasses glinting.

Maomao shook her head. “Nothing. In any case, I’d say your little mystery is solved. Can I go back to the medical offices now?”

“Come now, little sister - ow! Quit it!” He moved his shins out of reach, glaring at her. “I assume you’ll want to see it melted down?”

Maomao paused and looked at the dull, wet brown powder. “Yes.”

“Well then. Take a break for the rest of the day, or however long it takes this to dry, and I’ll meet you over at the Office of Jewels and Ornaments. You remember where that is in the Outer Court?”

She paused. She could probably figure it out, but she’d never had cause to go there herself and her memory for irrelevant departments was rather spotty. If she was being generous with herself.

Lahan sighed. “I’ll pick you up at your dorm and escort you.”

“Very well,” she conceded without much grace at all. She glanced at the book, resisting the urge to take it with her. “After we melt the gold back down to a more recognizable form, are you finished with my secondment?”

He adjusted his glasses. “You say that as if you haven’t been having a good time with this case. It was certainly unusual.”

“Be that as it may, my duties are in the medical office. It’s autumn, which means we are going to be swarmed with colds and other ailments, in addition to any injuries from around the barracks.”

Lahan paused. “Are you getting a lot more injuries since…”

“Yes,” Maomao replied, her tone clipped. “Plenty of idiots dueling. I spent a good amount of last night preparing fresh gut and silk thread.

There was a slight pause, before Lahan asked in a too gentle tone, “Have you heard any -”

Maomao stood. “If there is nothing else you require of me, I will go back to rest briefly before we speak to the jeweler and determine if I successfully rendered the gold back out of the aqua regia.”

“Of course,” Lahan sighed.

Maomao turned on her heel and left the alchemist’s lab behind, along with its requisite stink. Her first few lungfuls of fresh air were a relief, even as her breath fogged in front of her. The past week had welcomed the turn of the season, the last of summer giving way to the chill of autumn, the leaves turning colors around the edges. The headache that had begun to gather behind her eyes faded as her quick steps took her in the direction of the medical offices.

Where she was immediately greeted with relief by one of the mid-ranked physicians. “Ah, good, you’re back. We’re running low on several medicines - how fast could you compound them?”

“Which ones do we need?” Maomao asked, pulling her sleeves back in preparation.

The physician grimaced. “Salves, mainly, for cuts and bruises. Another training accident.”

Maomao shook her head. These ‘training accidents’ had been happening more and more frequently since Jinshi’s true birth had been revealed over three weeks ago. The entire palace was in an uproar - some voices were defending Gyokuyou’s son as the rightful Crown Prince, being the son of His Majesty’s legal wife - but there was no getting around the simple fact of the matter that the boy was no more than two years old.

The Moon Prince was twenty-two years old.

In a choice between two sons of his Majesty’s body, there was no real contest. The calls to officially reinstate Jinshi as the Crown Prince were only a dull roar at the moment because the prince himself had been sent away from the capital. In his absence, a new call was being put forth. Ministers and officials were dragging their daughters, nieces and sisters into the city, jockeying for the best possible position to begin introductions the moment Jinshi returned. It seemed the Emperor had chosen to manage the succession crisis by diverting attention.

Once the Moon Prince returned from his tour of the empire, the selection of his bride would begin in earnest. Not only his bride, Maomao was given to understand, but there would also be a concubine selection, all of which would be managed by Empress Gyokuyou, cutting out Lady Ah-Duo and the Empress Dowager in a clear attempt to balance power between factions.

Maomao ground herbs into a fine paste in the mortar and pestle, her repetition soothing as she compounded the salve, mixing the paste into an oil to infuse while she began heating the stove. This was none of her concern. Not anymore.

Jinshi had made that very clear.

I promised I would never put you in this position - I am beyond sorry that the only way I can keep that promise is to let you go. But it is the only way I know how to protect you from what’s coming. It would have been my honor and joy to be your husband. Please accept my sincere wish for your future to be filled with health and happiness.

The characters looked shaky to anyone who knew Jinshi’s handwriting well. But even if his hand had trembled as he wrote those words, he had still written them.

Maomao had always known this day would come - that Jinshi would never be able to balance the duties of his rank with the desires of his heart. One would give way to the other. To stabilize the nation, he would do whatever he must. He would sacrifice whatever he must.

His health. His dream of freedom. His love.

It was quite admirable behavior. Almost like a teaching tale about the responsibilities of rank and the dedication required to lead a nation with wisdom. She could feel Jinshi disappearing into the Moon Prince, a celestial being who truly lived high above the clouds, never to mingle with mere mortals.

That is, until they put him out to stud in the Rear Palace. Although he might have to bed his new consorts in the dark. Maomao shook her head, angrily. If this was to be his fate in the end, then what was the point of that stupid brand in the first place? She never even got the opportunity to try transferring fresh skin to place over the damage -

“Maomao! When you’re done with that salve, we’re going to need some fresh antiemetics and antidiarrheals!” A different doctor stuck his head in, forcing Maomao’s attention back to her work. The benefits of seniority at least were a bright point - there was no avoiding laundry and other scut work in the medical offices - but in the last few weeks the official physicians had been working her almost constantly with compounding different medicines. Dr Liu had even pulled her aside and said that if he was satisfied with her work in the next few months, he would consider assigning her to a team that was focused on pharmaceutical research.

Which, of course, meant that she was being worked almost constantly, with little opportunity to take a moment for herself longer than the time it took to eat, bathe and sleep. Lahan’s side assignment had actually been the first chance Maomao had had for any time to herself - and while she hated to give any credit to that man who was clearly no relation of hers, the case had been interesting.

If I didn’t know better, I’d say there was a conspiracy to keep me busy, she couldn’t help but think. As if she needed such consideration.

People fell in and out of love all the time. Assuming nobody did anything drastic, people did not die from the lack of their beloved, despite what some great romances would like to claim. Even Jinshi, when he had a chance to adjust to his new circumstances, would eventually find comfort and ease in another woman’s arms -

A crack resounded through the room. Maomao was startled to realize that the water under her pot had boiled off - she had forgotten to refill it before she started and the direct heat had shattered the bowl, ruining her medicine. She sighed and began to clean away the broken pieces, wincing as the side of her deformed pinky scraped along the sharp edge of ceramic to leave a thin trail of blood.

Back in her dormitory, Maomao inspected the scabbed over cut on her finger. She’d wrapped a bit of gauze around it, but now that she was waiting for Lahan to pick her up to see if the rendered gold melted properly, she had a moment to spread an ointment over it.

“Maomao!” a voice cried, a familiar hand catching her own to inspect the wound.

“It’s just a cut, Yao.” She shook her head. “Hand me the ointment, would you?”

Yao glared at her, Maomao’s hand gripped firmly in her own. “Is this the only one?”

Maomao blinked, even as Yao turned her wrist upward, inspecting the bandages that covered her forearm. “I had an accident in the lab - there hasn’t been any time for experimentation.”

Without releasing her hand, Yao grabbed the salve and opened it to begin dressing the cut. “You need to be more careful!”

“Lady Yao?” came another, familiar voice, before En’en stepped into view, framed by the doorway. “Goodness, what happened?” she asked, a familiar territorial gleam in her eyes.

Maomao pulled back, attempting to retrieve her hand from Yao’s grasp, only to find it caught firm even as Yao scowled. “Maomao was being careless in the lab and cut herself.”

“I see.” En’en sighed, watching Yao wrap the gauze delicately around Maomao’s pinky with an expression that had Maomao eager to have Yao finish as soon as possible. “I made pork tonight. Will you be joining us for dinner, Maomao?”

Her stomach growled at the same time that her mouth tingled at the thought of the pork having passed through En’en’s talented hands, before she sighed in resignation. “I’m expecting Lahan - we’re supposed to visit the court jeweler to see if his case is resolved the way I think it will.”

“Surely you have time to eat before you go,” Yao protested, putting the salve away.

Maomao narrowed her eyes slightly, glancing between Yao and En’en. “Possibly, but I would hate to put you both out.”

En’en shrugged. “I made enough for three.”

Not without either work or money toward ingredients, normally. Maomao looked between the two of them. “Is there something going on that I don’t know about?”

Yao and En’en glanced at each other, a moment of accord between them before Yao looked straight at Maomao and pushed forward. “That depends. Are we finished pretending that the Moon Prince leaving has nothing to do with you?”

Maomao turned away, her gaze falling on an old letter case, tucked in the corner of a shelf that contained two things - a silver hair stick and Jinshi’s last letter to her. “The Moon Prince has more important things to concern himself with than a base born apothecary turned court lady.”

En’en snorted. “You are neither. You may never be able to claim the title, but you are a fully trained and qualified physician, Lady Maomao.”

Maomao scowled at the honorific, even as Yao picked up the thread of argument. “And you may despise our renowned strategist and wish that he weren’t, but he is your father by blood, and he married your mother. That makes you the sole daughter by the legitimate wife and a princess of the La Clan.

“In short, you are a more than worthy contender for the hand of the Crown Prince, should the Moon Prince be bestowed with the title again,” En’en finished.

Maomao clenched her hands into fists under the desk. “I don’t want to marry the Crown Prince,” she gritted out between her teeth. “I want to do my job and make medicine.”

Yao arched her brows. “You don’t want to marry the Crown Prince because you don’t want to marry at all, or you don’t want to marry the Crown Prince because the current prince who holds that title is a two year old child and you’d prefer it stay that way?”

Silence filled the room, until another voice entered the conversation. “I would also like to hear the answer to that question,” Lahan said, his eyes firmly on Maomao.

“It doesn’t matter what I want!” The words burst out of her with shocking force, even as unexpected tears stung her eyes. “He left! He’s gone and when he does eventually come back, it won’t matter because he’s already decided that he doesn’t want me!”

Yao’s eyes softened and she came back over to put her arm around Maomao’s shoulders. “I doubt very much that the Moon Prince doesn’t want you.”

“I would agree,” said Lahan. “If anything, I would expect it to be the opposite.”

Maomao lifted her head to glare at her cousin. “What is that supposed to mean?”

Lahan arched an eyebrow. “The first time I met the Moon Prince properly, it was when he threw away his whole identity as the manager of the Rear Palace, because a certain lady-in-waiting had been kidnapped and he didn’t have the power to go take her back as the eunuch Jinshi.”

“The north was rebelling - he had to do that,” Maomao protested.

“True. But he didn’t have to be in the vanguard. He didn’t need to lead a night march for multiple li in the snow. He absolutely should not have been the first man into the fortress so that he could look for you himself. He could have stayed masked and protected behind the lines - which was exactly where his bodyguards wanted him,” Lahan pushed his glasses up his nose. “And his intentions did not get more subtle with time.”

Mamao dropped her gaze. No, Jinshi had made his intentions quite clear - and had only gotten more explicit when pushed.

Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!

“Frankly, the Moon Prince pushed his suit long past when most other men would have given up - and even after you came back from the Western Capital the second time, everything seemed to be very much about you. What you wanted, Maomao.” Lahan looked at her, an unexpectedly piercing gaze through the glasses. “I’m not shocked that, given the situation, he’s defaulted to what he believes you want above all else - to be unburdened by his regard when it becomes inconvenient, free to make medicine as you please. Well, he’s seen to it that you’ve gotten what you’ve said you always wanted. I heard Dr. Liu wants you for a pharmaceutical research team and the Moon Prince is set to be married off to a bevy of women to bear his children.”

Her heart clenched in her chest. She couldn’t deny the truth of Lahan’s observations. She had told Lady Ah-Duo as much; that she was going to make Jinshi compromise as much as possible so that she wouldn’t have to. “So, you think that I’m unworthy of him?” she asked Lahan.

Yao’s arm tightened around Maomao’s shoulders again. “Of course not!” She glared at Lahan. “She shouldn’t have to give up everything else she loves just to marry him!”

“And Master Lahan didn’t say that she should,” En’en interjected. “But he is pointing out that Lady Maomao has gotten what she has always said she wanted - but has she ever explicitly stated that she wants the Moon Prince to be a part of her life?”

Lahan nodded at En’en with appreciation. “Just so. The prince has fought for you, over and over. But now he’s hit a wall that he cannot fight - not without potentially destroying the nation. And I don’t think,” he looked back at Maomao, “that you could ever respect him if he plunged the country into chaos in pursuit of his own happiness.”

Maomao dropped her gaze at that, staring at her hands. The gauze wrapped pinky stood out in the warm lamplight. “What do you want me to say?” she finally asked.

Lahan left the doorway to crouch in front of her. “I want you to tell me what you want, little sister. If you are satisfied with your life as it is, then there is nothing more to be said. You’ll have your medicine, your friends and your work. A very safe, content existence.”

“But?” she looked at Lahan, eyes meeting.

Lahan was as serious as she had ever seen him. “If you want more out of life than safety and contentment, you will have to take a risk. The only thing that makes you unworthy to be the Moon Prince’s bride is your insistence on narrowing your world to medicine and poison, unwilling to acknowledge anything outside of those interests that might challenge you to grow.”

“Like the strategist with his games,” breathed Yao.

“Lady Yao!” En’en cried. She seemed to think that drawing the explicit comparison would be counterproductive. Lahan appeared to agree with her, wincing in anticipation of his shin being kicked. He stopped when he realized that Maomao was perfectly still in front of him, eyes staring into the distance.

What do I want? Maomao asked herself.

Luomen, nodding in tacit approval as she successfully compounded a cold remedy for the first time.

Meimei arranging her hair, slipping the beads she’d picked out for Maomao especially on the ends, Joka and Pairin lounging in the background as the Madam looked on with uncharacteristically soft eyes and murmured how powerfully she was reminded of someone.

Jinshi, his beautiful face wearing an arrogant, smug expression as he held up the note she had written to warn Concubine Gyokuyou about the face powder, his eyes daring her to try to hide, to deny the evidence dangling from his fingertips.

Gaoshun, his steady, reliable presence always a soothing counterpoint to his master’s sickening charm.

Ailan, Yinghua and Guiyuan, fussing over her in the Jade Pavilion, pushing snacks and sundries on her that would inevitably find their way to Xiaolan later as Hongniang supervised with exasperated amusement.

Jinshi, his downcast demeanor giving way to shock and joy at an extremely boring banquet, brushing a single fingertip over her mouth before pressing it to his own, imprinting her rouge on the sulk of his bottom lip.

The quack doctor, his kind face lighting up with a smile, never a harsh word for anyone - a bad doctor, but a good man with a generous heart that she was always astonished the world never seemed to bruise.

Gyokuyou, her beautiful face alight with mischief, determined to make her own joy, even when trapped in the cage of the Rear Palace.

Jinshi, that clear, beautiful voice unstrung with horror as he stood in the doorway of the apothecary shop she’d grown up in at the sight of the upraised knife, catching her in the middle of an experiment.

Lihaku, his steady, upright presence, protective and teasing all at once - the big brother she never knew she needed.

Shisui, her bright eyes alight with excitement as she proudly held up her newest specimen in a cage, the summer cicadas buzzing around her, no hint of the snow to come that would swallow her whole.

Jinshi, smiling through the pain as he burned Gyokuyou’s crest into his flank, his eyes alight with challenge to the Son of Heaven himself, his determination to forge his own path a silent declaration accented with the stink of iron.

Doctor Liu, biting back annoyance as Maomao attempted to run yet another experiment on one of the soldiers, sending her to compound medicine. She discovered after the fact that the scut work to keep her busy involved pharmaceuticals that the mid-level physicians found challenging, a silent attestment to her competence in the face of nepotism.

Yao and En’en, alternatively sweet and sour, friends who snuck into her life unexpectedly.

Jinshi, his eyes wild as he flung open the door to his office, breathless with relief as they tumbled to the floor, his arms cradling her as she finally slept.

Chue, her silliness and laughter masking a ruthless streak, whether in the face of bandits or Maoamo’s own stubbornness.

Jinshi sitting across from her in the carriage after another hunt, his expression a mixture of frustration and desire as he began to discover a side of herself she had only ever shown him before in anger.

Jinshi, again defying the Emperor, boldly declaring that ‘one woman is enough.’

Jinshi, sitting across from her at his dinner table, an exhausted but comfortable silence stretching between them, no need to fill the air with anything but their mutual company.

“Maomao!” Lahan’s voice startled her out of her reverie. She blinked several times, forcing herself to focus on his face. “You’re not paying attention.”

“Was I supposed to?” she murmured, the bite of her words weak in comparison to her normal repartee with Lahan.

He sighed. “You know what - “

“I’m not Lady Ah-Duo.”

Maomao’s words hovered in the air as Yao, En’en and Lahan all looked in between each other, confused. “Maomao, what does that have to do with, well, all of this?” Yao asked, tentatively.

“She never wanted to be the Emperor’s consort - the choice was made for her. And she offered me a chance to escape Li, because as much as she loves her son, she didn’t want to see someone else stuck in the same position as her.”

Lahan’s eyes widened. “Wait, you knew?!”

Maomao nodded slowly. “I suspected years ago. Lady Ah-Duo confirmed it when we got back from the western capital.”

“But why didn’t you - “

“Tell him?” Maomao gave Lahan a look she normally reserved for the truly stupid. “Do I really need to answer that question?”

En’en nodded and looked at Yao, who seemed incensed on Jinshi’s behalf. “It wasn’t her place to tell him in place of his parents - and it could have been worth her life if the Emperor had been displeased.”

At least Yao was quick. “Oh!”

Maomao raised her hand and dragged the conversation back on topic. “This isn’t the same. I chose him.” She looked at Lahan. “He’s panicking and I understand why. But I’ll be damned if I just let him walk away without a fight. If he doesn’t want me, he’ll have to tell me to my face.”

Lahan sat back on his heels and regarded her with the most serious expression she had ever seen on him. “You understand how dramatically his position has changed. Are you prepared to do what’s necessary to fight for the hand of the Crown Prince?”

She lifted her chin and returned Lahan’s gaze. “Yes.”

Lahan stood. “Very well. Gather anything valuable and we’ll put it in the carriage. As of this moment, you now live with your father and brother in the La family home, as a princess of the La Clan.”

“Um, Maomao? Your face…” Yao breathed.

En’en shook her head. “You agreed to this, I’m afraid.”

Carefully, Maomao rearranged her features into an expression that might pass as mere disgust. “I do need to be in proximity to the medical offices for my job,” she pointed out.

Lahan pressed two fingers to the bridge of his nose, pushing his glasses up. “Yes, and I’m not saying you should give up your dorm room entirely. But your official residence must be with the family home. You will also need the La name to strengthen your position as a daughter of the house.”

A daughter of the La Clan. Maomao felt her face begin to twist into a scowl again. “Any chance we can send the old fart back to the western capital?”

Lahan shook his head. “Oh, no. In fact, you’re going to have to bring him on board this operation.”

“What?!” Maomao spat.

“Who, exactly, do you think has the right to approve your marriage?” Lahan crossed his arms and looked at her. “Or the ability to check the Empress and Empress Dowager factions, for that matter? Our honored father may be the only one capable, but he will need a reason to reestablish his dominance inside the military and actually make a bigger push within the court. You are the only one who can convince him to do so.”

She slumped. Lahan’s logic was impeccable. Inescapable. And utterly impossible. “He’ll never do it.”

“I rarely gamble, little sister,” Lahan said gamely, ignoring Maomao’s continuing disgust with being unable to refute the address. “The numbers are too ugly for that. But if I had to place a bet between you and our father?” He took her hand and stood her up. “I wouldn’t dare bet against you.”

Maomao sighed. I’m demanding some very expensive medicines. Either as a wedding present or a consolation prize. “All right.” She walked over to the bookcase, gathering the few books present, the battered letter case and her savings.

Yao came to her feet behind Maomao. “So, that’s a ‘no’ on joining us for dinner?”

“Next time, Lady Yao. For tonight, it’ll be just you and me.” En’en smiled, her eyes lighting up at the prospect of an uninterrupted evening with her lady.

Lahan gestured to the door. “In the meantime, I believe you and I have a court jeweler to see.”

“Fine.” With less than perfect grace, Maomao allowed Lakan to escort her out of the dormitories.

Chapter Text

“No! Nonononono! Maomaaaaaaaao! He’s not taking my baaaaaaby!”

This conversation was going about as well as Maomao expected. Lahan was attempting to soothe the strategist while Luomen looked on with an expression that seemed torn between concern and amusement.

They had stopped to recruit Luomen for this conversation after the court jeweler melted the powder back down into gold - a demonstration that would have normally held more of Maomao’s interest - but with this upcoming confrontation she had expressed a desire to hedge the old fart in with as many voices in support of this plan as possible. A strategy to which Lahan had agreed with an alacrity that she suspected meant he had already anticipated the need for Luomen’s presence to soothe the old fart.

Her dad, after Lahan explained what was going on, had simply looked at Maomao and asked her if she was sure of her choice. When she had reassured him that she was determined to choose Jinshi to be her husband, he had sighed slightly, but pressed her hand in silent support before allowing Lahan to help him into the carriage.

And now the La Clan, including Lahan’s Brother (she still couldn’t quite make herself think of him as Junjie), were assembled at the family home as the head of their clan threw what could only be described as a tantrum of epic proportions.

“Honored Father - “

“Don’t you dare! How could you suggest something so ludicrous!”

Lahan’s Brother looked at Maomao and whispered, “Shouldn’t you say something?”

“Such as?” It was already as much as she could do to keep from bolting out the front door, her skin crawling at the thought of staying under the same roof as the overgrown child currently berating Lahan for ever suggesting that his precious baby girl should leave them.

“I don’t know. Anything?” He darted a glance between Maomao and Lakan still ranting while his little brother tried to get his attention long enough to even begin to calm his adoptive father down.

Maomao shook her head, feeling pressure behind her eyes building. Her bold declaration to Lahan, Yao and En’en felt very far away at the moment as she watched a grown man literally kicking his legs like a child.

“Lakan, that’s enough!” Luomen finally barked out in a tone that Maomao had only heard rarely while growing up - but whenever it came out, she always knew it meant she was in big, fat trouble.

The strategist sat up on the floor, eyes wide, “Honored Uncle - “

“You’re not four, Lakan. If you are going to object, at least state your objections like an adult!” Luomen held his cane in front of him, resting one hand on it, staring his nephew down.

The strategist whimpered, but stood up and began to pace. “You seriously want me to clean up the Moon Prince’s mess?!” He looked at Lahan. “So that he can take my Maomao?! She doesn’t even want to be his wife!”

“If this is anyone’s mess, it’s the Emperor’s. The Moon Prince can hardly be blamed for his parentage,” Lahan replied, eager to make his points now that the strategist was coherent.

“I’ve already cleaned up that royal ass’ mess once before and look at what we got!” Lakan fumed. “If he wants to put the Empress’ son on the throne, then he should just do it!”

Luomen shook his head. “You know I make it a policy of staying out of political affairs, Lakan, but even I know it’s not as simple as the Emperor telling the court and the court obeying without a peep.”

“He’s been ruling long enough, he should know how to keep the court in check!”

“No one can anticipate stupidity, Honored Father,” Lahan attempted to soothe.

Lakan continued to fume. “Hao’s not that difficult to predict - a stupid Go stone if I ever saw one! But smart enough to see the obvious - that our honored Emperor has been grooming the Moon Prince for years!”

Maomao stiffened - she’d thought the same thing before as well. But she’d also thought the Emperor had seen Jinshi’s determination to leave the line of succession and at least taken it seriously.

“He’s determined to have the Moon Prince succeed him and now the whole court knows it. It’s about time he finally came out with it! Fine, but what does this have to do with him taking my Maomao!?” Lakan yelled.

Lahan began speaking again, but Maomao couldn’t hear what he was saying. There was a rush of blood in her ears and she noticed with a sense of detachment that her hands had begun to shake, even as she stood slowly and looked the strategist in the eye for the first time.

“This is why you are not my father,” she said, tone cold enough that the entire room froze at her words.

“Maomao,” Luomen began, but fell silent when she held up a hand to forestall him.

“You still haven’t learned your lesson after ruining her,” she continued, staring the strategist down. “This is all about you. You want to play ‘daddy,’ but the one time I’m asking you to actually act as my father and you act like a child instead! You want to take Luomen’s place, but you can’t. You didn’t raise me. You didn’t educate me. You didn’t care for me and you sure as hell didn’t keep me safe! You were what I had to be kept safe from! So you love me? So what? Your love is about as helpful as a pissbucket with a hole!”

The strategist just stared at her, eyes wide with shock and emotion Maomao didn’t care to name as she continued, the words spilling out of her in force, now that she had finally begun to speak.

“Do you think I’d be standing in this house if I weren’t desperate? If I had any other options? But I don’t. I promise you, if I did, I would never set foot in this house or ask you for anything. You want me to be a princess of the La Clan? Then do your job as the head of the clan! For ONCE in your life, just do your damn job!” she shouted, the unexpected prick of tears forcing her to stop and inhale sharply to push them back.

The room fell silent with shock as Maomao turned on her heel and fled.

Maomao sat in the annex, surrounded by Luomen’s library of medical texts and leafing through an encyclopedia of western remedies without really seeing them when the door opened. She didn’t look up, only turned her attention more firmly toward the page she was on. Arthritis remedies. Perfect - she knew her dad felt the pain in his knee especially badly in the winter and the rest of his joints were tender.

Unfortunately for her facade of peaceful study, the intruder slowly sat down next to her, triggering itching on the side of her body closest to him. She took a deep breath and looked up rather than directly at him, at the trigrams that adorned the walls. “I’m not sorry for what I said.”

“I know.” The strategist’s voice was softer than normal.

Maomao fiddled with the edges of the book. “You can’t change the past. I…appreciate,” she ground out somehow, “that you never intended to hurt me or the woman who bore me. I have never once thought of you as malicious.”

A sigh next to her. “If not malicious, then what? What kind of man abandons the woman he intended to take to wife and their unborn child?”

“A careless one. Someone who never once thought through the consequences of his actions beyond the next game move.”

Silence greeted her judgment and she continued. “I’m honestly grateful for how my life turned out. I was adopted by the kindest man I know. Someone who guided me and taught me and never made me feel lesser than others, even when I turned out to be obsessed with medicine and poison. Luomen is my daddy and he can’t be replaced.”

“I wanted to raise you! I came for you, Maomao,” Lakan pleaded.

She pressed her lips together to get her first impulse under control. “Yes, you did. I will grant you that. The moment you knew you were a father, you tried to assume responsibility. Whether or not anyone wanted you to.”

Lakan was silent at that, but she could feel his gaze on her.

“You tried to take me, over and over again. You didn’t care about what I wanted. You didn’t care that I was happy with Luomen. Why didn’t you try talking to your uncle and moving him back into the family home, if you wanted us to live with you so badly?”

“You think I didn’t try that?” Lakan asked. “I went to see my uncle shortly after I found you the first time and recognized it was him with you. He gave me the dressing down of my life - and I deserved every word of it. He insisted he was settled in the pleasure district and he didn’t want to uproot either you or his business.”

Maomao sighed. “In other words, he wasn’t willing to abandon her either. And she was still coherent then - she didn’t want anything to do with me, but she couldn’t have borne you knowing what her circumstances were.”

Lakan passed a shaky hand over his face. “Fengxian always had her pride. I am so grateful you led me to her, but I wish I had had the chance to let her scream at me. Cry, rage, whatever she needed. I would have borne it - and I would have kept going back to her as long as it took for her to understand that I didn’t care about what she’d had to do to survive and support both of you. That I was proud of her - and of our daughter.” She could feel his eyes on her. “Do you still hate her?”

She blinked, startled at the question. “Hate her? No. How could I? I barely knew her, really.”

She hadn’t dreamed of Fengxian holding the knife in a few years. Not since she had finally confronted Lakan after the blue roses incident and arranged for him to find her. She never had to tip medicine into that woman’s mouth again, or wipe her down, or listen to her singing that infuriating lullaby over and over while laying out her Go stones. “Nor did I ever really bother imagining what my life would have been like if she had raised me. I had Luomen and granny and my big sisters. I never lacked a family and I was happy with what I had.”

The strategist’s shoulders slumped. “Well, that’s one way in which you’re like her. She was never prone to sentimentality either.”

Her fingers tightened on the corner of the book and she made herself relax them so as not to crinkle the page. “I do wonder who she might have been if she hadn’t been raised to be a courtesan.”

“If she hadn’t been, I would never have met her. Nor would you have been born. And despite everything that’s happened, if there is one thing I have never, ever been sorry about, it’s the fact that you exist, Maomao. You are the most precious person in the world to me,” Lakan said, watching her profile.

She took a deep breath. “But am I a precious pawn to you? To keep safe and coddled and taken out to play with endlessly?”

“Maomao,” he breathed, reaching for her.

She pulled away. “If I’m a pawn, or any other game piece, then there is no point to my being here. Because what I want doesn’t matter - only what you want. And I have never put up with that - not when I was a child and certainly not as a grown woman.”

Lakan dropped his hand back in his lap. “So it’s come to this - the one thing I can do as your father is to help you leave me.”

“All children leave their parents, eventually. It’s the natural way of the world,” Maomao said. “And, I will point out, I have already left in every practical way. There’s only one duty you have left to perform on my behalf - my marriage.”

“And you want to marry the Moon Prince?” Lakan asked, clenching his hands on his knees.

Maomao took a deep breath. “Yes. I want to marry the Moon Prince.”

“And what about your previous loyalty to Empress Gyokuyou? I know you, daughter. You are not the type to be less than devoted to those you care about and marrying the Moon Prince would set you up as a direct rival to her and her son. Any children of your body would be presumed to be the successor to the throne. Forget cutting her children from the line of succession - their lives would be at risk. You would become her enemy.” Lakan laid out every one of Maomao’s fears with absolute precision.

“Let me clarify, then.” She finally turned her head to look at Lakan. “I want to marry Jinshi. I want to marry the man, not the prince.”

Lakan’s eyes widened. “I’m not sure what that separation would actually mean. He is the Moon Prince - soon to be the Crown Prince again. His disdain for the position is not a secret to anyone with eyes, but that doesn’t change the fact that he is the eldest son of His Majesty.”

“While I cannot go into details, the Moon Prince took steps to ensure that both His Majesty and the Empress understood without a shadow of a doubt that he had no interest in ascending the throne. It is actually more dangerous for Jinshi to succeed the Emperor than the court realizes and aside from whatever advantages there are to be had from prioritizing I-sei Province, His Majesty has motivation to make sure that Empress Gyokuyou’s son remains the Crown Prince.” Maomao released the words all at once.

Lakan rubbed his chin, thinking through what Maomao had told him.

She continued. “Jinshi was supposed to receive his own name.”

“His own name?” Lakan startled slightly.

Maomao nodded. “I don’t know how it happened, but that was the deal. He became Jinshi the eunuch and in return, if he succeeded at his task, which I’m guessing was ensuring there were heirs to replace him, he would be given a name of his own and allowed to leave the royal family.”

Lakan continued to rub at the stubble on his chin. “That is interesting.”

“The only ones who don’t want the current Crown Prince to stay that way are the stupid people in the court who are throwing a fit because Lady Gyokuyou has Western blood and they think that’s a bad thing. Frankly, given that the Imperial family nearly lost all of its heirs only a generation ago, you’d think they’d welcome some dilution of the blood to protect against consanguinity.”

“The court can be a very stupid, boring place.” Lakan sighed. “Well, it’s certainly an interesting board that you’ve laid out.”

Maomao bristled at Lakan’s phrasing, but deliberately kept quiet, rather than risk sabotaging her progress.

He nodded. “All right. I need you to tell me exactly what the goal is, so that we are both clear about what you want.”

Maomao took a deep breath. “I want to marry Jinshi. I want the Emperor to honor his promise to let Jinshi become a retainer and support the crown in a way that won’t kill him to do so. I want Empress Gyokuyou’s son to grow up as safe and secure as possible in a royal court.” She paused. “And I don’t want to live in the Rear Palace. That might be Jinshi’s worst nightmare.” She almost felt bad, laying out a laundry list of wants regarding the most powerful family and the second most powerful man in the empire, but now was not the time to equivocate.

Lakan removed his monocle and polished it. “Not your worst nightmare?”

Maomao shrugged. “I’m familiar enough with the Rear Palace - it’s the same kind of cage as any other brothel. If I’d wanted to be a courtesan, I could have done that at Verdigris House.

“True enough. You’ve always been hardy enough to bloom wherever you were planted, but that doesn’t mean you would thrive there,” Lakan mused, almost to himself.

That was a strangely poetic turn of phrase from the strategist. Still, Maomao was holding on to her composure by a thread, on edge as she had the longest conversation she’d ever had with the strategist. It felt strange - but at the same time, some of the tension had gone out of the room. As if, in finally confronting him with the reality of their relationship, some of the poison had been drained from the ever present wound of his presence.

The silence stretched for a few minutes, Lakan clearly thinking through what she had told him. Finally, he put his monocle back on (the other eye, of course) and said, “I can do this. I can move the pieces to help keep the current Crown Prince in place. But shogi with human pieces is much more complex than any game equivalent. People move with their own motivations and while I know the major players well enough to anticipate the majority of their movements, they do occasionally surprise me. And then there are the smaller pieces, who can create an upset. The end result may not look like what you anticipated. Are you prepared for that?”

Was she prepared for this? She stopped for a moment, thinking it over.

“Even if it means losing your medical work?” Lakan watched her closely.

Maomao sat straight up. “What does that mean?!”

“To marry the Moon Prince means to leave the medical offices as a court lady. Married women do not serve in that capacity. You have put in so much time and effort into building those skills and your reputation with the physicians. You’re very well respected - so much so that many of the physicians have been known to bemoan the fact that you weren’t born a man.” Lakan continued to watch her. “Are you prepared to give up medicine to be a wife? To manage the Moon Prince’s household and bear his children?”

Maomao scowled. “I may not be able to be a court lady anymore, but I am still an apothecary. I was an apothecary in the pleasure district and I was still an apothecary in the Rear Palace. Both places, I might remind you, where I was not strictly supposed to be practicing medicine.”

A small voice that sounded suspiciously like En’en said, You are a physician and the other doctors know it.

She squared her shoulders. “I understand your point, but this is something that cannot be taken away from me. I am who I am. And Jinshi has never tried to make me less than what I am.”

On the contrary. Luomen may have trained her, but Jinshi had opened doors for her that she had never imagined walking through, expanded her horizons to encompass more than she’d ever thought possible.

First she had been a lady-in-waiting and food taster. The Rear Palace was a small world, but larger than the pleasure district Maomao had been raised in. She had finished growing from adolescent to adult in that garden of women.

An apothecary, yes, when she returned to the pleasure district, but also a mentor. Sazen had grown into a perfectly competent apothecary himself and Kokuyou was a good doctor. The two of them were a perfectly acceptable replacement for Maomao and her old man in the pleasure district.

A physician, even if her official title was court lady. Moreover, she was the Moon Prince’s personal physician. She still had so much to learn, but the skills she had already acquired at Jinshi’s insistence (she still had not forgiven him for that stupid brand!) had meant that if Chue’s arm was not fully functional, neither had it rotted and fallen off. If there was a pang at the idea of not being on Doctor Liu’s pharmaceutical research team, it was soothed with a single thought.

Becoming Jinshi’s wife would not - could not - lessen her.

Just as fully leaving behind the title of prince could not lessen him.

They were who they were and, given half a chance, they would continue to grow together.

She focused her attention back on Lakan. “I don’t know what form it will take, but I will always find a way to practice medicine.”

Lakan sighed. “All right. I will support your choice.”

“Thank you,” she breathed, relief flooding her body and leaving her almost giddy. The itchiness had subsided and she was perfectly calm in Lakan’s presence for the first time in her life. “If you can manage to get special dispensation to keep working with the physicians from His Majesty as a wedding present, I wouldn’t say no,” she suggested.

“One thing at a time, daughter,” Lakan grumbled.

Maomao decided to push a little. “There’s precedent.”

Lakan paused for a moment. “The Ma Clan? Their oldest daughter?”

“Yes.” It was Maomao’s turn to stop. Maybe that was too far? She had just gotten him to concede to her marriage, after all! Not that she particularly cared what he thought. If Luomen had been opposed to her marrying Jinshi, that might have inspired some caution on her part. But her dad had simply made sure she was certain of her choice, before supporting her. He had always been like that.

But she refused to humble herself enough to ask for the old fart’s help for nothing. She did her best not to make a face at the realization that, in public at least, she might have to refer to him as “Father.” She would feed him red spider lily bulbs without pre-soaking them if he tried to make her say “Papa.” There was a limit!

There was a gentle rap on the door. Maomao and Lakan turned to see Lahan and Luomen standing in the doorway. “Honored Father, there’s someone here to see you,” Lahan said, his glasses flashing in the low light.

Lakan waved his hand, the peeved expression on his face threatening another tantrum. “I’m busy!”

“Lakan, go see your guest. I would like to speak with Maomao, in any case.” Luomen’s tone was gentle, but expectant.

Lakan grumbled, but immediately stood up to obey his uncle. “Fine, fine.” He and Lahan left, her cousin (ugh, her older brother now) flashing her a thumbs up.

Maomao shifted to make room for her dad to sit beside her. Luomen looked over at the book still in her hands. “Which one is that?”

She flipped it over to show him the cover.

“Ah. Were you looking for something specific?” His voice was soft, gentle. Soothing.

Luomen really did know her best. After multiple, fraught conversations today, talking about medicine was the best balm she could imagine for her soul. “Arthritis remedies. The nights are getting colder and I know your leg has been bothering you more.”

She felt a warm hand on the top of her head, stroking her hair with the thumb. The way he always had, since she was young. “That book has a few interesting options for that. Although you’d need gold salts for one of them, so it’s a bit rich for the purpose.”

She smiled at that. “Actually, Lahan and I just found a Western alchemist who was evading taxes on gold imports by dissolving it first.”

Luomen’s brows rose. “I hope you were careful handling the aqua regia.”

Maomao nodded. “I was. Still, maybe I should see if Lahan can ‘borrow’ a bit of the gold for me to play with?”

Her dad chuckled gently. “Something tells me you’re not going to have the kind of time you would need to run proper experiments. Besides, over the years what I’ve found helps the most is a hot bath.”

“So, maybe warming teas and food, along with hot compresses at night?” Maomao asked.

Luomen nodded. “Yes, I think that sounds like an appropriate prescription. I’ll be sure to follow it this winter,” he said with a smile that crinkled his eyes when he looked at her.

She smiled back at him, letting out her breath.

“Do you feel any better, now?” Luomen asked, brushing a strand of hair out of her eyes before dropping his hand.

“About what?” she asked.

Luomen just looked at her. “What you said to your father.”

“You’re my father, Dad.” Maomao scowled.

“And yet, I cannot arrange your marriage. Certainly not to the Moon Prince. Only Lakan can attempt it.” Luomen watched her.

She took a deep breath, attempting to get control of her face. “It needed to be said. I’m not a doll for him to play house with.”

“I agree. But you could have been gentler,” he continued, implacable.

She twisted her hands in her lap. “I’m not sure I could have been. It’s like…lancing a boil. The more you try to be gentle, the more it hurts in the end, versus simply opening the wound to let the poison drain.”

“And has it?” He tilted his head to the side, his eyes curious.

She took a deep breath. “A bit. We actually had a conversation, at least.”

“That’s a good thing, Maomao,” Luomen smiled at her again.

She couldn’t help it. She scowled again, her teeth grinding slightly. “I still don’t like him. And I refuse to call him ‘Dad’ or ‘Papa’ or anything but ‘Father.’”

“Of course not. I’m your dad,” Luomen teased, but his hand came around her shoulder to hug her close to him.

She closed her eyes and returned the embrace. “Dad?”

“Yes, Maomao?”

She looked up, eyes wide. “Do you think I’m making a mistake?”

Luomen’s eyebrows arched nearly into his hairline. “It doesn’t matter what I think. It matters what you think. Do you believe you’re making a mistake?”

She thought for a moment, but as she pictured Jinshi’s face, she was just as certain now as she had been back in her dorm room. “He’s the only person I could imagine being married to. When I’m with him, it’s…comfortable. Like - ” she broke off, struggling to find words.

“Like being with him is the most natural thing in the world?”

Maomao just stared at Luomen, surprised, but also relieved that he had somehow put what she was feeling into the right words. “Yes.”

He chuckled at her expression. “Oh, Maomao. You wanted to know what I think? I like the fact that your Master Jinshi makes you comfortable enough that you feel free to be who you are with him. But I love that he challenges you even more - and you feel safe enough to rise to that challenge.”

“But, you always seemed so…worried,” Maomao pointed out, eyes still stretched wide.

Luomen shrugged and spread his hands. “I am worried. I know all too well what can happen when those in power become displeased with those who do not have it.” He sighed. “But your situation is different from mine.”

“What do you mean?” she squirmed in her seat next to him.

“I raised you in the pleasure district because I had to, Maomao. But you are the sole daughter of the La Clan. The Moon Prince has earned my trust in this matter, but the rest of the royal family will have to reckon with Lakan if they lay one finger on you. Unlike me, who had been disowned by my father and had nobody to back me when I worked in the Rear Palace the first time.”

Her mouth twisted. The Emperor had done that. The same man who would be her father in law, should she marry Jinshi.

And yet, she had seen the Emperor in many guises over the years. A benevolent ruler, a doting father, an indulgent lover and a horny goat.

She pursed her lips and wondered if she should be more bothered by the fact that she knew as much as she did about her potential father in law’s sex life. And taste in erotic books. Many of which she had acquired for him. And instructed his consorts in sexual techniques.

She shook her head to clear it of that thought. That had been a long time ago.

“Something else on your mind?” Luomen asked, his eyes still amused.

“Nothing at all!” She shuddered slightly. Some things were best forgotten.

“Miss Maomaooooo! Miss Maomao!” came a familiar, chirping voice from the doorway.

Maomao turned on the seat to see Chue waving one arm wildly at her from the doorway. “Miss Chue! What are you doing here?”

Chue hopped over to her and bopped her on the head. “A little birdie whispered to Miss Chue that Miss Maomao was done moping and had decided to go drag the Moon Prince’s head out of his - ”

“Miss Chue, meet my dad, Luomen!” Maomao quickly interrupted, before things got too characterful around here.

Luomen was openly smiling. “Ah, you must be Maomao’s friend, Miss Chue? I am pleased to meet you.” He came to his feet, even though it was slow, and bowed in greeting.

Chue bowed low. “It is an honor to meet you, Master Physician. Miss Chue owes your daughter her life.”

“I heard that she had performed a surgery in the Western Capital that had reattached an arm.” Luomen looked at Maomao. “I can see she did excellent work.”

Maomao hung her head. “I couldn’t restore feeling to her hand, though.”

“Actually, look!” Chue held out her arm and screwed up her face in concentration. Her index finger and thumb bent into an approximation of a loose circle.

“It moved!” Maomao grabbed her hand, inspecting it.

Luomen held out a hand. “May I?” he asked Chue.

“Of course!” She extended her bad arm to him and tilted her head just like a curious sparrow as he examined it.

He looked between Maomao and Chue. “The human body is truly amazing. Sometimes, all it needs is a little time to heal on its own. If you,” he addressed Chue, “are starting to regain some control, then keep working on exercising the arm and more could follow.”

“And we’ll continue the massage to increase blood flow!” Maomao squealed, excited.

“Well then, that’s perfect! Miss Maomao and Miss Chue will have plenty of time over the next six months!” Chue grinned.

“Huh?” Maomao paused in the act of massaging Chue’s hand and tilted her head to the side.

“Pfft! That silly Moon Prince tried to put a different eye on you - as if Miss Chue would let anyone else watch over her dear friend!” She narrowed her gaze and looked Maomao up and down. “And, if Miss Maomao is getting ready to battle the court, then she is going to need a chief lady-in-waiting!”

Maomao’s eyes rounded like saucers. “A lady-in-what?!”

Luomen began chuckling again. “Did you not realize this was coming?”

Chue laughed along with Luomen before her mien turned abruptly serious and she bowed before Maomao - the bow of a servant to a noble lady. “If Lady Kan Maomao will accept this humble one, Miss Chue would be pleased to serve.”

“Um…um…” she felt her mouth flopping open like a fish, utterly speechless. She had seen this exact pose before - she had taken this exact pose before. But to be on the receiving end?

Luomen nudged her, silently encouraging her not to leave Chue hanging.

Maomao took a deep breath. “I would be pleased to have your service, Miss Chue.”

“Excellent!” Chue immediately hopped out of the subservient pose and grinned at Maomao. “Lady Ah-Duo has the strategist well in hand in his study, so let’s get started - we’ve got a lot to do, my lady!”

“Well.” Luomen looked between his flabbergasted daughter and her sprightly lady-in-waiting. “This is going to be an interesting winter.”

Chapter Text

When he had left, the very last gasp of summer heat was fading, chill winds coaxing the trees’ leaves to turn bold, vibrant shades of gold and red. Now those same leaves were the delicate, bright green of new growth, shading the full glory of flowers in spring, ornamenting the palace. The spring garden party had come and gone in his absence, an event he had been more than happy to miss. Now, the throne loomed in front of him, ministers and other members of the court all in attendance as the Moon Prince returned from his tour of Li.

Jinshi walked down the center of the room, following the path laid by the red carpet leading to the throne, all eyes on him. He let their gazes wash over him, absently noting which ones were openly admiring or hostile without letting any indication of notice cross his features. Instead he wore his face like a mask - that of the serene, noble prince. As he approached the Emperor, he raised his arms before him and bowed, deliberately pitching his tone of voice to resonate around the room. “Ka Zuigetsu humbly greets your Imperial Majesty.”

“Raise your head, Zuigetsu.” The Emperor’s voice was likewise formal, no show of parental fondness for the court’s eyes.

Jinshi raised his head and dropped his arms before him. The Emperor - his father - looked at him with an expression that mirrored his own. Formal, but not cold, an acceptable balance to show the court. The Emperor was, of course, flanked by the pillars of the nation, the most prominent of which continued to be Gyokuen, it appeared.

One of those pillars was a surprise, though. Lakan stood behind the Emperor, yawning openly and looking supremely bored. It was a wonder he hadn’t already pulled out a book or done something else to give offense. Clearly, something in the court had shifted during his time away. Jinshi checked quickly, but the familiar form of General Lo was present and accounted for.

“Report. What is the state of the empire?”

Jinshi gave his report in clear, succinct terms - he had polished it over the last few nights. In short, the empire appeared to be thriving, but there were a few points of concern that he could take the opportunity to bring to the court’s attention - areas where last year’s insect damage had not quite been ameliorated and damage to subsequent harvests had been sustained. Friction on the northern border. An uptick in reported pox cases - no doubt something the medical officials would be keen to know, even as he resolutely forced his thoughts away from a specific medical court lady.

Association with him could only bring her the type of attention that would hurt her.

As he finished his report, he bowed his head again. He had not arranged his exit in advance, deciding it was wise to take the temperature of the court and the rest of the Imperial family. Instead, he waited to hear the Emperor’s will.

He also did his best not to vomit on the sumptuous red carpet in front of him, deliberately breathing slowly and swallowing his nausea. The stress was getting to him - Suiren had refused by letter to leave his service in no uncertain terms, which hopefully meant that once he was finished with his duties for the day, he could rest for the evening. Quietly, in his own home, without the constant presence of guards, day and night. Basen had actually managed them a finesse that had genuinely impressed Jinshi during their travel, but no matter how well managed, ten men, plus attendants living nearly on top of each other for over six months had left Jinshi craving privacy - and the men a break.

“This is excellent news - We are pleased. This journey, undertaken on behalf of the empire, has no doubt been tiring. Take the next week to rest.” The Emperor’s eyes crinkled at the very corners, suppressing some kind of expression, but Jinshi was too genuinely excited to wonder what exactly it betokened.

A week’s vacation. This might have been the best possible news His Majesty could have given him. All he had to do now was make his formal greetings to the rest of the Imperial Family and his rounds of the court before he could finally collapse in his own bed - a prospect that was more appealing by the second.

“Ka Zuigetsu hears your words and thanks you,” he said, raising his hands and bowing his head once again as the formal audience itself concluded and he began to make his greetings to the Imperial family. His mother - no, his grandmother - greeted him with her usual cool composure in front of the court, only the squeeze of her hands on his own indicating any emotion beyond that. “You look tired.”

He smiled automatically, deliberately focusing his attention to push the exhaustion, the headache and the nausea to the back of his mind. “I’m looking forward to sleeping in my own bed, I will admit,” he responded, returning the squeeze of her hands gently.

“In that case, as much as I would like to speak with you, I won’t keep you any longer. Perhaps you might visit me in a week?” Anshi kept the ever-present half smile on her face, indicating no discomfort - she was not the most demonstrative of mothers, but Jinshi had never doubted her care.

He didn’t bow so much as incline his head in a gesture of respect to the Empress Dowager. “It would be my pleasure.”

Anshi’s smile became real for a moment before she returned the nod and released him to finish the rest of his greetings.

Empress Gyokuyou was as beautiful as always, her green eyes alight with what appeared to be genuine warmth as her son, the Crown Prince, sat quietly in her lap and looked around the court with wide, green eyes and a head full of wild red curls, echoing his mother’s features. Beside them stood Princess Lingli, who watched him with a wary attention that was somewhat better than the fear of strangers he had been greeted with when he returned from the Western Capital the second time. “Greetings to His Exalted Highness the Crown Prince, Her Majesty Empress Gyokuyou and Her Highness Princess Lingli.” He made sure his voice carried, leaving no question about how he had greeted - and acknowledged - the Crown Prince.

Said Crown Prince looked at him and smiled, holding his arms out toward Jinshi.

“That means ‘up,’” Princess Lingli informed him with a solemn expression that seemed at odds with the cheerful baby he had known in the Rear Palace.

He smiled at the princess, feeling the expression grow just a little more natural. “It does?”

Princess Lingli nodded and Empress Gyokuyou laughed. “It does indeed. Here,” she said before depositing his little brother into Jinshi’s arms.

The boy smiled at Jinshi, grabbing at the front of his robes, content to be held in a higher position even as Jinshi automatically adjusted his grip to make sure the child wouldn’t fall. An ordinary family scene, one that might happen every single day - but the court murmured around them.

The Empress’ message was clear and unequivocal. The Imperial family would show a united front to the court.

Meanwhile, Princess Lingli watched them. “Mother and Father say you’re my big brother now.”

A few members of the court gasped at the princess’ bluntness, but Gyokuyou pressed her lips together in an attempt to hold back laughter as she looked at Jinshi. “Lingli, the Moon Prince has just gotten back from a very long trip and is tired. And - ” she continued as the princess looked like she was about to object and say something else, “even if that were not the case, the court is not a good place to get shoulder rides.”

“But you said I could ride him ‘cause that’s what big brothers are for!” Lingli pointed to her baby brother with a pout. “You won’t let me ride any of my brothers!”

Jinshi heard Basen snort behind him, even as Jinshi couldn’t quite master his own face in the face of the little girl’s obvious disappointment, the corners of his lips twitching in repressed laughter of his own. He looked at the boy in his arms. “Did she try to ride you?” he asked the boy, who grinned at him in glee and made a credible attempt to grab Jinshi’s shoulders, as if attempting to go for that very ride his sister had been denied.

“Oh, yes. Yes, she did,” the Empress confirmed, shaking her head. “The princess has been very eager for you to come home ever since I explained that rides go in order of biggest to smallest. Perhaps you would be willing to indulge her in a week or so?”

Jinshi offered his most charming smile to the little prince and princess. “I would be honored to visit next week.”

Lingli clapped and her brother followed her example. “Yay! Horsie!”

Empress Gyokuyou shared a fond, exasperated look. “Isn’t it good to be home?”

“Indeed, Empress Gyokuyou,” Jinshi replied, shifting the Crown Prince’s weight as the boy reached for his mother again and was returned safely to her waiting arms. He was surprised to find it was true.

Only time would tell if this display of family accord would last, but at the very least it appeared that the Empress intended to attempt to solidify her son’s claim to the throne by making allies instead of enemies. An approach Jinshi had admired ever since their days in the Rear Palace - and one he was more than happy to throw his support behind. He looked down at a tug on his robes to find Princess Lingli looking up at him with an expectant look in her eyes. “You won’t forget?” she asked, her diction shockingly clear since the last time he had seen her.

He shook his head and crouched down so that their eyes would be level. “I promise, I will come and see you after about a week. You won’t forget either?” he teased.

Lingli looked up at him with wide, shining eyes and shook her head. “I promise!”

He almost felt rather than heard the court sigh at this charming display of sibling accord and stood to face the Empress. “Your Majesty,” he offered her the same respectful nod that acknowledged her position while at the same time being mindful of his own.

Empress Gyokuyou smiled - a familiar, mischievous smile that he remembered from countless amusements in the Rear Palace. Usually it betokened something that would be at least mildly troublesome for him, but he could no longer bring himself to care. “Moon Prince,” she replied.

With that, greetings to the Imperial Family were over. Jinshi moved through the court, his perfect, nymph-like smile still on his face, hair spilling like silk over his shoulders and his bangs worn intentionally a little long, the better to cover the scar on his cheek. He greeted ministers, courtiers and ladies alike, all with the smooth charm he had been known for in the court when he was simply Jinshi, the manager of the Rear Palace and the Emperor’s favorite.

He was soon inundated with women, escorted by their adoring fathers, brothers and uncles. They all had some variety of dark, shining hair adorned with jewels, skin rendered pale and lustrous with powder, eyes and lips reddened and moist with invitation. Fine silks and embroidery enhanced voluptuous curves. His immediate atmosphere became a miasma of different scents competing for his attention and driving a sharp spike of pain into his temple. The women themselves began a battery of tactics to capture his attention - direct, flirtatious gazes and sultry bedroom voices, probing for any hint of carnal interest. Shy smiles and glances at him through their lashes, receptive to any conversation he might choose to initiate. Polite, respectful questions about his travels. Teasing, playful banter about the weather or other inoffensive topics.

To all of them, he responded with courtesy and charm. For the polite, he offered a hint of adventure, telling stories about the far reaches of Li that they would never see, caged here in the capital.

To the shy, he drew them out with empty compliments that provoked flushes of pleasure at being noticed, respecting their sincere admiration without offering a hint of reciprocity.

To those who teased, he returned their playfulness, bantering with them in a game that, if there were no true winners, nor were there losers.

For the overly flirtatious, he took no notice, brushing off any attempts to touch him with redirection, letting their interest wash against him without provoking any type of response.

He noted with an absent sense of detachment that the sparkling charisma that drew in his audience, men and women alike, seemed to be even stronger now that the gravitas of the Moon Prince bolstered it. The open lust was better hidden, but he could still see it burning. Lust for him, for what his station might mean if only he would take notice of one of them. Jealousy and resentment festered from those who were wise or perceptive enough to realize a fundamental truth.

The Moon Prince was as cold as his title.

In Shogi, he might be passable. In Go, he was average, at best. Even in the greater politics of the court, he acknowledged that he was a novice in many aspects. But this - the game of flirtation and charm, he was the acknowledged master - pleasing and charming, implying everything and promising nothing. His lips curved in a perpetual smile, but only the observant would notice the distance in his eyes.

It had been six months - and the Emperor had still not named him Crown Prince in place of Gyokuyou’s son. Lady Ah-Duo was right - it was not yet time to give up hope on that front.

Once, he had balanced managing the Rear Palace with the shadow duties of being the Emperor’s only heir. He could do it again. He could be the Moon Prince and fulfill the Emperor’s slightest demands while also dedicating himself to the protection of the Crown Prince, rooting out any selfish insistence on the part of the foolish court who might attempt to topple him from the position.

He had to. If his path stretched out in front of him, the destination might still be slightly altered.

Jinshi felt himself settle into his role, not even the pieces of his broken heart provoking more than a dull ache when he occasionally caught sight of a stray freckle or slender figure.

Around the Moon Prince, the court whispered and speculated.

“He’s as beautiful as ever!”

“Look at his composure, his bearing - so elegant and noble.”

“We’ll have a new Crown Prince by the next garden party, I’ll put money on it.”

“Well, if by ‘new’ you mean ‘our former Crown Prince back,’ then, yes.”

“A new Crown Prince and a new Pure Consort - my! Life at court has certainly gotten exciting!”

Chue smiled as she hovered around the edges of the room, her makeup and clothing making her look like any number of ladies in waiting crowding the room to play looky-loo at the Moon Prince as she listened to the rumors surrounding him. Her new protegee had outdone himself this time.

With that said, she looked at the Moon Prince himself and narrowed her eyes. The young master looked sick. Oh, the court wouldn’t notice - all they ever saw was that celestial smile, the silken hair, the sweet voice. They missed entirely how the bones of his face pressed against the skin, throwing that beauty into a stark, almost otherworldly relief. His lips might curve in a smile, but his eyes were hollow in his face and occasionally he swallowed, as if fighting back a wave of sickness.

There was also Basen, unobtrusive at his master’s back, but watching his milk brother with a studied, neutral expression that only barely disguised his concern.

Originally the Moon Prince was supposed to be given a couple of days to recover from his trip - it was a subtle testament to the Emperor’s shock at seeing his oldest son’s state that this vacation had been extended to a full week.

It could be overwork. It wasn’t as if the Ma clan hadn’t seen the prince work himself into a state of exhaustion day after day in the Western Capital. He would be back in his own pavilion soon enough. If it was only exhaustion, that would begin to correct itself in a week. But if it wasn’t…

Chue ducked out into a side hall, her bad arm tucked against her side. She had a report to make and her mistress would be returning soon.

Suiren gasped the moment she saw him, her hand flying to her mouth. “Young master!”

Jinshi winced - his head was throbbing and all he wanted to do was collapse face first into his bed. But he fought the exhaustion to throw propriety to the wind, wrapping his arms around Suiren, his oldest ally, his nursemaid, his grandmother, finally believing she was okay after that awful morning he’d woken up in Lady Ah-Duo’s villa to the news that someone had tried to set fire to his home, had hurt her. “Are you okay?” he got out past tears that had unexpectedly sprung to his eyes.

Suiren returned the embrace, squeezing hard. “It’ll take more than a thrown torch to scare me, young man. What have you been doing to yourself!?”

Jinshi just shook his head against her shoulder, unable to form words.

“Master Jinshi, if you can eat something, I think you should. Otherwise, go to bed,” Basen interjected.

Suiren pulled back and took a good look at Jinshi’s face. “You’re much too thin. Sit down - I’ll have food out in just a moment.

At that moment, the nausea Jinshi had been repressing suddenly came to the forefront and he barely made it to a waste bin before what little he’d managed to eat came back up. With force. Once his stomach was empty and all he could spit was bile, he felt a cool, wet cloth bathing his face and the back of his neck. “How long has this been going on?” Suriren asked, looking between him and Basen.

“Almost a month. He’s not running a fever, but I think he’s picked up some kind of cold that isn’t going away because he won’t take the time to rest!” Basen directed that last bit at Jinshi, glaring.

Suiren glanced at the contents of the wastebasket. “And you’re sure it's an illness?”

Jinshi sighed and rested his head against his hand. “Every bite I’ve put in my mouth has gone through either Basen or the food taster. Both of them are fine. I’m just sick.”

“Well, the Emperor gave you a week off, so why don’t you put it to good use and get your royal ass in bed?” Basen folded his arms and glared at his friend.

“I’ll bring some tea into your room - try to drink what you can and we’ll see how you feel after a decent night’s sleep.” Suiren helped him stand, guiding him to his bedroom before bustling off to get fresh tea.

Jinshi quickly stripped down to his pants, not even bothering to put on his sleeping robe before he planted face first into his bed. He vaguely felt his hair loosen and nuzzled his face against the pillow before unconsciousness pulled him under. The last thing he remembered was feeling Suiren brush his hair away from his face.

Suiren finished settling Jinshi in bed, the tea she brought untouched before she slid the door to the bedroom closed and turned to face Basen. “He’s in a terrible state!”

Basen did his best not to quail in front of the woman who had been a constant, slightly scary presence his entire life. “I know. He has been pushing himself, but he still shouldn’t be like this. I wish we’d brought the apothecary with us.”

“That makes two of us,” Suiren sighed. “So, he’s been given a week’s vacation?”

“Yes.” Basen nodded. “And, frankly, I’m hoping he spends all of it right here, resting, because I suspect that’s what it’s going to take for him to get back to normal.”

“Well, I expect him to stay in one place for the next day, at the very least. Which reminds me, your father is expecting you tonight to discuss the new security measures around both the Moon Prince as well as the protocols surrounding the Crown Prince.” Suiren placed the tray of sundries she’d prepared for their master in front of Basen instead, which was quite welcome. He did his best not to fall on the food as if he was starving, even as he stuffed his face.

When he finally came up for air, he responded. “I’ll go see him as soon as I’ve double checked the guard.”

Suiren sighed. “How was the trip, at least?”

“Interesting. The majority of it was actually a good experience - and it kept him busy, which helped. He’s always been very good with diplomacy, which is what a lot of this was. But we also got a chance to see a lot of the country and meet people. Between that and giving him a chance to spar every time he needed to let his frustration out, he was actually doing okay until he got sick - and then he just kept pushing through it.” Basen huffed in frustration.

“And how was Lady Lishu?” Suiren asked, not quite hiding a smile.

Basen felt his entire body flush with embarrassment. “Um…I’m not sure - ”

“Basen,” Suiren teased. “I’m aware that there was a certain village that was your first stop. I didn’t ask if you’d come back secretly married, but I was hoping you could tell me how the young lady is doing now that she’s been freed from the Rear Palace.”

Secretly married! Basen didn’t think it was possible to flush any harder, yet he managed it as he stuttered out, “Well…um…Lady Lishu is…well! She’s well!”

“Well, that’s good to hear.” Suiren couldn’t quite repress a giggle at Basen’s red face. “I do hope one day you’ll bring your bride home. It would be nice to see you happy.”

He was still flustered by the very idea of bringing Lishu home - but even if she was ready, he turned his eyes toward the closed bedroom door. “I can wait a little longer - I can’t imagine that the Emperor is going to let his marriage go any more.”

Suiren sighed at that. “A consort selection was announced a few weeks after you left. Not just the legitimate wife, but two concubines as well.”

Basen winced. “Concubines? So, you think his Majesty is serious about restoring him as Crown Prince?”

“I’m not sure. But the Empress is officially in charge of the selection. I suspect our Emperor is more interested in making a show of balancing power.” Suiren poured herself a cup of tea, holding it carefully in between her hands.

“He won’t do it.” Basen shook his head. “You know he’s determined not to marry at all, at this point?”

Suiren lowered the teacup and looked at Basen with a piercing stare. “Did he say that?”

Basen nodded. “One of the diplomats was from halfway across the world and was telling us about a queen in his country who’s maintained the stability of her rule for decades by using a potential marriage alliance as leverage. I think Master Jinshi thinks he might be able to pull off something similar - and if he has no children, the Empress’ son would remain the heir apparent, even if the throne passed through another generation.”

“I see,” Suiren murmured.

“But I think,” Basen forced out past the flush that was rising once again, “that my own marriage might feel like rubbing salt in a wound right now.”

“You might be right about that. But that doesn’t mean you should put your life on hold either. Our master may be pained by his own situation while still genuinely celebrating your happiness,” Suiren gently pushed.

Basen took a deep breath. “I think, before making plans on her behalf, I should ask Lady Lishu what she thinks. If she’s amenable…then I will speak to my mother and sister about beginning formal negotiations with the U Clan.”

Suiren clapped her hands. “Wonderful! I hope the lady’s answer is everything you’ve hoped for, my dear.” She grinned. “You deserve to begin your own family.”

At this point, Basen was wondering if he was going to spend the rest of his life in a state of permanent blushing. He attempted to change the subject. “It may be awkward, but should we call the apothecary to take a look at him?”

Suiren looked at him and shook her head, a smile on her lips. “I can care for him - and Maomao is unavailable, in any case.”

“Unavailable?” He glanced at the closed bedroom door. “Is she well?”

It may have taken him long enough that he was embarrassed by his lack of perception, but on the relative safety of the road, Jinshi’s heartbreak had become clear. If his master had merely been moping about his drastically changed circumstances, that would have been manageable - insufferable, but manageable all the same. Instead, the Moon Prince tackled each day with a stoicism Basen had never before seen, taking every task diligently as they came, one after another with no thought of any attempt to push the work off just enough to catch a break. By itself, his behavior could merely be explained by - and admired as - the Moon Prince’s growing maturity. But what unnerved Basen was how Jinshi’s expression almost never changed - his face a pleasant mask whether interacting with the men, making his diplomatic greetings or even speaking with Basen himself. There had been no complaints, no wry observations, not even so much as a weary sigh.

He had put up with it for approximately two weeks after leaving the Red Plum Village before finally dragging his master out of their tent before dawn, when they were making camp between towns. He put a training sword in his hand and proceeded to beat his prince into the ground until he finally got a reaction, Jinshi snapping, “Enough, Basen!” an order he would never have ignored in the past.

He had never seen his milk brother come after him the way he did after Basen had refused to stop, his careful and elegant sword form stripped back to bare essentials, attacking him with a wild fury. Basen had pushed Jinshi until they both collapsed - and the confession he forced from his friend in the aftermath had shocked him with its quiet hopelessness. This was not the agony of the prince not knowing if his love was returned. It was the despair of knowing that circumstances beyond his control had created a situation where the most loving act he could do was to let Maomao go - because there had never been any hope from the beginning.

Jinshi could live without Maomao - but only, Basen knew, if she was safe and happy. The fact that she was unavailable worried him - court ladies didn’t usually go far.

“Yes. But she is out of the capital until the beginning of next month. The physicians have gone to the southern harbor to meet a trade ship that has some rather rare pharmaceuticals and ingredients from the far West.” Suiren smiled. “It’s a good break for her as well.”

“So she’s happy,” Basen grumbled. “At least one of them is, I suppose.”

“Don’t make assumptions, Basen,” Suiren reproved him gently. “I suspect the young master is going to be somewhat surprised by the state of the court when he recovers.”

Basen leaned forward. “What’s happened?”

Suiren shook her head. “I’ll let your father tell you. Right now, the prince needs to rest without worrying. But make no mistake.” She leveled him with a look. “Maomao is utterly devoted to him - and she’s been busy.”

Basen finished his tea. “In that case, if you’ll excuse me, I’d like to speak to the guards and then report to my father.”

“Of course.” Suiren smiled at that. “It’s good to have both of you home.”

Basen nodded. “It’s good to be home, Lady Suiren.” He strode out to the courtyard to touch base with the household guard, already thinking through what he could focus on to make this situation at least a little easier on his master and his oldest friend.

As Basen left, Suiren looked at the closed bedroom door and shook her head. “You boys…” she murmured. She considered writing a note to Ah-Duo, but if she knew her daughter, she would have most likely already gotten a report on her son’s condition before Suiren could send anything. She would wait and see how things looked in the morning.

In the meantime, she bustled off to the kitchen. The poor boy had been through a lot and would need his strength to navigate what was coming.

After a week of rest, Jinshi finally felt like he might approach a state close to ‘human.’ The nausea was gone, although there was a lingering headache at times that he hoped would finish going away with some fresh air. It had almost felt like a shame to waste this precious time off either sleeping, eating or resting, but the lure of locking himself inside his home and not coming out in order to deal with the court was too tempting to resist.

Today, however, he dressed carefully and stepped inside his office, at once familiar and strange. He hadn’t actually done any work here since that morning in the court that had utterly rocked his world off its axis, rearranging the pieces of his life in a brand new configuration that made no sense - and somehow made everything that had come before suddenly make sense. Even though everything was exactly as he’d left it, it felt like stepping into another man’s space.

In a way, perhaps he was. This had been Jinshi’s office - where he had managed the various and sundry affairs of the Rear Palace. The complaints of the various little birds cooped up in its walls, the reports of His Majesty’s visits and which concubines should be watched each month to see if they stopped walking the path of the moon. The requests of various ministers and merchants for their daughters to enter that exclusive, walled garden, even as he slowly, gently allowed attrition to wear down the numbers that had swelled alarmingly during his Former Majesty’s reign.

Even after the Shi Clan’s rebellion, when he had discarded his eunuch’s mask entirely, there was the mixed annoyance and comfort of various matters of the Rear Palace that had still landed on his desk, his official and unofficial court duties mingling in the space to create a bridge between his two selves.

But he wasn’t Jinshi anymore. A fact that others - including a certain other he did his best not to dwell on - had reminded him before. The mask of Jinshi had served him well. Perhaps it had served him too well. He had grown too comfortable in it, willing to believe that if he just tried hard enough, arranged things perfectly enough, he could shed his prince’s skin and become an ordinary man.

Someone who would be free to forge his own path - even if the path he wanted never took him very far away from the only home he had ever known. Jinshi had always wanted to serve the Emperor, to put his humble skills and poor talents at the disposal of the crown. He had never imagined marrying for something as glorious as love of the woman who would be his wife.

But even as a child he had desperately wanted to choose his own partner. He had wanted to know that the woman he took to his bed, into his life, was his own choice, someone who saw him, not just his face or his position.

Now all he could hope was that he would not be outmaneuvered and forced into a political marriage. To which end, he did need to speak with the Empress and he had a convenient invitation to visit her and her household now that his vacation was done. Suiren had done her best not to bother him with work, but the news that his marriage selection had been announced was urgent enough to break that silence.

He understood the Emperor’s line of reasoning. Better to direct the political frenzy into a form he could control than allow the court to challenge him over the decision to hide the fact that his firstborn son had survived - that the young man the court had derided for years as a fool and incompetent in one guise or as a damned eunuch in another, was now the more desirable candidate over a two year old boy with foreign blood.

Well. Better to face it head on.

But first, paperwork. He stared at the pile that had built up over six months of absence and just barely suppressed a groan.

“Good morning, Master Jinshi.” Basen’s voice was cheerful enough, given that they weren’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future until Jinshi had dug his way out of at least some of this pile.

“Did Baryou go on vacation too while we were gone?” he asked Basen as he grabbed a proposal at random off the top of the pile and glanced at it.

“Apparently, this was all the stuff that needs your personal attention. There’s a couple more baskets over on the side,” Basen pointed them out, all neatly stacked and lined against the wall with different colored ribbons tying them shut. “He said he color coded them. Blue is petitions, endorsements and anything requiring a royal seal, green is all of your public appearances and speech drafts, yellow are all the various reports from projects you were working on before we left. And then there’s various tax matters under the red ribbon, and the black ribbon has invitations and proposed assignations.”

He bit his lip to prevent himself from ordering Basen to simply throw the black-ribboned basket into the trash and be done with it.

“ - anything on your desk needs to be handled as soon as possible because it’s time sensitive and then you can start working your way through the rest of it.”

Jinshi stared at the piles. “We can’t flee the country to get away from it, right?”

Basen smiled. “Sorry, Master Jinshi. I think you’re stuck.”

He smiled, but Basen’s form of address reminded him of what he’d been thinking earlier. “Basen. ‘Jinshi’ was a mask that I long ago discarded. It’s time we stopped using that alias, I think.”

Basen just looked at him, thoughtfully, but didn’t offer those thoughts. “Understood. What would you prefer to go by?”

He picked up his chop and traced the crescent moon of his sigil on the dry stamp, years of ink staining the seal permanently red. “Moon Prince will be sufficient, I think.”

“Understood, Moon Prince.” Basen straightened his posture. “Is there anything I can assist you with?”

“No, thank you Basen,” he replied. He replaced his chop on the desk and looked up. “Although, if the name ‘Yue’ slips out in private, that will also be acceptable.

“I’ll save it for when you’re being an idiot, sir,” Basen replied with perfect equanimity that was reminiscent of Gaoshun at his most taciturn.

He smiled. “I’m sure you will.” He sat at his desk and looked at the pile of papers, hoping that his mask didn’t break enough to show the despair he felt for his wrist and back at the thought of not moving from this desk until lunchtime, at least. “All right. Let’s do this.”

The Moon Prince sat at his desk and began to read the first document.

Chapter Text

Lunch time had finally come. The Moon Prince stretched in his chair, feeling his lower back pop. “Ow,” he groaned.

Basen shook his head. “You might need a second secretary.”

“It would be irresponsible to just stamp them all with a blanket ‘no,’ right?”

“Previous generations of the Imperial family have been known to use that exact tactic, sir,” Basen pointed out.

Of course, those previous princes were cautionary tales and the Moon Prince shook his head, looking over the dent he’d made in the pile. “I hate backlogs.”

“Well, if your highness is so inclined, there are those who are seeking an audience at your convenience.”

He straightened his posture. “Who?”

Basen glanced at the mirror that was set up to let them get a look at those outside the office itself. “It appears to be young noblemen of the court. I suspect these are social visits.”

“Trying to feel me out, are they?” The Moon Prince rolled his neck to work the kinks out.

Basen shrugged. “You haven’t really spent a lot of time among your peers, at least in age, sir. Maybe they’re thinking of your return to court as a fresh start.”

It was a criticism that had been leveled against him before and he took a deep breath. “Agreed. How many are outside?”

Basen glanced at the mirror again. “Three, it would appear, sir.”

“They may have fifteen minutes of my time. I would like a chance to eat, after all.” He rolled his neck one more time before deliberately straightening his posture in a manner befitting his station.

“Understood, your highness.” Basen left and when he returned, three young men of the court entered after him.

All of them were approximately his age and two of the three seemed a little nervous. The third young noble was a man with a clever, handsome face and what looked like a perpetual smirk. Nonetheless, they greeted him, arms raised and heads bowed. “Our humble greetings to His Highness, the Moon Prince,” they chorused.

Hm. That was a welcome change. No inappropriate use of exalted verbiage that would indicate they were thinking of him as a higher rank than he officially was. “Raise your heads. What brings you gentlemen to my office today?”

The tallest of the young men spoke, only stammering slightly. “We wished to offer our greetings at your safe return from your tour of the empire.”

The Moon Prince inclined his head, cordial but not easily approachable. “Your greetings are appreciated.”

There was a moment of awkward silence, as if the young men weren’t entirely sure how to continue the conversation. He almost dismissed them out of pity (and a desire to protect his lunch!) before the clever looking one spoke. “We hope we are not interrupting your day?”

“Not at all. I was just about to take a short break.” He smiled at the three of them, noting absently that the other two flushed very slightly. Flustered, then, but not inclined toward their own sex, it would seem.

Meanwhile, the clever one’s complexion never changed. “How are you finding your return? I can only imagine that life on the road can begin to wear after a while.”

“It does. It is, of course, good to be home again.” The Moon Prince’s sparkling smile never wavered.

One of the more nervous ones spoke up. “You missed the winter campaign, your highness, but spring means that there are still flowers to admire.”

Only one, and I doubt you are observant enough to look, he thought, his smile locking into place for a moment to avoid any minute change in his expression. Then he frowned internally. Winter campaign? Last I checked, we haven’t gone to war.

“That is, if your highness has the time to do so,” the second nervous one said, attempting to join in the conversation.

“Alas,” The Moon Prince gestured to the still impressive piles on his desk. “As you see, I doubt I will be doing much flower viewing in the immediate future.”

The first one frowned and blurted out, “Don’t you have secretaries?”

There was the slight rustling of paper behind Baryou’s curtain. The Moon Prince could all but hear offense emanating from that corner. Although Basen’s suggestion of finding a second secretary did have merit…

“His Highness would first have to find a secretary who wouldn’t look at six months of backlog and run screaming for the mountains,” the clever one said, his mouth twisting in amusement.

His own expression mirrored it for a moment. He couldn’t picture Baryou running for the hills himself - but maybe if Chue hauled him away? “Fortunately, gentlemen, I have a very talented secretary. But, as you rightly observed,” he addressed the clever one, “six months of backlog is still a fair amount of work to clear. I’m afraid flower viewing will have to wait.”

“A pity - it is always a pleasure to appreciate nature’s bounty before some hand plucks them into a bouquet,” the clever one shrugged.

His perfect nymph’s smile never wavered, but internally he deflated. Bouquet. So, this was about his household register.

“Some flowers don’t suit a bouquet,” the more timid of the quiet pair piped up.

The other one brightened. “True - ”

“My deepest apologies, Moon Prince.” Basen bowed from the corner. “I’m afraid there is a household matter that requires your attention.”

The Moon Prince came to his feet. “Well, gentlemen, it has been a pleasure to speak with you after the rigors of travel, but I’m afraid duty calls. Perhaps we shall speak again in a setting more suited for flower viewing.”

All three bowed. “Of course, Your Highness,” they chorused.

“I’m sure the Moon Prince will be at liberty soon enough to enjoy all the delights of spring. It is always gratifying to witness four perfectly balanced flowers gathered together.” The clever one offered him a smirk, as if inviting him to share a joke.

“Indeed,” he offered in his blandest possible tone while allowing his eyes to crinkle with the force of his smile.

The three gentlemen withdrew and the Moon Prince looked at Basen. “Is there actually a household matter or were you extricating me?”

Basen grinned. “Both. Lunch includes oranges. Better hurry up.”

His stomach rumbled at the thought of the sour fruit after an entire morning slogging through paperwork. “Agreed.” He stretched. “Let’s go eat.”

As they headed toward the main house, Basen asked, “That sounded like they were probing you about the Rear Palace, sir.”

“Yes,” he said, with a bemused shake of his head. “I would have expected them to be angling to introduce their sisters and cousins.”

Basen watched him. “You okay?”

He huffed in amusement. “I have more important things to do than speculate about His Majesty’s flower garden.”

Three days later, that perfectly balanced bouquet had become the bane of his existence.

The Moon Prince was already tired of his new routine of catching up on the backlog of paperwork that had accumulated in his absence, peppered with nobles trying to feel him out for, of all the strange things, rumor about a new Pure Consort being admitted to the Rear Palace. The post had been vacant since Loulan and the Shi Clan’s rebellion - with girls from the Empress and Empress Dowager factions taking the spots left vacant by Lady Lishu and the now-Empress. The specter of the Shi Clan had done a great deal to keep the position vacant, but it was probably past time for the Garnet Pavilion to have a new mistress.

But it wasn’t the Moon Prince’s problem!

He didn’t run the Rear Palace anymore - furthermore, he’d been absent from the capital for the last six months. The Rear Palace had a new palace manager - a man he had personally recommended on the basis of his administrative ability! But at this point, he was combing through the existing paperwork, just in case there was anything on his desk regarding the issue, just so he could give these idiots an answer.

“What are you looking for, sir?” Baryou’s voice came from behind the curtain.

The Moon Prince shuffled through another stack of papers. “Apparently, I’m going to get no peace until and unless I find out if there is going to be a new Pure Consort.”

“Ah.” Baryou’s voice was dry.

He paused his less-than-careful sort through the paperwork. “Do you know anything about the subject?”

His secretary was quiet for a moment behind his curtain. “I know that one of the high officials has recently gained more influence and has a daughter about the right age to enter the Rear Palace. The girl debuted at the most recent garden party and from what I understand has captured the imagination of the court.”

The Moon Prince sighed. “So, what they really want to know is if the Emperor is going to rein in this particular official.”

“Indeed, although only partially. The girl herself is considered to be the most eligible marriage prospect of the court right now and given that your consort selection has been announced, they might also be trying to figure out if the lady is in the running to become part of your household as opposed to the Emperor’s.” Baryou pointed out.

“Right,” he sighed, rubbing his temple. It was so easy to fall back into the habit of working on clearing out everything that had built up in his absence, but ignoring attempts to marry him off would only backfire at this point. He needed to actually speak with Empress Gyokuyou and see if she was willing to ally with him about his preferred strategy, or if he was going to have to work around her as well.

‘You do have an invitation from the Empress - she’s known to be quite intimate with the girl. Maybe you should go straight to the source?” There was a fine, fine thread of tension in Baryou’s voice that gave him some pause - was the political situation more explosive than he’d realized?

“You do also owe Princess Lingli a shoulder ride, sir.” Basen piped up from the corner where he had also been combing through documents.

“True.” He sighed. “Well, far be it from me to disappoint a lady, I suppose.”

Both of the Ma brothers snorted at that. Even the Moon Prince had to smile faintly at the ridiculousness of his statement.

Basen cleared his throat. “Speaking as someone who only has an older sister, rather than a younger one, I cannot speak for the princess’ reaction at being disappointed, but I suspect that she would find a way to ensure she gets what she was promised.”

He sighed. “Well. If nothing else, I am a big brother now. And I suppose I should test the waters and see how the Empress' welcome holds up in private versus public. Basen, would you kindly go ask the Empress’ palace if this afternoon would be convenient?”

“Of course, sir.” Basen turned around and headed off.

Baryou shuffled a few papers and went back to work, leaving the Moon Prince to shake his head and rearrange the papers he had messed up while looking through them. “Baryou?”

“Yes, sir?”

“Have I met this girl, at least?” He was trying to think of beauties that might have captured the court’s attention in the way this girl seemed to have done, but his attention was co-opted as Baryou started coughing violently behind the curtain.

“You okay?” He resisted the urge to twitch the curtain aside and pound the other man on the back.

“Yeah,” came a strangled confirmation. “Tea went down the wrong way.”

The Moon Prince shook his head. “Well? Is she someone they’d at least think I was familiar with?”

There was another pause before Baryou managed to get out, “The girl had never been officially presented at court before the spring garden party and your highness had been away from the court for well over four months at that point.”

“I see.” The prince sighed again.

Behind the curtain was resolutely silent for the moment before Baryou said, “Oh, this just came through, and I thought you might be interested. You’ve gotten some support from Minister Fu regarding the idea of repurposing existing structures in the poorer areas of the capital for calligraphy institutes.”

“Oh?” He kept cleaning up papers, pleased to see that he appeared to be through at least half of his backlog at this point.

“Yes - it would seem he likes the idea of raising the literacy rate among the populace in general, and if new structures don’t need to be built, that cuts the red tape in half, at least. And the fact that literacy rates are slowly rising in the Rear Palace as a result of the institute you began there means that the minister is willing to put some faith behind the proposal.” Baryou passed him the relevant letter from behind the curtain.

“That is excellent news.” He felt a small, genuine smile cross his face. At least this was something he could contribute and he sat back down to gauge support for one of his pet projects, the annoying subject of his father’s flowers pushed to the back of his mind.

Baryou sat in his alcove after his brother had retrieved their prince to go play horsie at the Empress’ palace and looked at the small basket hidden under his desk, by his foot. He opened it to reveal a pile of letters that he had very carefully filtered out of the Moon Prince’s correspondence over the last six months.

At first, they had all been concerned with the subject of Grand Commandant Kan and his stunning ascension within the court beginning a bare month after the Moon Prince had left on his tour. Letters asking for advice, gauging weakness, flat out asking for the Moon Prince’s support in curbing the La Clan’s head, due to his known long association with Lakan over his year in the Western Capital. Baryou had responded to all of these attempts at outreach with a form letter, reminding the senders that the Moon Prince was away on tour and that all such inquiries should be directed to the Emperor himself.

After the garden party, the volume of letters had tripled. Some still concerned Grand Commandant Kan, but the news that the La Clan’s daughter had been trained in etiquette under the Moon Prince had begun to circulate and the letters regarding her were split into two camps. The first camp were those who were interested in obtaining the young lady’s hand for themselves and were feeling the prince out to make sure that she was not already spoken for. Those letters had decreased sharply in the last three weeks

The second camp were those who were gauging the Moon Prince’s support behind elevating Lady Kan Maomao as the new Pure Consort to put a check on the soon-to-be General Kan.

Baryou had a stomach ache just looking at the pile of letters. The prince actually asking Baryou if he knew the young lady? Chue was going to have to beg his forgiveness for this one - but his orders had been clear. Nobody was to tell the Moon Prince about the apothecary’s abrupt rise within the ranks of eligible court ladies except for the Empress.

He reached for another indigestion pill. Hopefully the Moon Prince’s trip to the Empress’ palace would put an end to this charade, because there were only so many times he could successfully navigate a conversation like that without blowing the secret. Even if that meant his master would inevitably return either in a fury or a funk. Why couldn’t people just get married and be done with all this drama?

Then again, Baryou supposed that if your wife had a penchant for the dramatic, then perhaps it might be better for the Moon Prince to get all of the drama out of the way before he was married.

“Moon Prince! Welcome!” The Empress stood from her seat to greet him, even as her ladies in waiting appeared to be arranging a flurry of fabrics for her perusal.

He offered her his most charming smile, allowing his eyes to crinkle. “Empress, a pleasure as always.”

“Take a look at this - I think you might be interested.” She gestured to three bolts of silk for him to see, all of which almost glowed under the daylight with an unusual luster. “They’re calling this shot silk - see how it’s woven with multiple colors?”

The Moon Prince inspected them more closely. “Indeed.” There were three colors available - one bright scarlet shot with gold, another that appeared to be an extremely expensive purple, but was actually a vivid rose and sapphire woven opposite each other. The third bolt was that same sapphire interwoven with a complementary indigo that was intermittently shot with silver. The overall effect of that third bolt gave the impression of shooting stars against the night sky. “This is quite impressive.” His admiration was quite sincere - silk was one of their exports, but these fabrics would attract attention even among the court where fine silk was far from rare. “Where are they from?”

“Well, the technique comes from the West, imported through Shaoh, but these are actually the first bolts that were produced using Linese silk.” Gyokuyou stroked the fabric delicately.

And silk, unlike paper, was an easy export good to ramp up production for in the case of a new product. Although he still had his hopes in that direction. “A fitting adornment for your beauty, Empress Gyokuyou,” he said, falling back into the easy flattery of the Rear Palace. “I’m sure that with your patronage, Linese silk will soon become even more desirable.”

She giggled. “You’ve always been the best at that, but it’s still nice to hear.” She let the corner of the fabric drop. “Ailan, please see to it that the blue bolt is set aside - I think it will make the most stunning gift.”

“Of course, my lady.” Ailan removed the bolt of silver shot blue silk - the only one of the three that did not show her mistress’ coloring off to advantage. But whoever received that fabric must be high in the Empress’ estimation indeed.

Gyokuyou turned more thoroughly toward him and gestured for him to take a seat at the table. “You’re looking more rested. I hope you haven’t started working yourself to the bone again now that you’re home.”

“If nothing else, the backlog of paperwork is a familiar enough task that I know how to get through it efficiently,” he demurred. “Although I’ve been hearing a great deal about how there might be a new Pure Consort?”

The Empress raised her hand and one of her newer ladies in waiting that had joined her shortly before she officially married His Majesty - the youngest of the three, if he remembered correctly - poured tea for them. Gyokuyou sipped from her cup, not quite able to hide her smile. “Oh? What have you heard?”

“Only that the girl recently debuted, but her father is someone the court would like to see checked.” He took a sip of his own tea.

“Yes. Although now that you’re back, I suspect that the court’s attention will turn toward you - specifically the consort selection.” She arched her brows at him. “Any thoughts on the matter that you would care to share with me?”

He took a deep breath. “Indeed.” At least Gyokuyou was willing to get to the point quickly. “Empress, you know I have no intention of allowing anyone to force me back into the position of Crown Prince again?”

“I didn’t think you would feel the need to reassure me of that. You’ve been more than eloquent on the subject before - are you concerned that I would worry you’d changed your mind?” Gyokuyou watched him with a piercing gaze, more concerned than wary.

“To be blunt, yes.”

Her eyes softened. “When the news first reached me, do you know what my first thought was?” She took another sip from her teacup. “‘How did I miss it?’ The resemblance between yourself and Lady Ah-Duo is startling.”

He pressed his lips together in a quick grimace before taking a sip of tea to cover it. “So it would seem.”

“She was very brave.” Gyokuyou glanced at a side door. “To see but not be able to raise her own child - if I felt it were a choice between that or watching my children die, I have no doubt I would endure. But I honestly cannot imagine the toll it would take.”

The Moon Prince sighed at that. He had thought a great deal about his parents’ sacrifice over the last six months - any remaining dull anger was focused on how they had allowed him to still believe that he was the Imperial Brother after the succession. Why did the Emperor ever let him wear the mask of ‘Jinshi’ in the first place? “Lady Ah-Duo has always been extraordinary,” he managed in what he thought was a decent approximation of his usual tone.

“Yes. And, if I may say so without any flattery whatsoever, so is her son.” Gyokuyou continued to watch him.

He took a sip of tea to cover the wry twist of his mouth. “You do me too much honor, Empress Gyokuyou.”

“I disagree. My children could hardly have a better big brother - and the crown could not have a more devoted servant.” She put her teacup down and reached out a hand expectantly -and Hongniang put a letter case in her hand. “Which brings us to the main subject - your consort selection.”

It was a mistake to think that the Empress was not absolutely ruthless, even in the face of her warm and gentle demeanor. “Yes.” He settled into the chair - this was a contest he could not afford to lose. “With respect, I would like to relate the example of a foreign queen.”

“Oh?” Gyokuyou’s eyes sparkled as she laid the letter case down. “Please, do tell.”

He took a deep breath and offered his most charming smile. “This queen has held the throne of her nation for almost forty years - held it in a country very like our own in that women have traditionally exercised power indirectly. While she is no longer young, her position means that she is still a coveted marriage prospect.”

The letter case sat on the table in between them - no doubt containing pictures of those girls the Empress had selected. “Sometimes, the lure of a thing is more valuable than the thing itself.”

Gyokuyou nodded. “So, you would use your own hand as bait, essentially? Taking no wife, fathering no children?”

“I will father no children, regardless of whether or not a consort is selected for me,” he declared flatly, the surface charm falling away as he looked the Empress in the eye. “I would rather avoid disappointing an innocent woman with this choice, but make no mistake. I will not allow myself to be used as a weapon against your son. My branch of the Imperial line ends with me.”

Gyokuyou frowned. “His Majesty’s heart would break to hear you say that.”

He said nothing in response to that, biting back the words that wanted to come. He has already broken mine.

Zoom! The moment was shattered as Princess Lingli ran into the room and almost into the Moon Prince’s lap. “You’re here!”

If nothing else, the little girl’s innocent pleasure provoked a genuine smile from him. “I am indeed.”

“Sorry about that, my lady.” Yinghua’s expression was more than a little put upon. “She heard he was here and just took off for the parlor.”

Lingli looked up at him with large, green eyes almost exactly like her mother’s. “Now can I go for a ride?”

“Hmmmm….” he pretended to ponder for a moment before scooping the little girl up to shrieks of laughter, spinning in circles at first with her body tucked closely against his chest before stopping to place her atop his shoulders. “You ready?”

“Ready!” she yelled. Really, it was earsplitting!

He kept a careful grip on her wrists, making sure she wouldn’t fall as he ran her all over the parlor to the little girl’s utter delight. The ladies in waiting were all openly smiling and the Empress was grinning, holding one hand over her heart at the picture they were making.

Eventually, though, he had to put her down, to her immense disappointment. “Another time, princess.”

She pouted, but accepted the rule when her mother offered her a snack at the table. She held up one of her jujubes to him. “I’ll share!”

The Empress raised both brows. “You’ll share your jujubes with your brother? Really?”

Lingli looked at her mother. “The big one. Not the little one.”

The Moon Prince couldn’t help it - he snorted at that. “Why don’t you share some of your jujubes with me and I’ll share some of mine with your little brother?”

His little sister looked at him with an expression in her eyes he could only describe as calculating. “I’ll share if you say what ‘flip your shit’ means.”

“LINGLI!” Hongniang burst out, horrified. “Where did you hear that?”

Gyokuyou had both hands over her mouth, trembling as she held outright laughter back, darting a glance at him with suppressed hilarity. The other ladies in waiting were mixed between shocked laughter and a nervous anticipation as they glanced at him.

I will be a good older brother, I will not encourage her… “It means to get upset,” he managed to reply with a mild tone. “But it’s a rather crude term for such a lovely princess as yourself to use.”

“But Daddy said it!” Lingli cocked her head, confused.

“Pffft!” Gyokuyou couldn’t quite stop herself from laughing behind her hands before dropping them into her lap and forcing her tone to the evenness befitting a parent. “Lingli, were you eavesdropping on my conversation with your father the other night?”

Lingli swung her foot. “I wasn’t hiding. I was just quiet. Honest, Mama.”

He bit his lip hard, almost drawing blood, a tickle bursting against his throat. This girl was going to be a handful! He felt a tug on his sleeve as Lingli asked for his attention yet again. “Why are you gonna flip your shit?”

“Princess!” Hongniang began to approach to lead the girl away. “I think that’s quite enough!”

His attention, however, was now thoroughly caught. After all, how could he turn down what was obviously information of interest when its source was clearly so eager to tell him? “I don’t know - do you think something has happened that would upset me?”

“I really do think it’s time we did something else, my lady!” The air in the room had grown almost palpably thick with tension, Ailan, Yinghua and Guiyuan were all watching him with wide eyes while even the newer ladies were only pretending to bustle about and do their work.

The Empress sighed. “This is not how I wanted to have this conversation. Lingli, say goodbye to the Moon Prince and go with Hongniang.”

Lingli patted his arm before sliding down the seat. “Don’t flip your shit. Lady Maomao scares Daddy.”

The entire room seemed to sigh with resigned exasperation, even as the little princess with the big mouth was hurried away.

As he stared after the little girl, the only thing Jinshi could hear was the rush of blood in his ears as he started putting together the pieces.

Their honored strategist, looking as bored and rude as ever, but still standing behind the Emperor as one of the pillars of the nation. General Lo had been present, but clearly a shift within the politics of the military had occurred while he was gone.

…one of the high officials has recently gained more influence and has a daughter about the right age to enter the Rear Palace. The girl debuted at the most recent garden party and from what I understand has captured the imagination of the court.”

How carefully Baryou had phrased that to avoid saying Maomao’s name!

“...The girl herself is considered to be the most eligible marriage prospect of the court right now…they might also be trying to figure out if the lady is in the running to become part of your household as opposed to the Emperor’s.”

Young men, all of whom had a distinct, infatuated gleam in their eyes. He had thought they were probing him because he had run the Rear Palace for years and wanted to know about a new Pure Consort…

Of course the court would jump at the chance to check the strategist. As if the man could be checked by something like having a daughter as a high consort. He had blown through a wall of the Rear Palace before to try and get to Maomao!

Bright, sharp pain burned his hand and he looked down to realize his nails had broken the skin of his palm, leaving dark red, crescent shaped bruises dotted with individual beads of blood. He was fairly certain the Empress was speaking to him - he could see her lips moving - but the only sound in the room he could hear was the thunder in his ears, his face flushing and his breath quick and uneven. Jinshi was familiar with anger - he knew how to tamp that down and use it as fuel. But this hot, violent rage - this had only overwhelmed him once before, in the Western Capital the first time.

His rage had almost destroyed Maomao’s respect for him.

Slowly, deliberately, he forced himself to breathe in a regular rhythm before blindly finishing the tea in front of him, welcoming the burn down his throat that washed away every trace of the comfortable numbness choking him since the day His Majesty had just looked at him one morning in the court as Hao challenged, Deny him, then! Deny your own son!

He looked at Empress Gyokuyou. “My lady, is Maomao currently a candidate to become the new Pure Consort?” He could hear his voice trembling, but he was unable to do anything about that.

Gyokuyou watched him closely, all previous hilarity buried under the weight of his reaction. “It is under consideration.”

Lingli’s advice was unfortunately lost as Jinshi flipped his shit.

Chapter Text

The carriage rocked and jostled on a road that forced Maomao to wonder what in the heavens the empire was doing with all its tax money. Still, she couldn’t quite keep the grin off her face as she hugged her purchases close to her chest, still imagining what she could make with what she had been able to afford off the ship. Granted, she didn’t have the budget for many of the more exotic ingredients, but she was particularly excited about a small jar of powder that had tasted almost overwhelmingly sour on the tongue when she tried it. It was being sold as a preservative and the ship’s captain said it was made from lemons. When diluted, she suspected she might be able to use the taste to more effectively mask bitterness and possibly get her finished medicines to last three times as long!

“You look happy,” Luomen observed, sitting opposite her in the carriage.

Maomao smiled at her dad. “Yeah. I’d have liked to get my hands on some of the other ingredients, but I’ll still see some of them at work.”

“Not for much longer. It’s been just over six months.” Her dad watched her with that slightly mournful expression that was more habitual than indicative of what he actually thought.

She put her bag down at her feet, surrounded by all the medical staff’s purchases. Luomen could have been riding in a more comfortable carriage with Doctor Liu and his other colleagues, but to her surprise he had asked to ride with her instead. “Yes,” was all she said, however.

Luomen smiled gently, eyes crinkling in the corners. “I’m proud of you.”

Maomao sat up straight, eyes wide. “For what?””

“For taking a risk.” He continued to watch her with that fond expression. “I’ll admit, I used to despair that you might never get married.”

“I never objected to marriage,” she pointed out, slightly peeved. “I always had my own opinions about what qualities made a good husband.”

“Oh?” Luomen seemed interested.

She settled back against the seat, feeling a stray package poke her side. “Someone considerate. Thoughtful. Kind.”

“Not handsome?” Luomen teased.

“Ugh.” She huffed. “Trust me, that ended up happening entirely by accident.”

Her father chuckled. “Which is, of course, how you ended up in this situation.”

“I don’t control his terrible taste in women,” she shrugged. “But, since it seems there’s no correcting it, I’ll just have to take advantage of it instead.”

“What makes you say that he has terrible taste in women?” Luomen furrowed his brow in an expression worthy of Gaoshun. “From my perspective, he’s got excellent taste.”

Maomao rolled her eyes. “You’re biased.”

Luomen heaved a deep sigh. “Sometimes, I truly do wish I had moved you out of the pleasure district as a child. It’s given you a very warped sense of your own value.”

“I never wanted to be a courtesan anyway, Dad. What other people think of my looks isn’t very interesting.”

“And yet I had to stop you from overconsuming hamsa with Yao.” Luomen shook his head. “I pulled En’en aside after that - overdoing anything isn’t good for Yao as it is, especially with her liver compromised.”

Maomao shrugged. “I needed to gain a little weight anyway and while I may not care about what the court thinks of my looks, Grams thought the hamsa was a good call.”

Luomen shook his head. “You know, your mother was never voluptuous either.”

“What does that have to do with anything?” Maomao scowled, unconsciously rubbing her pinky against her leg.

“And yet, she was a Princess of the Verdigris House in her time.” Luomen caught her gaze with his. “It may feel like the great beauties are all tall and well-formed, but the fact is that when I was a boy, you would have been considered the far greater beauty.”

Maomao blinked. “Pardon?”

Luomen nodded. “Petite and slender was the standard sixty years ago. More generous curves were considered base - too overtly sensual.”

“I can’t imagine anyone who married a woman with more generous assets ever actually complained,” Maomao observed with a certain dryness to her tone.

“Indeed.” Luomen smiled. “That, however, is my point. The Madam of Verdigris House stood out among all the other courtesans of her time because she was tall, curvy and had that presence she still retains to this day. She was a contrast to the petite, slender beauties surrounding her. And, as she became more popular, she was part of a shift toward tall, voluptuous bodies becoming the ideal.”

Maomao thought about that for a moment. “So, that’s her actual strategy with the court.”

She could still hear Grams’ assessment ringing in her ears as she sat in Pairin’s room at the Verdigris House. Joka had been attending to the madam’s duties that day as part of her preparation to take over the brothel, allowing the Madam to devote her attention entirely to the task in front of her.

The Madam had sat there, sucking on her pipe, running her eyes over Maomao the same way she would any of her girls. Hmph! You never let the customer tell you what they want - then you’re stuck catering to them and they’ll run right over you. No, you teach the customer that they don’t know what they want - but you do. The court isn’t special. They’re just one big, dumb customer. They’ve got peonies and roses coming out their backsides. But the wood sorrel - hidden beauty under their noses? Mmm, won’t they feel clever when they ‘discover’ you!

Of course, then began the Madam and Pairin’s stringent beauty care routine, making Maomao feel rather like the furrier Maomao as they scrubbed the metaphorical dirt off of her to begin polishing the material they had to work with.

Joka’s contribution had been training Maomao in the art of engaging conversation - her specialty. Men don’t care what you have to say, she had said bluntly, blowing smoke between lips that couldn’t help but curl in a sneer of disdain. They want to be listened to. So, you listen, even if what they have to say is mind-numbingly stupid. What do they care about? Money? Power? Status? Speak sparingly, but when you do, make sure they know they’ve been heard. Not agree with, necessarily - you’re not a sycophant. But to hear and understand your companion, that is the true mark of good conversation.

Meimei may not have been at the brothel anymore, but when Pairin had written her about “Maomao’s makeover,” she had sent a perfume as a gift that was green and verdant and put Maomao in mind of a fragrant grass she had once smelled while on the run with Chue in the western capital.

Still, Maomao had to admit that, as long as your taste ran to small women with modest assets and occasional freckles (she still wore them at work), she had cleaned up about as well as could be expected. Regular consumption of a reasonable amount of hamsa, as well as other medicaments had given her hair and skin a luster that even Maomao found pleasing. Her figure was still slender, but just a little additional weight had softened the overly sharp edges of her face and body.

“Yes,” Luomen said, bringing Maomao back to the moment. “Individual notions of beauty are just that, but when it comes to the court or the pleasure district, the biggest attraction is novelty.” He caught her with a look. “The fact that the Moon Prince was the first person outside the family to see you for the beautiful girl that you are is a mark of his good taste, as far as I’m concerned.”

There wasn’t much Maomao could say in response to that as she blushed. Open praise from her dad was rare enough and she didn’t think this was a subject they had ever discussed before.

“Speaking of which, while I cannot recommend overconsuming the hamsa, I am pleased that you’re taking better care of your own health.”

She shook her head slightly. “Well, I thought it made sense to build up my foundation now. I can delay pregnancy for a time, but once I’m married, children will be expected to follow and I want to be well prepared for that.”

“I agree. In fact, I’d recommend delaying childbearing for a full year after marrying.”

Maomao paused. “In addition to the last six months?”

Luomen closed his eyes and nodded. “Yes”

“Why?” She tilted her head to the side, curious. She couldn’t imagine needing more than a full year to prepare for the rigors of pregnancy and childbirth, but her dad knew so much more than she did on this subject and she wasn’t going to miss this opportunity to learn.

Luomen smiled slightly. “Two reasons. One, an extra year won’t hurt you when you consider that it’s not just pregnancy and childbirth itself, but also nursing. The habits you build up now will help once a baby actually appears.”

Maomao blinked. It was true that Luomen often recommended to nursing mothers that they eat as rich and varied a diet as possible, with as much rest and light exercise as they could manage. Unfortunately, in the world of the pleasure district and the surrounding neighborhoods, such care was rarely achievable. “And the other reason?”

“You should have some time to get to know your husband as your husband. Not your employer or your prince. Use the time to learn the role of a wife before you add a new role on top of it.”

“Sure, dad.” She sighed and glanced out the window. They traveled in silence for a few minutes as she watched the scenery go by, resolutely focused on her purchases. She was particularly excited about the preservative, but she had also purchased a book that she might have started reading immediately if it weren’t buried safely in her luggage. A compilation of Western recipes that she didn’t remember being a part of Luomen’s library in the annex.

She just barely kept herself from groaning at the thought that she was going to need to return to her room at the La house, since she couldn’t actually sleep in the annex. She still hid there, reading through as many of the books as she could in the unending hours she was stuck in that house - she didn’t think she would keep her sanity much longer between the old fart’s rapturous excitement about having her on his arm during another court engagement and Lahan’s poking about how her ‘numbers have improved’.

That tousle-haired, glasses guy should really learn not to underestimate the places Maomao could get to him when he was being annoying.

“Maomao,” Luomen’s voice broke into her thoughts again.

She turned her head from the window and the scenery that she was paying almost no attention to in order to focus on her father. “Yes, Dad?”

“What’s troubling you?” he asked, watching her in that way of his - not pushing, but inviting confidence.

She sighed. “I’m just…if this doesn’t work, I may be stuck in that house for the rest of my life.”

The carriage filled with the sound of soft chuckling. Maomao scowled - she was seriously worried!

“Oh, Maomao,” Luomen said, wiping the corners of his eyes. “Of all the things I worry about with you, that is not one of them. I give that boy about a day, at maximum, once you’ve made your position clear to him, to do whatever is necessary to secure this marriage.”

“You think so?” Maomao smiled slightly.

Luomen returned her smile. “Oh, yes. Do you doubt how he feels?”

She shook her head. “No.” Jinshi had made his feelings clear, long before she was capable of accepting the depth and intensity of his love. “But I am worried that he’ll try to sacrifice everything that’s important to him because he thinks he’s doing the right thing.”

“Like how you think I have?”

Maomao winced. Luomen really was sharp!

Rather than take offense, Luomen continued to smile. “You have always thought I had the most terrible luck in this life.”

“You don’t agree?” She looked at him.

“Not at all.” Luomen shook his head. “I have seen my share of misfortune, certainly. But I am almost seventy years old and when I look back on everything that has happened - the tragic and the glorious alike - I can’t truly bring myself to regret any of it.”

Maomao cocked her head. “But you never got to have a family - a wife, children. You were stuck in the pleasure district, in that run down house with a bad knee, making medicine for coppers when you could have been much more comfortable somewhere else.”

Luomen shook his head. “Oh, my dear girl. I got to travel the West and learn so many new things - see so many new sights. Meet so many people, do so much. And then I came home and if I wouldn’t have chosen to become a eunuch, I also couldn’t have imagined leaving that poor child to die. And she would have, if I had not been able to deliver her baby through the surgeries I learned overseas.”

Maomao listened, leaning forward in her seat to catch every word - it was so rare for Luomen to actually talk about his life rather than of specific things he had learned.

Luomen glanced out the window at the passing scenery before continuing. “I will admit, I was somewhat galled to be dismissed from my post for an error I hadn’t made. But once I was over the blow to my pride, I had something else to occupy my time.” He turned his gaze back to Maomao. “If I had still been working in the inner palace, I would never have gotten a chance to raise you. Sometimes I was ashamed of being grateful that Lakan had been so careless. Not because I wished Fengxian’s fate upon her - heavens no! - or thought that Lakan didn’t deserve to be happy. But the first time you opened your arms to me and settled in my lap, I knew I was exactly where I wanted to be. Bad knee, scraping for coppers and all, because without all that, I would not have my Maomao. And I would not trade my girl for anything in this life.”

Maomao just sat, stunned, unexpected tears welling in her eyes.

Luomen continued. “You are my daughter. You have inherited many of Lakan’s and Fengxian’s traits, but you’ve always had a warm heart that insisted on helping whenever you could. You always looked at the world around you with wonder for all the fascinating things in it. You were eager to learn whatever I would teach you - indeed, sometimes to my shock. So, you see? I have made my family - and my legacy - out of the opportunities I have been given. I have been a doctor, a colleague, a friend and, most important of all, a father. I have watched you grow from a bright, curious little girl to a dedicated young woman who is constantly mastering her craft while also finding the courage to risk everything to marry a young man who sees and values my girl for the exceptional woman that she is.”

Ploop, ploop. The tears fell. Luomen shifted his weight to make space on the bench next to him and Maomao slid from her seat to sit next to her dad in a way she hadn’t since she was a little girl. He put his arm around her as she leaned against his side and let him hold her close for a minute as she got her emotions under control.

“Do me a favor?” Luomen murmured in her ear.

“What is it?” Maomao swallowed the lump in her throat.

Her dad squeezed her shoulders. “Don’t punish the prince. It’s a bad way to begin a marriage and I promise you, he has suffered over the last six months. He already knows what he lost when he let you go. There’s no need to torture him with the thought that you might become his father’s concubine.”

Maomao groaned through a sniffle. “Ugh. I told the old fart that I didn’t want to risk ending up in the Rear Palace. How the hell did that rumor even crop up?”

Luomen shrugged. “People will assign their own motivations to others’ actions.”

“If I somehow end up as the Pure Consort, the Emperor better get used to being served swertia tea every single visit,” she grumped.

She felt more than heard Luomen chuckle. “A good consort cares for her sovereign’s hairline.”

Maomao shuddered. “Okay, enough thinking about that.” She sat up fully and wiped the remaining tears off her face.

They traveled in comfortable silence for a few hours after that, until the capital’s walls came into view. “Almost home,” Luomen remarked, shifting forward to peer out the window.

They heard hooves outside the carriage, quickly followed by a bright, cheerful voice that Maomao would recognize anywhere by this point. “We’re still half an hour outside the city - what’s Chue doing here?” She leaned forward to peer out the window.

“Miss Maaaaaaaaaomao! Miss Maomao!” Chue waved wildly as she brought her horse up alongside Maomao and Luomen’s carriage, the reins wrapped securely around her bad arm, which could still provide at least a little leverage.

“Miss Chue! What’s wrong?” Her basic medical kit was already in her hands.

Chue just grinned at her. “We’re switching rides - you’re needed in the pleasure district!”

Luomen poked his head out. “Is anyone sick or injured?”

“Quite the contrary, Doctor Kan! Our Master Lihaku is making his move!” Chue grinned wider at that pronouncement.

Maomao couldn’t hold back her own grin at this pronouncement. Although she had been surprised that Lihaku hadn’t gone with Jinshi on his tour of the empire, it turned out that Jinshi had deliberately left him to keep a discreet eye on her - Chue had pointed out that at this point, the man was all but her official bodyguard.

Meanwhile, Lihaku had risen steadily through the ranks for the last few years. A battlefield promotion for a daring raid during the war games that had consumed the court all winter, courtesy of the old fart, coupled with a one last, very generous bonus meant that Lihaku not only had the capital to buy out Pairin’s full contract, but he had enough money left over to purchase a property - a small, snug house in a decent part of the city.

Which meant he was ready to bring a wife home.

Maomao bounced in excitement. “Will we get there in time?”

“If we go now. Miss Chue told you those riding lessons would come in handy!” Chue gestured to a second horse, whose reins were being held at a distance.

Maomao glanced at Luomen, who was smiling with open pleasure. “Go on. Make sure you tell me all about it later - and give Pairin my congratulations and best wishes.”

She gathered up what she could put in the pack saddle - her basic medical kit, the book and her new preservative, before nodding to her new chief (and only) lady-in-waiting. “All right - let’s get going.” The carriage stopped just long enough for Maomao to descend and walk alongside the mounted Chue to her own horse - one of Lahan’s better gifts once she’d gotten over her trepidation of acquiring one of the more traditional accomplishments of a noble lady and learning how to ride properly.

Of course, after her experience with the bandits in the Western Capital, making sure she could actually ride meant that the skill had uses other than showing off to nobility that she couldn’t care less for. She stowed her supplies and tied her skirts so she could mount up easily.

Chue’s hair was wild against the spring wind. “Let’s have some fun!”

Maomao wrapped the reins around her wrists and deliberately relaxed her body - it seemed they were going to be going fast and after hours cooped up in a carriage the freedom of finishing the rest of the trip on horseback wasn’t completely unappealing. “I want a bath afterwards.”

“Of course, my lady! Miss Chue will see to it!” Chue nodded emphatically.

Maomao winced. Chue had managed to smooth over the vast majority of the awkwardness she felt at suddenly being in the position of a noble lady when she was far more comfortable as the servant. The last six months, however, had given her a better appreciation for how carefully Jinshi phrased almost everything he said so that nothing could be construed as an implicit order by accident. She had been thinking that they could get a bath at the Verdigris House afterwards - and they still might - but if they did not, she knew Chue would be arranging one when she returned to the La family home.

Because catering to Maomao’s needs and desires was now her job.

But this was a consequence of the decision she had made and she wasn’t going to turn back now. Instead she nudged her mount into a canter and made for the city walls. Her sister was getting bought out and Maomao intended to celebrate!

The pleasure district was abuzz with excitement by the time Maomao and Chue arrived, handing their mounts off to one of Ukyou’s apprentices. Pairin sat in the window of her room, gazing out at the street, amused at the commotion.

Maomao glanced around. “So, where is he?”

“Patience, my lady.” Chue grinned, but her eyes were carefully scanning the crowd.

Maomao scowled at the address, but glanced over the crowd as well. She saw all the usual suspects - Chou-u, now fully integrated at Verdigris House, who was sitting at a good vantage point with a look of concentration on his face and a pad of paper in his hand. At times, Maomao felt guilty. She had essentially pushed his care onto the Verdigris House, once she was caught up in various political events that had her either constantly traveling or living outside the pleasure district. Still, he seemed to have integrated well, and his drawings were popular enough that he had found a niche in the pleasure district’s ranks.

“Oh my - I’m surprised he came. I would have thought he’d die of embarrassment.” Chue gestured to a figure even as she shifted their position slightly to take advantage of the crowd to hide them.

Maomao looked around to see who Chue had pointed out - and saw Basen looking uncomfortable at his surroundings (as always in the pleasure district), but also watching, waiting for something to happen along with the rest of them. She recalled that Basen and Lihaku had become friends over the last year or so, ever since their time in the Western Capital. As far as Maomao was concerned, however, Basen’s presence meant something more important than just himself.

“When did Master Jinshi get back?” she asked Chue.

“Almost two weeks ago.” Chue glanced at her. “A week after Miss Maomao and the physicians left for the buying trip.”

She huffed a little. “Talk about convenient timing.”

“Indeed.” Chue nudged her. “Ah hah! Your sister’s prince has arrived!”

Lihaku rode through the pleasure district on a white horse, grinning the whole time as he made his way down the crowded street until he finally stopped under Pairin’s window. “My fair lady! I have come to carry you away to a home of our own, if you will grant a simple soldier your favor!”

Pairin blushed like a maiden, giggling madly. “Oh, but I’m afraid I cannot leave my house! The door is locked and the only key lies in the possession of a cunning and fearsome spirit who will only let me go to the most worthy man in the world!”

The crowd laughed, well able to see the Madam of Verdigris House as just such a spirit - one that must be placated with a suitable offering of silver.

Lihaku simply smiled up at Pairin - a small, private smile just for the two of them before he offered an upraised hand. “Well, my lady, I am sure there are more worthy men in the world than myself, but there are none who love you as dearly as I.”

He was smooth! Maomao was impressed, even as the crowd sighed at the romance of it!

Pairin’s eyes were soft as she looked down at Lihaku. “And there is no woman in the world as lucky as I to have your love.”

“Then will you go with me, if I can rescue you from your house?” Lihaku’s throat worked as the crowd held their breath, on edge for Pairin’s answer.

Those soft eyes held a shimmer of tears even as Pairn smiled so widely she could barely get the words out. “Yes. I will go with you anywhere, Lihaku.”

The crowd cheered as Lihaku turned to them. “You all heard her! Fortunately for the love of my life, I have the only key that matters!”

A ripple of hilarity ran through the crowd at the risque joke, even as Pairin nodded in satisfaction - which only prompted more whoops and calls. Lihaku dismounted from his horse before grabbing the side of the Verdigris House and began pulling himself up the decorative embellishments on the side as easily as if he were scaling a ladder. He ended up just under Pairin’s window, one hand holding on to the sill while he offered the other to her.

Pairin took his hand and climbed out of her window, letting Lihaku cradle her in his free arm, very carefully descending the building again with his precious burden as the crowd below them went utterly wild at the display of strength and dexterity. Lihaku was truly a testament to the finest of the Emperor’s armed forces! Finally, they landed on the ground and Lihaku switched to a princess carry, never letting Pairin’s delicate slippers touch the cobblestones before placing her on his white horse and mounting up behind her.

“My friends! Will you help distract the spirit by celebrating our love?” Lihaku called out to the crowd.

The crowd responded by going utterly wild. Chue passed Maomao a small bag full of flower petals and Maomao threw the first handful into the air, the delicate pink flowers fountaining around her as others quickly followed her example, turning the streets of the pleasure district into a beautiful, multicolored rain.

Pairin laughed and Lihaku nudged his horse, carrying her away from the Verdigris House, which had opened its doors to reveal a truly splendid banquet as all the courtesans inside danced in Pairin’s honor. The brothel’s full splendor was on display as the lamps were lit and reeled out on lines - enough lamps that Maomao had only ever seen their number rivaled once before.

Maomao guessed that the guests of honor would return to celebrate - at the very least, this feast would last for the next three days and nights - but for now, it would seem the lovers were stealing a little time for themselves.

Chue nudged her. “Basen hasn’t seen us yet. Shall we sneak away from my little brother-in-law before he can report to the Moon Prince?”

Maomao pressed her lips together, Luomen’s voice in the back of her head. Don't punish the prince.

She shook her head. “I’m not hiding from the Moon Prince. If he wants me, he can court me. And if he intends to hold to his resolution, then better to know now.”

Chue giggled. “Oh, Miss Chue wouldn’t worry about that. There was rumor of an explosion in the Empress’ palace just about the time our dear Moon Prince learned about a certain rumor. Apparently, he did not take the news that the La Princess might become the new Pure Consort very well!”

Maomao just looked at Chue. “How did that rumor start, anyway?”

Chue just looked up and whistled.

“Miss Chue, you know how he gets! Why would you do that?!” Maomao almost threw up her hands with exasperation.

Chue looked at her with a much more serious expression on her face. “Because the Moon Prince’s jealousy might actually shake him out of his own head and make him realize that his noble sacrifice could have consequences he can’t live with.” She shrugged. “Also, the rumor is true.”

“WHAT?!”

“The honored strategist’s regard for Miss Maomao is very well known in the court - and that court is not happy that the grand commandant has seemingly slipped his leash to quash overt discussion about the succession among the military. Not to mention he’s now openly advising the Emperor?” Chue shook her head with mock dismay. “They want him back in line and holding a daughter hostage in the Rear Palace is a very traditional way to do that. His Majesty has to at least appear like he’s taking suggestions to curb the strategist seriously.”

Mamao shuddered in disgust. “Swertia tea might not be strong enough…” She couldn’t help but remember a young woman who might have been free to study and love insects had she not been caught up in her parents’ machinations.

Chue patted her back with her good hand. “Miss Chue doesn’t think Miss Maomao needs to worry. But if we want to say hello to my little brother-in-law, then follow Miss Chue!”

Apparently, she’d better! It may have been etiquette for Chue to trail behind Maomao, but in this crowd, Chue somehow cleared a path without jostling or shoving anyone, letting Maomao walk freely in her wake. They quickly found Basen doing his best to fend off attention from excited, middle-rank courtesans, who found his blushing manner more alluring than their feline Maomao found catnip.

“Little brother-in-law!” Chue called, causing the courtesans to scatter, much to Basen’s obvious relief.

Basen turned to look at them. “Chue!” He smiled with open relief at his sister in law. “What are you doing here?”

“Escorting my lady.” She gestured to Maomao, who had drawn up beside her.

At this point, Maomao was somewhat used to the double take. Given that she had been returning from her trip with the physicians, she had forgone most adornment, dressed in the medical uniform of a court lady, her hair sensibly tied up. However, she had left off the freckles and that seemed enough to force people to actually look at her.

What she didn’t see was that the quick ride had brought a natural flush to her face, her hair mussed from the wind and her eyes still a little soft from the joy of seeing her sister swept off her feet by a man that Maomao genuinely thought worthy of her. The combination of factors appeared to leave Basen stunned and speechless as he mentally reconciled the girl he thought he knew with the woman in front of him.

A state that Chue couldn’t resist poking him about. “Ah, has Miss Chue’s little brother-in-law finally figured out that our Maomao has been deliberately downplaying her looks?”

“I didn’t realize she was actually pretty!” Basen blurted out.

Lady Taomei would have been proud of her daughter-in-law for the smack Chue laid across the back of Basen’s head at that rather rude comment. Maomao couldn’t help but laugh at his aggrieved expression, even as she bristled a little. “This is why you’re not popular with women, you know,” she jabbed back.

Basen drew himself up. “I don’t need to be popular with women. The only one I want likes me just fine.”

His statement hung in the air for just a second as Maomao and Chue just looked at each other in accord before turning identical smiles of glee on a terrified Basen. “Oh really?!” they chorused.

He waved his hands in front of him. “I didn’t mean anything by that!”

“So what did you mean? Is our Basen finally going to fulfill his duty to the Ma Clan and start producing little heirs?” Chue pressed.

“Argh! Enough about me!” Basen looked at Maomao. “Can you come take a look at him? Something is wrong and I don’t know what.”

Chue frowned. “Miss Chue thought he was looking better after a week’s rest when he got back.”

“He was, but he’s getting sick again!”

Maomao rubbed a finger against her bottom lip, doing her best to ignore the tight clench in her gut. “What is he sick with?”

“Headache is the biggest thing, but the nausea’s back. Tired. And he’s on edge.” Basen looked like he wanted to drag Maomao back to Jinshi’s pavilion then and there, but focused on answering the question.

“That could be stress from the political situation, little brother-in-law,” Chue interjected.

Basen shook his head. “He’s been run ragged before, but he’s never reacted like this.”

Maomao pressed her lips together and nodded. “I agree with Basen. This doesn’t sound like him at all.”

“Then you’ll come look at him?” Basen’s hand twitched toward Maomao.

Chue stepped in between them. “Basen. Lady Kan Maomao cannot just approach the Moon Prince, no matter what their past association has been. She must think of her position.”

Maomao’s fingers were twitching, but she knew Chue was was right, even as her lady in waiting invoked her recently claimed nobility to emphasize the point to Basen. “I’m being dragged to another banquet in about five days. Will he be there?” she asked.

Basen nodded. “With the succession situation, he has to show up to all court events unless he can give His Majesty a compelling reason not to.”

Because the potential Crown Prince couldn’t be seen slacking off - even if Jinshi desperately wanted the position to remain with Gyokuyou's son. Maomao clenched her fist and turned to Chue. “Can we create a reason for me to step away from the banquet long enough to examine him?”

Chue grinned. “Just leave it to Miss Chue, my lady!”

Maomao looked at Basen. “You’ll be in charge of getting him away from the event to meet me and I’ll look him over. In the meantime, since we don’t know what’s going on, it's better to be paranoid than dead. Assume something is getting to him.”

Basen pressed his lips together, grim but not surprised. As if Maomao’s statement had merely confirmed his own intuition. “So it does sound like poison to you?”

Maomao shrugged. “I don’t like to speculate without evidence. It could be an illness too, but I’d take precautions. Nothing should be going into his mouth without being checked.”

“That’s already being done - everything is either prepared by Lady Suiren or goes through either me or the food taster.”

Maomao nodded. “Have Lady Suiren double check everything in the kitchen then - make sure none of the new foodstuffs have been adulterated.”

“And double check the Moon Prince’s food taster. Miss Chue is curious if she’s showing similar symptoms at all,” Chue added.

Maomao nodded. “She ought to be monitoring her own health in case of anything slow acting, but if it is poison that imitates an illness, she could have missed it.”

“And if she isn’t showing symptoms, then switch tasters.” Chue’s voice was grim.

Basen and Maomao both turned wide eyes to Chue. “You think - “ Basen looked astounded.

“If someone wants to administer poison, getting to the taster is almost foolproof. And it would explain why the Moon Prince was recovering during his vacation, but appears to be going downhill again as he starts attending court events.” Chue’s normal lightheartedness was nowhere to be found.

“I could just take the taster into custody.” Basen’s face had turned a delicate pink, but from anger rather than embarrassment.

“With what evidence?” Maomao pointed out. “If she’s innocent, that would destroy her whole life.”

“And if she’s guilty, then that leaves whoever is backing her still at large, little brother-in-law. The Moon Prince’s condition is concerning, but not critical,” Chue finished.

Basen deliberately took a slow, controlled breath, then another. “Okay. I’ll start investigating the food taster’s background and connections and watch her to see if she’s also sick. What should I tell the Moon Prince?”

Maomao shook her head. “Nothing. Master Jinshi also has his position to think of - right now what we are engaging in is pure speculation with no evidence to back it up. I’d be embarrassed, except that the consequences of being right are too dire to ignore.”

Basen nodded. “I’m going to hang around long enough for Lihaku and his wife to get back and then head home.”

“You might be waiting around awhile. After all, they might not show up until the last day of the banquet,” Maomao pointed out.

Chue started laughing at the expression on Basen’s face as he realized just what might be keeping his friend from receiving prompt congratulations. “Oh, little brother-in-law, we are going to have to work on that if you’re going to bring home a bride of your own. Speaking of which…”

As Basen attempted to blush all the way to his hairline and Chue teased him, Maomao led them both into the only banquet she was looking forward to attending in the near future with what felt like a stone in the pit of her stomach. If she thought she could get away with it, she would have charged into Jinshi’s pavilion with enough boldness to make the ladies of the Crystal Pavilion flush in sympathy. But this wasn’t the Rear Palace and the consequences of following her first impulse would be more than some letters of complaint that Jinshi could shield her from in favor of scolding her himself.

Jinshi would be fine for the next five days. He had Suiren and Basen looking after him.

Chapter Text

Gyokuyou sat next to her husband on the bench of a charming pavilion that overlooked a pond dotted with a few early blooms of lotus. She watched the scene before her with barely disguised amusement - an expression shared by the Emperor himself as he observed the players in front of them.

In the center of the pavilion was a Go board. On one side of it was Gyokuyou’s own father, Gyokuen. Go was a traditional accomplishment and Gyokuyou herself had learned to play under her father’s tutelage. Those were, in fact, some of her favorite early childhood memories, her father’s undivided attention a rare enough occurrence that she had treasured those games and the time spent with him far above any gifts he bestowed upon her.

On the other side sat the strategist Lakan, somehow managing to lounge on the hard, stone stool. His narrow eyes appeared sleepy, but he immediately snapped a black stone onto the board in response to Gyokuen’s play. “Final score will be a lead of fifteen points favoring black in the next three moves.”

Gyokuen looked over the board and shook his head. “I concede defeat,” he said with a wry smile and upraised palm. “You were going easy on me.”

“One must encourage competent players, otherwise I will have no one to play with. Although I think you might find my book interesting, Master Gyokuen. I will have to send you a copy.” There was a certain sardonic quality to Lakan’s backhanded praise.

Gyokuen nodded his head, his pleasant smile never slipping. “I believe I do have a copy - I see I will have to pull it out before our next game.”

“Excellent.” Lakan smiled, pouring himself another cup of juice. “Perhaps next time we should raise the stakes with a small wager.”

Gyokuen raised his brows. “Did you have something in mind?”

Lakan laughed. “Nothing too onerous, I assure you. There was a certain variety of grape juice that I enjoyed very much during my more recent time spent in your homeland. Your dear, departed eldest was so kind as to introduce me to it, even with food as scarce as it was in the aftermath of the insect plague.”

“And if you win our next game, would you like me to procure you a supply?” Gyokuen managed to keep his smile in place, even at the reference to Gyoku-ou’s death - his murder, really. Gyokuyou watched her father, fascinated at the way he rolled with Lakan’s barbs.

“It would certainly be appreciated.” Lakan grinned.

Gyokuen nodded his head in acceptance of the strategist’s wager. “I will have to give some thought as to what I would like for a forfeit, should I win.”

“Indeed. Give it some thought.” Lakan was so good as not to burst out laughing at the thought that Gyokuen might win against him in a game of Go - their recently concluded game had been played with no komi, giving Gyokuen an advantage of five points - and he had still lost by fifteen. With Lakan having all but confessed to going easy on him. “You know, now that the Moon Prince is back, I should corner him into a game. He’s a competent player - still uncertain in the middle game at times, but creative!”

“Indeed.” Lady Ah-Duo, the final member of their party, smiled having observed the game from a perpendicular stone bench from the Emperor and Empress, framed by open water. “Although I suspect you might find yourself with more paperwork than you came in with at the end of the game.”

Gyokuen laughed politely while Lakan shrugged with resignation. “True enough. In any case, keep our deal in mind, Master Gyokuen. After all, the best games usually have a wager attached - and a bet is a bet.”

Gyokuyou only caught the subtle flinch from His Majesty because she was sitting next to him. Something about Lakan’s barbed chit-chat had struck a nerve, but whatever the context, whatever the hidden message, unfortunately she was not so in her husband’s confidence that she understood it.

But that was the nature of politics. Often you had to make decisions with incomplete information and trust that either your allies would support you or that you could adapt to the situation.

Gyokuyou was nothing if not adaptable. And she had always chosen her allies with care.

Still, as she watched the Grand Commandant and Lady Ah-Duo together run rings around her father, she wondered what she might have thought to herself that afternoon four years ago when the palace manager led a mere laundry maid into her pavilion to receive her gratitude and a reward, had she known what was to come.

Her gaze flitted to Lady Ah-Duo. The Moon Prince’s birth mother, revealed at last. Had she and the Empress Dowager confessed the truth upon the succession, then by all rights she, not Gyokuyou, would be seated by the Emperor’s side as mother of the nation. No doubt, as her husband himself would have preferred, if only his love were taken into consideration. Instead, he had raised Gyokuyou to his side as his Empress. And if he had not done so from love, then she was certain that there was genuine affection and favor from her husband that had led him to choose her, rather than a different Western consort.

It would have to be enough. If she was never to be blessed with the kind of love that would make her the center of her husband’s world, she had other loves in her life.

Her children. Her ladies-in-waiting. Her family. Her friends. Her homeland. She would find joy in cherishing and protecting the gifts she had been given. And if she felt a pang of jealousy for women who knew what it was to be truly loved by their husbands, she quashed it every time she looked at the faces of her children or read a letter from the Western capital detailing how trade was flourishing under the central authority’s attention.

She was especially grateful for the collection of allies she had carefully cultivated since she was transplanted into the Imperial flower garden. The Moon Prince had been one of her first allies ever since he was Master Jinshi of the Rear Palace, the one who had championed her to her husband and helped elevate her to the position of Precious Consort.

Gyokuyou shook her head ever so slightly. Most people would never look past his beautiful face to see the misery in his eyes. She was not one of them. Rule one in making long-term allies? They needed to be happy with the alliance. The Moon Prince was absolutely loyal - and utterly heartbroken.

That heartbreak was a fatal flaw that revealed where the true danger to her son lay.

She was not so cold that she did not, genuinely, wish to see the Moon Prince and Maomao happy. Indeed, she had watched this entertaining game of theirs for so long, she was rather eager for it to come to its best, most natural conclusion. But it was also true that those who were happy with their lots in life could better gauge the risks of ambition - and the Moon Prince would cling even more tightly to his happiness, as well as the loyalty that had assisted him in gaining it, with the knowledge that aspirations to the throne on his behalf could threaten his long-fought for felicity.

Besides, the Moon Prince was not her only ally.

Gyokuyou had been shocked after the Shi Clan’s rebellion to realize that Maomao was not just of noble birth, but that her birth father was an extremely powerful military secretary as well as the head of a named clan - one feared by enough of the court that he could blow a hole in the wall of the Rear Palace in an attempt to find his daughter and not only escape punishment, but be entrusted as the Moon Prince’s chief commander to put down the rebellion with almost no casualties to the Forbidden Army. Indeed, she had still not quite realized what a sleeping giant Lakan was, even after her husband had refused to allow Maomao to re enter her service as a lady-in-waiting.

Over the last six months, however, Maomao had proven that the Moon Prince had brought her a young woman who had turned out to be a much more valuable ally than she could ever have imagined all those years ago in the Jade Palace.

Lakan was, in the normal course of things, perfectly content to be left alone to his family and his hobbies, uninterested in the greater politics of the court. But Maomao had secured her blood father’s support for the Crown Prince. And, as Lakan himself might have put it, that changed the entire board.

Gyokuen, the Moon Prince and Lakan. With the three of them as her son’s backers, she was confident that her boy would ascend the throne safely should anything happen to the Emperor. And, to be honest, with three backers, her father’s support was no longer so critical that she had to be concerned with maintaining her value to him.

Indeed, the real question was how valuable Gyokuen was to her and her son?

Which was why she noted the book Lady Ah-Duo held on her lap nonchalantly. Her father’s reactions were well controlled, as a rule, but his gaze had continued to return to that book over and over again during this meeting.

He was nervous.

“Well, this has certainly been an edifying afternoon,” the Emperor spoke, his voice lighthearted enough as he rose to his feet and offered Gyokuyou his hand. “However, we have another engagement this evening and it is time to prepare. Lakan, I will take your suggestions under advisement, especially considering your recent experience with the Western capital’s military needs.”

“A fight with Hokuaren or Shaoh could be interesting, but I suspect that the west has seen quite enough excitement over the last few years. Wouldn’t you agree, Master Gyokuen?” Lakan smiled at Gyokuen with a gleam in his narrow eyes.

Her father’s eyelids fluttered ever so slightly. “Indeed.”

“Especially since the harvests have not quite recovered, even with the Moon Prince’s hard work. The West will be importing supplemental food and other critical supplies for a few years yet,” Lady Ah-Duo added. “It is important that such a nexus of trade thrive in order to benefit the entire empire.”

Gyokuyou took her husband’s hand and stood as well. “I would like to attend to the children before the banquet tonight. If you have time, perhaps you could join us for a few minutes?” she asked her husband.

“Of course.” The Emperor smiled at her. “Although there was just one more thing I wanted to speak with Lakan about and I know your father has been eager to spend time with his daughter. Perhaps he could accompany you to the palace and I’ll join you there shortly?”

Gyokuyou nodded and offered her father her usual bright smile. “I always appreciate a chance to see my father, as long as you have time?” she asked Gyokuen.

“For you, my dear, always.” Gyokuen bustled over and offered Gyokuyou his arm, which she took.

“Grand Commandant Kan, Lady Ah-Duo, a pleasure as always.” She offered them both a nod and received their bows before letting her father escort her back to her palace.

They walked together in silence, about halfway to the Inner Court, before her father spoke. “Be cautious around the Grand Commandant, my dear. I know you are fond of his daughter, but the fox is not our ally.” Gyokuen’s voice was at odds with his calm, benevolent expression as they walked.

Gyokuyou didn’t pause her step or drop her gracious smile. “Oh? What makes you say that?”

Her father paused for a moment to gather his thoughts. “Lakan is, in some ways, a simple man. He cares about his games and only a few people. Neither you nor I are a part of that inner circle, which means that he will support the west only so long as it amuses him to do so.”

There was a certain amount of truth to her father’s words - she was familiar with Lakan’s reputation. “I understand he was a great help to both my honored older brother and the Moon Prince during his second stint in the western capital,” she observed with studied neutrality.

“He’s quite useful, when he can be bothered. But I do not trust his commitment to anything long term. His daughter has decided she wants the Moon Prince. Once they are married, though, and have children of their own, what happens to you and my grandson if she or the Moon Prince change their minds about wanting either him or their child on the throne?”

She could have burst out laughing at the very thought, except that it would be insulting to her father’s very rational concern. “Then what do you make of the Moon Prince’s service in the Rear Palace as a eunuch? If he were likely to change his mind, you would think he would have done so earlier.”

Gyokuen sighed. “Do not mistake me. I believe the Moon Prince to be absolutely sincere when he says he does not want the throne. He has certainly done well by the Western Capital.”

“My nephew, Hulan, seems particularly attached to him,” Gyokuyou murmured.

“Indeed.” Her father bristled slightly. “The boy is so enamored of him that I believe he would prefer to see the Moon Prince on the throne over his own family.”

Gyokuyou paused. Perhaps she could push a little. “He does admire competence a great deal. Perhaps it is a reflection of my honored elder brother’s education?”

“Perhaps, although Ou never really trained the boy in governance the way he did Shikyou.” A complicated expression crossed her father’s face, even as Gyokuyou noted that her father had dropped her eldest brother’s ‘gyoku’ prefix.

She let the pause hang in the air a moment, waiting to see if her father had anything else to add.

Gyokuen sighed and squeezed her hand. “The Emperor’s desire for harmony within his family is admirable, as is the Moon Prince’s fidelity. But families can be complicated and sometimes life can create surprising circumstances that change everything we thought we knew about people.”

Something you know from experience, given that your own son destroyed the Yi Clan, she thought with rather less charity than she usually gave her father. And then you didn’t have the courage to execute him yourself, so you let Rikuson do it seventeen years later. But only after Ou deliberately sabotaged the West’s harvests to drive support for his invasion, ran through the emergency coal supply and left a mess for the Moon Prince to clean up even after he saved our home from insect plague. Lady Ah-Duo’s pointed comments about everything the Moon Prince had done for the West had been rather well targeted, she thought.

“Just remember that Lakan and the Moon Prince are not our allies, my dear. No matter their intentions.” Gyokuen gave her that fond, pleased smile.

“I will remember your words, Father,” she murmured. Whether her father was correct or not, he was still her ally and deliberately antagonizing him would be a foolish choice, no matter how much she wanted to ask him why he was rattled enough to try to warn her of the Moon Prince’s potential ambition - or worse, Maomao’s ambition on his behalf.

Her father truly didn’t know either of them.

He hadn’t been there when Master Jinshi had visited the Jade Palace on his rounds, solicitous not only of her wellbeing, but asking after her two poison tasters after they had protected her during her pregnancy with Lingli. Ladies in waiting who were never replaced, her father having left that matter of personnel in her brother’s malicious hands.

He hadn’t been there when Maomao had saved first Lingli, then her life multiple times, not to mention ensuring that her father’s precious grandson had been born safely, working tirelessly on her behalf.

He was present, but Maomao stubbornly sabotaging the Moon Prince’s courtship of her over and over again was beneath his notice. Gyokuyou, however, had watched the Moon Prince finally brand himself with her crest to prove to not only Gyokuyou, but Maomao, that he would not be her enemy as a result of Maomao’s obstinance on the matter. Because the flip side of that stubbornness was that Maomao’s loyalty, once given, was set in stone. As was the Moon Prince’s, the two of them utterly alike in this regard.

She knew who her allies were.

But that left her to wonder, as her father dropped her off at the entrance of the Inner Palace, did he actually know her? She had been his youngest child, the daughter of his lowest concubine, sent to the Rear Palace at a tender fourteen years old. Educated as befitted an Empress, yes, but ultimately left to survive in that poisonous garden of women or not, with her oldest brother’s malice still felt even across the empire.

And if he didn’t truly know her, his daughter, would he ever truly know his grandchildren? Or were they simply returns on his investment?

“Mama! Mama!” Her children raced toward her, nearly bowling her over as she smiled for them, listening to them babble about their day and the things they saw and did. Hongniang came up behind them, looking exhausted.

“Welcome home, Your Majesty. Everything is prepared for you to begin dressing in your room.”

Gyokuyou nodded. “Thank you. His Majesty will be joining us for a few minutes to say goodnight to the children.”

Hongniang bowed. “Understood.” She turned toward the children. “Come on - let’s get you cleaned up. Your father is coming!”

“Daddy!” yelled Lingli in excitement, and ran over to take Hongniang’s hand. Her little brother followed slower, toddling as fast as he could go on fat little legs to be swept up in the crook of her head lady in waiting’s arm as she bustled them both off to be made ready to see their honored father.

Meanwhile, she headed to her bedroom to begin dressing. Haku-u and Seki-u were waiting for her, carefully stripping her daytime dress off of her and exchanging it for the new garment that featured a sash made of the near- purple shot silk that she was debuting tonight. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been enough time to have a dress finished with the red and gold shot silk, but that was due entirely to the amount of ornamentation the finished garment would require.

“Seki-u, would you be willing to check and see if the new earrings I ordered are ready yet?” she asked, turning a soft, radiant smile on the youngest of the siblings.

Seki-u bowed and left the room on the errand, leaving her alone with Haku-u. She sighed and let her posture slump slightly.

“What’s wrong, my lady?” her friend asked.

Gyokuyou considered her words. Haku-u was far from objective on the subject of either her father or her brother, but perhaps there was merit to her resentment. “Would you trust my father’s judgment?”

Haku’u’s eyelids flickered. “In what sphere?”

She took a deep breath. “People. Specifically, who my allies and enemies are.”

Her friend’s smile had an edge to it. “He does not care for Grand Commandant Kan, I take it?”

“No.” Gyokuyou sighed.

Haku-u carefully slid a pin into Gyokuyou’s hair. “Of course he doesn’t. They’re too similar.”

“What do you mean?” She held still to avoid being poked by the hairpin.

“Master Gyokuen amassed influence in the western capital by having an eye for talent. He gathered wives like assets, in order to breed children he found useful, then slotted them into roles that built his power. From the ports to the foundries and even to the Imperial Palace, he has carefully tended his garden of children and now intends to reap the fruit of his labor. From what I understand, Master Lakan is much the same, only his eye for talent is mainly focused in the military. The one area where Master Gyokuen has no influence himself. And while Master Lakan has just removed his greatest enemy in General Lo, as the quiet leader of the Empress Dowager faction, I’m quite sure that Master Gyokuen is wondering if he’s exchanged the frying pan for the fire. General Lo was a known threat, but Master Lakan is creative and has no compunction about upending the rules by which Master Gyokuen has played the game.”

“I’m surprised. You also wanted me to be wary of the Moon Prince and his allies.” Gyokuyou commented, idly adjusting the hairpin after Haku-u set it.

Her lady in waiting helped adjust the pin. “And you reminded me that you do not turn your fangs on your friends, my lady. Lady Maomao, whether she serves you directly or not, is one of your people. And if the Moon Prince wanted the throne, all he would have to do is reach out and take it. He has not.”

“His last visit certainly made an impression, didn’t it?” She tested her hair by tilting her head to the side, making sure nothing pulled as they began to change her dress.

Haku-u bit her lip. “His anger was impressive, I will grant, although at no point did I worry you were unsafe in the face of it. His rejection of the consort selection, though - ”

Gyokuyou deliberately blew air through her lips, ignoring propriety. “He would do it, too. It’s quite amusing to watch the courtiers and ministers try to figure out his tastes by trying to sway him through seduction.”

Haku-u would never do something so uncouth as to snort, but she certainly managed a more refined noise of derision. “I don’t think I’ve ever seen such desolation in a man’s eyes. Or such resolve.”

Gyokuyou nodded. “Had I pushed the issue, I have no doubt that the Moon Prince would have put on his most charming facade while also driving away any potential bride, utterly determined to end his line.”

“Did Zui say that?” came a low, rumbling voice from the doorway.

Gyokuyou immediately stood, bowing before the Son of Heaven as Haku-u stepped away from the imperial couple, offering her own genuflection. Gyokuyou offered a small nod and Haku-u excused herself, leaving her alone with her husband. “Your Majesty,” she murmured. “Yes, he did.”

The Emperor sighed and rubbed a finger against his brow - an almost identical gesture that the Moon Prince sometimes used when utterly frustrated or exasperated. “That boy.”

“I’m not sure the Moon Prince could reasonably be called a boy anymore,” Gyokuyou pointed out with a wry smile.

“You think so?” Her husband offered her a wry smile of his own in return. “I look at him and he still seems so young to me. And then I wonder when I got old.”

“You were quite young yourself when he was born,” she observed.

He huffed. “Honestly, I think I was too young. But I was pushed to secure the succession early in the face of being my father’s only heir. It’s part of why I agreed to Zui’s bet. Not that I thought I’d lose. Served me right.”

Nothing ventured, nothing gained. Her husband was not the type to punish her for asking a question in any case. “Is that the bet Master Lakan poked you about?”

The Emperor’s wry smile finally reached his eyes. “You caught that?”

She nodded, watching him, waiting to see if he would confide in her or shut her out.

He closed his eyes for a moment. “You remember that evening a couple of months before Zui left for the western capital?”

“That evening was what I would call unforgettable,” she drawled.

Her husband sighed softly. “That it was. You may also remember that he reminded me I had promised to grant him a name.”

“Yes.” She had never seen the Emperor angry before, but his temper had genuinely frightened her. It wasn’t until afterwards, when she saw the look of shocked horror on his face, staring at that fresh brand on the Moon Prince’s side, that she had begun to parse the pain behind his anger. Of course, over the last six months, the cause of his pain had been much clearer. Whether the Moon Prince had meant the blow or not, it was a clear rejection of his father and the legacy he had obviously wished to trust his firstborn with.

“I told the court that I had allowed him to masquerade as the eunuch Jinshi because I wanted to sniff out corruption. As it turned out, discovering the Shi Clan’s treachery made a truth out of a political fiction. What actually happened is that he challenged me to a game of Go and made a bet with me - that if he won, he could be introduced to the court by his chosen alias. In exchange for managing the Rear Palace to secure the line of succession, he would be allowed to leave it.” Her husband sighed, his eyes looking into the middle distance, clearly not seeing her for a moment before he refocused on his wife standing in front of him.

“And the grand commandant took the fact that the bet was made over a game of Go quite personally, I take it?”

He chuckled with a slight bitter edge. “I can see Ah-Duo’s hand in that. Driving her point home, despite the fact that I promised her I’d set him free.”

“Are you unhappy that he knows the truth?” Gyokuyou asked softly.

The Emperor startled at the question, thinking for a moment. “Not unhappy that he knows, no. I wanted to tell him years ago, but after he became ‘Jinshi’, it just seemed…easier, the longer it went on.”

Gyokuyou nodded. “I can see that. Especially since it took so long for any sons to be born.”

He looked away for a moment. “Before Lingli survived, sometimes I wondered if Zui would be my only child, like I was my father’s. I look at her and our son and Lihua’s boy and sometimes it doesn’t quite feel real that they’re all here.”

She reached out to press her husband’s hand with her own, offering him silent support. There was a heartbeat, then two, before his hand squeezed hers in return and he took a deep breath, forcing back the suspicious shine in his eyes. “So, did your father have anything interesting to say?”

“He distrusts the grand commandant’s support, it would seem.” She kept her tone light, even as she revealed some of her father’s private thoughts to her husband for the first time.

He snorted. “He wouldn’t be the first. Lakan is a sly fox, but he adores his daughter and is having a great deal of fun reshaping the balance of the court to secure her happiness.”

The pang of jealousy toward Maomao’s luck in life wasn’t new, but the target was. Imagine having a father - two, really, if you took her adoptive father with both his quiet regard and even quieter pride - who adored you unconditionally. Not as an investment for future glory of the western capital but simply as a daughter?

She pressed her lips together. “He also distrusts the Moon Prince’s intentions. He thinks there’s a possibility that either he or Maomao or both might change their minds about wanting power in the future.”

Her husband gaped at her. “Has he ever met Maomao?”

“I know what you mean, but honestly? No. He’s only started paying attention since she debuted at court during the garden party, it seems. He has no experience with Maomao’s particular brand of loyalty or competence or anything else about her.” It startled her to realize that, as perceptive and cunning as her father was, he could have so badly misunderstood Maomao’s character.

“It would be a perfectly rational concern for him to have - if it involved anyone but the particular parties in question.”

She paused for a beat and decided to take a risk. “He seems determined to convince me that family is the only trustworthy backing our son would have, should anything happen to you.”

“I do wish people would stop putting me in the grave just yet,” he muttered.

“I would certainly prefer you to live and see our children grow up. Although I tremble to think how you’ll manage to secure a marriage for Lingli.”

Her husband actually growled a little bit, causing her to giggle! “Any potential suitors can damn well wait.”

“Well, we easily have another ten or so years, if you want to delay her marriage until she’s sixteen. Which might be wise, in any case.” Gyokuyou smiled at the idea that she might not lose her daughter to another family until Lingli was old enough to understand what being a wife and mother would mean.

“Indeed. But in any case, I don’t think you need to worry about what your father thinks.” Her husband smiled at her and reached up to adjust one of her hairpins.

“Oh? Why is that?” she asked, curious about the shift in tone.

He finished adjusting the pin to his liking and brushed his fingers down the side of her face. “Our son already has the most powerful backer he could ever have. His mother.”

Gyokuyou’s eyes widened, lips parting in shock.

Her husband smiled at the expression on her face. “My education was what I would call fraught, but I learned to rule at my grandmother’s knee, not my father’s. My mother’s brand of power is quieter, but that does not mean she never exercises it. Ah-Duo, I’m quite certain, could rule this country as a truly great emperor in her own right, if anyone ever gave her the chance.” He tilted Gyokuyou’s chin up as she had automatically lowered her gaze in response to his praise. “You also have the mettle to rule the court and the morals to raise our son to be a good man. Your own father should be a source of support and comfort to you and our son - but as long as he has you, I am utterly confident in your judgment to use whoever you can to secure our children’s future.”

She had always thought that her husband had chosen her to be his Empress because of her Western blood or the beauty and other accomplishments that made her a graceful and valuable figure on his arm. But something in Gyokuyou’s inner world shifted as she realized that her husband saw her as a potential power in her own right. “I am honored by your faith in me,” she whispered, desperately blinking back tears.

The Emperor smiled. “When everything is resolved with Zui and his apothecary and we see them properly married and settled, perhaps we should try for another child?”

Another son would further secure her position - but she knew that her husband would cherish a second daughter just as much. “I would like that,” she smiled through damp eyes.

The Emperor’s heart had been given a long time ago. But to have the respect, trust and affection of this man? Perhaps there was more than one way to love. If so, she would grab this tiny flame of joy with both hands and nurture it carefully, blowing until there was a fire steady enough to warm them all.

“Well then. Let’s say goodnight to the children and go attend what had better be a very boring banquet.” The Emperor offered her his arm.

Gyokuyou laughed and took it. “I hope the rash of fashionable poisonings stops - Maomao was getting quite put out over having to treat them, all because she saved that one man’s life at the garden party.”

“Oh, I informed the court that the next idiot who gave himself food poisoning in the hope that the La Princess would treat them would instead be treated by her colleague, Doctor Li, instead. That young doctor has his flaws, but I have no doubt he would tend to them properly.” He smirked. “Or I could let Zui deal with them.”

“Please do! That would be a most amusing way to handle it!” She grinned at the thought - the Moon Prince’s reactions to anything having to do with Maomao were always a prime source of entertainment in the Rear Palace and she could only imagine how he might start chasing off all of Maomao’s new conquests. She suspected it might have some similarities to how her husband would begin chasing off Lingli’s suitors in a few more years.

They swept out of her bedroom together to say goodnight to their children - and for the first time, Gyokuyou truly felt like the mother of the nation, rather than a daughter of the West.

Chapter Text

A quartet of young men lounged in an open air pavilion, surrounded by all the flowers the Emperor's public spring gardens could offer - two to a couch, one in a chair and one standing apart. All of them were dressed in fine silk, subtle perfume scenting the air around them gently. Three of them were young men of good families; wealthy, noble, reasonably handsome, with excellent prospects ahead of them, just as soon as they settled down with the right woman.

All of which would be perfectly boring and ordinary, except for the specific young woman they were currently debating the best way to court.

“You sent pink orchids?” The first man, by the name of Jiahao, huffed. “As if orchids could compare to her elegant nature!”

The second man, called Zheng, folded his arms and looked nettled. “Orchids also represent friendship, which I thought might be a less forceful way to declare my intentions than tulips!”

There was a snort from the third man with a clever handsome face - the oldest of the three by a couple of years, called Qiang - at the two of them. “I will never understand why the two of you are so intent on pursuing a woman who could not more clearly have no interest in either of you.”

The two of them bristled at that, but Jinshi appreciated it as he subtly leaned against a pillar and directed his gaze at the gardens, sipping a cup of herbal tea that would hopefully do something to fight the headache pounding behind his eyes. Qiang had been one of the first young men in his office that day - and while his taste did not run in Maomao’s direction, he appeared keenly interested in whether she would become the new Pure Consort. He also had a dry wit that provided at least some relief from the lovesick boys inundating him.

“Moon Prince, perhaps you could settle this for us?” asked Jiahao.

Zheng also looked toward Jinshi, eyes lighting up. “Lady Maomao did train in etiquette under your household, did she not?”

He took another sip of tea, his entire demeanor infused with the false sparkle that marked his time in the Rear Palace. “Surely the lady’s reaction could tell you more than my opinion?” He forced his eyes to crinkle in a smile, even as he felt every muscle in his body tighten, waiting for the answer.

“That’s just it! Her lady-in-waiting accepted the gift and thanked us, with no indication of what the lady herself thought!” Jiahao complained.

Qiang darted a glance at Jinshi. “Well, that certainly does tell you something,” he murmured.

“That the strategist might have been home?” Zheng shot back.

Jiahao shuddered. “I hope they didn’t end up delivered to him.”

All four men there exchanged uncomfortable glances at the image. Qiang picked up the thought. “I heard that the grand commandant promised to castrate any man who wanted to marry his precious, only flower with a rusty spoon.”

Jinshi hid his shudder better than the other three did. Wouldn’t that be an irony to make the poets chuckle for a generation? To spend six years pretending to be a eunuch only to actually be rendered one by his prospective future father-in-law. He deliberately ran his fingertip along the rim of his teacup - a calming tic that those closest to him would have recognized, but these three fortunately did not.

“Can’t make that threat if she enters the Rear Palace,” Jiahao pointed out to Qiang.

“Exactly.” Qiang lounged back into his chair. “Even our honored strategist wouldn’t dare direct such florid language in the direction of the Imperial family.”

All three pairs of eyes turned Jinshi’s way at that.

Jinshi never dropped his sparkling smile. “I believe all queries about my consort selection should be addressed to Her Majesty.”

Jiahao looked at Jinshi with an expression of genuine concern in his eyes. “Surely you have some input on the matter? Even if it’s simply to look at portraits.”

“I do,” he replied, lightly.

Zheng sighed. “So, if neither orchids or tulips please the lady, what would you have sent, Moon Prince?”

Cordyceps. Fine alcohol. An invitation to go foraging for mushrooms, even. Not that he would have told these idiots that. He simply held the teacup and his mask firmly in place. “Gentlemen, if you would court the lady, it strikes me that perhaps you should ask her about her preferences.”

“But she’s so mysterious!” Jiahao sighed, his eyes turning dreamy. “You speak to her and you realize that she knows all about you, but she hasn’t said a word about herself!”

Qiang pressed his lips together, clearly fighting back outright laughter. “Sounds like you appreciate the sound of your own voice just as much as the lady.”

“No, no, I’ve noticed that too. She’s so easy to talk to, but she’s also cold. Distant. Like a star, fallen to the earth and always wondering if she could return,” Zheng chimed in.

Jinshi took a deep breath. He had idly speculated over the years, should he succeed in stepping away from the line of succession and remained in the palace as an advisor, what kind of court mask Maomao might have learned to don. He had always pictured her as cold, remote and indifferent - a natural extension of her demeanor as a servant. It appeared he had anticipated two out of the three - but the Maomao he knew was supremely uninterested in anything that didn’t concern her. The idea that she would be taking the time to remember these young men’s interests?

He worked hard not to crack the teacup, placing it gently on the table. “Well, this has been a lovely time, gentlemen, but I’m afraid I do have duties to return to.”

The three young men all stood and bowed. “Of course, Moon Prince. It’s been a pleasure to meet you.” said Jiahao.

“Perhaps, if you have the time, you could join us for a small gathering I’ll be throwing tomorrow night.” Qiang offered. “It’ll mostly be a chance to relax and socialize, but I know the attendees would be honored by your presence, Moon Prince.”

He’d rather scoop his eyes out with Lakan’s rusty spoon. “Give the details to my adjutant and I will see if I have the time,” he managed with an equanimity that concealed his irritation.

He left as the three of them bowed, forcing himself to maintain the perfect bearing of a noble, his walk unhurried and calm, his court mask firmly in place. He didn’t have time to either sulk or lose his temper like a child - he was afraid if he started yelling, he might not stop.

Basen fell into step behind him, his normally taciturn demeanor subdued into silence. Jinshi’s ire had not spared either him or Baryou for not warning him in advance about Maomao. He had spent approximately one evening being snippy with Suiren also before his dinner was abruptly replaced with fare that was appropriate for a ‘spoiled brat,’ as she put it.

But where the hell was Maomao?!

She wasn’t in the medical office when he checked and the physicians’ buying trip had concluded three days ago! She should have been back by now, but he’d seen neither hide nor damned hair of her.

Lahan was also conspicuously absent. Granted, he’d expected Lahan to turn cold toward him the moment he realized that any potential profit to be had through Jinshi was at an end; but he had still expected social coldness, rather than the man disappearing entirely!

Lakan could certainly be found - although the change was not yet official, he would be ascending as the head of the military. General Lo himself would be stepping aside into an advisory role, with the approval of the Emperor. Not that this retirement had been General Lo’s idea.

Lakan had challenged Lo’s martial supremacy at the beginning of winter, while Jinshi had been playing dancing monkey across the width and breadth of Li. The mock war campaign that followed had been eagerly consumed by the idle members of the court who had little else to occupy their attention during the winter months.

Heaven forbid they actually do their jobs! Jinshi thought, clenching his fist before deliberately relaxing his hand.

According to the rumors Jinshi had doggedly investigated, it had been a truly epic struggle, with both sides putting up a hell of a fight. But in the end, General Lo’s more traditional strategies were defeated by Lakan’s highly mobile squads that promoted based solely on merit and the squad leaders’ independent initiative in the field, proving Lakan’s point that Lo just wasn’t quite fast enough to keep up with a war, should one break out - and with tensions rising in the north and west, war was certainly on the Emperor’s mind.

Lo had always been a steady presence in the background of Jinshi’s life - the Empress Dowager’s protector and a competent military leader, who had won his position on merit as well as his ability to play the good old boys’ game with his connection to the then-Empress. He was being allowed to step into that advisory position with honor, but Jinshi wouldn’t want to be Lakan.

Not after Lakan had hanged General Lo’s right hand man for running his mouth about how Jinshi was the only viable Crown Prince candidate over a foreign born infant.

Lakan did not respect the Imperial family enough to have exerted himself purely on their behalf like this. And Jinshi’s stomach roiled at the realization that, to keep him off the throne, Maomao appeared to have traded her autonomy to her blood father.

Lakan’s not-so-joking threat about taking a rusty spoon to the genitalia of any man who dared court his only flower was only one of many. And yet, rather than express any of the disgust Jinshi knew she felt around the strategist, apparently she had been attending event after event on Lakan’s arm, leaving rumors to swirl around her sudden burst onto the court’s stage during the spring garden party he had been all too happy to miss like an utter fool.

She had acted quickly to save a young man who had begun having a severe allergic reaction, ordering Lakan to hold the patient’s head perfectly still between his knees and cutting a small hole in his throat to insert a reed, ensuring the young man got air until the reaction itself passed. The Empress herself had cleaned the blood off of Lady Maomao’s hands as the Emperor declared his approval of her swift action - those that might have criticized her for soiling her purity with blood were publically silenced in the face of united Imperial favor.

A breath of fresh air, they called her.

Elegant and enigmatic, she was a flower to make the common beauties of the court look overblown and florid by comparison, easily commanding the attention of whatever room she entered.

A smile from her was worth more than jade; receiving one from the lady even more rare, yet she was as kind as a healing balm.

She wasn’t to every man’s taste, but even those who didn’t seek her favor were apt to describe her as intelligent and insightful. Many wondered where Lakan had been hiding her all these years.

A few, truly observant officials realized that Lady Kan Maomao was the same palace woman who had been then-Consort Gyokuyou’s food taster at a spring garden party so long ago. An elegant, composed girl who had brought the entire banquet to an utter halt when she tasted a poisoned soup with sensual delight on her face that captivated the attention of everyone present.

So, of course, some idiot deliberately gave himself food poisoning to try to catch her attention when more traditional courting gifts failed to move her - and it had caught on as a new fad of the court. He clenched his jaw, relieved that no one had thought to offer her the poison as a gift.

That might have been more effective.

All in all, Maomao’s legend had grown until she was now recognized as an unexpected breakout beauty of the court, a worthy woman to wash the taste of the Shi Clan’s treachery out of the Emperor’s mouth. Favored by the Emperor, adored by the Empress, it was a heartwarming display of accord between the Emperor’s wife and a potential concubine, while also leashing the head of the La Clan with a dose of much deserved public recognition.

Jinshi ground his teeth at the memory of the Emperor’s reaction to his disquiet about Maomao’s sudden new role within the court.

Really, Zui, it’s been quite some time since you ran the Rear Palace for me. I don’t feel the need to rein Lakan in for now, given that our interests are currently aligned, but it certainly won’t hurt the court to speculate, as you well know. And if Lakan gets too full of himself, it also won’t hurt to have this option in my back pocket. His Majesty had been badly concealing a smile within his beard at the sight of Jinshi’s pacing within his chambers.

But - !

Enough! Not a suggestion - an order. His father’s eyes had been soft in contrast to the snap of his tone. You made your decision months ago. You let her go, just as you promised. Do you expect her to live the rest of her life alone?

He had just stood there, stunned. But the Rear Palace?

The Emperor had shrugged. Perhaps. The soft expression in his father’s eyes had faded, a gleam of provocation shining through with a poorly suppressed grin. In any case, don’t you think you ought to focus your attention on your own consort selection?

The challenge was clear. If Jinshi was truly so bothered by the idea of Maomao becoming the Pure Consort, then there was only one viable solution.

He could marry Maomao himself.

Jinshi wanted that solution so badly he could almost taste it. The political setup was too perfect. Lakan had more than rebuilt the buffer’s influence that had dwindled during their time in the Western Capital - his influence was now clearly aligned with the throne.

The throne, not the Emperor. He had single handedly shifted the military’s politics in a subtle, but revolutionary, direction. The military’s allegiance was to Li itself, which meant that they supported the current Son of Heaven and his chosen Crown Prince. Jinshi had never even heard of such a thing before - the game of soldiers and thrones was a well established one. The idea that the military itself was a neutral force for the nation’s benefit had the potential to make Li’s military the dominant force on the stage of regional politics.

If the military had needed Lakan’s reminder that to even begin to openly speculate on the subject of which prince should succeed the Emperor was utterly beyond the station of a soldier and, in certain cases, treason on the part of the officers, during the flurry of battlefield promotions, bonuses, honor and glory? The body of General Lo’s right hand man had been left on the gallows for a full week after his execution.

Lakan was effectively playing the stick to Gyokuen’s carrot. Some people had begun to discuss how nice it was that new trade goods coming from the West were much easier to get ahold of now that the influence of the Western capital was expanding. Glass mirrors were an especially popular import. The court appeared to be having the lesson hammered into their heads that Gyokuyou’s son’s ascension would come with significant benefits for those clever enough to grasp them.

There was only one person who could have convinced Lakan to bring the military to heel and begin reshaping the politics of the court to keep Jinshi off that most honored seat in the empire. Which reminded him that Maomao appeared to have disappeared into thin air.

Again.

Honestly, if he managed to marry that gorgeous, infuriating little gremlin, he was going to bell her like a literal cat! That way he might actually know where she was and nobody could just run off with her without him knowing!

“Your highness,” Basen murmured, snapping Jinshi out of his own head.

Standing in front of them was a lady in waiting, dressed in summer green and navy blue with accents of white and yellow that both of them would know anywhere. Her right arm was held close against her chest, but she greeted them both with a wide smile to accompany her very proper bow. “Moon Prince, little brother-in-law!”

“Chue!” Jinshi took two steps forward, forcing his hands down even as he itched to grab Chue’s arm and have her march him directly to Maomao.

Basen sighed. “You deal with him for five minutes.”

Chue merely giggled at both of them. “Oh, little brother-in-law, you’re beginning to resemble my honored father-in-law more every day!”

“Gaoshun wouldn’t have said anything,” Jinshi shot back, glaring at Basen.

Basen returned his glare. “He’d have thought it, sir. Loudly.”

Chue actually snorted at that one, causing both men to give her a look that said really? as loud as they could stare. She ignored their unspoken opinions.

Jinshi deliberately took a deep breath, calming himself. “May I ask where your lady is, Miss Chue?”

“Oh here and there, Moon Prince. She’s quite in demand these days.” Chue smiled brightly. “How are you liking your return to the court?”

“Chue,” he ground out.

She arched her eyebrows. “Your highness, perhaps you would favor this humble lady-in-waiting by taking a walk?” She turned her body to indicate a short path that would lead them to yet another small gazebo dotting the gardens - one that was fortunately empty.

He fell into step beside her, Basen trailing a pace behind them.

Chue was silent as they walked the path, her characteristic hopping present and accounted for, but turned to him once they were inside the structure and assured of at least a little bit of privacy. Basen stood on guard at a polite enough distance to pretend he couldn’t hear their conversation. “My lady would like to return something of yours.” She reached into her sleeve to pull out a slender, paulownia wood box.

Jinshi reached out and took it, already feeling his stomach twist as he opened the lid to reveal a familiar hair stick - silver, carved with poppies and crowned with the crescent moon. His sigil. His declaration to Maomao, so long ago, of his intentions toward her. He had never seen her wear it again after their first trip to the Western Capital - it did not have the best memories associated with it. He carefully closed the lid and offered it back to Chue. “It was a gift,” he managed to make himself say with an approximation of an even tone.

Chue shook her head. “It would be inappropriate for my lady to possess such a symbol of the Moon Prince’s favor as he prepares to wed.”

“Does she really think I would marry anyone but her?” Jinshi whispered.

Chue just looked at him, as if puzzled. “What, exactly, did your highness think was going to happen when you set Miss Maomao free?”

He winced.

Chue continued. “Did the Moon Prince believe that Miss Maomao would happily skip off to make medicine in the medical offices for the rest of her life? Or was she supposed to hide in obscurity, so nobody else would ever notice her?”

“She certainly seems to have made a conquest of the court!” Jinshi snapped, the sharp edges of the box biting into his fingers and palm as he clenched his hand around it.

“Oh ho! The idol of the Inner Palace does not like it when the shoe is on the other foot!” Chue chortled.

Jinshi flushed, but bit back any response. For all her banter, a hard expression entered Chue’s eyes as she stared him down.

“Miss Chue watched the Moon Prince court Miss Maomao - and she missed at least half of it! She remembers how patiently your highness wooed her in the Western Capital, the cases you procured for her, every small, thoughtful gift. Each day your highness coaxed her - not with courtly gestures or promises of status, but with the steady, reassuring promise that she would never be abandoned.”

He reared back as if he’d been struck. “I never - !”

“You did, Moon Prince. It was done with the noblest of intentions, the purest motivation, but you still left her, your highness.” Chue openly glared at him now. “Do you know what happened immediately after you left on your tour of the empire? After that appalling letter you sent her, breaking off all contact?”

“No,” he breathed.

“Doctors Kan and Liu put a watch on her - surely it hadn’t escaped the Moon Prince’s notice that Miss Maomao’s experiments on herself gain in frequency and intensity when she is in pain?”

He sat down heavily on the nearest bench. Maomao’s experimentation with poisons and medicine had been a part of his understanding of her personality for so long that it had not occurred to him. In the wake of Chue’s condemnation, though, he remembered the horror of entering her apothecary shop in the Verdigris House after the Shi Clan’s rebellion to find her with an upraised knife and her littlest finger tied off to stop blood flow.

What are you doing?

She had put the knife away immediately upon his aghast exclamation. There had been no indication that she had been bothered by his absence until that point. Bile rose in the back of his throat and he thought he might vomit right there, realizing what he had actually witnessed. “Did she - ?” he whispered, his voice hoarse.

“Miss Maomao has many people in her life who love her, Moon Prince. As Miss Chue said, Doctor Kan informed Doctor Liu about the possibility, so it became a game in the medical offices to keep her so busy with complicated pharmaceuticals to compound that she wouldn’t feel the need to experiment, even if she could somehow find the time. Master Lahan contributed with interesting cases so he could also keep an eye on how she was doing. This went on for three weeks before Miss Maomao resolved on her current course of action and the danger passed.” Chue managed to cross her arms by supporting her bad arm with the other hand under the elbow.

Jinshi buried his head in his hands, the box falling to the stone of the gazebo as he threaded his fingers through his bangs to pull on his hair, the sting on his scalp stronger than his stinging eyes.

Chue pressed her advantage. “Did it never occur to the Moon Prince that Miss Maomao’s affection, once given, would be absolute? That her devotion would equal yours? That just as the Moon Prince would be willing to sacrifice his own dream of freedom on the altar of his duty, she would intervene so long as she had anything of her own to sacrifice?”

He lifted his head, eyes red and shining with unshed tears. “Chue, where is she?”

His demeanor must have been just desperate enough - or just pathetic enough - that Chue answered him. “Where else would she be? She is a princess of the La Clan now, open and acknowledged as Grand Commandant Kan’s beloved daughter. When she is not at work, she lives in her family home.”

“She’s living with the strategist?!” Jinshi cried.

Chue arched both brows. “That is commonly what noble young ladies do, yes.”

“She despises him! Why would she - ” Jinshi broke off, the answer to his question obvious.

The tension hung in the air for the space of a few heartbeats before Chue sat down next to him. “Moon Prince, neither your love nor your good intentions have ever been in doubt. But Miss Chue would like to offer an observation.”

“Go ahead,” he gave permission softly.

She took a deep breath. “The Emperor, your father, made a unilateral decision that changed the course of Lady Ah-Duo’s fate. That decision shaped the Moon Prince’s life. Your highness grew up seeing the consequences of what love in captivity looked like and you did not want that either for yourself or for Miss Maomao. But that doesn’t change the fact that your highness also made a unilateral decision, without ever asking Miss Maomao what she thought.”

His head shot up, eyes stretched wide in shock. True, he had made his promise to set Maomao free in front of her, but looking back he realized that he had never actually asked her opinion on the matter. They had discussed logistics of removing the brand, Maomao had quietly asked him if he would be all right without her, but he had not asked for her thoughts.

The fact of the matter was that, while Lakan’s support had given Jinshi breathing room, Gyokuyou’s son was still only two years old. His Majesty’s second round with appendicitis had forcibly reminded Jinshi that he could not control everything. He could still be thrust onto that throne, should events play out unkindly.

Would Maomao choose to stay by his side as his Crown Princess, his Empress, should it come to that?

Chue picked up the paulownia wood box and handed it back to him. “A banquet to honor the Shin Clan’s matriarch on her eighty-fifth birthday is in two days. My lady will be there.”

He felt his fingers close around the box. “Chue, please just tell me. Does she want me to court her? Or is she too angry at me?”

“If Miss Chue didn’t worry that her little brother-in-law would separate her head from her body for it, she would smack you upside the head for that one, Moon Prince!” Chue gave him a look of utter exasperation, beginning to tick off her points on the fingers of one hand. “Does your highness think Miss Maomao would have secured the strategist’s support, allowed her granny and sisters to dress her up like a doll, used every skill of the courtesan’s world to captivate the court and become a marriage prospect that a potential Crown Prince could marry with no objections from anyone - would she have done any of that if she was prepared to let you go without a fight?”

He finally let out a half-laugh, half-sob. “I guess not.”

“Well then. Miss Chue hopes the Moon Prince stocked up on expensive foreign medicines and alcohol during his tour of the empire, because after the last six months, it would appear that the Moon Prince has some courting to do. With a side of groveling.” Chue stood up.

Basen entered the gazebo. “I guess I don’t need to sneak him out of the banquet now?”

“Oh, you’ll still be doing that, but at least now he’ll know why you’re sneaking him. Which reminds Miss Chue! When you’ve switched duty shifts, Miss Chue wants to go over what we discussed.”

Basen nodded, his lips pressing together for a moment.

Jinshi looked between the two of them, eyes narrowing. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Chue looked between him and Basen. “The bruising on his forearms - is that from sparring?”

Basen blinked and looked at Jinshi. “You’ve been performing your regular morning exercises, but we haven’t sparred in a few weeks, no.”

Jinshi lifted his hand, allowing the sleeve of his robe to fall down his arm. He hadn’t really noticed, but his forearm was speckled with tiny, purple-red bruises that marred the smooth skin. He couldn’t remember hitting his arm hard enough to cause that. He let his arm fall to look at Basen and Chue, both of whom had grim expressions on their faces. “What’s wrong?”

Chue looked at Basen. “We need that report on his food taster tonight. In the meantime, Moon Prince, be prepared for Miss Maomao to conduct a medical exam at that banquet - Miss Chue agrees with her that this is starting to look more and more like poisoning.”

He felt his body chill with icy fear before it was followed by a flush of hot anger. “I see. If your lady is working late tonight, perhaps the three of us could go over that report?”

Basen bowed. “Of course, Moon Prince.”

“It would be Miss Chue’s pleasure, your highness.” Chue bowed as well. “If there is nothing further the Moon Prince requires of Miss Chue?”

“You may go,” he murmured, idly spinning the wooden box with Maomao’s hairpin between his fingers.

“Moon Prince?” Basen ventured after a few minutes.

Jinshi sat another moment, thinking things over. The pieces were not hard to assemble, once he had enough of them. Basen had clearly been in contact with Chue before this, at least, if not Maomao herself. And he was concerned enough about Jinshi’s health that they had discussed the subject of poisoning and investigating his food taster.

Everyone else had been right. He should have taken Maomao with him all those months ago. For more reasons than one, it would seem, but he couldn’t do anything yet to fix that. Instead, he looked up at his oldest friend, his milk brother. “I’ve been acting like an ass. I’m sorry.”

Basen crossed his arms and grunted. “As soon as we figure out what the hell is being slipped into your food, I’m willing to let it go as poisoned dumbassery.”

Jinshi snorted at that description.

“I would, however, suggest you be very nice to my older brother if you feel the need to apologize - if you annoy him too much, the actual work on your desk could end up replaced with petty invitations.”

Jinshi sighed. “Speaking of which, perhaps I ought to accept Qiang’s invitation for tomorrow night.”

Basen arched his eyebrows. “You want to spend time listening to the apothecary’s lovesick swains wax poetic over her eyebrows?”

“Call it a scouting trip.” Jinshi smiled with teeth. “It would seem I put Maomao in this position - I had better get a good lay of the land, if I’m to plot my own courtship.”

Basen shook his head. “Why can’t you send her a letter and ask her to meet you somewhere public, like a normal person?”

“From the man who can’t talk to the love of his life without risking fainting due to extreme flush?” Jinshi teased him.

Basen just grinned. “I’ll have you know that Maamei received an official letter from the U Clan’s head last night. They’re willing to hear my suit for Lady Lishu’s hand.”

Jinshi sat up fully. “That’s wonderful news!”

“Mmm. I don’t think you need a scouting trip, as you put it sir, but if it’ll get you out of the house and distracted until the next banquet, I can’t see how it’ll hurt. Of course, banquets are already boring enough, but now you can’t even eat.”

Jinshi shrugged. “It’s not like I’ve never sat through a banquet without eating before. At least this time I won’t be half suffocating in a mask. We’ll ask Suiren to prepare something beforehand.”

“The Emperor is hosting it. You risk offending him if you don’t accept his hospitality.” Basen pointed out.

“I suspect his Imperial Majesty would prefer me to stay alive than be strictly polite. We’ll confine my consumption to the wine - it should be harder to discreetly tamper with just one item, especially if we’re watching the food taster.” Jinshi thought back - the woman had been extremely discreet, but he believed her name was Lianshi.

Perhaps it would be more prudent to simply dismiss her from his service, but if Maomao was right (and when it came to poison, Jinshi utterly trusted her instincts), then they could lose the chance to find whoever was backing her while also motivating them to try to attack him from a different angle. If he remembered her file correctly, she was a recent widow whose husband had been in debt. It was unlikely a widow of limited financial means would have the motivation or the resources to poison a member of the Imperial family on her own recognizance. And someone with the boldness to subvert a food taster was absolutely someone Jinshi wanted to track down and deal with.

Basen nodded. “Speaking of Lady Suiren, if you wanted to take her something in lieu of an actual apology, one of the palace merchants got an early shipment of lychee wine.”

Which just so happened to be Suiren’s favorite. Jinshi nodded and stood up, tucking the paulownia wood box into the pocket of his robes. “Let’s do that.”

He stood up and strode out of the gazebo, Basen trailing behind him. If he didn’t precisely have a spring in his step, there was a new determination burning in his eyes.

Chapter Text

Maomao sat in a back room, carefully grinding ingredients down during a late shift. Most of the doctors had gone home for the evening, leaving their juniors on what was universally understood to be the less than ideal detail. In general, it was a quiet shift, with very few patients to be seen, which made it a good time to take inventory, compound medicines, disinfect and do other cleaning tasks that needed to be done before the hustle and bustle of the day.

However, generally any cases that came in were understood to be urgent. Therefore, it was considered good training for the junior physicians. Given that they didn’t want to risk patient health, however, the senior physicians would rotate supervisory duty. Tonight it was Doctor You, who Maomao knew passing well from their time in the Western capital. In general, he was genial and easy to work with, so she was pleased enough, even if Tianyu was also on duty with her.

She yawned, even as she ground the herbs down, working from a new recipe they had just acquired from the ship. She had pulled another double shift today, which meant that the few hours of sleep she would be able to catch would be in her dorm room instead of her chamber in the La estate. There was a certain amount of time she absolutely had to spend there - and as much of that as possible was spent in the annex with Luomen’s medical library - but the days when she could sleep in her tiny dorm room were the days she slept much better. Nobody would think to look for the La Clan’s princess there, especially when she wore her freckles, and although she was known to work in the medical offices, Doctor Liu had quickly put a stop to young men inventing reasons to drop by to catch a glimpse of her.

He had also glared at her for disrupting the peace of the medical office with her romantic shenanigans, but at least Tianyu thought it was hilarious to treat the idiots with some of the most violent emetics she could compound.

None of them even used an interesting poison!

As she fell into the steady, meditative rhythm of grinding the herbs into a fine paste, she heard a commotion in the hallway - shouting voices, the slap of footsteps against floors, the medical office door banging open to the shouts of “Doctor! We need a doctor!”

She opened the side door to reveal a young man being hastily moved to an infirmary bed, covered in blood and bruises, his fine robes quite ruined. Doctor You was pulling on his medical apron, while asking for details about what had happened. “Niangniang, get me an assessment!”

She didn’t even bother to mutter a correction about her name - she simply began to cut the man’s robes off of him methodically, arching her brows as she began to evaluate the patient.

He might have been handsome under his injuries, with a long, clever face. His nose was most definitely broken and one eye was also swelling shut. She quickly pried it open before it could fully close to check his pupils - they were dilating at different rates. “Definite concussion!” she called, while continuing to check her patient over.

She had seen a lot of injuries over her career, but this man had been beaten within an inch of his life. He was covered in bruises, blooming black and purple and occasionally graced with splits and scrapes where he had either hit or been thrown to the ground. No clean cuts, though, which meant a weapon hadn’t been used as far as she could tell. Only fists and kicks.

Speaking of which, she frowned as she heard a dry, hacking cough from the patient. He was pale and struggling to breathe, so she moved her assessment to his chest, prodding along the ribs with sure fingers to feel the ribs. “Suspected punctured lung!” she called, frowning. “Three broken ribs, two on the lower right side, one on the lower left!”

She continued to catalog wounds - as she moved on from the head and torso, she found multiple broken fingers and defensive injuries on the arms where he had attempted to shield himself. She was no stranger to violence, or beatings for that matter. The military and the pleasure district alike had certainly brought plenty of those to her doorstep, although fewer in the last few months since the old fart had finally started doing his job.

Whoever had done this had been in an absolute fury. The injuries were bad, but it didn’t have the precision of a professional beating. Those had always been some of the worst cases she and her dad had treated back in the pleasure district - more often than not, those who had run afoul of the shadowy underworld of the pleasure district didn’t survive. The biggest danger she could see to this man was the concussion and the broken ribs that might be pushing on his lungs. She just needed to check his belly - if he was bleeding inside, then they might lose him after all…

“Niangniang, step away from him.” Tianyu’s voice came over her shoulder as he gently pulled her away.

“Hold on, I need to see if the belly is distended - ”

“Maomao,” Tianyu repeated, his grip firming and pulling her forcibly away from the patient. “Let me handle this bastard.” His normal, slightly manic tone had gone glacially cold.

There were gasps from the small collection of young men who had brought the patient in. She blinked and glanced at them - she certainly wasn’t dressed up, although since she was on a night shift, she hadn’t bothered to apply her freckles. “I’m not done treating him!”

A familiar, deep voice broke in. “By order of the Moon Prince, this man is not to receive care from Lady Kan Maomao. Doctor You, do you have this situation in hand?” Gaoshun stood in the doorway, looking as deadly serious as Maomao had ever seen him.

Jinshi ordered me not to treat him? Maomao was astonished, even as Tianyu finished pulling her away from the man on the bed and took her place, a hard look in his eyes, his hands less than gentle as he picked up the assessment where she had left off.

The normally genial, Western doctor nodded, grim. “Yes. Lady Maomao, would you kindly go with Master Gaoshun? I believe there is another situation that requires your attention.”

She stared at Gaoshun, who gestured for her to follow him, while also stepping between her and their impromptu audience. She wanted to pepper him with questions, but instead she simply nodded and allowed herself to be escorted from the medical office.

If there was one lesson that she considered even more valuable as a lady than she had as a servant, it was that sometimes, silence was golden.

Gaoshun led her to a large but modest home close to the boundary between the Inner Palace and the Outer Court that she had never been to before, about a fifteen minute silent walk away. “Come on in, Xiaomao. I apologize I can’t offer any hot tea - we don’t keep full time staff, Taomei is away and Maamei and the children are asleep.”

She glanced around in surprise. The furniture and rugs were all well-made, but worn and comfortable, contributing to an air of lived-in welcome. “Is this your home, sir?” she asked.

“It is. We’re waiting on Basen to report and he knows to come here.” Gaoshun’s brow was deeply furrowed as he gestured for Maomao to take a seat, even as he paced.

“Forgive me, but can you tell me what’s happened? Who beat that man and why did Jin- the Moon Prince order me not to treat him?”

Gaoshun took a deep breath. “I do not know all the details, Xiaomao. I arrived after almost everything had happened. But I do know that the man in the infirmary offered a grievous insult to you and that the Moon Prince is the one who punished him for it.”

Maomao’s jaw dropped. Jinshi had beaten that man?

She didn’t realize she’d asked the question out loud until Gaoshun responded, looking more worried that Maomao had ever seen him before the entire time she had known him. “Yes.”

“What happened?!” she cried, utterly astonished.

When Jinshi was angry, he could act either petulant or cold in turn, that beautiful voice snapping with the bite of a whip. His weapon of choice was words - and as a prince of the nation, even those were dangerous enough to others. But with one, memorable exception, she had never seen him turn physically violent - and that incident appeared to have left an indelible impression on him. So much so that, even over a year later, he was nervous to touch her, even in the face of her agreement and preparations.

In retrospect, perhaps I should have led with pleasure that could be indulged without penetration. He seemed a bit overwhelmed by the standard preparations.

Other than that, the only other time she had ever seen Jinshi in any type of violent situation, had been when the Forbidden Army stormed the Shi Clan’s fortress. Then, she had caught glimpses of him in the fighting - he had seemed calm in the midst of the chaos, leading the attack forward even as he had defended himself and his men.

She looked at Gaoshun. “What could that man have possibly said that would have gotten Master Jinshi to lose his composure like that?”

Gaoshun pressed his lips together in a grim line. “Perhaps we should wait for Basen to tell us when he gets here.”

She inhaled sharply. “Was Master Jinshi hurt? For that matter, if he is, then why was the other man brought to a doctor at all?” She was fairly certain that if the man in the infirmary had laid a hand on the Moon Prince, they wouldn’t have bothered to haul him to a doctor, but instead left him to die and called it mercy if he was the only member of his family to do so.

“From what I understand, the Moon Prince officially challenged him to a duel, so the normal rules about striking a member of the Imperial family would not have applied. But he didn’t appear to be overly injured from what I saw.” Gaoshun began to pace. “A split lip and his knuckles were bloodied, but whether that blood was his own or the other man’s, I couldn’t tell you for sure.”

Maomao snorted. “From what I saw of the injuries, I think it’s fairly safe to say that there was splatter. Is it a duel if they keep it to fists?”

“It is,” a tired voice came from the doorway. “The lack of a weapon looked like admirable restraint on the Moon Prince’s behalf - until it was clear he was going to beat the fool to death with his bare hands.” Basen stood there looking more serious than Maomao had ever seen him before, shaking his head.

Gaoshun turned to his son. “Is he injured?”

“Not enough to mention. Mostly his hands are a mess. Split lip, a few bruises where Qiang landed a couple of hits.”

“What the hell happened!” Maomao turned her questions to Basen.

He sat heavily in a chair, ignoring etiquette. “He lost his temper. Hell, he lost his fucking mind. I’ve never seen him like that, ever.”

Gaoshun frowned, his brow furrowing with concern, completely dismissing Basen’s profanity in the presence of a lady. A breach in etiquette he would normally have taken his son to task for. “I heard a little bit about what was said to provoke the duel. Start from the beginning and take us through what happened.”

Basen scrubbed his hands over his face. “He was invited to a party - a gathering for young noblemen. Not the kind of thing he would normally attend, but, well…”

“I understand,” Gaoshun said, his tone steady.

Maomao frowned. “I remember he was being encouraged to socialize with the young nobles of the court.”

Basen nodded. “Yes, but if he had known what kind of gathering this was, I don’t think he’d have gone at all.”

Both Maomao and Gaoshun waited for Basen to elaborate, Gaoshun raising an eyebrow while Maomao crossed her arms.

Basen sighed, somehow managing to turn a delicate pink. “It seemed respectable enough when we first arrived, but we could tell there was a lot of wine going around.”

Gaoshun sighed. “And women?”

Basen started to turn bright red. “Not just women. Some of the men were dressed…well. Like I said, not the kind of thing he’d normally attend. It also smelled strange once we were inside.”

Maomao cocked her head to the side, intrigued despite herself. “Strange how?”

“Like they were roasting sweet nuts over a grass fire, but had gone too long? It hit you like a punch to the face, though.” Basen screwed up his nose, remembering it.

Maomao and Gaoshun glanced at each other. Gaoshun’s face was grim. “I see,” he said.

Basen looked at the two of them. “Do you know what it was?”

“Opium,” Maomao answered, curtly. “You’d know the smell if you ever deviated from your route to the Verdigris House.”

Indeed, opium dens were one of the darker attractions of the pleasure district and one that neither Maomao or the government approved of. Treating those who were opium sick was dicey - more often than not, they’d just go right back to the drug that had sickened them, begging for more. It was especially infuriating when the Verdigris House occasionally bought a girl who had been transported under the influence and they had to attempt to detox her.

Luomen had always shaken his head and warned Maomao that opium was a perfect example of what happened when medicine’s power was abused. It was one of the few drugs Maomao had never tried and never intended to unless the circumstances were dire enough to warrant its use. She remembered warning Jinshi about how powerful the stuff was during their first trip West. He wouldn’t…

“Did he eat or drink anything there?” she asked, feeling her stomach clench.

Basen shook his head. “Not with what’s going on with the suspected poisoning. I’ve been keeping a canteen of water on me, in case he needs something to drink, but other than that, nothing that isn’t going through Suiren’s kitchen goes into his mouth.”

Maomao breathed a sigh of relief.

“Suspected poisoning?” Gaoshun broke in, eyes wide. “What?!”

It was Maomao and Basen’s turn to glance at each other before Basen stood up and turned to his father to offer a report. “He started getting sick about a month before we got back. Headache, nausea. We thought he’d picked up a cold that wasn’t getting better because he was pushing himself with all the travel and, well…”

“Finding out that your older brother is actually your father is rather stressful,” Maomao offered in her very driest tone.

Gaoshun sighed. “It hasn’t been easy on the other end either, but I understand. Go on,” he looked at Basen again.

“He basically spent that week off he got from the Emperor just sleeping and recovering - and he was getting better, so we thought that was it. But once he started attending court events, the symptoms came back.”

“If it was a sickness, it would either have gotten better with rest or started getting worse, depending on the type of illness. The fact that it’s coming and going suggests that something in his environment is contaminated.” Maomao elaborated.

“Chue said to check his food taster, and I did, but it’s not her.” Basen shook his head.

Maomao blinked. “She’s also showing symptoms?”

Basen nodded. “Nausea, headache, fatigue. But when I asked her about why she hadn’t reported the symptoms she…well…” Basen flushed, but soldiered on. “She said she thought it was because she lost a pregnancy. Apparently she became…involved with one of the guards during the tour.”

Maomao sighed. “It could be. Has she been examined?”

“Suiren escorted her to a clinic to be seen by a midwife. They confirmed that she had, in fact, lost a pregnancy.” Basen sighed. “So we still don’t know how he’s being exposed.”

Maomao rubbed a finger along her bottom lip, thinking. Nausea, headache, fatigue, bruising…emotional volatility.

“What are you thinking, Xiaomao?” Gaoshun asked, watching her.

She let out a sigh. “There’s similarities to the makeup powder that was made with lead, but the symptoms don’t quite fit. Is there anything else?”

“The food taster mentioned she was itchy and the Moon Prince said it was something he’d also noticed,” Basen supplied.

She pressed her lips together. “Certain metals are extremely toxic when exposed to them for long periods of time. Lead, as we’ve seen before, but also quicksilver which was used with the White Immortal’s act. Arsenic, of course. They build up in the body, so the first thing to do is simply stop the exposure, but after that it takes time to work its way out and the body to heal.”

“Are you suggesting that the Moon Prince may have already purified his environment, but we’re simply seeing the effects of long term exposure?” Gaoshun asked.

Maomao shook her head. “Until we know how he’s been exposed, we can’t assume he’s not still being poisoned.”

Basen clenched his fists. “This would have been solved by now if it was the food taster.”

“More to the immediate point, Xiaomao, would any of this explain the Moon Prince’s behavior tonight?” Gaoshun brought them back around to their original topic of discussion.

She nodded. “When Consort Lihua was suffering from exposure to the makeup powder, you recall she had a confrontation with then-Consort Gyokuyou?”

Gaoshun sighed. “All right. That, combined with the fact that there was opium at that gathering should blunt the damage to the Moon Prince in the eyes of His Majesty.”

Maomao furrowed her own brow. “Forgive me, but he’s an imperial. I know the rules are different for commoners and nobles, but how much trouble is he actually in?”

“Officially, none. As you said, he’s a member of the imperial family.” Gaoshun pinched the bridge of his nose. “Unofficially, however, it’s still a scandal - the loss of control does not reflect well on the prince, for one. For another, the young man’s father is an influential minister, which could cause a great deal of trouble for the Emperor and the Moon Prince in the future, regardless of how the succession shakes out.”

“What on earth could this man have said that would have made Master Jinshi lose control like that, though?” Maomao asked, looking at Basen and Gaoshun in turn. “This wasn’t just a few punches, he almost killed him.”

Gaoshun looked at Basen. “I was told the general gist of it, but not what was said.”

“Um, perhaps…” Basen squirmed, looking uncomfortable.

“Spit it out, already!” Maomao fixed Basen with a glare she usually reserved for the old fart.

Basen paled, then mumbled, “Um, well. Qiang apparently doesn’t think much of the La Clan’s daughter - or any woman, for that matter. I believe he thought the Moon Prince shared certain proclivities, because my master has not taken a wife and has no mistresses.”

“Meaning he prefers men?” Maomao asked. Still, if it were that kind of party, why had there been women there, according to Basen’s report?

Basen shook his head. “No. I mean that he appears to feel that women - all women - are…” he trailed off, apparently not entirely sure how to phrase what he had seen and heard.

“Harlots? Sluts? Whores?” she prompted, when Basen seemed stuck for a word.

Basen winced in response while Gaoshun sighed and said, “Well, that’s unpleasant.”

“Yes. Um. Well, he went into detail about what he thought of the La Princess. Father, perhaps this shouldn’t be repeated in front of the lady, however…” Basen pleaded.

“I highly doubt he had anything to say that I have not heard before.” Maomao folded her arms.

Gaoshun glanced between Maomao and Basen. “Yes, but perhaps you have not heard it directed toward yourself.”

Maomao turned her glare on both of them.

Gaoshun sighed. “Basen, continue.”

Basen closed his eyes and took a deep breath. “It seems that your connection to the pleasure district is becoming a topic of discussion in these circles. He commented that, ‘Verdigris House is known for producing top notch whores, but the one they’re pimping out to the Imperial Family is a real bitch.’ Then he said something about the Emperor and Empress -”

“Basen,” Gaoshun interrupted him. “Repeat exactly what was said.”

Maomao just arched her brows at him - so far, she hadn’t heard anything particularly unusual.

Basen began to turn red. “He said…he said ‘She has the figure of a child and a face like a cat, so at least her name fits. But the Emperor and Empress seem to like that kind of thing.’ He also suggested that the Emperor might need someone less…womanlike, to - to prime him to bed his consorts.”

Gaoshun’s expression shuttered - whether the reference had been to His Former Majesty or to Jinshi’s time as a eunuch who was assumed to be the Emperor’s lover as well as his favorite, either way it was a direct insult aimed at His Imperial Majesty. Maomao’s blood ran cold just hearing it.

Basen continued quickly, as if he was trying to get this man’s distasteful words out of his mouth as fast as possible. “Then he said something along the lines of, ‘Not that I expect her to last long. Wood sorrel is too delicate - a real man’s dick would split her down the middle.’ That’s when I think some of the others started to realize that the Moon Prince was not amused. He was just standing there with this look on his face - not calm. Blank. Anyway, they started trying to get Qiang to shut up.”

“They were wiser than this boy, it seems.” Gaoshun’s tone had gone ice cold.

Basen just swallowed. “He made it worse. Um,” he continued, “And if Imperial dick doesn’t get her on the way in, it will on the way out. You need a proper sow to birth an Imperial heir, not the runt of the litter.”

Maomao shook her head. “Boring.”

Gaoshun and Basen just stared at her.

“What?” She spread her hands. “Am I supposed to be upset by what he said?”

Gaoshun scrubbed a hand over his face. “I was told that she was called a whore, but the details are - ”

“Still not worth beating a man within an inch of his life for. If he’d done it on behalf of the Emperor, that’d be different,” Maomao interjected. She looked at Basen.

“He just…snapped. I thought he was in control when he offered the challenge - and I was angry enough that I didn’t object, since our prince can handle himself, especially if weapons weren’t being used - but he just kept beating Qiang once he was down. I had to haul him off and he fought me. It was like he couldn’t hear me at all, until I shouted his given name into his ear.” Basen just slumped, looking utterly exhausted.

“That was when I arrived.” Gaoshun asked. He looked at Maomao. “I told him that you weren't going to thank him for giving you a mess to clean up. That’s when he stopped and gave the order that you weren’t to have anything to do with healing him - that the young lord didn’t deserve your expertise given his opinion of you.”

Basen seemed to deflate. “Then he just swept out of there while everybody else got out of his way, utterly terrified of him.”

“They should be.” Gaoshun’s mouth was a firm, grim line. “You were right to send for me, as well.”

Maomao looked between the two men. “So, where does that leave us? I was going to examine him at the banquet tomorrow night, but it sounds like his symptoms are escalating.”

Gaoshun nodded. “And it will be more important than ever that he attends - whether or not tonight was a mistake, the imperial family cannot afford to show weakness.”

“I hate politics,” she muttered to herself. What she wanted to do was drag Jinshi into a controlled environment so she could start treating him while Basen and the rest of his household tore everything else apart to figure out how he was being poisoned.

Because this behavior was nothing like the man she knew. She wasn’t soft enough to waste her tears on the man currently in the infirmary, but Jinshi would be ashamed of his own conduct once he had a chance to calm down. Not that he had punished him, no. Jinshi did not relish dealing out punishment, but nor had he ever hesitated to do so when it was warranted.

But the loss of control would bother him.

She looked at Basen and Gaoshun. “Are you sure you don’t want me to go examine him tonight?”

Basen shook his head. “When I left, he was still furious, if no longer blind with rage. I don’t think he’s in any state of mind to hear anyone else on the subject, much less think rationally.”

Gaoshun nodded. “He’s going to need time to calm down. Give him a night to sleep on it - you’ll be at the banquet tomorrow evening, right?”

“Yes,” Maomao nodded. “The old fart apparently has a meeting with the Shin matriarch over some obscure point of clan business and I’m going with him.” She deliberately didn’t say more than that - she had some idea of what they might be going to discuss, but aside from not wanting to put the Shin Clan at risk over what was effectively long-buried history at this point, she didn’t want to get Jinshi’s hopes up.

“Then you’ll look him over there. We’ll see to it that he has a chance to slip out discreetly.” Gaoshun looked satisfied with the arrangement, if grim about the evening’s actual events.

Basen rubbed one hand over his face, looking more and more like a dead ringer for his father. “I’d better get back.”

Gaoshun placed his hand on his son’s shoulder, squeezing it. “You did well, tonight.”

Maomao looked at Basen, struck by how much he had changed from the abrasive, taciturn young man she had met years ago. There was an aura of quiet confidence about him now - as if Jinshi’s identity crisis had given all of that nervous energy a channel and focus. Combined with a natural desire to care for others, plus a dash of additional maturity that meant he had learned how to express himself more clearly, she rather thought that the Ma Clan’s worries for their house’s future were resolving nicely.

The young man flushed under his father’s praise. “I didn’t do anything, though. I’m pretty sure I’m going to need to submit myself for punishment for yelling his personal name in public.”

Gaoshun shook his head. “You guarded your ward from danger - in this case, he was the biggest danger to himself. Etiquette and propriety are the rule, but there is a reason the Ma Clan raises their children alongside the royal family’s.” He put both hands on his son’s shoulders, looking Basen in the eye. “It is so, when danger comes, our love and our duty align. Your milk brother was in trouble and you helped him. If that comes with some punishment, you will bear it gladly - but I suspect that when he finishes coming to his senses, he will not begrudge you his name in your mouth.”

Maomao smiled as Basen flushed harder. “I’d better get back to the medical offices as well. My shift isn’t over and someone needs to do all the other tasks while the doctors finish patching their patient up.”

“It’s late - I’ll escort you before reporting to His Majesty,” Gaoshun said.

She bit back her instinctive reply that she didn’t need an escort and made herself accept Gaoshun’s care. It had been quite some time since she had been able to spend any time in his company. “Thank you.”

The three of them headed to their respective destinations, Gaoshun allowing Maomao quiet and time to think. As he dropped her off at the medical office, he turned that calm demeanor toward her. “Will you be all right, Xiaomao?”

“Of course. I’m worried about Master Jinshi, but I can’t do anything about that right now.”

Gaoshun offered her a small smile. “I’m glad what that man said didn’t upset you.”

Maomao waved her hand. “You hear that kind of witty crudeness in the pleasure district a lot. They always think they’re clever and the courtesans learn to laugh along. The idiots never realize that their behavior gets them charged more to even let them in the door after that.”

“While that may be true, to direct that type of language towards a noble lady was utterly beyond the pale. The Moon Prince’s behavior concerns me because the extremity of his reaction was out of character for him, but he was not wrong to punish the man for speaking so of a lady - any lady.”

“The fool was bold enough to insult the Emperor and Empress directly to the Moon Prince’s face - forget what he said about me, that might have gotten him whipped all by itself.” Maomao shook her head.

Gaoshun frowned slightly. “By insulting the La Clan’s daughter to the Moon Prince’s face, a lady whose name is being publicly speculated about for the role of the Pure Consort as well as the Moon Prince’s legal wife, his words were more than just insulting to you - although that was most certainly his main intent. But I suspect he was also probing the Moon Prince’s intentions toward the throne.” He watched her carefully. “Insults to your person are no longer a matter of private offense or lack thereof. You must be mindful of your position and know where you stand.”

Maomao paused and then sighed. “Things were easier when I was just a servant.”

He smiled. “No doubt. Rank has its responsibilities. But it also has its privileges.”

Maomao offered Gaoshun a bow - not as deep as that she would have given as a servant, but a lady of a noble house acknowledging the personal bodyguard of the Emperor - and a friend. “I thank you for your care in escorting me.”

Gaoshun returned the gesture with a small smile. “You’re welcome, my lady.”

He turned and left Maomao standing at the entrance of the medical office, watching him go with a pensive look on her face before she turned away to go inside.

Their patient had been moved to a bed in the corner with a curtain pulled around him for privacy. Maomao deliberately ignored him - the man was none of her concern as she went to report back to Doctor You and find out what tasks they would need her to handle while they were busy providing care to a beaten idiot.

She found him in the physicians’ private office, speaking with a sober-looking Doctor Liu. “I’ve returned, Doctor You. Good evening, Doctor Liu. Is there anything specific you require?”

“Maomao,” Doctor Liu turned to her. She felt her skin turn to gooseflesh when she saw the look on his face. “I’m afraid I need you to come with me.”

Chapter Text

The La Clan was late.

Jinshi sat next to the Empress Dowager on the Emperor’s left, one seat removed from that exalted presence. The Shin Clan’s matriarch sat a few places away, in the seat of honor. The food was delicious, the music enchanting and the dancers exquisite.

He saw none of it.

He remained in his place, for once not bothering to keep a pleasant smile on his face. People glanced at him with a new wariness in their eyes, even as he carefully lifted chopsticks to his lips to sample the Emperor’s hospitality. After Gaoshun had passed on their poisoning suspicions to His Majesty he had been informed by letter in the morning that, for the next banquet, the Emperor would be providing food tasters as a general rule for the evening. Jinshi would continue to execute all of his court duties without any behavior that might draw attention or cast the imperial family in a negative light.

Needless to say, the Emperor was displeased.

The imperial court would never have known it. Nothing about his public behavior toward his eldest had changed overnight - indeed, although the details of Qiang’s words had miraculously been kept quiet for now, the fact that he had offered an insult grievous enough for the normally calm, genial and disciplined Moon Prince to challenge him to a duel was spreading like wildfire throughout the court. Strangely enough, it seemed to have bolstered Jinshi’s reputation in some circles - those who considered him too soft or too effeminate only had to glance at his split knuckles and the scar on his face to suddenly remember that Jinshi was also a trained soldier who had led the Forbidden Army in battle.

Not that Qiang has been much of a challenge. The crude fool was also a coward who, when he realized that Jinshi was not a libertine who would laugh along with his vicious insults, had curled into a ball, crying snotty tears at being faced with the consequences of his words for the first time in his life.

Indeed, the court’s biggest criticism appeared to be that Jinshi hadn’t simply finished the job.

Even now, Jinshi felt a hot wash of rage at just the memory of what he had said about Maomao. His estimation of her character would have been laughable, his words crass - but what had truly ignited Jinshi’s temper had been the tone of laughing, sneering contempt.

He deliberately took a deep breath, then another before picking up his wine to sip at it, his split lip stinging.

“Yue! Yue, listen to me.” Basen had shaken him at first, trying to put himself between Jinshi and Qiang, before Jinshi had thrown a punch that Basen had stopped with a quick catch of his fist, twisting his wrist to pull him off balance. “Zui, stop! Stop, you’re going to kill him!” Basen had shouted in his ear, pinning his arms to his sides.

“You’re damn right I am,” he had growled through a black fog, trying to thrash free of Basen’s grip.

He didn’t actually recall much between hearing Qiang’s drawling profanity and Basen hauling him bodily off of the other man’s broken, bleeding form. There hadn’t been anything except the rush of blood in his ears, his vision hazed with red and the satisfying smack of his fists on flesh, pain only blooming after he had been hauled back to his pavilion.

Qiang had been curled in a fetal position, sobbing, his face already starting to swell from where Jinshi had planted his fist in the other man’s smug face after coldly challenging him to that duel. He thought he’d been quite sporting to keep weapons out of it. The sword would have been too good for him.

“Zuigetsu.” Basen had still been holding him back, arms now wrapped firmly underneath his shoulders while Gaoshun put himself between Jinshi and his view of Qiang. He had forced Jinshi to focus on his face with a firm hand under his former ward’s chin, calling on every privilege of their long history to impress on him that he needed to listen by calling his full, given name. A privilege Gaoshun had almost entirely forgone since Jinshi’s childhood had ended. “Xiaomao won’t thank you for this. She’s the one who’s going to have to put him back together in the infirmary.”

That had bought him just enough control to keep from killing the little son of a bitch on the spot. Shame hadn’t crept in until later - when Basen had returned from wherever he had gone while Suiren had tended to his hands and mouth, forcing him to drink a calming tea and drawing a cool bath to bring down any swelling - and hopefully cool his head along with his body.

Basen had knelt before him. “I have overstepped my role, my prince. I submit myself for punishment.”

Technically, it was true. He had physically laid hands on his ward, manhandling him and calling not only his familial nickname, but his given name in public - a privilege reserved only for the Emperor. But Jinshi had looked at Basen, waiting to receive punishment at his hands, and felt sick at the thought of a whip against his friend’s back.

Basen’s offense was much more black and white in the eyes of the court.

Never mind the fact that he had saved a man’s life (however little Qiang may have deserved it). Or that while Jinshi would not have regretted the man’s death, he would have regretted doing so in a blind fury.

He had thought his lesson learned about rage - how it could steal not only his self control, but also his self respect. He had punished Qiang for his insult, certainly. But Gaoshun had been right. Maomao would not look kindly on him for violence done in her name. Even though he had attempted to shield her from the consequences, it was still no more appropriate for the gentle Moon Prince than it had been for charming Master Jinshi of the Rear Palace .

If Jinshi had wanted him dead (and oh, how he had wanted that!) he could have ordered Basen to execute Qiang right there. That would also have made his point - and demonstrated the power of the Imperial family.

The Emperor could not be more disappointed in Jinshi than he was in himself. Poison was no excuse - even if he was experiencing effects, he knew that it was a possibility and he still allowed himself to lose his temper and act like a violent, petulant child.

Now all he could do was hope that Maomao wouldn’t decide that Jinshi was no longer worth marrying. She was an acknowledged flower of the court now - she had more options than a prince who couldn’t control himself.

And his odds were not looking good. They were almost finished with this banquet and the La Clan had not made an appearance. The Emperor was beginning to look nettled. It was far from unheard of for Lakan to simply skip court events (indeed, most of those who attended usually felt that his absence improved the atmosphere significantly). But Lakan’s new influence within the court meant that his absence was notable - especially since his beloved daughter had been expected to attend with him.

Indeed, Jinshi had spotted one idiot not-so-discreetly excuse himself, looking pale and sweating. No doubt to vomit in private, given that Lady Maomao would not be on hand to hopefully tend to him.

He didn’t know who had started this trend, but Jinshi had a sneaking suspicion that Lahan had somehow been involved.

By the time the dessert had begun to be served, Jinshi gave up hope of seeing Maomao that evening. He had endlessly practiced what he would say to her mentally through the course of the day - how he might apologize to her - during the exam she was supposed to give him discreetly in an area of the gardens Gaoshun and Basen had arranged. But she wasn’t there.

Black despair overtook his mood as he ate a couple of bites for courtesy’s sake. The end of the banquet felt like it would never come and all Jinshi wanted to do was crawl into his home, lock the door and bash his head into a wall.

He had ruined everything.

Finally, the banquet ended and Jinshi stalked out to head home, Basen a step behind him. He had only offered the most cursory of courtesies to the Empress Dowager and the Empress. Both of them had watched him with concern in their eyes and he felt like if he had to field even the softest, kindest of inquiries about how he was doing, he might start to scream. Or cry.

They were almost to his pavilion when he heard Basen say, “Moon Prince, perhaps we should send a messenger to the La family home?”

“What for?” His shoulders slumped - never mind that they were in public. “Her absence speaks volumes. I’ll send for one of the Imperial physicians to conduct an exam tomorrow.” Although he would have to make sure none of them had any reason to see the brand on his flank. Perhaps it might be easier to just let the poison take him?

Jinshi snorted to himself. That thought was too morbid, even for him.

“Both she and Chue said she would be there, your highness.” Basen’s voice was worried. “The apothecary has always been reliable. If she hasn’t come, then something is wrong.”

“When did she say that?” Jinshi felt a little bit of hope stir.

“Last night.”

Jinshi stopped walking for a moment. “You didn’t mention that.” Basen had seen Maomao last night? Had he discussed what Jinshi had done with her?

Basen kept his tone of voice perfectly even behind him. “You were in no state to hear anything.”

He squared his shoulders and took a deep breath, forcing himself to calm down. “She definitely said she was coming?”

“Yes, sir.” Basen maintained his composure, his face unseen.

“All right.” He started walking again and picked up the pace. “We’ll send a general inquiry about their welfare. It won’t look strange or out of place.”

However, when they arrived at the pavilion, his decision was unnecessary. Suiren and Chue sat together in the parlor, both looking unwontedly sober as they came to their feet to offer their bows. “Moon Prince,” Chue murmured, her arms raised in formal obeisance before her as best she could with her bad arm.

A black ribbon was tied around one wrist.

Jinshi felt the blood drain from his face. “What’s happened?”

Chue looked up, no hint of a smile anywhere in her voice or manner. “Doctor Kan Luomen has passed away.”

Jinshi had never been to the La Clan’s family home before. At any other time, he might have looked agog at the giant Go board that adorned the front courtyard. But tonight, as he climbed down from the carriage, the only thought in his mind was getting to Maomao as fast as humanly possible.

Chue had filled him in on the events of the day while on their way in the carriage he ordered the moment she had told him of Luomen’s passing. “According to Doctor Liu, he had been sick for months - his heart was giving out. He knew the end was coming and that there was only so much to be done. But he didn’t want Miss Maomao to focus her energy on trying to prevent the inevitable, so he decided not to tell her - or anyone aside from Doctor Liu, who was looking after his health at the end.”

Jinshi understood the man’s decision. He hadn’t known Luomen well, but the quiet, self-effacing choice to hide his impending death from those closest to him fit the man he had met. And although he would never dream of saying so to Maomao, he was furious with him on his daughter’s behalf. This would have hit her out of the blue, with no warning or opportunity to prepare herself.

Or a chance to say goodbye.

“He collapsed yesterday evening - about the same time as your highness’ little adventure last night. Miss Maomao found out when Doctor Liu came to fetch her from her shift at the medical office. Doctor Kan never regained consciousness, but lingered overnight and the rest of the morning before passing peacefully in the early afternoon. Miss Maomao never once left his side.”

Tragedy inspired clarity. The only thing Jinshi could think once he heard the news was that Maomao needed him. Lakan was, no doubt, utterly useless right now. He had faith in Lahan’s ability to manage the logistics of planning a funeral, but less in his ability to comfort his cousin who had just become an orphan overnight, no matter what relationship the strategist claimed to her.

Maomao had once told him that Luomen had been both father and mother to her. He was the only one who Maomao would accept care from, no matter the circumstances. But now he was gone.

And Maomao needed someone to take care of her.

The traditional white banner of mourning hung over the front entrance. Lahan stood inside the door, his abacus tucked neatly in his sash like always, and wearing a black armband that matched Jinshi’s as he pushed his glasses up his nose. “Moon Prince, thank you for coming.”

“Where is she?” Jinshi demanded softly.

Lahan stepped aside to allow Jinshi to enter. “She hasn’t left the body. This way.”

Luomen’s body had been moved to a casket in the parlor at some point over the course of the day. It was simple, as befit one of the most modest men he had ever met. He had been one of the greatest doctors of his generation. Faced with an impossible task, he had cut the current Emperor from his mother’s womb, too young to give birth, saving them both. Even with his attention split between the Empress and the Crown Prince’s consort, he had still saved Lady Ah-Duo’s life and delivered the baby safely, even if her ability to bear more children was lost. If not for Luomen, Jinshi himself could never have been born multiple times over.

At the base of the casket, a small figure dressed entirely in white knelt with her back to the door, limned by candlelight. Her black hair hung unrestrained around her shoulders. Incense burned from a nearby brazier, the gentle, woody fragrance a soft counterpoint to the sprays of white lilies and a few off season chrysanthemums filling the room.

Lahan glanced at Maomao before turning to Jinshi and saying in a low tone, “I have to see to some of the details of the funeral. There’s a runner just outside the door if you need me for anything.”

Jinshi nodded absently, his attention entirely preoccupied. He walked as softly as he knew how into the room, picking up a stick of incense to light it and murmur a prayer for the dead as he did so.

Maomao stirred at the sound of his voice, shifting her weight to make space for him, but still staring straight ahead.

He knelt beside her, shoulder to shoulder. There were so many things he wanted to say, but he couldn’t bring himself to voice any of it. He just sat quietly beside her, staring at the simplest memorial tablet that could have been erected in time - Luomen’s name written in stark, black characters on red paper, hung above the coffin.

He recognized Maomao’s handwriting.

“He had been sick for almost a year,” Maomao murmured, as if speaking to herself. “Little things at first - fatigue and being short of breath. Doctor Liu said he was complaining about the indignities of age.”

Jinshi said nothing, biting his tongue to stifle any words that might interrupt her.

“He realized that his heart was failing when the symptoms started to cluster closer together. He couldn’t sleep for very long. Eunuchs already have to evacuate more often, but it was getting excessive. His hands and feet started to swell. By the time you left on your tour of the empire, he knew.” She continued to stare straight ahead, utterly dry-eyed.

Almost seven months ago, now.

“He began administering his own treatment. Doctor Liu supervised, but he did everything I would have done.” She reached into her robe and pulled out a folded piece of paper. “He left me a letter.” She handed it to Jinshi.

He took it, tracing the delicate paper gently - it was of middling quality and he honestly worried he might damage this last memento. On the front was a simple salutation in Luomen’s beautiful handwriting, To Maomao.

Jinshi opened the letter and took a deep breath.

My dearest girl,

Right now, I know you are wondering what you might have done differently. Could you have been more observant, a better apothecary, a better daughter?

You could not. You are already all you need to be.

Death is a part of life, a gateway through which we all pass one day. Medicine is meant to ease the suffering of the living, not to fight the natural order of the world. When one’s time has come, it is best to greet the change as an exciting new adventure, even if we are sorry to leave behind those we love.

And I am sorry to leave you. I was hoping that I would last long enough to see you married, but as I rewrite this letter for the fourth time, your Master Jinshi has returned, but you are still fighting for the life you want with him.

While I spoke of her obliquely to you only once, the woman I loved chose medicine over her own life. I believe she died satisfied with her fate, but I want more for you. Therefore, my last request is that you don’t give in to the temptation to bury yourself in making medicines. There will be time for that later. For now, reach out for that boy and as long as he reaches back for you, do not let him go.

Raising you was the best thing I have ever done. You are my pride and joy and I will look for you in the next life.

Love,

Dad

Jinshi blinked back tears as he refolded the letter and handed it back to Maomao.

She took it and put it back in the folds of her robes. “I didn’t even notice he was sick.” He heard her swallow.

“Of course you didn’t. He knew exactly how to hide it from you,” Jinshi said, aching to put his arm around her, unsure if the gesture would be welcome.

Maomao shook her head, her hair sliding freely around her shoulders, even her ever present beads stripped away. “I should have paid better attention. Patients hide symptoms and important information all the time. It’s my job to notice anyway.”

“Yes,” Jinshi affirmed. “You are a brilliant apothecary and doctor. But your father was not your patient. You had no reason to treat him as such, therefore you weren’t looking for the information.”

“I should have known,” Maomao repeated stubbornly, but her voice broke on the last word.

Jinshi slid his hand over to hers, wrapping her small fingers under his larger ones. He squeezed firmly, ignoring the residual pain from his split knuckles.

A hot droplet splashed atop their joined hands, then a second.

Jinshi reached out, pulling her into the circle of his arms and Maomao crawled into his lap as he did so, burying her face against his shoulder. It was disconcerting how quiet she was in her grief, her shoulders shaking against him almost imperceptibly even as the silk of his robes grew hot and wet, sticking to his skin.

He didn’t even know what he whispered to her, one arm around her waist while the other hand cupped the back of her head, fingers tangled in her hair as he stroked with his thumb. He had no idea how long he rocked her.

It didn’t matter. As long as she needed him, he would be here for her.

Finally, she began to calm. The silent sobbing eased and Maomao switched shoulders, rubbing her face against the dry silk like her namesake and sniffling.

He shifted position, glancing back to see if he could call for Lahan’s runner. He had no idea if Maomao had eaten or drank anything today and he wanted to at least try to get some tea for her…

She grabbed ahold of him, her hands clenching desperately on his arms and he stilled, looking down at the top of her head. “Please don’t go,” she whispered in a small, vulnerable voice muffled by his robes. “Stay with me? Just a little longer.”

His heart broke all over again, even as he squeezed her more firmly into his embrace. “I’m not going anywhere. I promise.”

She shifted to bury her face against the curve of his neck and sighed, traces of her tears dampening his skin.

I never should have left you, he thought, as she settled in his arms. I’m so sorry, Maomao.

An hour later, Maomao had passed out, her face peaceful in sleep, nestled between his chest and the crook of his arm. Jinshi ignored the burn of his muscles as he held Maomao’s vigil in front of Luomen’s casket for her.

There was a murmur of voices outside and Chue came into the room, along with what appeared to be another member of the household - a young man with his hair pulled into a neat bun, who kept his eyes downcast. “Moon Prince, Sanfan will continue to sit vigil if you can move Miss Maomao to her bedroom without waking her.”

He carefully gathered Maomao’s slight weight in his arms and got to his feet, testing to make sure that he had his balance before he nodded to Chue. “Which way?”

“Follow Miss Chue,” she said, leading him out of the parlor, up the stairs and down a hallway, sliding a door open.

Jinshi stepped inside, Maomao still in his arms and just stared. “Um…”

Chue let out a small huff of laughter. “Miss Chue hasn’t seen a room less suited to Miss Maomao’s tastes since our quack doctor took the time to redecorate her room in the Western Capital. At least the quack’s room was pretty, if too girlish for Miss Maomao.”

Whereas this one…well, Jinshi had seen furnishings in poor taste, but this was exceptional. The colors were fine on their own, but together they clashed. Bright red competed with soft peach, which was almost drowned out by a loud rug woven with bright yellow and orange. The bed, at least, was hung with green and blue tapestries that reflected colors he usually associated with Maomao. “It looks like a rainbow vomited in here.”

Chue nodded. “The Moon Prince read Miss Maomao’s mind. That’s almost exactly what she said the first time she saw it. Apparently Master Lakan has been preparing this room for Miss Maomao since she was five years old.”

He blinked. Stared at it again, then glanced at the sleeping woman in his arms. Could he make a break for it and take her back to his pavilion in time?

Clearly, his expression reflected what he was thinking because Chue patted the bedspread. “The room may be ugly, but the bed is at least comfortable. Miss Maomao has been living here for over six months - she’s used to this by now.”

Jinshi looked down at Maomao. “The moment you are out of mourning, I will petition Lakan for your hand and get you out of here,” he murmured.

“So, next week?”

Jinshi blinked. “For a paternal granduncle, about five months is standard. Frankly, Maomao might insist on longer, given her adoptive relationship with Luomen.”

Chue shook her head. “Doctor Kan was disowned by his father many, many years ago and he never allowed Master Lakan to reverse that. And now that Miss Maomao officially recognizes Kan Lakan as her father, it would not be appropriate for her to mourn Doctor Kan that way.”

Jinshi gently laid Maomao down on the bed, settling her head on the pillows and covering her with a blue and pink blanket that had been embroidered with a motif of…dolphins? He shook his head, wincing. “So, what you’re saying is that, officially, the La Clan cannot go into mourning?”

“Not for any length of time, certainly. Miss Chue doubts Master Lakan cares much for the proprieties compared to his private grief, which is immense, to his credit. But Doctor Kan left clear instructions for Master Lahan that he did not wish to be mourned in that manner. Given the simple nature of his life and death, the funeral will be tomorrow, which is about all the bereavement Miss Maomao will be allowed to take before she is expected to return to court duties.”

He brushed her bangs back, away from Maomao’s face and sighed. “I have no words.”

“It’s terribly unfair, but Miss Maomao may prefer to have work to focus on.” Chue bustled around the bedchamber - for all that it was visually jarring, it was also scrupulously clean.

There was a very gentle knock on the doorjamb and Lahan whispered, “Is she asleep?”

“Yes.” Chue took a seat next to the bed. “Miss Chue will not leave her side, Moon Prince.”

Jinshi sighed. He wanted nothing more than to climb into that ugly bed and hold her close, but he was not her husband. He did not have those rights. If he wanted them, then it was time to make his move. He must officially declare his intentions to the La Clan and begin marriage negotiations. Properly, it should be done to Lakan, but Jinshi had no idea what state the man was in now - and he preferred to deal with Lahan in any case.

He thought Empress Gyokuyou might forgive him.

He followed Lahan down the stairs. “I understand your household is grieving, but if you have a moment, there is something I would like to discuss with you.”

Lahan’s eyes gleamed behind his glasses. “Of course, Moon Prince. Let’s step into my honored father’s office.”

Lakan’s office was…just about what Jinshi might have expected. Covered in Shogi and Go paraphernalia mostly, but there were also maps of the Imperial Palace and the surrounding land that had clearly been marked up for use in the winter mock campaign. Jinshi couldn’t help but study it in fascination - it seemed Lakan had made use of small, mobile formations that could move quickly to outmaneuver General Lo’s more traditional strategies that relied on overwhelming force. It was also cluttered in a way that Jinshi suspected meant that either there was a careful organization system to the mess or that Lakan simply threw things and saw where they landed.

He glanced at Lahan and made a private bet on the former.

Lahan closed the door. “What was it you wanted to discuss, your highness?”

Jinshi took a deep breath. “I realize that this is a bad time and I apologize for my lack of courtesy, but I wish to make my intentions toward your honored sister clear. If the La Clan is amenable to my suit, I will make Maomao my wife.”

Lahan smiled, picked up a scroll and handed it to Jinshi. “Your honored father and mother are way ahead of you, Moon Prince.”

Jinshi looked over the document Lahan handed him. It was a written negotiation outlining terms for the marriage of Ka Zuigetsu to Lady Kan Maomao, to be formalized and announced as soon as both primary parties had given their approval. Lady Maomao was to be allowed to maintain her work with the physicians, if she should choose to do so, along with a medical allowance to be paid from the Imperial Treasury and separate from the Moon Prince’s household accounts equal to the sum of ten thousand silver per year for ingredients, tools and other equipment.

“She even negotiated a greenhouse?” he murmured, feeling his lips curve in a reluctant smile.

Lahan snorted. “Was that ever in doubt? I’d like to draw your attention to the section regarding concubinage, however.” He pointed it out.

Jinshi read it over quickly. “She has veto power over any potential concubine brought into the household?”

“Well, outright saying ‘no concubines' raises eyebrows. Getting the legitimate wife’s approval simply means that the La Clan wants to ensure that appropriate heirs of their daughter’s body have been born to protect their investment.”

He couldn’t promise that politics would never try to force a concubine on him, but this marriage agreement had set up a backdoor rejection that would allow the Imperial family to save face when the answer was invariably ‘absolutely not.’

Lahan continued. “I should mention - this is the backup plan.”

“Pardon?” Jinshi almost dropped that precious document, he was so startled.

“I don’t know exactly what my honored father and Lady Ah-Duo are negotiating with the Emperor, but - ”

The sound of the door sliding open interrupted Lahan. “Ah, ah! No jinxing it. Also, can someone help me? He's rather heavy.” Lady Ah-Duo, dressed in the formal robes of the court rather than her preferred men’s clothing, had poked her head into the office, doing her best to support a woozy Lakan.

Jinshi and Lahan jumped into action, taking Lakan from Ah-Duo and settling him on a couch, where he promptly passed out, snoring loudly.

Lady Ah-Duo just shook her head - and rubbed her arm. “I’d heard he was a lightweight, but this is ridiculous.”

Lahan winced. “Maomao had already served him tea laced with liquor when he was starting to become hysterical, trying to make plans to erect a whole monument to my granduncle while hiring wailing women to cry for the next year.”

“Well, he missed the banquet, but even late, I saw to it that he made the meeting.” Ah-Duo smiled, but sobered quickly. “Master Lahan, my condolences for your family’s loss. Doctor Kan was such a steady presence in my childhood and young adult life, it’s difficult to believe he’s truly gone.”

“Thank you, Lady Ah-Duo,” Lahan inclined his head toward the former Pure Consort.

Jinshi felt like his attention was being yanked back and forth on a string between the pair of them. “Excuse me, but what meeting?”

Lady Ah-Duo smiled and took Jinshi’s face in her hands. “If it’s successful, you’ll find out soon. If not, we’ve done the best we could. Also, you look terrible.” She tilted his head to look at his split lip. “That little bastard got a couple punches in, I see?”

Jinshi winced. He wasn’t exactly proud of what he had done.

“That reminds me, your highness. I heard how you defended my little sister’s honor.” Lahan bowed to Jinshi. “If anyone criticizes you for your actions, the La Clan will stand by you, for what it’s worth.”

“Tell me nobody repeated it to Lakan?” Ah-Duo’s arched her eyebrows.

Lahan winced. “Fortunately, no. The story was buried by the events of today and he has not asked. If what this man, Qiang, said were to be repeated to my honored father, to be blunt he might simply find that man in the infirmary and smother him with a pillow.”

All three of them looked between each other and nodded.

“Excuse me, Master Lahan?” A servant stood in the doorway and bowed, offering a letter.

Lahan came out from behind the desk and took it, glancing over the seal. “Thank you. You may go.”

The servant withdrew. Jinshi saw the impression of a peony in red wax - the Empress’ crest - before Lakan broke it open to scan the message. “Her Majesty is sending three representatives to the funeral tomorrow - ladies in waiting - in order to express her profound sorrow over the loss of the doctor who safely delivered the Crown Prince.”

“Which ones?” Jinshi asked.

Lahan looked more closely. “Yinghua, Ailan and Guiyuan.”

Ah-Duo and Jinshi looked at each other and smiled. “That will be good - I only met Maomao once in the Rear Palace, but I knew the Jade Pavilion was very tight knit,” Ah-Duo said.

Jinshi nodded. “Especially those three with Maomao. I think they adopted her almost on sight.”

“And I have little doubt His Majesty will officially send the Moon Prince on behalf of himself and the Empress Dowager. In the meantime, perhaps you might escort me home and stay the night before returning in the morning?” Ah-Duo looked at Jinshi.

He inclined his head. “It would be my pleasure.” He would prefer to stay close to Maomao, but she needed rest more than anything else right now - and he trusted his mother’s household to be clean of poison. The incident with Qiang had made crystal clear that he had allowed this to go on too long.

He firmed his jaw - he may not have Maomao’s expertise in poison, but he knew how to run an investigation. It was time to clean house.

Chapter Text

Maomao sat quietly on a stool as Chue diligently brushed a fragrant oil into Maomao’s damp hair, using her damaged hand’s limited ability to grasp the strands as dexterity practice. The mirror in the room was a much smaller one than the Empress’ mirror in the Jade Pavilion, but it too was made of glass, offering a perfect reflection of her face.

She thought she looked pale and wan. Aside from the wake when she had cried herself to sleep in Jinshi’s arms, she had been having trouble sleeping since her dad died.

For such a modest man, with a modest funeral, it had been well attended. She had heard stories of Luomen’s life from people she never imagined he knew - stories of his youth. He had been remembered as both diligent and brilliant, but with a fine streak of mischief from time to time as a boy.

Doctor Liu had told stories of their adventures in the West. Some of which, Maomao thought, would have made a fine play given how many escapades they had engaged in. Some had been funny, like the time Luomen had been trying to negotiate for a place to stay for the night in between cities and nearly ended up married to the farmer’s daughter. Or another time, when he was still mastering one of the Western languages, he had tried to explain that he was a student of medicine - and had ended up delivering three calves in the middle of the night when they thought he was an expert on animal husbandry.

Others had been dramatic - a couple of daring surgeries and subsequent escapes in places where there had been friction between the established churches or governing powers and those providing medical care who had much to teach Luomen and Liu. Accounts of sights and places Luomen had described in bits and pieces to her over the years.

Yet others had been stories after he had returned from the West and gone into the Rear Palace, and the people he had quietly helped with no thought of reward or praise. He had never had the financial backing to make it a reality, but he had talked about plans to create a clinic where those without means could access medical care. Maomao saw echoes of these ambitions in the apothecary they had run out of the Verdigris House - all the times she had been baffled because the numbers in the books never added up because her father gave away medicine for free. His generosity had always frustrated her, how he had never retained anything for himself once his and Maomao’s basic needs had been taken care of.

It felt like a blow to the gut to realize that to live that close to the edge had been Luomen’s way of glorying in the freedom to do as he wished after so many years constrained in the palace.

The pleasure district had gone into mourning for the day of his funeral, white and yellow flowers hanging from the brothel windows, while Verdigris House had been shuttered entirely for the day. If she had felt frustration with so many courtesans who had ignored Luomen’s advice to value their health above their looks, there were others he had saved - a venereal disease treated in time, a pregnancy terminated safely, occasionally a child born.

Some of the younger physicians had haltingly spoken of how Luomen had mentored them, offering an encouraging word or a helpful suggestion that meant that they had grown as practitioners of their craft.

Throughout it, Maomao had never been alone. Yinghua, Ailan and Guiyuan had fluttered around her, pressing light snacks and tea into her hands at every opportunity. It reminded her powerfully of whenever they were trying to plump her up at the Rear Palace, to ensure she would survive whatever poison someone might try to dose Lady Gyokuyou with.

Chue, of course, had helped, running interference between Maomao and Lakan, whose grief was loud and noisy and utterly rage inducing, even as Maomao distantly recognized that his pain was very real. Whatever else she thought of the old fart, she had come to realize over the last six months of living with him that his respect and love for Luomen had been deep - his uncle had guided and nurtured him where his own father had failed.

Lakan had learned from that example, adopting Lahan when it was clear that Lakan’s brother, while a much better man than their father or grandfather, still didn’t quite know what to do with his younger son’s obsession with beautiful numbers. Maomao reserved the right to stomp his toes when he made one of his asinine comments about the numbers of beautiful women, but he had managed Luomen’s funeral with both an efficiency that she was incapable of in the face of her own grief as well as a respect for her father’s wishes. The La Clan was better for Luomen’s example of kindness generations down the line.

And, like a rock at her back, Jinshi had never left her side.

He had treated Luomen’s funeral with the gravitas he would give to a middle rite performed on the Emperor’s behalf for the good of the nation. Maomao didn’t believe there was anything after death - but as Jinshi’s ambrosial voice chanted the common prayers she had thought that the heavens could not fail to hear him.

They had not discussed anything - not his outburst of temper or how the search for poison in his circle was going. Not the swirling gossip inside the court to formally establish him as the Crown Prince, despite the gains made on behalf of Gyokuyou’s son, and what that might mean for his future. Not his impending marriage or her potential admittance to the Rear Palace.

(Swertia tea. And if that didn’t work, she had others that tasted worse while also being medicinal).

Instead, he had simply stayed with her, helping manage the influx of tea and snacks so that she never became overwhelmed, distracting Lakan when he occasionally slipped through Chue’s drag net, and pressing her hand with his when tears welled in her eyes to fall silently. If anyone might have thought to gossip on the subject of the Moon Prince and the La Princess, they were quickly silenced in the face of fierce disapproval from those who were there to honor Luomen. Including Gaoshun, who was attending in Basen’s place as Jinshi’s attendant, making it clear that the Emperor would not brook idle gossip with nothing more than a stern look.

It would not last. But for the space of a day, it was enough.

At the end of that day, life went on. The sun rose and set, and Maomao was left with the new shape of her life that didn’t quite fit the way she was used to.

Her father had said nothing to her on the subject of his health because he wanted her to focus on her own future. So she choked down the calming teas and her nourishing meals, including the appropriate amounts of hamsa he had approved. If she could not sleep, she laid in bed quietly, forcing her body to recover from the day.

At work, her coworkers closed ranks around her, making sure that her hands were always busy, even as Doctor Liu had continued to have her begin work with the pharmaceutical research team. There was interest in a rumor they had heard from the ship - a procedure called variolation. It had been tested on cattle after those who had come into contact with cattle pox seemed to have a resistance to the much deadlier smallpox.

Jinshi had noted outbreaks of pox in the empire. If another epidemic was coming, developing this medicine could mean saving thousands of lives.

And, of course, she had been very carefully separated from a certain bed in the infirmary. Maomao had been surprised that the young man’s influential father hadn’t carted him home to be cared for with every luxury, but apparently either the minister’s indulgence of his son only went so far or the Emperor had managed to push back in light of the opium at the event in question. He had been left to recover in the general infirmary.

While she had, obediently, not handled any of Qiang’s care herself, she had slipped away to have a pointed conversation with him while at his bedside.

Well. Conversation was such a nice word, considering that he wasn’t going anywhere for the foreseeable future. Jinshi had seen to that. Qiang had remained silent, but the look in his blackened eyes suggested that he wasn’t sure which of them to be more terrified of - her or Jinshi.

So, rather than mourn Luomen as he would not have wished, instead Maomao was sitting in a guest room in Lady Ah-Duo’s villa three weeks after his funeral, getting ready for a large, ostensibly informal event. There was supposed to be music, dancing, poetry reading, martial arts demonstrations, an archery contest and, of course, a banquet. The Imperial family would be there, but so would the rest of the named families as well as the ministers and other court officials. It was about as close to the entire Imperial court being gathered together in one place as it was possible to get.

Which, of course, meant it was a perfect stage.

Chue continued to stroke the comb through her hair. “Did Miss Maomao manage to take a nap?”

“I tried.” She sighed. “I couldn’t sleep. But I rested.”

“That will do. And no tea after noon, only a little water. Miss Maomao does not want to try to go to the privy at this type of court event! It’s like the garden parties, only so much worse!”

She made a face. “At least we won’t be stuck sitting quietly in the cold - we can walk around, right?”

“Indeed, my lady!” Chue beamed at her. “That is an improvement.”

There was a gentle rap on the door before it slid open to reveal Yao and En’en. “May we come in?” Yao asked, already dressed for the evening in a burgundy robe embroidered with a motif of roses that extended to her hair ornaments. Tasteful and elegant, a mark of En’en’s skill, who was dressed in a robe of coordinating, rich brown, with threads of burgundy embroidery. The earth that nourished Yao’s flower.

Maomao nodded. She hadn’t seen much of them at the funeral, but they’d been a comforting presence. “Thank you for coming to this with me,” she said to them both.

Yao waved her hand. “It’ll get my uncle off my back. He’s been sending letters from the Western Capital about my marriage, so at least I’ll be able to honestly reply that I’ve been attending court events. Besides, we couldn’t let you go alone!”

En’en murmured to Chue before turning to Maomao. “Do you mind if I help Miss Chue with your attire tonight?”

Maomao blinked. “Are you sure? You don’t have to - ”

“Thank you, Miss En’en. Miss Chue must confess, having an extra pair of hands would be more than welcome!” Chue broke in firmly. “We’ve only just started her hair, after all!”

En’en moved behind Maomao and took the comb from Chue, gently continuing to work the oil through the strands until her hair fell down her back like a river of spilled ink. “Goodness, Lady Maomao, I never realized just how beautiful your hair actually is.”

“Isn’t it gorgeous?” Chue smiled, pulling out a small box and showing it to En’en. “Miss Chue is thinking we thread these through the entire length, keeping most of her hair down.”

En’en glanced between Maomao’s hair and the box, thinking. “Possibly. What are you wearing tonight?” she asked Maomao directly.

Maomao shrugged.

Chue laughed at that. “It’s a good thing she has friends that are more interested in her sartorial choices than Miss Maomao herself! Take a look!” She moved a screen to reveal an outfit of blue silk.

Yao and En’en gasped. “I’ve never seen silk like that before!” En’en exclaimed, examining the fabric more closely.

Yao reached out a hand to touch the edge, then yanked it back as if afraid she would hurt it. “This is the most beautiful dress I’ve ever seen in my life!”

Maomao glanced over at her outfit. She had heard the Empress was sending a gift for the occasion, but she hadn’t seen anything since the fabric had arrived. The finished dress was certainly impressive.

The silk of the overrobe caught the light the same way a dragonfly’s wing did - a phenomenon her dad had called iridescence. At one angle, it was a rich, midnight indigo, but when the light moved, the silk appeared to shift color with it to become a brilliant sapphire. Intermittently, with the indigo, it was shot with silver thread, giving the impression of shooting stars across the night sky. The inner robe tied at the waist, contrasting the stunning shot silk with coordinating white and indigo chiffon that was sparsely embroidered with silver thread in a simple pattern of abstract swirls around the bust and at the belt.

There was no other ornamentation. It needed nothing else.

Yao shook her head. “Well, you’re certainly going to be the beauty of the evening. Are you sure you want the Moon Prince?” she teased. “You could probably have your pick of any man in the court after tonight.”

Maomao made a face. “Don’t say that. Isn’t the court laying odds on my becoming the Pure Consort?”

“Three to one in favor!” Chue exclaimed.

En’en looked thoughtful. “Hm. I could take that bet.” She glanced at Yao, perhaps calculating how much she could feed her with the winnings. Maomao’s stomach rumbled at the thought, a surprising pang of true hunger for the first time in weeks.

“Miss Chue will let you know which bookie to use,” said Chue with irrepressible enthusiasm.

Yao and Maomao exchanged a look. That was an alliance to be feared.

En’en stroked the comb through Maomao’s hair one last time before putting it aside. “All right - let’s get started.”

Maomao sighed and settled into her seat. Getting dolled up was always exhausting, but this promised to be exceptional.

Yao, En’en and Chue looked at Maomao with satisfaction.

“All right,” Chue said, nodding. “Miss Chue can concede when she is wrong.”

En’en accepted Chue’s apology with a satisfied smile. “Less is more. Too many of those crystal beads would have been overkill.”

“Can you move your head?” Yao asked Maomao, a streak of practicality breaking the rounds of admiration.

Maomao tilted her head to one side, then the other. “Nothing is pulling. It’s actually more comfortable than some hairstyles I’ve worn.”

“What do you think, Maomao?” En’en asked, adjusting the glass mirror so that Maomao could see her own reflection.

She looked at herself dispassionately, as if she were evaluating a courtesan's ensemble. Her usual ceramic beads, given to her so long ago by her sisters, had been replaced for the event with beads of a similar size, but made of faceted crystal that refracted the light into brilliant prisms that sparkled around her. They were a rich gift of Lakan’s that Chue had found tossed aside carelessly in a drawer one day when they were trying to gain some sense of control over the cluttered chamber. The delicate, crystal beads were originally a set of ten that Chue had intended to thread all through her hair to further the impression of stars in the night sky.

En’en had intervened, insisting that Maomao’s usual style of decoration be retained, the beaded strands of hair braided and looping gently around her head while the rest of her hair fell, shining, down her back. Other than that, it was unornamented.

A pair of modest pearl earrings dangled from her ears, mere delicate accents against the shining black of her hair.

She wore no hairpin, a silent declaration that would be understood by the only person who mattered. There was only one man’s claim she was willing to bear.

The dress was, as expected, stunning. The simplicity of it emphasized her slender figure, the color bringing out the almost translucent delicacy of her skin. En’en and Chue had forgone using the traditional white face powder. Instead the two ladies-in-waiting had used a tiny bit of a shimmering powder Pairin used for particular performances. Maomao occasionally made it herself, crushing mica into fine particles in her heaviest mortar and pestle. En’en had brushed it over her cheekbones, the bow of her lips and the bridge of her nose. Combined with the blush pink rouge on her lips and the corners of her eyes, she seemed to shimmer.

She tilted her head, looking at herself. “Everything looks fine to me.”

“Mmm, I think we’re missing just one thing,” drawled an amused voice from the doorway.

The three women turned to see Lady Ah-Duo silhouetted, holding a box in her hands. “We got lucky - the gardener managed to force the bloom just in time and it should last the night.”

She opened the box and a fragrance was released - warmer than jasmine, but similar. Yao and En’en sniffed the air appreciatively as Chue glanced in the box and grinned. “Well, that will make a statement!”

Maomao stood to peer into the box. A white flower, slightly larger than her hand, rested there, with five connected petals and attached to a vine. “What is this?” she asked, curious.

“A moonflower. They come from the West, but appear to grow nicely here with some care. They only bloom once, and only at night.” Ah-Duo handed the box to Chue, who carefully took the flower out and began to affix it to Maomao’s hair, centering it at the back of her head where the looped braids met.

En’en nodded and helped hold it in place while Chue finished. “Perfect. Everyone else will be wearing jewels or hairpins shaped to look like flowers. I don’t think anyone else would have thought to wear a real flower in their hair.”

“Won’t it wilt without water?” Maomao asked, curious on the subject of a new plant from the West! She wondered if it was poisonous, like thornapple, which was occasionally also called moonflower.

Chue shook her head. “We’ve wrapped the stem with damp cotton and oil paper.”

She was reminded of the blue roses she had grown, which seemed to be so long ago. “That would do it.” She checked her range of motion once again, the fragrance from the moonflower in her hair gently perfuming the air around her every time she moved her head. “Thank you, Lady Ah-Duo,” she said, bowing. “I appreciate your generosity.”

“Not at all. I’m just sorry I won’t be able to see Yue’s face when he catches sight of you for the first time.” Ah-Duo sighed, but her posture was relaxed. Maomao suspected she wasn’t that sorry to miss the event.

“You aren’t coming, Lady Ah-Duo?” Yao asked.

She shook her head. “It’s best for me to continue keeping a low profile with the court. If Yue wanted to become Crown Prince, that would be a different story, but the Empress must be shown deference.”

Maomao’s attention sharpened. “I thought the whole point of this was that old fart was supposed to secure her son’s position?”

Lady Ah-Duo shook her head, sadly. “To truly do that, Yue would have to be removed from the line of succession entirely. Traditionally, he would be expected to take up a religious life to indicate his release of the world around him - but that’s not going to happen. Not only will His Majesty never allow it, but it would not suit him and his talents.”

Maomao bit her lip, heedless of the rouge, somewhat frustrated. “Then what - ”

“What Lakan has bought Gyokuyou’s son is some breathing room. The insistence on immediately reinstating Yue as Crown Prince has calmed down dramatically. If not for his intervention, His Majesty might have simply obliged the demands of the ministers in order to starve off a civil war.”

Yao paled at Lady Ah-Duo’s statement. “A civil war?”

Ah-Duo nodded, her mouth thinning in a grim line. “His Majesty is the Son of Heaven, but that does not mean that he rules with absolute power. Instead, his authority is held up by the various branches of government and the ministers who represent them. If one or two of the pillars fail to support the Son of Heaven, that is manageable. The halls of power always have their various conflicts playing out in the background, even if they show a united front to the people.”

“So, His Majesty is using the strategist as a way to threaten the other ministers in the government?” En’en asked, her brow furrowing.

Ah-Duo smiled at En’en’s quickness and nodded. “Lakan is a Grand Commandant, soon to be a General, and bringing the military in line with His Majesty’s wishes is a huge help. It means that, say, if the Minister of Finance or the Minister of Justice wished to oppose his selection of Crown Prince, they cannot enforce their preferences with threat of a military coup on Yue’s behalf.”

“But those ministers still have their ambitions! If they can’t maneuver directly, they’ll shift the struggle to a territory they control. Slowing down the gears of administration, friction between the various provinces, project funding cuts. That kind of thing,” Chue interjected.

Maomao groaned. I hate politics. “Why can’t these people simply butt out?”

Ah-Duo shrugged. “It depends. Some of them don’t see a way to influence Gyokuyou’s son. For now, he is still much too young, but even after he matures, the Empress is well known for keeping her circle close and tight-knit. Her father, Gyokuen, will be assumed to be his grandson’s biggest backer. That means any minister whose fortunes lie outside of I-sei Province sees his ascension to the throne as a threat to their interests. Others are nervous because, aside from Yue, so many of His Majesty’s children have died young and Gyokuyou’s son is still not at an age where his survival is assumed. They would prefer to bet on an already grown heir who can be married and presumably have sons of his own to secure the line of succession past His Majesty’s own efforts in that arena.”

The three of them all looked at Maomao at that. “Which is why the Emperor announced the Moon Prince’s consort selection,” she sighed.

“Exactly. It opens up the possibility of a marriage alliance within the central region to reassure those born and bred in the capital that the Ka Province will remain the seat of government in Li.” Ah-Duo looked at Maomao and arched her eyebrows. “His Majesty has done nothing to quash rumors of your admittance to the Rear Palace because he wanted attention diverted away from Yue while he was gone. But that will end tonight.”

Maomao took a deep breath, Lahan’s voice echoing in her memory. Are you prepared to do what is necessary to fight for the hand of the Crown Prince? She had desperately hoped that question would remain rhetorical.

“Is the Moon Prince going to become the Crown Prince again?” Yao asked the question aloud.

Chue and Ah-Duo looked at each other. “It will depend on His Majesty,” Ah-Duo answered. “There is also the factor that Yue has been groomed for years for the position and would honestly be His Majesty’s preference. It’s terribly ironic that the court and the Emperor are actually aligned on the matter.”

“Even if it would kill him?” Maomao burst out, fingers twisting in her lap.

Ah-Duo’s jaw clenched before she deliberately relaxed her face. “Even if the majority of the court recognized that possibility, they would never believe that he wouldn’t learn to adjust. But when you strip the pomp and circumstance away from the Imperial family, the Ka men are as valuable as their ability to be put out to stud. No matter his gifts or how well he might rule, as long as Yue sires at least one son, then he becomes expendable as far as the court is concerned.”

Maomao felt a flush run through her body at that, a sort of jumpy energy left in its wake that she belatedly recognized as anger, chased by shame. A faint memory teased her, just after her dad had come back to the Inner Court to deliver the Crown Prince, but before Suirei had kidnapped her, about how the Rear Palace didn’t have enough stud horses. Her only thought about the imperial younger brother at the time, when she had thought of him at all, was a less self-interested version of his value to the inner court.

The consorts’ value was their ability to bear children. If they failed at that task, they were discarded - dismissed from service, left to fade away in the imperial flower garden or traded away to other men or eunuchs as a reward for service to the empire. Sometimes it worked out for the consort, like in Princess Fuyou’s case. Although she now had an idea how much effort had gone into securing her release from the Rear Palace behind the scenes - quiet, persistent effort from Jinshi who had jumped at the opportunity to free someone else, even as he remained trapped.

For the first time, Maomao considered the Emperor’s situation.

Growing up in the pleasure district as she had, it had never really registered to her that men like Jinshi existed - men for whom their pleasure was to cleave only to one woman. Entering the Rear Palace as a maidservant had only deepened that impression.

But she had also been surrounded by examples of men devoted to a single partner. Luomen, who remained in love with the woman he had lost in the West. The old fart, as much as his relationship with the woman who bore her could still infuriate her with their selfishness, had remained utterly devoted, long after he had thought Fengxian gone. His joy upon finding her again had been transcendent and his devastation when she finally died had been just as extreme.

Gaoshun, too, took no concubines. She couldn’t say she entirely understood the nature of his relationship with Lady Taomei, but she remembered his wife pushing him away to land in a duck pond after Maomao had caught a glimpse of her holding his hand.

Chue and Baryou. Maamei and her husband. Lihaku and Pairin.

Even Basen, no matter how awkward he might be, had taken one stunned look at Lishu and remained devoted to his hope of obtaining her hand for himself.

She looked at Lady Ah-Duo and considered how similar she and Empress Gyokuyou truly were. It had occurred to her before that the Emperor must simply like his women like this; intelligent, curious and bold, with rock solid principles that gave them the backbone to speak to him without fear. How much of the Emperor’s desire to have Jinshi succeed him was purely political versus a simpler desire?

Did the Emperor want Jinshi to have the throne because he was the only child of the woman he loved?

Had he made Gyokuyou his Empress because he saw in her the closest substitute he could ever have for the woman he truly wanted?

Maomao shook her head, closing her eyes against everything. “Why tell me this?” she whispered.

Chue wrapped her good arm around Maomao’s shoulders, squeezing gently. “Because you have to know.”

“This is what you chose for yourself,” En’en added.

Yao picked up the pot of rouge and gently reapplied it to her lips, where Maomao had bitten off her makeup. “And because he’s worth it.”

Lady Ah-Duo watched Maomao with sad eyes. “I, of all people, understand your desire not to be involved with all of this. But if you have changed your mind, you must tell me now. After tonight, it really will be too late.”

Maomao kept her lips still, letting Yao touch up her makeup, then squared her shoulders as Chue’s arm fell away. She stood slowly, feeling blood rush back into her bottom from where she had been sitting on the hard stool and picked up her fan, a simple, indigo oval patterned with silver stars.

Luomen was gone. She would be damned before she’d lose Jinshi. Not to the court and certainly not to someone clever enough to slip past his precautions with something that was affecting him so badly that he had nearly beaten a man to death for an insult.

She had an exam to perform that was past due, an investigation to catch up on, and a poisoner to find.

“I’m ready,” she said, lifting her chin and looking Lady Ah-Duo in the eye.

Ah-Duo smiled. “Well then. Let’s put on your golden slippers and be on our way.”

Chapter Text

As Maomao descended the stairs of Lady Ah-Duo’s villa, she found the rest of her escort waiting for her. Two of the faces were those she had been expecting - Lahan was dressed in finery that he somehow managed to carry off with aplomb, despite his lack of stature, his abacus tucked neatly in his sash as always. The old fart, likewise, was dressed up in his usual fine court attire and appeared to have been ambushed with a razor, since he was clean shaven for once.

Their third, however, was a pleasant surprise. “Master Lihaku!” she cried with pleasure.

Her new brother-in-law turned, his wide, friendly smile lighting up his face at the sight of her. “Hey, missy! Look at you!”

Lihaku had certainly seen her without her freckles from time to time before this, but as he looked her up and down with a satisfied nod, Maomao thought she could almost see him reconciling the pretty lady-in-waiting he had given a hairpin to so long ago and the freckled servant he had grown used to.

She reached the bottom of the stairs. “Will I do?”

Lakan sniffled. “Wah - look at my beautiful girl!” He reached out, as if to hug her.

Maomao stepped back and Chue stood in front of her. “No rumpling our hard work!” she admonished the strategist, wagging a finger at him playfully.

“Not bad, little sister.” Lahan looked her up and down critically. “Really, your numbers - ”

Lihaku casually clapped Lahan on the shoulder with enough force to make the smaller man let out a pained ‘ow!’ “You look dressed for battle. The court isn’t going to know what hit them.”

That provoked a genuine smile - it was certainly how she felt. “Thank you. How is your wife?” she asked.

Lihaku smiled widely. “She’s doing quite well and she said to tell you that she is thinking of you tonight. Instead of wishing you luck, your sister is absolutely confident that you have this evening well in hand.”

And if Pairin, that professional among professionals, was confident in Maomao’s ability to perform before the court, then she would be a fool not to trust her sister’s judgment. She drew her posture up and squared her shoulders. “Well then. Shall we go?” She looked around at her friends and family.

Lakan held back actual tears, even if his eyes were suspiciously wet, and offered his daughter his arm to escort her out to the waiting carriage. Maomao took his proffered arm, repressing her shudder.

Lady Ah-Duo smiled from the doorway as they all clambered into the waiting carriage, Maomao carefully stuffed between Yao (who was doing an admirable job of keeping her cool, despite a faint flush on her cheeks when she looked at Lahan) and Chue, with the strategist as far from her as possible. At least Lihaku got a seat to himself, even if he was driving the carriage! “Bye-bye! Have fun storming the palace!”

Chue snorted at that as the carriage lurched into motion and they began to descend the hill. “All right! Does anyone need the rundown on what to expect?”

Yao tentatively raised her hand. “It’s like a garden party, right?”

“Almost, but not quite! The garden parties are just for the Emperor and his high officials when it comes to guests. They all have to stay in one place and enjoy His Majesty’s largesse. This is bigger - it’ll be set up more like a festival!” Chue beamed.

“Not to mention it’s warmer,” Lakan muttered. “Boring things, garden parties.”

“And, because it’s not quite so exclusive, there will be so many more people there. Almost the entire court!” Chue finished with a gleam in her eyes.

Lakan blanched - Maomao knew that he already didn’t like the garden parties because of how crowded they were.

She couldn’t say that she was looking forward to the actual event herself. “So, will there be a medical contingent there?”

“Oh, certainly! Inevitably, someone is going to drink too much of the Emperor’s hospitality and need to be cleaned up!” Chue couldn’t hop, crushed into the carriage as she was, but she smiled widely.

En’en looked at Maomao. “Worried someone else is going to give themselves another vanity poisoning?”

Maomao patted her side. “I’ve got an emetic prepared just in case. A new recipe I decided to try out.”

Yao snorted. “How gross is it?”

“Let’s just say that I hope it would discourage the recipient from trying again,” Maomao answered.

“Oh!” Yao grimaced. “That new one you were experimenting with the other day?” While poison was off the menu for now, an emetic was perfectly safe to experiment with. Much to the dismay of her friends and coworkers in the medical office.

“Exactly.” Maomao shook her head. Really, if these silly young men wanted to actually get her attention, they’d give her the poison instead of taking it themselves.

“Let’s hope no one is poisoned tonight, shall we?” Lahan broke in, pushing his glasses up his nose.

“Let’s hope,” she muttered, brought back to reality and her main reason for attending. She took a deep breath. There was nothing she could do until she got there. It followed that worrying wouldn’t do any good.

But she still rubbed her left pinky finger against a second, small canteen tucked to her side as the carriage rolled its way down the hill, toward the palace.

Their party stood in line, waiting to greet the Imperial family before they would be free to enjoy the event. Lakan fidgeted, constantly edging closer to Maomao, even as she did her best to avoid him while not disturbing the rest of the queue. It was at moments like this that Chue was truly a gift from the heavens, continually sliding in between them without ever making it obvious that she was intercepting the old fart.

Lihaku used his superior height to peer over the crowd. “Looks like we’ve only got a few more people to go and then it’s our turn.”

“Who’s in the receiving line?” Yao asked, curious.

“Their Imperial Majesties, of course. Looks like the Crown Prince and the little princess were left at home this evening, however. The Empress Dowager. And, of course, the Moon Prince is doing his usual charm offensive.” Lihaku glanced at Maomao.

Maomao took a deep breath. She hadn’t seen Jinshi since the funeral, when she had been so overcome by her grief that she couldn’t focus on anything else. Everything else had felt far away and unimportant in the face of the gaping hole that was Luomen’s absence. But while her dad’s loss was still a wound that was so far from being healed that she wondered if it ever would, it had at least been stitched and dressed.

And she wasn’t sure how to handle Jinshi in this potential new role.

Master Jinshi, Moon Prince, the Prince of the Night - by the time she had come to learn all of Jinshi’s names, the title of Crown Prince had passed to Gyokuyou’s son. The only time she had interacted with him as the Crown Prince of Li, he had been masked and awkwardly trying to tell her the truth about who he was.

In retrospect, that poor frog had gotten the worst end of the deal. But could he blame her?

I’m- I’m sorry, but…could you move your hand? It’s m-making things rather difficult…

Honestly! If he’d wanted her to focus, he shouldn’t have given her the ox bezoars before telling her what he’d wanted her to know! Surely by then he had known better!

While she’d thought about that, the line had continued to move and Chue nudged Maomao with her elbow. “You’re almost up. Court face on, my lady!”

Maomao sighed and took a few, deep breaths, even as Chue touched up her hair, ensuring her bangs fell just so, before the herald called their names.

“Kan Lakan, head of Clan La! Kan Lahan, heir of Clan La! Lady Kan Maomao, princess of Clan La!"

The strategist offered his escort once again and Maomao laid her arm over his forearm, her hand resting atop his wrist with all the weight of a feather. She kept her eyes downcast as Lakan led her forward, before the Imperial family.

“The La Clan greets your Imperial Majesties, Her Majesty the Empress Dowager and His Highness, the Moon Prince.” Lakan released Maomao to perform his kowtow, somehow managing to perform the obeisance with utmost propriety while maintaining an air of insolence.

Lahan followed his foster father’s example and finally it was Maomao’s turn. She kept her eyes down, as was proper, sinking before the dais in her own obeisance, lowering her head to let her hair spill over her shoulders, lifting her arms and shifting her weight so that the overrobe would pool around her in a graceful arc. A trick that Grams had made her practice, over and over again, until she could do it without thinking. “Your Majesties. Your Highness,” she said, her voice firm and clear.

Murmurs and whispers rose around her - speculation that Maomao ignored. She knew Chue was listening and would tell her anything relevant.

The Emperor said, “Raise your heads,” in a tone that Maomao was familiar with - he was quite amused.

“Maomao!” Empress Gyokuyou exclaimed. “I knew that silk would be perfect!” She stood from her chair to raise Maomao to her feet herself, holding her hands with both of hers to examine the finished dress. “Such a beautiful color on you!”

Hongniang, attendant on her lady as always, smiled from behind the Empress’ shoulder and mouthed the word ‘perfect’ at her.

“Indeed, my dear.” The Emperor smiled into his beard. “Truly, she is a star descended from the heavens to grace us with her presence. Don’t you think so, Zuigetsu?”

Silence greeted the Emperor’s assessment and Maomao darted a glance at Jinshi.

He stood there like an utter idiot in his court finery, with his damn mouth hanging open! She glared at him like a particularly nasty beetle and watched him flush a rich pink. “Ahem. Yes.”

Gyokuyou giggled and murmured to Maomao, “I am looking forward to this.” She drew back and had Maomao turn in place to expose her hairstyle. “Oh, how lovely! I don’t think I’ve ever seen this flower before! And with such a beautiful scent!”

“Thank you, Your Majesty. It was a gift,” she said, managing to keep her composure under Imperial praise.

“I don’t believe I’m familiar with that flower either. What is it called?” The Emperor’s eyes gleamed and Maomao had the feeling that he knew very well what type of flower she was wearing.

“It’s from the far West, Your Majesty. It’s called a moonflower,” she answered her sovereign calmly, but allowed her voice to carry.

A flurry of voices picked up behind her, even as she focused on Gyokuyou, who looked ready to explode with mirth. “How very fitting! Wouldn’t you agree, Moon Prince?”

“I would,” Jinshi appeared to have regained his composure, his beautiful voice deepened with a warmth Maomao had never heard him use in public before. “It suits her,” he added.

Gyokuyou let go of her hands so she could turn and acknowledge Jinshi. “Many thanks for your kind words, your highness,” she said as blandly as she could, raising her gaze to look at him again.

He seemed to have gotten over being frozen on the spot, at least. His eyes were as warm as his voice as he looked at her, brimming with some emotion he was fighting to hold in check, his throat working.

Get ahold of yourself! she did her best to convey, continuing to glare at him.

Perhaps she should have known better - the flush returned and his eyes shone. All in all, he was an enchanting sight - she thought she heard one frail creature swoon in the background.

The Empress Dowager saved them all from too much sentimentality. “It is always a pleasure to see the La Clan. However, I believe it is time for them to enjoy our hospitality?”

“Indeed,” Lakan agreed, his voice dropping to a low growl as he stared at Jinshi.

Maomao resisted turning her glare on the old fart, but she glanced at Lahan. Do something!

Lahan rose to the occasion. “The La Clan appreciates the Imperial family’s generosity toward my honored sister. With your permission, we will explore this enchanting evening you have arranged.”

“Of course. You may go,” the Emperor said, although not without an amused, sidelong glance at Jinshi, who was doing his best to settle back into his court mask.

Lahan bustled Maomao away. “That went well!”

“You didn’t let him bring a rusty spoon, did you?” she asked Lahan. The old fart was still glaring back at the imperial dais, as if he could skewer Jinshi with a look.

Lahan paled. “I don’t think he had access to one.”

Chue popped up between the two of them. “Better go make sure, Master Lahan. Meanwhile, Miss Chue has things from here!”

Lihaku nodded to Lahan. “Go on, sir. I’ve got them.”

Lahan seemed more reassured by Lihaku than Chue, which Maomao thought was more than fair. Besides, she had played nice with the old fart enough so far - and they still had the rest of this event to get through. Any more for now and she might lose her own composure.

“All right.” Lahan smiled at Maomao. “Chin up, little sister. We’re in the endgame now.”

“Just keep the old fart away from the Moon Prince,” she muttered.

Lahan scurried away to take charge of the strategist and any La Clan politicking that was happening behind the scenes, leaving the four ladies and Lihaku to guard them, who asked, “So, where to?”

Maomao looked at Yao and shrugged. Yao looked at En’en. “What if we did a circuit?”

Chue bounced. “An excellent idea, Lady Yao!”

“Agreed.” En’en nodded.

“All right,” Lihaku nodded, seemingly satisfied with this plan of attack. “In that case, I think I spot dancers over that way.”

As their party made their way around the party, two things became clear. One; this format of gathering was a massive improvement over the garden parties. Even though the sun had begun to set, torches lined the paths to light their way - yet it was just early enough in the season that the mosquitoes and other pests weren’t out in full force yet, which made it much easier to enjoy the spectacular entertainment. And, although it was cool, the fact that they could move around to their heart’s content meant that the coolness was welcome, instead of biting. Maomao thought she detected Empress Gyokuyou’s hand in this and hoped very sincerely, for the sake of every official stuck attending court events, that she would continue to innovate in this space.

Two: gossip spread at a frantic pace that the Moon Prince had been struck dumb at the sight of the La Princess. And while Maomao didn’t bother thinking of any other woman as a rival, it was clear that these girls did not feel the same way. Most threw glares and flounces her way, turning their noses up, as if Maomao couldn’t hear the whispers of ‘jumped up courtesan.’

At least my sisters can earn their living, she thought. These women didn’t even have that option - they could only wait to be married off to their family’s advantage and hope that their circumstances never placed them at a brothel's doorstep afterward.

“Whoops!” Chue scampered with a deft twist of her hand and a young girl, no more than sixteen or seventeen years old, shrieked as her dress was suddenly covered in what looked like a sweet, red grape wine that would stain.

En’en just narrowed her eyes. “Oh dear. Better do something about that before the stain sets,” she drawled in a less than sympathetic monotone.

Maomao just sighed, remembering a different banquet out in the Western Capital. Poor Lishu had been covered with lion attracting musk. It looked like these silly girls weren’t as well prepared.

“Really!” Yao, of all of them, was actually angry. “What do these people think would happen if they did spill something on a dress that was a gift of the Empress?” She asked loudly enough that a few people, listening, flinched at the reminder that the La Princess was favored by the Imperial family.

“It’s okay, Yao.” Maomao just smiled. “There’s a reason we wear dark blues, greens and reds in the medical office. They hide stains well.”

Lihaku smirked, “And if you needed to get out of it, I’m sure the Moon Prince would be happy to - ”

En’en interrupted. “I think we’ve made a complete circuit. What are they setting up?”

“Oh! It looks like the archery contest is beginning!” Chue bustled them closer. “Come on, let’s get a good spot.”

“Archery contest?” Maomao asked, swept along by Chue’s insistence.

Chue grinned. “Yep! After all, all the flowers of the court are out to show off - but the bees need the chance to prove their worthiness to land on those flowers. Archery is a mandatory art among noble men and when they’re not hunting with it, they refine their marksmanship.”

Lihaku looked intrigued. “Is it open to join?”

“It is! Is our Master Lihaku interested?” Chue looked at him.

He shrugged. “Bow isn’t my best weapon, but I expect I'll get past the qualifying round.”

Maomao smiled very briefly. “Go on, then. We’ll be rooting for you.”

Chue nodded with approval at that. “Excellent idea, my lady!”

“All right, then. You four stay within line of sight and don’t get into trouble,” Lihaku looked at them seriously for a minute.

En’en and Yao nodded and took up positions around Maomao that would shield her from any more unfriendly girls with petty intentions.

There were an array of targets, some of them vaguely human shaped while others were simpler. Maomao kept an eye on Lihaku, who quickly fell in among the contestants - about thirty young men in all. “So, what, we wait around for all of them to shoot how many rounds?”

“Goodness no! Half of them will be eliminated in the first round, then again a couple more times until we’re down to our final four - the man with the highest score will win a small prize,” Chue explained.

“What’s the prize?” Yao asked, craning her neck as the young men milled around, testing the various draws and guards, picking out ones they liked if they hadn’t brought their own.

Chue just smirked. “Why, they get to show a young lady of their choosing how to shoot.”

“Doesn’t sound like much of a prize…” she trailed off. “Oh.”

Jinshi walked into the arena, bracers already in place over his wrists, his hair pulled back completely in a high, military tail that cascaded down his back. She had seen him during hunts before, but clearly the rest of the court had not, because there was a veritable chorus of impassioned sighs (and a few murmurs of more adult appreciation).

Maomao just glared at Chue. “Really?”

Chue just grinned at her, eyes open wide with innocence. “Well, he’ll have to win first.”

Yao looked curious. “Will the others actually risk winning against him?”

“Ooo, throwing the match would be immensely displeasing to His Imperial Majesty as well as the Moon Prince. Not to say it couldn’t happen, of course, Lady Yao, but Miss Chue believes we have hit our quota of young men who would risk offending both of those parties.” Chue nodded firmly.

“I’m still rooting for Lihaku,” Maomao said flatly.

“And that will be for the best, Lady Maomao,” En’en pointed out with an even tone. “Supporting your brother-in-law is only natural and expected. Very proper for a daughter of the La Clan.”

She huffed, but took a discreet sip of water from a canteen Chue passed her. There was plenty of wine going around, but for once she had no interest.

Nor could she honestly say she had much interest in archery itself, as a sport. It seemed to mostly consist of young men lining up, shooting at targets and either congratulating themselves or grimacing in disappointment when they failed to hit their target, combined with a great deal of milling around. She clapped appropriately for Lihaku when it was his turn to shoot and kept her face impassive when Jinshi stepped up to make his own shot. Both men easily qualified for the next round.

She also spotted Basen in the mix, landing a better shot than either Jinshi or Lihaku. The three of them seemed to have fallen in together easily enough, Lihaku talking and gesticulating enough that she guessed he was going on about the benefits of married life. Jinshi was laughing (really, for someone who didn’t enjoy attention, he seemed rather oblivious to the shining eyes and blushes of all those who had never seen how truly enchanting the Moon Prince could be when he laughed).

Oh. Basen was turning bright red as Lihaku winked and poked him with his elbow.

Sorry ladies, you’ll have to contain yourselves somehow. This is genuinely funny.

Chue appeared to agree, because she leaned in, “Oh, did you hear? The U Clan has agreed to hear my little brother-in-law’s suit for one of their daughters’ hands. My mother in law has practically been smiling non-stop!”

Maomao shivered at the thought of Lady Taomei’s predatory eyes gleaming with satisfaction that her easily embarrassed youngest was finally taking steps to continue the family’s legacy. “Should we give him a manual on the occasion of his wedding?” she murmured. Although it looked like Lihaku might be willing to give pointers on that point as well. Basen continued to flush redder than an apple while Jinshi continued to laugh, his hand covering his mouth.

“Do we think it would help? Or would it just embarrass the pair of them?” Chue grinned.

“Fair point. Lady Lishu did attend my class - that should be enough to let nature take its course, right?” Maomao mused.

“What manual are you talking about?” Yao asked, confused.

En’en just glared at both Maomao and Chue, both of whom appeared properly intimidated! “It’s a traditional gift to give a newlywed couple. If you ever choose to marry, I’ll make sure you get a copy,” she promised her mistress.

Yao pouted slightly, but dropped the subject. “Oh look, they’re lining up again.”

“It should start going faster now, right?” Maomao shifted her weight.

Chue just nodded. “Indeed. Huh.”

“What is it?” En’en asked, following Chue’s gaze to a particular gentleman, bearded and dressed plainly, who was testing the draw while he waited.

“It seems His Majesty has slipped a professional among the ranks of competitors.” Chue nodded in the man’s direction. “I’ve seen him before - an excellent marksman.”

“Why would he do that?” Yao asked.

Maomao also looked at Chue, confused, but it was En’en who clarified the matter. “To demonstrate the power of the royal family. If there’s someone here who can clearly win this friendly competition based on skill, then the Moon Prince’s victory would be clean.”

“And what if he loses?” Maomao felt this was the obvious question to ask.

Chue shrugged. “A prince is expected to excel.”

Maomao turned her eyes back to the competition, resisting the urge to frown. Jinshi seemed unconcerned, continuing to banter with Basen and Lihaku - by all appearances he was enjoying himself. She had thought before about the pressure that came with standing atop the nation, but this silly competition for no reason except his Majesty’s pleasure seemed to drive it home anew.

Jinshi didn’t need pressure to demonstrate the power of the royal family, he needed to rest! She did her best not to be obvious about watching him, but when one looked past the blinding smile, she could see his pallor, the way the corners of his mouth pinched at rest, the slight furrow of his brow, all indicators of pain.

She needed to get him alone as soon as possible. This exam was overdue.

The final four were utterly unsurprising. Jinshi, of course. Basen, who seemed quietly pleased. Lihaku, who was enjoying the event with his usual good humor. And, of course, the professional archer, who acknowledged his competitors with a respectful nod.

Lihaku shot first on a target made up of concentric circles, a picture perfect image of one of the Empire’s best soldiers, drawing the bowstring back and allowing the arrow to fly in a single smooth motion. He hit the innermost circle, but not the center and he stepped back, bowing and idly resting one hand atop the bow to watch.

Basen stepped forward, taking just a little more time than Lihaku to aim. He too, let the arrow fly and grimaced when it went wider than he meant, striking one of the middle rings

“Oooh. Tough luck, little brother-in-law.” Chue shook her head

“What happened?” Yao asked, more interested in the actual subject than either Maomao or the rest of the audience, who seemed nicely focused on the archers themselves.

Chue licked her finger and held it up. “The wind is changing. Not much, but enough to throw off his shot. It happens.”

The professional took the next turn and he could have been the subject of an archery scroll. He simply stood perfectly still for a moment, eyes closed, seemingly idle. Then, almost before Maomao and the rest of the audience registered what he was doing, he had drawn, knocked and loosed his arrow.

It struck the target dead center.

The crowd gasped and clapped, Maomao’s party among them, although with a certain amount of reluctance. One had to admire genuine skill after all - but how was Jinshi supposed to compete with this? Some spectators were beginning to wander off, certain that the game had already been won.

The prince himself merely nodded to the professional, who took his place among Basen and Lihaku to watch the final shot.

Jinshi picked up his bow and, watching him closely, Maomao saw that he had taken a deep breath, using it to draw the bow and knock the arrow, both eyes open and utterly focused on his target.

She held her breath along with him.

Slowly, oh so slowly it felt to her, they began to exhale - and as the breath left their lungs, Jinshi released the arrow.

To thunk right next to the professional’s.

The crowd immediately began to cheer and Maomao let out the rest of her breath all at once, feeling a scowl twist her face. This was just who Jinshi was - the moment he focused on something, he would see his goal through to the end. Be it an investigation, stepping out of the line of succession, or Maomao herself.

Jinshi was bowing to the Emperor, who was clapping with a pleased smile on his face. “It seems we have a tie!”

The professional bowed as well. “With your permission, Your Majesty, I will concede. An old, married man should know better than to flirt with fine young ladies and the student has truly equaled the master.” He bowed to Jinshi, a pleased smile playing around his mouth.

Wait - is he Jinshi’s teacher? Maomao thought, indignant. It wasn’t rigged - otherwise the professional would have thrown the shot. But all the tension appeared to have left the stage. That sneaky son of a…!

Jinshi did not - could not - bow to the other man, but he nodded his head. “It has always been my honor to receive your instruction.”

“Very well then. So, Zuigetsu. Which lucky lady will receive your instruction?” The Emperor asked, not bothering to hide his amusement.

Maomao looked around - perhaps she could still escape?

Chue stood at her back and just looked at her expectantly, a wide grin on her face.

“Lady Maomao,” a gorgeous, familiar voice said from behind her.

She turned in place and scowled at him. “Yes, your highness?”

Jinshi smiled at her with his sparkliest expression and offered her his hand. “Would you do me the honor?”

She just stared at his hand as if it had manure on it before looking up at his face, not having bothered to wipe her expression.

Genuine amusement entered his eyes and Maomao quickly took his hand before he caused an incident with all of his heavenly beauty. “As you wish.”

Whispers and murmurs trailed behind them - they distinctly heard one loud feminine voice say ‘Who does she think she is?’

“Well, you’ve got people talking,” she muttered to Jinshi as he led her over to a new target that was being set up - a good deal bigger, she noticed, nor did she need to shoot from as far away.

“Let them,” Jinshi murmured, holding out his hand and someone put a small archery bracer into it. “Besides, if you didn’t want to feed the rumor mill, you wouldn’t have looked at me like a bug scraped off the bottom of your shoe.”

Maomao considered his point. “Fair enough - I should know better by now.” She obediently held out her arm.

Jinshi tugged it over her dominant hand, slipping the loop over her fingertip and down her index finger, before lacing the rest of the bracer up her wrist and forearm with a delicate touch. “Too tight?”

She flexed her fingers and twisted her wrist. “I don’t think so.”

He never stopped smiling, but the expression colored with that tinge of mischief that meant she was about to be troubled with something she did not want to do. “Excellent. Come, face the target.”

It was fortunate that she knew exactly what his game appeared to be, at least. “This is a terrible idea.” She stood in front of the target, convinced she’d have better luck throwing an arrow by hand if she had to participate in this

Jinshi let out a small huff of amusement. “So you say.” He held out his hand again and a small bow, much more appropriately sized for Maomao than the large ones he and the others had been shooting with was placed in his grip.

Maomao narrowed her eyes. How long had he been planning this? “You did not seriously have a bow made for this?”

He chuckled at her suspicious question. “This was mine when I was about ten.”

Oh. That made sense. She let Jinshi hand her the bow, showing her how to hold it, how to pull the string back. Unlike him, she had to work to draw it and she could feel how her arm would begin to shake if she had to hold the position for any length of time.

“Ready?” he asked, a beautifully fletched arrow dangling from his fingertips.

Maomao sighed. “Let’s do this.”

Jinshi stood behind her and turned her body so that her non-dominant side faced the target. His lips grazed her ear as he murmured, “I’ll guide you,” and slipped the arrow into her hand.

“You are going to cause a national catastrophe,” she grumped, doing her best to ignore the welcome heat of his body through their clothes. The last of the evening light had faded to leave the target illuminated by flickering firelight around them. Their audience’s faces were anonymous behind a wall of torches.

Jinshi’s hands, so much larger than hers with calluses that rasped against her skin, covered her own and guided the bow up. “Ignore them. They don’t exist. Just breathe with me.” His chest rose against her back, the jasmine of his perfume mingling with the warmer scent of the moonflower in her hair.

She took a deep breath, then another, trying to match his rhythm. “That’s it,” he coaxed. “Now. Eyes on your target. Point the top of your grip a few sun above where you want the arrow to go.”

She did her best to line up the center of the target with where the arrow would rest. “Hurry up, Master Jinshi,” she whispered, her voice rasping into the night air.

“Don’t rush,” he teased, but guided the arrow to the appropriate spot above the grip, resting gently atop her shielded index finger. “On three we’re going to draw and fire. You with me?”

Maomao nodded, focusing on continuing to match his breathing to hers. In and out. In. Out. The whispers of the court faded away, her world narrowing to the feel of Jinshi at her back and the bow in her hand.

“One.” His moist breath turned her ear hot.

“Two.” He tensed his hands on hers, preparing to guide her. The trees rustled gently.

“Three,” they breathed. She watched her target, drawing the bowstring and releasing exactly as Jinshi told her to do…

…only for the wind to catch her arrow and alter its course. Into a neighboring, human shaped dummy that had been placed slightly behind and two steps away from the main target.

Her arrow struck true. In the groin.

The night was silent around them for a moment, Maomao herself frozen in shock, before the air split with the sound of Empress Gyokuyou laughing.

Jinshi blew his breath out through his teeth. “Well. That wasn’t what was supposed to happen.”

Maomao darted a glance at the Imperial dais. Empress Gyokuyou was in tears, giggling madly behind her hands while Hongniang just held her brow with two fingers. The Empress Dowager’s usual, mild smile had gained a somewhat manic, amused edge. The Emperor himself was managing to both wince and laugh at the same time and the Imperial family’s reaction seemed to free the rest of the court to join them.

The men of the court were openly grimacing, a few even going so far as to shield their lower regions as best they could. The ladies, however, were mostly amused, even if some of them attempted to look at Maomao utterly askance.

She drew herself up and stepped away from Jinshi, refusing to mourn the loss of his body heat as a chill spread across her skin. “Thank you, Moon Prince, but I think it may be best to quit while we’re ahead.” She offered Jinshi his childhood bow back as if it might bite her.

“Aye, little lady, that might be a good idea!” Lihaku shook his head and took custody of Maomao, looking at Jinshi. “Half an hour?”

“Yes.” Jinshi confirmed whatever he and Lihaku had agreed to, wincing as he caught sight of the practice dummy and taking the bow back.

Lihaku escorted Maomao back to their group, where Chue, Yao and En’en greeted her with glee. “Well, my lady, I’d say you’ve made enough of an impact for one evening!” Chue teased.

Yao snorted. “Oh gods, his face!”

Even En’en was smiling. “We’re proud of you, Miss Maomao.”

Lihaku shook his head at all of them. “You four are a menace. In any case, we just need to parade around for another half hour and then our buddy Jinshi has a place arranged for the exam.”

“Finally!” She blew out her breath in relief, automatically reaching up to push back her hair only to realize that the arm guard was still laced in place.

A fitting lover’s token between the two of them.

Chapter Text

Jinshi paced inside the tiny gazebo, tucked away from the main circuit by means of a winding path, ensuring no casual eyes could see them. There were no torches to light the way, but the pavilion had two smaller torches mounted inside to provide a tiny island of warm light in the night. Enough light for Maomao to see by to do her exam.

Basen didn’t entirely like the security risk of leaving Jinshi alone in an isolated, lit space, with somebody actively trying to kill him, but Jinshi pointed out that he was armed and anticipating an attack - two men would be safer, certainly. But making sure to deflect attention was even better.

So, right now Basen stood guard at a dummy location, with Lihaku hiding behind a drawn curtain. Hopefully, it would be enough.

While he waited, he paced. And considered simply giving up on grand romantic gestures altogether. They never seemed to end the way he’d hoped. Maomao accidentally shooting the dummy’s frog off might, eventually, be a funny story, sometime in the far flung future. But tonight he felt rather pathetic.

Pathetic and scared, if he were truly honest with himself.

He knew enough to know that the symptoms were getting worse - and if he couldn’t identify how he was being attacked, then his odds of survival dropped day by day. Assassination had always been a threat to deal with. Most attempts on his life were quick - a straightforward attack with a weapon, a falling beam, poison intercepted before it could harm him. All frightenting in their own way, but over and done with, only the memory of what might have been to occasionally haunt him in the dark, early hours of the morning.

But this? Whether it was or not, this felt personal. As if there were an invisible string of malice wrapped around his throat, choking him with fear and paranoia.

Then again, was it really paranoia when someone was actually out to kill you?

He didn’t want this - any of it. Not the throne, not the titles, not the fawning flattery masquerading as respect. Not the invitations, the threats, the betrayals, the constant struggle for power just to keep his head above water. Certainly not the women being flung headlong at him, some of them more innocent than others.

Maomao had once asked him what he wanted to do. He couldn’t answer her then. He had no idea what he actually wanted to do at the time, except to be in her presence.

He thought he might have a better answer now.

He wanted to live quietly. He didn’t want a life free of duty or responsibility - indeed, he might be run off his feet with the amount of work required by the princehood, but he didn’t actually begrudge the mechanics of leadership. But he wanted to live among the people, not above them at the apex of the nation.

He wanted to know that the work he did mattered - that he was a benefit to those around them, lifting them up even as they lifted him.

Above all else, he wanted to do it with Maomao by his side. He wanted to see her grow further into herself - watch her step out of Luomen’s shadow as the extraordinary physician she was becoming. He wanted to wake up and watch her quietly from the doorway while she compounded new medicines with a manic smile on her face. To have her bat him away when he attempted to steal a kiss, and do his best to coax her away with bribes of dry wine and rare herbs. To banter with him over dinner and tease him while he was trying to work. He wanted her in his bed every night, whether to sleep or to indulge in other pleasures.

And, one day, he wanted to meet their children.

He shoved a hand through his bangs, pushing them back from his face and blowing his breath out, trying to calm himself.

In his hypervigilant state, he heard the footfalls on the stone path before they were visible - Chue, a step behind her lady, guarding her back, eyes openly scanning the darkness for danger.

As for Maomao herself, she was a vision. His breath caught in his throat as he watched her approach.

Empress Gyokuyou’s gift of blue and silver shot silk cloaked her in the night sky, no fussy ornamentation to distract from her slender figure. Her eyes and lips were kissed with shimmering pink, the freckles stripped away to reveal the porcelain fineness of her skin. No matter how many times he had seen her dressed in varying degrees of finery, he still almost hadn’t recognized her when the herald called the La Clan forth as she paid respect to the royal family with an easy grace that laughed in the face of those who would denigrate her.

There would be no more hiding Maomao away. If there were those who turned up their noses with crude whispers about her maternal heritage (and a few choice comments about the La Clan itself), there were many more who admired her - who saw what he had seen all those years ago.

But here she was. Wearing a moonflower in her hair. Did she understand the statement she had made to the court tonight? The challenge she had thrown down?

Chue murmured, “Miss Chue will be just outside, my lady. Your highness.” She bowed to him before melting into the night as befit one of the finest spies he had ever worked with.

Maomao bustled over to him, all careful court grace gone. “Sit down and let me examine you,” she ordered, eyes narrowing as she looked at him.

He sat obediently on a stone stool, closing his eyes against the headache. It was almost constant now. He could ignore the pain for short periods of time, but it felt like the only relief he ever got was broken sleep - only to wake with his newest, unwelcome companion.

Maomao narrowed her eyes. “Headache?”

“Oh yes,” he murmured.

“Where? Behind the eyes, the temples?” Delicate fingertips on his chin, his jaw, tilting his head up so she could look at him.

Her usual scent of soap and bitter herbs had changed - something verdant and clean underneath the warm floral scent of the flower she wore. “More like my entire head is ringing like a bell. Behind my eyes, yes, but also in the back of my head.”

She released him and he opened his eyes reluctantly to see her pulling a canteen out of her robes. “It’s going to be a bit bitter. Drink the whole thing.”

He did, cringing the moment the medicine inside touched his tongue. “What was that?!”

“Willow bark tea. I made it concentrated enough that the bitterness seeped into it, which is why it’ll be effective. It’s going to take a little time to work, though, so let’s see what we can do while we wait.” She picked up his hand and pressed her thumb firmly between his own thumb and index finger.

“What are you - oh!” His breath rushed out with the first respite he’d had in what felt like weeks. The pain wasn’t gone by any stretch of the imagination, but any improvement felt like a miracle.

Maomao nodded in satisfaction. “That’s what I thought. At least some of it is tension.” She looked around and found a bench. “Lie down with your head on my lap, face up.”

Jinshi blinked. “Wha - what?”

She just glared at him and took a seat on one side of the edge of the bench, waiting expectantly.

He carefully laid down, resting his head in her lap to look up at her face. She continued to scowl at him, but her hands were gentle as she stroked his hair back, away from his face to curtain over her legs, falling to the stone. And then she began to stroke his temples.

He melted against her, groaning with relief. “Oh gods, that’s an improvement.”

She continued to stroke, her touch firm. “How long has the headache been this bad?”

Jinshi tried to think past the soothing touch of her fingers. “Four days? Before that it was bad, but it came and went and would respond to tea. Now it’s constant. I go to sleep with it, I wake up with it - the only thing that varies is how much attention I’m paying.”

Maomao frowned. “And I can see that you’re exhausted. Constant pain will only make that worse. How about other symptoms?”

His skin began to itch, even as she asked. “Itchiness. Nausea. Oh, and apparently the lightest bumps are causing bruising.” He lifted his hand, allowing the sleeve to fall back and expose the small, speckled bruises on his arm.

She continued to stroke his face as she thought, occasionally switching from his temples to the bridge of his nose. The pain relief was so intense it spread lassitude through his body. He thought he might go to sleep right there in her lap, just as he had once so long ago…

“Jinshi.”

“Mmmm.” He nuzzled against her middle.

“Jinshi!” Her voice snapped with the unmistakable tone of an order.

He blinked and half sat up on the bench, “What?!” He only realized his hand was halfway to the sword on his hip when he realized Maomao was sitting there on the edge of the bench, looking at him utterly askance.

She scowled at him. “As much as I would actually prefer to let you sleep, it’s been about a half hour. How’s your head?”

He blinked. The headache was gone for the first time in days. He felt almost dizzy with relief. “Better. Much better.”

“Good.” She stood up and walked over to stand in front of him as he continued to sit, tilting his head up toward her and feeling along the sides of his jaw and throat, pressing gently -

“Ow!”

“You’re inflamed.” Her already deft touch lightened again as she continued the exam, examining his eyes, ears and throat. “Talk to me about what’s going on. Basen said they cleared your food taster?”

“When did you talk to Basen?” he asked before he could stop the words from spilling out of his mouth.

Maomao just looked at him as if he were the biggest idiot in the empire. “The same night you decided to actually stay at an opium fueled party instead of turning around the moment you smelled it.”

He shrank back a tiny bit. “I didn’t recognize what it was at first - I’ve never used it myself.”

“I’ll bet it smelled like utter crap. That should have been your first clue.” She picked up his hand and frowned. “Your fingernails are turning blue around the edges.”

He looked at his hand. He hadn’t even noticed, compared to the blinding headache and nausea he’d been dealing with - happily, the nausea also seemed to be abating a bit with the pain. “Like with the severed fingers?”

Maomao nodded, biting at her lip, heedless of her rouge. “Similar, but that was lead poisoning. Like Lady Lihua. Some of the symptoms are similar - the headache, nausea, weight loss, a tendency toward extreme emotional reactions,” she paused and gave him such a look that he shrank back into himself just a bit. Apparently he was obvious enough that her thumb swept over his knuckles in reassurance while she was lost in thought. “But the inflammation, the bruising, the itching…if this escalates, I suspect the symptoms will become much more severe.”

“Any theories on what it is?” Jinshi asked, doing his best to focus on the case as just that. An investigation. Information to be parsed, rather than felt.

“I have one more test to perform. Don’t get too excited.” Maomao tilted his chin up with two fingers.

He sighed - and then froze under her final exam.

Her mouth touched his, the tip of her tongue sweeping against the seam of his lips, gently coaxing his mouth open. The tip of her nose was cold against his cheek. He had kissed her just a couple of times since their second return from the Western Capital - but she had only kissed him like this once before. In a dark garden on a moonless night during that very first trip out West. He didn’t like to remember it - he could still feel the heat of her body, the exquisite sensations narrowing his entire universe down to her soft mouth on his, just like now. The past and present seemed to merge, her tongue flickering against his.

He moaned low in his throat. Heat flushed through him, leaving his skin sensitized in its wake. The cool night air was an intense counterpoint to the delicious taste of Maomao’s mouth and he tentatively did his best to reciprocate, dazed urgency overriding the paralysis of shock.

She lifted her head, breaking the kiss and gently wiped his bottom lip with her thumb. “Your entire mouth tastes like metal.”

“Huh?!” he spluttered, eyes blinking wide open.

Maomao licked her own lips absently. “This has to be some kind of metal. Like lead or quicksilver, but the symptoms don’t match up. The question is, what kind of toxic metal and how you’re being exposed, if not through your food?”

This woman was going to be the end of him. Cause of death, pure frustration. He would die long before this poisoner finished the job! “Maoamo,” he whimpered.

She just looked at him with an expression of utter exasperation. “I told you not to get too excited. Focus! Metals you could be exposed to - was anything freshly painted around you? New clothing?”

“Why would clothing be contaminated?” he asked, doing his absolute best to ignore the ghost of her lips against his and pay attention to the rather urgent subject at hand.

“Like paint, some dyes include metals in the process. If that’s rubbing against your skin, it’d be just like the lead white face powder - you’d absorb it slowly.” Maomao took a step back and rubbed her chin, thinking.

Jinshi took a deep breath. Then another. “I haven’t been around any new paint and I mostly grabbed whatever clothing was shoved in a box when that torch was thrown.” He clenched his fists, the mental image of Suiren coughing and choking on the smoke inspiring rage.

“Hey.” Maomao brushed his bangs away from his face. “Lady Suiren is okay. I made sure of that myself.”

He nodded and closed his eyes, forcing himself back under control.

“Did anyone burn anything that smelled weird? New incense, maybe?” Maomao continued to think aloud.

“No. I didn’t travel with incense - too much hassle during the trip and since I’ve been home, it’s been the same stuff I always use.”

She continued to think, silent as she did so, giving him the opportunity to study her in peace. He loved all her faces - whether she was freckled and dressed in the practical clothes of a servant or wearing the night sky like tonight. But this one - the intense, internal focus of Maomao’s mind at work might be his favorite.

They weren’t going to discuss anything having to do with marriage, or the political situation, or anything of that nature tonight. Certainly not his awkward attempt at flirting and courtship in front of the entire court.

But that was okay. One thing at a time. He had worried seeing her again for the first time in months without the overriding tragedy of a funeral would be awkward, but no. Everything else around them was strange, but they had fallen easily back into the rapport he cherished. Jinshi and Maomao, figuring out a mystery. Together.

“It could also be a container that your food is being stored in.” She bit more rouge off her lips while thinking. “We’ll have to keep working on identifying the vector. For now, we need to start forcing the metal out of your body.”

“And how do we do that?” he asked. He had the feeling he might not like the answer.

Maomao shrugged. “Same way anything else leaves your body, Master Jinshi. The usual ways. We need to drastically increase your fluid intake and initiate a purge.”

He knew he wasn’t going to enjoy this. On the other hand, at least he would be doing something instead of just waiting around to die. “You think that’ll abate the symptoms a bit until we can figure out where the poison is coming from?”

Maomao nodded. “Our first goal is to keep this from progressing. Once you’re at least stabilized, then we can turn our attention to identifying the poison and how it’s being introduced. After you’ve completed the purge, I also want you to limit what you’re eating, with an emphasis on fruits and vegetables. Minimal preparation. We’ll use a mixture of soy paste and sugar in your water to introduce some salt. That way we create as few variables as possible.”

He smiled. “It sounds like I have my prescription, then.”

“So, you retained your food taster, despite everything?” Maomao tilted her head, curious.

Jinshi shrugged. “I did a careful investigation of her background and movements once she was a suspect. She’s a recent widow whose husband left her with nothing but debt. It was this or the brothels and she was utterly clear that she preferred risking her life to selling her body. She hasn’t met with anyone unusual, there’s nothing suspicious on either her person or in her rooms, and she’s cooperated with everything we’ve asked her to do. She even offered to leave my service voluntarily, despite her rather dire financial straits. And I do recall someone I know mentioning how the lives of food tasters are rather callously regarded.” He studied Maomao intently.

For the first time that evening, she flushed under his attention, provoking a smile from him. “I see,” was all she said, though.

“Miss Maomao?” Chue’s voice came from just outside the gazebo. “We need to go in the next few minutes, or you’ll be missed.”

Basen’s voice joined hers. “You as well, Moon Prince. Your ‘errand’ for His Majesty is just about up.”

Maomao looked at him. “Try to eat as little as possible. Just in case.”

“Of course.” He smiled at her.

She scowled back at him. “One last thing,” she said, her voice unusually soft.

“What is it?” He leaned down to hear her better.

She put one hand on the back of his neck and pulled his face level with hers to brush a soft kiss against his scarred cheek. “I’ll see you at the banquet,” she muttered and spun on her heel to march out of the gazebo, falling into step with Chue, who he could have sworn cackled as they left.

Basen glanced over him. “Looks like she didn’t leave a mark. Good.”

Jinshi ever so gently rubbed his fingertips against his cheek, smiling. “Is it?”

“What, sir?” Basen looked confused.

“Nevermind. Come on, let’s go.” Jinshi followed Maomao out of the gazebo to rejoin the party from a different entrance, her kisses burning against his cheek and lips.

This wasn’t the first banquet Maomao had attended as Lakan’s daughter, but it was certainly one of the most elaborate. It didn’t help that she had to remain seated at Lakan’s side, who was almost vibrating with pleasure every time Maomao paid him the slightest bit of attention. Which was a decent amount, given the fact that she had a role to perform. She carefully poured fruit juice into the strategist’s cup, tamping down the urge to adulterate it with a few drops of liquor. Or something stronger.

It also helped that she and Lahan had worked out a way to tag team the old fart to keep his attention focused on the banquet around him instead of letting him become bored - a dangerous proposition! Although, credit really should go to Chue, Maomao thought. Her friend had noticed that Lakan would correct incorrect information - so now it was a game between Maomao and Lahan to make ever so subtly wrong observations about the constant game being played out in the court in front of them. If Maomao were utterly honest with herself, this method had taught her more about the politics of Li than any court exam.

Realizing just how petty flattery and insults could move entire departments, kill or revive public projects thousands of people relied on, Maomao felt her usual hatred of politics was justified. Why couldn’t these people just do their jobs?

Lahan, however, seemed to thrive on it, paying minute attention to each piece of gossip to see where the greatest profit for the La Clan would be. To be fair, it was probably exactly what the next clan head needed to be, all the better that Lahan actually enjoyed it. His fixation on numbers didn’t just extend to women’s assets - he kept a running account of debits and credits, the court reduced to a single, large ledger.

“Ow!” Lahan glared at her.

“My apologies, dearest big brother,” Maomao said, fluttering her eyelashes over top of her fan as she kicked him again, just for good measure. “How clumsy of me.”

“Clumsy my - ” Lahan grumbled.

Good. He’d been looking too smug. Especially every time he had looked between her and Jinshi, as if tallying favor and profit to come.

Given Lakan’s status, they were seated quite close to the Imperial dais, at a round table instead of the long columns she associated with the garden parties. (Again, she had to give credit to Empress Gyokuyou, who appeared to be prioritizing the enjoyment of the guests over sheer display of rank and file). She had an excellent view of Jinshi, as her seat faced his on a diagonal, which also allowed her a narrow view behind the curtain to where the food tasters were stationed.

His pallor had improved quite a bit since she’d given him the willow bark tea, the corners of his mouth no longer pinched with pain. He was at his sparkliest, smiling and charming, even as he sipped only very occasionally from his cup and picked at his food, taking tiny bites of the interminable courses to leave the majority of the dish untouched - and doing it all without ever giving offense, making it seem as though he were simply so engaged with the conversation around him that he was too busy to eat. Nobody around him seemed to think his behavior was strange in the slightest. Indeed, instead most of the other attendees simply sighed and admired his radiant presence.

Jinshi’s eyes met hers across the tables and the corners of his mouth curved gently, his eyes softening and the sparkle fading even as she caught just the faintest hint of a peach flush on his face. His fingers absently brushed his scarred cheek.

She dropped her gaze, forcing her own flush down as she took a sip of her wine, wishing it was something stronger.

Chue snickered gently at her back and leaned over to whisper in her ear, “May Miss Chue fan her lady? It is quite warm here.”

“Actually, it’s rather cool. Maomao, are you feeling well?” Yao pressed the back of her hand to Maomao’s cheek.

En’en’s eyes shone, almost as radiant as the Moon Prince. Isn’t my mistress so cute?! she seemed to say without ever opening her mouth.

Lihaku, to his credit, was discreetly wiping away a smile with his hand, even as he gave Maomao a knowing look. Lahan just grinned, as if anticipating vengeance for the earlier kick.

“Oh no! My Maomao! Don’t worry, Daddy will make it better!” Lakan picked up Maomao’s fan and raised a veritable gale around her!

“Give me that, oh honored father,” Maomao ground out through clenched teeth as she yanked the fan out of Lahan’s hand. “Thank you, Yao. I promise, I’m just fine.”

Chue gently fixed a few strands of Maomao’s hair, her chest shaking silently as she did so. “There we are, my lady. Good as new.”

“Here.” Yao passed Maomao a pickled cucumber salad, brow still slightly furrowed with concern, but warier in the face of Lakan’s over enthusiastic response.

Maomao took a serving and tasted it, the tang of vinegar and the coolness of the cucumber welcome. She darted another quick glance at Jinshi.

He was holding his fist in front of his mouth, clearly trying to master his expression. His eyes crinkled in amusement as he watched her. A blatant, emotional display that clearly could not be tolerated as she fixed him with a disgusted look she saved to use when finding mold in her carefully preserved medicine!

It was Jinshi’s turn to flush again. She saw the Emperor lean over to say something to him, followed by Jinshi quickly touching the back of his hand to his nose before he pulled it away to inspect it. Finding nothing, he glared at his imperial father, who seemed unbothered by his son’s consternation, leaning back into his seat and smirking.

Empress Gyokuyou was also giggling, darting glances between the two of them. Even Basen, quietly attendant on his master, was repressing a smile as he exchanged a glance with his father, standing behind the Emperor’s chair.

All right. Clearly this was getting out of hand. She couldn’t stare at Jinshi all night, otherwise they were going to cause some kind of incident. She needed to focus on anything else.

Fortunately, she had that view behind the curtain and she used it to watch Jinshi’s food taster. A pretty young woman with what appeared to be some Western blood, as her hair curled in gentle tendrils around her face. Maomao couldn’t tell what color her eyes were from this distance, but they didn’t appear to be quite as dark as someone from the capital region either. Her skin was quite pale, however and as she had the luxury of being behind the curtain, Maomao watched her pinch the bridge of her nose with two fingers, clearly fighting the same headache as Jinshi. If she had thought of it, she would have brought a second dose of the willow bark tea - she would have to remember to provide Jinshi with enough to treat her as well.

The court murmured and gasped as the next dish was brought out. Maomao forced her attention back to her own table. And then she felt her own eyebrows arch in an astonished expression.

By most standards, it was a fairly simple dish of rice. Simple, that is, except for the fact that it was the deep, golden color of saffron, scenting the air with its distinctive aroma. Just that, by itself, would already be a token of the Imperial family’s wealth, but each dish had been delicately sprinkled with little bits of gold flake. It had no flavor, but gold was perfectly edible, if a bit wasteful in Maomao’s opinion. Still, she let Chue hand her a serving and tasted it, closing her eyes at the delicious salt and spices that elevated the rice into a showpiece for the imperial family.

Yao poked at hers. “Can you really eat this?”

“Indeed, my lady.” En’en nodded, approving of the artistry of the imperial chefs, even as she appeared to be tasting the dish and making notes about how it had been put together. If En’en could get her hands on some saffron, then Maomao intended to show up for dinner that night! “It doesn’t taste like anything, but it’s quite beautiful.”

Maomao picked up a second bite, this one having a bit of the gold flake on it and looked at it more closely. The gold glimmered in the firelight, burnishing the golden rice with a luster that seemed a shame to waste by eating it. It was much prettier in this form than it had been in the alchemist’s lab…

Drip. Orange liquid fading to brown sludge in the bottom of a cup.

A book full of new pharmaceutical recipes from the far West.

Luomen’s voice, warm and a little sad in retrospect, You would need gold salts for one of those recipes.

“My lady?” Chue’s voice registered in her ear, low and urgent.

“Little sister, what’s wrong?” Lahan leaned over, his attention also caught as Maoamo continued to just stare at the bite of food in her hands that everyone else was enjoying with fervor.

Lakan looked at Maomao and narrowed his eyes. “Hush, everyone. Let her think.”

If Maomao had any attention to spare, she might have been grateful for the old fart’s insight, but instead she continued to stare at the gold in front of her before slowly lifting her head to look at Jinshi’s food taster, who was finishing her job behind the curtain.

She rubbed her fingers together as if they itched, even as she held the chopsticks over Jinshi’s food before taking a bite.

Maomao growled, low in her throat. “Miss Chue, did you see that?”

“Yes. Yes I did, Miss Maomao.” The playful pronouns fell away, as Chue’s voice turned deadly quiet.

Maomao shook in her seat. Lihaku and Lahan clearly weren’t sure what was going on, but both had turned sober, while Yao and En’en glanced at each other. Lakan, however, looked at her with a gleam in his narrow eyes. “Go on. We’re behind you.”

Maomao stood up and strode over to the Imperial dais, straight toward Jinshi, who was looking at her with open alarm at the clear breach of etiquette. “Maomao, what - ”

She climbed up onto the dais, marching right past him, past Basen who had been attendant on his master, and grabbed his food taster by the arm, hauling her out from behind the curtain with a yank that almost sent the other woman stumbling to the ground. “What are you doing?!” the other woman cried in alarm.

Maomao shifted her grip to capture the woman’s wrist, feeling the individual small bones pressing against her fingers. “The Imperial family’s generosity this evening has sparked a revelation,” she said loudly enough for the entire banquet to hear. “Did you know that gold is quite edible in its normal state?”

The banquet buzzed around them. She heard one disapproving male voice say, “Grand Commandant Kan, control your daughter, if you please!”

“My daughter clearly has something to say. Does it please His Majesty and the Moon Prince for her to continue?” Lakan drawled sardonically from his seat.

“It most certainly does,” Jinshi said, having stood up in surprise at Maomao’s actions. Every bit of sparkle and charm had dropped from his demeanor as he stared at his food taster, eyes narrowed.

The Emperor cleared his throat. “I too, wish to hear what she has to say. Lady Maomao, please continue.”

Maomao just stared at the other woman intensely, who seemed too frozen to struggle. “Gold also has medicinal uses. Not in this form, of course. As we normally think of it, gold will simply pass through the body undisturbed. But there are remedies for inflammation of the joints that require a small dosage of gold salts. Naturally, you would acquire those salts by breaking the gold down in a caustic solution and refining it. Not a skill commonly possessed in Li, but one known by Western alchemists, of which there has been one working in the capital for several years. He was recently arrested for tax fraud because, of all things, he had been hiding gold imports by dissolving the gold into aqua regia and then carefully reconstituting it after inspection.”

The food taster began to attempt to pull her wrist away from Maomao and she tightened her grip, deliberately grinding the bones, causing the other woman to cry out in pain. “Why on earth would I know anything about your strange gold?!” She attempted to defend herself.

Maomao continued, her voice not quite a monotone, but still evenly controlled. “Those recipes do carry a warning from the pharmacists, however. Dosage must be strictly controlled, because too much and the remedy becomes toxic. Of course, if the point of this exercise is poison, then it’s a clever trick. Even if you were searched, you would appear to have salt on your person - hardly a thing to be concerned over and you could even taste it in front of your interrogators to prove that it was only salt. Such an easy thing to adulterate food with. Especially if the poisoner was willing to suffer the effects along with her target to further deflect suspicion. How is your headache, by the way? Given how much pain the Moon Prince has been suffering, it must be excruciating. You certainly have dedication.”

“Are you insane? I haven’t done anything!” She glanced around, as if searching for someone to help her, but was met with stony looks from the Imperial dias. The most emotion on any of the Imperial family’s faces was Jinshi, who seemed immensely disappointed, pressing his lips together with a hard expression that hid the sadness in his eyes.

Maomao clenched her jaw. “And when you were caught, you made sure to have a ready excuse at hand that would engender sympathy. The poor widow who had just lost a pregnancy and was still suffering aftereffects. But you knew that meant you had to move the delivery mechanism so that his kitchen at home became contaminated. It would have been simple to dump a bunch of the gold salt in with the existing supply in the Moon Prince’s home.”

The woman’s eyes were wide, her nostrils flaring and the oily stink of sweat inspired by fear rolled off of her. “I wouldn’t poison the Moon Prince! Why would I?”

“There are others who will be far more interested in your motives than me. But let’s not play innocent anymore, shall we? Fortunately, there’s one more little side effect that gold salts have. Direct contact will turn skin purple until the salts are washed off.” Maomao forced the food taster’s hand up, the one that had been holding the chopsticks. The hand she had been itching over Jinshi’s food. She shifted her grip to lift the other woman’s fist up for all to see and squeezed with every bit of force she could manage.

With a cry of pain, the fist opened and the woman’s fingertips were revealed. They were stained a bright, reddish purple.

Maomao’s nostrils flared as she took a deep breath. “Truly, a poison fit for a prince.”

Chapter Text

The entire banquet sat frozen in shocked silence as Maomao held up his guilty food taster’s hand, exposing the stained fingertips. Jinshi took a deep breath, forcing his face to impassivity. He could indulge in self-recrimination later. The next thing to do would be to interrogate Lianshi and figure out who she was working for…

Slap!

That stimulated the court’s chatter. There were several loud gasps, even as a wave of indignation began sweeping the officials that a mere food taster would have the gall to betray her employer! Lianshi was sprawled, dazed, on the dais, one hand to her cheek while staring down at the ground.

Above her, Maomao loomed like a vengeful spirit, eyes narrowed in wrath, her hand already reaching for the other woman’s hair.

Jinshi quickly reached out and grabbed Maomao’s upper arm. “Maomao. Not here,” he murmured in her ear.

She didn’t look at him, her eyes still firmly on Lianshi, but Jinshi could feel her shaking under his grip. He immediately put a second hand on her other arm and began to rub softly, gently. “It’s going to be okay. You caught her. It’s my turn now,” he tried to soothe before shooting Basen a look.

Basen shook himself out of his shock, narrowing his own eyes, and hauled his former food taster to her feet, wrenching her arms behind her back none too gently. Normally, even with a criminal, he would try to be more restrained, but Jinshi could hear the harsh pop of what was no doubt her shoulder being dislocated. Lianshi cried out in pain, but nobody had much sympathy to spare for her.

Especially not the apothecary, still trembling under his hands, completely oblivious to the rising whispers. Jinshi, however, had lived too long in the court to ignore them. He had done his best to make his position clear tonight, where everyone could see it, who his choice of bride was. But Maomao had carefully built up her court image as cold, unobtainable and distant. A delicate, untouchable flower.

She was none of those things right now. Her cheeks were flushed with fury, eyes shining even as she absently rubbed the hand she had slapped the other woman with - Jinshi suspected that she was just as enraged that Lianshi had abused her position as food taster to attempt an assassination as much as she was angry about the fact that the poison had been directed at him. But that’s not how the court would see it.

From their perspective, the La Princess was utterly incandescent with rage on the Moon Prince’s behalf.

Nor was she the only one. The Emperor stood from his seat and made a gesture with one hand. Gaoshun quickly appeared by Basen’s side and murmured something to him, even as the Emperor’s voice rang out over the banquet, cold and cutting. “We will take custody of this traitor. Lady Maomao, it would please Us for you to see to the health and recovery of the Moon Prince, just as you did for Lady Lihua once.”

Jinshi felt Maomao’s breath hitch under his hands, but force of habit saved her as she automatically bowed to the Emperor. “Your Majesty, I will.”

Gaoshun took custody of Lianshi, whose face had taken on an impassive quality. Jinshi had the thought that this was not going to be an easy interrogation, but the Emperor’s attention had turned entirely toward him. “Zuigetsu, you are excused from your court duties until Lady Maomao assures us that you are returned to the fullness of your health. You both may go.”

This time, they bowed in unison before the Emperor. “Your Majesty,” Jinshi murmured, before escorting Maomao down off the dais and disappearing behind the curtain, Basen following close behind. The moment they were out of sight, a veritable dam of gossip seemed to burst behind them as the guests’ voices swelled in reaction to the evening’s events.

Jinshi glanced behind to see Basen about to open his mouth. “Not here. We’re going straight home. Do you need to retrieve anything to begin treatment?” he asked Maomao, sliding his hand down her arm to catch her hand in his.

She shook her head, brow furrowing as she clearly began to formulate a treatment plan, her mind turning to medicine instead of dwelling on what was already done, as he had hoped. “Tonight we need to throw out absolutely everything in your kitchen that could have been adulterated with salt and scrub everything down. Your water supply should still be safe, though.”

“I can get water from a different source, if we want to inspect the well also,” Basen pointed out, his hands clenched into tight fists.

Jinshi suspected that wouldn’t be necessary, but the overly controlled way Basen held himself inspired him to nod anyway. “We’ll do that, then.”

“Okay.” Maomao looked down at their joined hands. “Master Jinshi?”

“Yes?” He grinned at her.

She scowled again. “You look much too happy for someone who’s about to have one of the most unpleasant three days I can concoct.”

He squeezed her hand. “You figured out what the poison was, how it was being administered and most importantly, who was dosing me. I will happily live on the privy for the next few days in exchange for that.”

She scowled again, but didn’t try to escape his grip. Which was fine by him. He kept her hand in his as Basen commandeered a carriage, rushing the three of them back to his home as quickly as possible.

Suiren met them at the door, looking startled at their early return - especially with Maomao in tow. However, she was the consummate professional as she merely bowed and ushered them inside. “Young master, what is going on?”

“Maomao found the poison. I’ll let her explain. Basen, with me - let’s discuss next steps.” He gestured for Basen to follow him into the next room while Maomao was already explaining to Suiren, who had a hand over her mouth and a horrified look in her eyes.

As Jinshi and Basen stepped into the next room, Basen fell to his knees. “I have failed my duty, your highness.”

Jinshi took a deep breath, counting to ten. “Basen. We do not have time for this. You and Chue caught her and she wiggled out of it because she was prepared with a cover - I heard her story too, if you recall and I was the one who made the decision to retain her services. If you’re guilty, then so am I.”

“Yes, but this is my job,” Basen spat.

“And this assassin was good enough that she evaded capture to stay right under our noses. She appears to have engineered and then ended a pregnancy to lend credence to her cover. Which means that whoever hired her is dangerous. They’ll try to destroy the evidence and I do not want Lianshi dead until we have wrung every last drop of information out of her.” Jinshi’s voice was quiet, but he could hear it cut the air, his own fury finally rising.

Basen nodded. “Father told me to tell you that he was going to handle her security personally - I think he’s already considering the possibility of a counter assassination.”

He forced himself to breathe steadily, forcing the unnatural edge of rage down to focus on the task at hand. “Chue didn’t accompany Maomao, so I’m guessing she’s already doing what she does best. I have no doubt I’m going to be preoccupied for the next few days, so I need you to be my eyes and ears on how this investigation is going. Liaise with Gaoshun - let the Emperor’s household handle things officially, but I want to be kept up to date on the investigation.”

Basen raised his arms before him as he continued to kneel. “Yes, your highness.”

Jinshi nodded. “Go get fresh water for the next day until we have time to inspect the well, then get moving.”

Basen rose to his feet. “Yue, I am sorry.”

Jinshi sighed. “Believe me, I feel very stupid right now. You at least picked up on what was going on long before I did.”

His friend took a deep breath. “Poisoned dumbassery?”

He chuckled, even if it was mostly without mirth. “I suspect that’s the best excuse we’re going to come up with. Go on - let’s get started.”

“Maybe you can take your paperwork on the privy with you,” Basen smirked before quickly darting out the door.

“Hey!” Jinshi ground his teeth at his friend’s retreating back before allowing a tiny smile to cross his face.

Five minutes later, Maomao entered with a tea set that she set over a brazier to warm. “Well, the good news is that your kitchen is about to be cleaner than it was when this pavilion was built. Lady Suiren’s furious and taking it out on the supplies.”

“At least she has a task to focus on.” He looked over the teapot, noticing that instead of tea, there appeared to be a cut citrus. “Tea?”

She shook her head. “Lemon water, to start. The fruit has to be cut, so I’m sure it’s fine, but we also washed the rind. Until we clear it or replace it, we’re assuming everything was contaminated.”

“What a mess.” He sighed, running his hand through his bangs. “Better than the alternative, though.”

She adjusted the teapot, checking the temperature. “I want you to drink the entire pot and then you’re going straight to bed. You’ll also need as much rest as possible.”

“I’m not sure I could sleep,” he admitted.

Maomao huffed. “You’re exhausted. You’ll sleep.”

Jinshi just looked at her. “After everything that’s happened?”

“Yes.” Her tone made it clear that she would brook no argument, even as she continued to check the water’s temperature against the inside of her wrist. “Good enough.” She squeezed the lemon juice into the bottom of the cup and then poured the warm water on top, taking a quick, automatic sip before handing it to him.

“Thank you.” He took the cup from her, taking a large mouthful himself.

Maomao, meanwhile, moved around his chamber with all the familiarity of his nighttime routine from when she had been a servant in his household. Still clad in the fine silk of the court, though, the scene looked much more like a wife attending to her husband. Jinshi’s heart clenched in his chest as he watched her, sipping on the warm citrus water.

She opened a drawer, peering carefully into it before retrieving his underthings with a strange look of relief on her face. “Last I checked, there was nothing new in that drawer,” he teased.

“Very funny, sir.” She made a face. “I almost didn’t believe Lady Suiren about the hair laced underwear until I found one myself.”

His face fell. “There wasn’t - ?” he started to get up to look for himself.

“Not tonight, which seems like a miracle considering how your consort selection was announced.” Maomao set everything aside in a neat pile before picking up a comb and placing it with the supplies.

He arched his eyebrows. “Do we want to have this discussion right now?”

She paused in the act of picking up a small bottle of hair oil. “Not tonight, no.”

He finished the first cup and placed it to the side. “All right. In that case, may I ask for a favor?”

Maomao turned to face him, the bottle still in her hands. “What is it, sir?”

He stood up and walked over to her. “Turn around.”

Her eyes were puzzled, but she did, turning her back to expose the flower in her hair that had just begun to wilt. He pulled carefully, easing it free of the deceptively simple braids to look at it. “A moonflower, was it?”

Maomao shrugged. “Lady Ah-Duo gave it to me.”

“And did she explain what it would mean?” He heard his register drop, the light sweetness stripped away to rasp against their ears. “The challenge you threw down?”

He couldn’t see her face, as she was still turned away from him, but he could see her fingers clench on the oil bottle. “I’d have preferred to wear thornapple. Some people call those moonflowers too.”

He chuckled. “I believe you.” He stroked a lock of her hair between his thumb and index finger, reveling in the feel of the silken strands against his fingertips.

She reached one hand up to capture his fingers, stilling the movement of his hand. “You haven’t finished the rest of the lemon water. If you think you can manage to undress yourself, I’ll get started taking down your hair while you keep drinking.”

He leaned down to murmur against her ear. “As long as I may keep this.” He held the wilting flower up with his other hand, her fingers still wrapped around his.

“Are you sure you want it? They only last for one night, I’m told.”

He tilted the angle of his head ever so slightly and his lips brushed against her ear. Soft, the barest whisper of sensation, but her fingers tightened over his. “I will treasure it,” he whispered before standing back up, dropping her hair to take his nightclothes behind a screen to change himself while preserving Maomao’s modesty. He tucked the moonflower away in a small drawer of his personal effects.

Another cup of lemon water was waiting for him when he came back out, sitting on the little table next to his chair, expectantly. He smiled and retook his seat, rolling his neck and grateful to be out of his stuffy, confining formal attire. He was sitting quietly inside his own home, his headache was gone and Maomao was here. For the first time in months, he was content.

The same could not be said for his apothecary, however, as she looked between him and the drink expectantly, comb in hand.

“I’m drinking it, I promise.” He picked up the cup and began to sip at it again.

He felt her pull the hairpin out of his hair, setting it on the table beside them, the qilin face up next to the teapot, before the tie followed, spilling his hair over his shoulders. Maomao began to stroke the comb gently, easing the tangles out of it. He closed his eyes in pleasure - perhaps he would be able to sleep tonight after all. For now, though, he forced himself to focus. “So, what’s the treatment plan?”

“For tonight, liquid and sleep. Your body will be able to handle the purging much better if it’s rested. Tomorrow, we’ll start what I laid out earlier - a mixture of simple foods, liquids and a soy-sugar drink to begin forcing the gold out of your body. I’ll also be including a good deal of analgesics to control any pain, which will also help you rest.” As she elaborated on the medical side of things, Jinshi felt the comb grow smoother.

“When you treated Lady Lihua, it took two months for her to recover enough to be considered cured, if not fully recovered. Are we looking at a similar timeline?” he asked, draining the rest of the lemon water in his cup.

“For a full recovery, yes, but this poisoner didn’t get nearly as far. Lady Lihua, as you recall, was not only using the lead based makeup powder every day, but she was using a great deal of it to cover how sick she was. I suspect that your food taster could only dose you intermittently at first, and the amount was inconsistent as well, given that she couldn’t control how much of any one thing you would eat. Your symptoms suddenly got worse when you started openly investigating her and she adulterated the salt supply in Lady Suiren’s kitchen, which tells me that your exposure has been more consistent since then.” Maomao paused doing his hair to pour him another cup of the lemon water.

He picked it up and sipped at it. “Should I have a sauna built?”

There was quiet before he realized that she must have responded by shaking her head. “If you can win a stupid archery contest while poisoned, you can make yourself sweat the old fashioned way. Once the headaches and nausea have abated, I’ll approve exercise. Until then, we’ll use hot baths.” She finished combing his hair and absently arranged it down his back. “I expect to see the worst of your symptoms disappear in about a week, but it will take several weeks before His Majesty’s condition of being restored to the fullness of your health is met.”

He shook his head. “This is not how I wanted to get a vacation from my court duties.”

“There’s always paperwork, sir.” He could hear the smirk in her words.

He smiled and drained the rest of his cup, already feeling his stomach beginning to slosh. “I think that’s all I can handle right now. We’ll put the rest of it by the bedside and I’ll drink it when I wake up in the middle of the night.”

“You’re not sleeping through the night?” Maomao asked, coming around to stand beside him, where he could see her face.

Jinshi shook his head. “The headaches and nausea have been waking me. They’ll be easier to deal with, now that I know they’re temporary, but if I’m going to be awake anyway, might as well force more fluid.”

Maomao frowned. “Lady Suiren usually keeps a supply of willow bark tea on hand. I believe it’s part of her personal effects, so your former food taster should never have had access to it. If not, I’ll requisition fresh from the pharmacy so I can start steeping it now to make an appropriate dose.”

He made a face, remembering the bitter taste from earlier. “Thank you.”

“Of course.” Maomao left the room, her skirts swishing behind her.

He smiled to himself when he realized she had neglected to bow before climbing into the bed, intending to at least try to rest. He closed his eyes and nuzzled his face against the pillow, wishing it was Maomao’s hair.

When Maomao came to check on him, five minutes later, he was sound asleep.

Maomao woke early as a general rule, but she did not, as a habit, wake with the dawn unless there was a specific reason to do so. She was somewhat grumpy to be awake now, but she dressed for the day in the clothes Suiren had gifted her without fanfare. Gone were the plain green ruqun and burgundy skirt she had been gifted when she joined the Jade Pavilion. Instead there was a simple, practical dress in shades of green with a motif of woodsorrel embroidered as delicate accents in yellow and green thread.

It spoke to how long Surien had been saving this gift of clothing - they certainly had not been gathered in the last week. If the decoration hadn’t been a clue, the fact that they fit her perfectly would have been another. She wondered if Suiren had done the embroidery herself.

Spring would give way to summer soon - she thought she had heard the trill of a bell cricket just the other night. But for now the air was still cold in the morning, so she wrapped a shawl around her shoulders for warmth and decided to go walk around the courtyard. Perhaps she would see if some of the herbs she had transplanted here years ago were growing well.

A flash of steel in the corner of her vision caught her attention. She leaned against a pillar to watch.

Jinshi was performing some form of martial art in the center of the courtyard - what type, Maomao couldn’t have said. Whatever it was, however, he was performing it with his sword. Not the wooden training ones she had become accustomed to seeing on the training grounds either, but steel, with a honed edge. If he made a mistake, he’d give her a brand new injury to treat.

But as she watched him, Maomao didn’t think Jinshi was likely to make more work for her this morning.

His hair was bound at the nape of his neck in a simple tie. He had stripped to the waist, not bothering to cover the brand on his flank, which peeked over the waist of the pants he wore. He was covered in sweat, breathing hard, but controlled. Each move he made had the precise grace she had associated with Jinshi from the moment she met him.

Huh. I wonder if this is where he learned it.

His shoulders tightened and, despite the fact that she was watching him from a discreet distance, she could tell he had noticed her presence. Still, he continued to move through the proscribed steps of his exercise, the sword carving perfect arcs through the air.

Maomao had long ago become accustomed to how beautiful Jinshi was. Most days, it barely registered - it was just part of who he was, along with his piercing intelligence, his stubbornness (bordering on pig-headedness, if one were to ask her) or his barely hidden soft heart. Her own opinion was that those who concentrated on Jinshi’s features rather than his character missed seeing his true beauty.

He was making a case for the former at the moment, though.

It had occurred to her before, should anyone see him disheveled and stripped of all courtly refinements, that they would utterly lose their minds. Maomao was made of sterner stuff than that. Her mind was just fine, thank you very much. But as she watched him, she couldn’t help but think that she had been a coward.

Shisui’s voice echoed in her memory. Say you were presented with a poison you’d never seen before, and you were told you only had one chance to try it. What would you do?

She hadn’t hesitated to tell her friend that she would drink it down to the last drop. Yet, presented with the most intoxicating poison of all, she had fought. Struggled against the delicious mixture of safety and support that Jinshi had wrapped around her from the very beginning, when he had merely been the smarmy manager of the Rear Palace. Had resisted, even as she began to reciprocate with respect and trust. If she had been forced at swordpoint to put a name to what she had truly thought of him at the time, she would have named him her friend.

The first time she had recognized love in his eyes, she had done her best to hurt them both - to show him and remind herself how dangerous, how transient love truly was. How, if not tightly controlled, it destroyed everything and everyone in its path.

She had refused to recognize the intimacy stealing into every interaction until Chue had nearly died, using what could have been those precious last breaths to force her to confront her own emotions. Even after accepting his feelings, she had quietly waited for him to leave her. Which he had.

It had not destroyed her.

He was well on his way to a full recovery now - there would be no more using his health as an excuse to stay near him, in this pavilion. She was ready to drink the poison of his love down to the last drop and see what happened. But she couldn’t shake the creeping worry that she might have lost her chance, should Jinshi decide again to sacrifice love on the altar of duty.

Whatever choice Jinshi made, there would be no second love for her. Honestly, the idea of going through this again seemed like more trouble than it was worth. After falling in love with a literal prince, how could any other man compete?

But that’s my problem, not his, she thought, watching him finish his exercise and meticulously wipe down his sword with a towel before sheathing it. He truly is a sight not to be shown to unsuspecting eyes. He gave his face a cursory wipe before shrugging on a loose, cotton tunic that revealed more than it covered as the sweat turned the fine fabric transparent in places.

Honestly, Pairin might have a point regarding muscles. She allowed her gaze to follow a single droplet of sweat down the column of his throat to disappear underneath the shirt.

“Ahem.” Jinshi’s tone was amused, but she thought she detected the faintest hint of a flush on his face that had nothing to do with his recent exercise.

“Your complexion looks better.” She let the heat fade from her gaze as she began to assess him a bit more clinically.

Jinshi nodded. “No more headaches, nausea or itching, thank the heavens. The bruising is starting to fade too.” He lifted his arm to show the speckled bruises that had marred his skin fading into yellowish-green dots. “I’m looking forward to eating something other than congee, fruit, vegetables and soy water, though.”

“Well, it’s been two weeks, so I think it’s safe to slowly begin reintroducing foods. Nothing too heavy, though. I’ll let Lady Suiren know what to include and how fast.”

His eyes narrowed at her phrasing, her tone of voice. “That sounds like you’re done with me.”

Maomao shrugged. “As far as medical treatment is concerned, I am. Time will take care of the rest.”

His hand clenched on the towel. “And then what?”

She was tempted to tease him, but he had that desperate, hungry look in his eyes, like that of a wild dog. “Well, I imagine that would depend on you.”

He took a slow, deep breath, some of the anxiety fading from his expression. “You went to Lakan.”

“Yes, I did.” Was he planning to state the obvious all morning?

Those gorgeous, obsidian eyes watched her, the willowy brows knotting in frustration. “I am beyond grateful that you would secure his support for Gyokuyou’s son. I could also spank you!” His hands came up to grip her shoulders. “How could you sacrifice your peace of mind?!” he cried. “I know how much you despise that man, and now you’re living in the same house with him?!” His fingers gripped and released her, convulsively, on the edge of pain at the intensity of his reaction.

She reached up and cupped his face in her hands, stilling what promised to be an absolutely epic tirade. “It was my turn,” she said.

His gaze was locked on hers, his breath shuddering out of him. “Maomao - even with his support, you understand that there are no guarantees? Gyokuyou’s son could die young, or be assassinated. His Majesty could simply decide that he prefers me to succeed him, no matter what. I thought I could escape the palace, but if one thing has been made clear to me, it’s that my name will always be Ka. You never agreed to this, you could still escape - ”

That beautiful voice fell silent as she moved one hand to lay a finger across his lips. “Do you know the first time the thought that the babies might have been switched occurred to me? The very first time?” She locked her gaze on his. “The day Lady Ah-Duo left the Rear Palace.”

His eyes stretched wide. “So long ago?”

She nodded, letting her hands fall away, now that she had his attention. “You resemble Lady Ah-Duo too much for it to be a coincidence. But what really made me wonder was the previous night - right before I literally fell into your lap.” She arched her brows at the memory for the mischievous pleasure of watching Jinshi flush.

He continued to hold his silence, however, letting her talk. “I met her up on the wall - she offered me a drink while talking about her role as a consort and how she had wanted to give it up for so long. Ever since her son had left her. Not that he’d died. ‘Left.’ A rather curious word choice, wouldn’t you say?”

“Yes,” he whispered.

“But I dismissed the idea as too ridiculous to even contemplate for long. Your age didn’t match up with the Imperial brother, or so I thought at the time. I did consider it again after the Shi Clan’s rebellion, but until you barged your way into my apothecary shop, I thought I was never going to see you again, so what did it matter? And then, of course, there was the night you branded yourself.” She scowled at him, remembering the stink of iron accented with a scent that had been disconcertingly edible.

He swallowed, listening to her lay out the logic of his identity. “Why did that night make you reconsider it?”

“His Majesty’s reaction. You noticed it yourself - he was devastated, not angry. It wasn’t conclusive - no matter what the truth of the blood relationship between you, it certainly seems as though he stood as your father.”

Jinshi nodded. “I thought he was my father for years, until it was carefully explained to me who he actually was.”

Maomao sighed. “By the time we left for the Western Capital the second time, I considered it a likely theory. And when we returned, I received confirmation.”

“How?!” he cried, his fingers biting into her arms briefly before he carefully gentled his grip.

“Lady Ah-Duo told me.”

Jinshi’s nostrils flared and he nearly yelled, “WHAT?!”

She sighed. If he was already this upset, she didn’t think he was going to like what she had to say next all that much. “She summoned me to her villa and told me that you were her son, and the Emperor’s. That a relationship with you could never be hidden or casual - and that if that was not what I wanted, she was prepared to smuggle me out of Li to escape.”

His hands fell away from her arms as he took a step back. “She tried to get you to leave?” he asked, the honey falling away in favor of the husky question.

“Yes,” Maomao answered. She had given him the context he needed and she deliberately kept calm in the face of his shock. Shock that was slowly giving way to anger and hurt.

Jinshi stood perfectly still, thinking, even as Maomao remained where she was, quiet and observant. It was a rather nostalgic position to be in, rather like when they truly had been master and servant.

He closed his eyes. “Why didn’t you tell me?”

“It wasn’t my secret to tell. If your parents didn’t have the courage to confess the truth the night before the Emperor’s surgery, then I hoped that it would simply never come up. Since you weren’t interested in the throne, it seemed like everyone with a stake in the matter was content to leave things as they were.”

“True,” he sighed. He opened his eyes and looked at her. “So you knew.”

She nodded. “I knew. I’m sorry.”

He shook his head. “Don’t. You’re right - if you’d told me in place of the Emperor, I don’t want to imagine what the consequences might have been.” He bared his teeth in an expression that only tangentially resembled a smile. “Lord Hao certainly hasn’t been enjoying them.”

“I’ve seen him around the edges of the court,” she commented. Hao had struck her as a rather unpleasant, pathetic sort of man - ambitious enough to get in trouble but not intelligent enough to get out of it.

Jinshi focused on her again. “So, what now?”

“Well, I was hoping you might advise me on a choice of husband,” Maomao said, her tone deadpan.

His mouth gaped open. “You want my advice? On - who to marry?!”

“Yes.”

Jinshi pressed his lips together before growling, “And what qualifications does this potential husband need to have?”

She took a deep breath. “Well, I’m hoping for a certain perceptiveness and consideration. Men keep bringing me flowers - but who will bring me cordyceps? Or rice crackers instead of a constant barrage of sweets?” His stormy expression slowly cleared as she told him what type of man she wanted to marry. “Who would build me a greenhouse? Or come to me with strange cases that somehow always bring me trouble?”

“You - you little - !” Jinshi spluttered, the growling tone turning to laughter as he pulled her into the circle of his arms and crushed her to his chest in an embrace.

She clutched his damp shirt, breathing in the unadulterated scent of his bare skin, resting her face against his chest. “Can you think of anyone?” she teased.

She felt Jinshi take a deep, shuddering breath. “Four months. It’s barely been a month since Luomen passed and you should have the proper time to mourn him. And when that four months is over and that stupid autumn garden party is approaching, I will marry you.”

She felt tears prick her eyes that Jinshi would think of Luomen and the ache she felt at knowing he would never see her married. But there was also one, tiny problem. “You’re going to leave me at the old fart’s for four more months!?” she complained, picking her head up to glare at him.

Jinshi stroked her cheek with his thumb. “I also want that time to finish dealing with whoever arranged for Lianshi and the gold salts. I won’t bring you into a household with that kind of unresolved threat - assassination may be something we have to guard against, but our home will be safe.”

She sighed. “Fine. But I also want you to promise me something.”

“Anything.” Jinshi stroked a finger delicately over her bangs, his eyes softer than she had ever seen them before.

She put her own hand back on his face. “Don’t give up hope. Not until and unless you’re named Crown Prince.”

“And if I am?” he asked, nuzzling his cheek into her palm.

She sighed. “We’ll deal with it then.”

Jinshi’s eyes welled with tears, but he nodded before asking in a soft voice, “Together?”

“Together.” Maomao twined their hands together, lacing her scarred pinky with his.

Chapter Text

Gyokuyou sat in the same pavilion where she had watched her father play Go against Lakan and lose. The breeze played over the water, sending ripples over the surface to gently ruffle the lotus petals, now in full bloom.

The Moon Prince would recover. Maomao had discovered the poison in time and treated him - they had been all but barricaded inside the Moon Prince’s pavilion the entire time. But now he was well enough to probe the status of the investigation into his poisoner.

Her husband was cunning. Rather than submit the food taster to the harsh interrogation of the Ministry of Justice, he had used family privilege to have the woman confined and isolated. One week, then two, with nothing but her own company and the knowledge that her crime was known. A single meal a day had been slid under her door - and when the tray had consistently come back clean, Gaoshun had known that the woman wanted to live.

The third week, a second prisoner had been thrown in with the poisoner - a woman; one who had been so badly beaten that she no longer had use of her right arm. Another suspect in the poisoning of the Moon Prince. After two weeks of utter isolation and a potential ally as her only companion, no looming interrogation in sight, Lianshi had spilled everything to her co-conspirator.

Really, Gaoshun’s daughter-in-law was a force to be reckoned with.

Now she was left with the consequences. Her husband was furious. The Moon Prince less so, but there had been a new, implacable resolve in his eyes. Lady Ah-Duo had looked at Gyokuyou and offered a way out that all parties deemed acceptable.

If you can rein your father in, that would be the best solution.

Steps approached from behind. “I apologize for my lateness, my dear. I was held up by a meeting.” She turned around to see her father make the most perfunctory of bows to his Empress.

“It is of little matter,” she said lightly, still keeping that amused, radiant smile on her face.

“So, tell me, how is everything? Any progress on the investigation into the Moon Prince’s poisoner?” Her father gave her his usual, good-natured, jovial smile.

“You mean, have you been implicated yet?” she asked.

Gyokuen froze, brow furrowing with concern. “My dear, what are you implying?”

“Implying? I’m stating it. Aside from a confession from the poisoner, they also found the money trail between your private household accounts and the Western alchemist who refined the gold salts. I’m surprised you’re not better acquainted with the financial acumen of the La Clan’s heir. He became suspicious months ago, when the alchemist was arrested for tax evasion and one of his clients couldn’t be easily traced.” She arched her brows at him. “Or are you going to attempt to lie to me as well?”

His face fell. “I had to protect you and my grandson.”

“Mmm. Not Lingli?” she asked, gently picking up a cup of tea. It had gone cold, but that was irrelevant. She sipped it anyway, arching her brows over the rim of the teacup.

He blinked. “Of course I want to protect Lingli, but she wasn’t in danger the same way - ”

“You’re right,” she interrupted her father for the first time in her life. “She wasn’t in danger. Not until you put both of my children at risk of being disinherited for treason.” She lowered the cup. “And you put me at risk of divorce. Or do you imagine that His Majesty would maintain an Empress whose blood had besmirched the Imperial family’s honor, had you succeeded in killing his beloved firstborn son?”

Her father's expression turned steely. “He wouldn’t throw away his Empress so lightly. Not if he wants good relations with the West.”

She put the teacup down. “Oh, Father, I thought you were smarter than Ou. I thought you were the smartest person in the empire, actually. You always seemed to know exactly what to say, how to arrange things so that everyone got what they wanted. The West’s politics mostly run on trade - and in that sphere you were unrivaled. But the capital runs on more than profit and loss and you failed to account for that. I will give you a single chance.”

Gyokuen bristled. “A chance for what?”

“To tell me what is in that book Lady Ah-Duo has. The investigation has also traced several assassination attempts against her in the last month to you as well. Fortunately, her household is well trained and brushed them off easily, but it has only added to His Majesty’s anger. If I am going to protect my position, protect my son’s position, I can’t afford any more surprises.” She folded her hands in her lap. “What leverage does Lady Ah-Duo have over you?”

She stared her father down, the pleasant smile gone from her face for the first time in his presence since she was a little girl. Gyokuen stared back, as if he didn’t recognize her. She simply kept her composure and waited for him to speak.

Finally, “That book is the Yi family register.”

“I see. And what is in that register that you don’t want people to know?” She asked, her tone effortlessly steady.

Her father’s breath hitched, even as he schooled his own voice to evenness. “When I married Seibo, she was already pregnant. Ou’s blood father is listed there.”

His blood father. Gyokuyou stared at the man in front of her. She had always wondered why she so strongly resembled her mother. “And the rest of your children?”

Gyokuen was silent.

She took a deep breath. “I see. So, instead of properly adopting your concubines’ children into the family officially - which would be perfectly legal and acceptable to do - you instead falsified the register to imply that you were our blood father. And if this got out, the court would assume that you slipped a foreign cuckoo into the Emperor’s bed rather than a child of your body. In short, fraud.”

“He can never find out, Gyokuyou! If he does - ”

“Would it be worse than Ou’s nasty little theory?” She narrowed her eyes at the man in front of her. “Which is why you panicked when the Moon Prince’s paternity was revealed - even if the details weren’t as salacious as your favorite son’s imagination, it was close enough that you felt justified in securing your investment without thought for the careful alliances I have built.”

Gyokuen ran a hand over his face. ‘I’ve told you, Lakan and the Moon Prince are not your allies! They cannot be trusted!”

“And you can?”

The words sat between them, a wedge.

Gyokuen took a careful, deep breath. “Blood or not, you are my daughter. I have cared for you, educated you, saw to it that you rose in the world. We cannot afford to be divided now.”

“I would feel better about your declaration of care if I hadn’t seen what it was worth. After all, you loved Ou dearly - but that didn’t stop you from ordering his execution, did it?” She kept her tone light, pleasant. A contrast to the poison she spit at the man in front of her.

He reared back. “How did you - ?”

“Know? You just told me.” Gyokuyou shook her head. “You were right. Families are complicated and everything I thought I knew about you has changed.”

“Gyokuyou…” Gyokuen breathed.

“You will address your Empress with the proper respect,” she said, lightly. Oh so lightly.

His eyes widened, but he immediately bowed before her. “Forgive me, Your Majesty.”

She picked up her fan and angled it across her body. “I am generous. Given that there was no permanent harm done and in light of your support thus far, I am willing to forgive you.”

Gyokuen’s head stayed lowered, but she thought she saw him breathe a sigh of relief.

She continued, the light, pleasant tone turning cold, cutting through the pleasant, early summer air like an unexpected icy wind. “If you ever take an action like this again, the next execution will be your own. My son cannot afford liabilities who put his position at risk,” she continued. “And make no mistake - your crime is known. You have lost His Majesty’s trust. I suggest you focus your attention where your talents lie, building support for your grandson by demonstrating the virtues of greater integration of the West with the rest of the empire. I will secure the Crown Prince’s position myself.”

She saw her father flinch, but he wisely said nothing in the face of Imperial disfavor.

“You may go,” she dismissed him.

Gyokuen backed away, head lowered until he was no longer in her direct presence and she watched as he made his way through the garden path, away from the pavilion. She had no doubt he was about to get another very unpleasant surprise - an example still had to be made, after all. Her father’s longtime chief aide had been the one to actually make the payment to the alchemist, secure Lianshi’s services, and give her the gold salts. He would take the fall - and Gyokuen would know to condemn his friend to save his own face.

It was not the punishment Gyokuen deserved, but it would have to suffice in favor of the most politic solution. She couldn’t afford to throw away the facade of her son’s biggest backer. And the man could still be quite useful.

She took a deep breath, the sparkle in her eyes returning. Now that the most unpleasant bit of business was out of the way, she could focus on planning the next garden party. She had a lot to do!

The Emperor intended for it to be an event to remember.

Had it truly been five years since that first garden party she had been attendant upon then-Consort Gyokuyou, while the chill wind punctuated the brilliant autumn foliage on display? No longer a lowly food taster, Maomao stood near one of the braziers that were set up around the garden party - it was not yet time for the guests to take their seats, but the event was much warmer than in years past, thanks to the proliferation of hot stones that were available for those attending to warm themselves with.

It was nice to see such a simple innovation have a positive effect, years later.

Attending as a noble lady instead of a servant however, meant that she had even less to do than the first time. The purpose of the garden parties, for the women, was to attract attention - whether that attention be romantic or professional. Her employment was secure and as for receiving any hairpins from those who might wish to engage her attention? Well, any who might have been inclined were quickly discouraged by the single hairpin she wore, tucked above one ear. Silver, with poppies climbing the shaft to bloom under the crescent moon.

The Moon Prince was not subtle when it came to the single woman upon whom he had bestowed his favor.

The supposedly sudden, whirlwind romance had swept through the imperial court over the summer. From their perspective, a uniquely beautiful, noble girl had seemingly shown up out of nowhere to first captivate the court, then their Imperial Majesties and, finally, the Moon Prince.

I’ve been right here this whole time!

But nobody had thought to look at a small bud, hidden among the humble grass and clover. A servant and pleasure district apothecary had been beneath their notice.

Maomao sighed and put the stone back to warm, tucking her hands inside the sleeves of her robes and turning, only to feel her features twist in a scowl she couldn’t quite hide.

Gyokuen was talking to a group of lords and ministers, that grandfatherly, jovial smile on his face. He turned around slightly and caught her gaze for only a second before his eyes quickly flitted away from her, focusing his attention on the men in front of him.

“Come, my lady. Better not scowl at Lord Gyokuen like that,” Chue murmured in her ear.

She turned her face away from the old man so that the target of her ire wouldn’t be immediately obvious. “The nerve of that son of a bitch,” she growled.

Chue patted her arm. “It was truly unfortunate that his aide took such an action on his own recognizance, but Lord Gyokuen cannot be held responsible for the actions of his subordinate. He already offered his apology to the Moon Prince and their Imperial Majesties and swore to be more vigilant in the future.”

She took a deep breath, wondering how many people actually believed the story. But she would have to uphold it. Because while letting Gyokuen go free was distasteful, punishing him would have also would have seen Empress Gyokuyou divorced, her children disinherited and Jinshi immediately reinstated as the Crown Prince.

I hate politics. The man ought to have been force fed a taste of his own medicine!

“Empress Gyokuyou’s family is a real piece of work,” she muttered. “I don’t know why we were surprised after everything in the Western Capital.”

Chue sighed. “And yet, Lord Shikyou is being an admirable puppet of the West. Children are not their parents - or their grandparents.”

Maomao briefly thought of that broken woman, staring out the window, singing a lullaby over and over again. “I suppose not.”

“Cheer up, my lady. This is supposed to be a party - and you are out of mourning now.” Chue fixed a strand of hair, smiling at her.

“Yes.” She looked around. “I still wish they’d hurry and set up the pavilion already.”

Chue laughed. “Patience, my lady. Let’s walk - besides. Miss Chue sees the strategist.”

Maomao immediately began walking, keeping a quick pace. Occasionally she was stopped by various members of the court, all of whom glanced at the pin in her hair and made small talk that could have followed a script.

Yes, the Moon Prince was quite well these days - as they could see for themselves.

Yes, the Moon Prince’s consort selection had, once again, been delayed. Lady Maomao was known to be quite close to the Empress - perhaps she might have some insight into who was being considered for the roles of his first and second concubines?

Nobody bothered asking her about who would be assuming the role of his legal wife. Those who still vied for a position in the Moon Prince’s household had decided that competition in the face of the Moon Prince’s obvious favor was counterproductive. Instead, the ambitious tried to ingratiate themselves with the presumed mistress of the household.

The two, silly girls she’d been listening to with only half an ear for the conversation suddenly lit up, eyes wide and their faces flushing. Maomao turned to find roses blooming far too late in the season as a certain prince stood behind her, smiling his sparkliest smile at her companions. “Ladies, could you forgive me if I stole your companion away?” he asked.

“N-not at all, M-m–moon Prince!” one of them managed to stutter.

Jinshi guided her away with a warm hand on her elbow. “There, I have you to myself,” he murmured.

“Not for long. Don’t you have ministers to schmooze?” she asked, scowling at his hand on her arm as they strolled.

Jinshi just smiled - not the charming facade, but the small quirk of his lips as his eyes warmed. “I’ve been doing that for the last hour. Am I not entitled to a break?”

“Absolutely not,” she responded, careful to keep her tone absolutely deadpan.

He flushed gently, laughing. “Well then, I’ll just have to shirk my duties to spend time annoying my apothecary. I think I feel a headache coming on.”

“I know I feel a headache coming on.” She schooled her face to the impassive expression she had gotten used to using since the spring garden party. “What is taking so long with that pavilion?”

“Honestly, I’m not sure.” Jinshi glanced around. “The Emperor has a couple of announcements planned - I think we can guess what they are.”

It was officially time for General Lo to step aside and Grand Commandant Kan to ascend as General Kan. That announcement had been expected for a while - the handoff had actually been taking up enough of Lakan’s attention that he hadn’t bothered her too badly. But the court anticipated a far more exciting announcement.

The Moon Prince’s wedding to Lady Kan Maomao, including the important detail of setting a date.

Honestly, the sooner the better. The decision had been made months ago and while Maomao had appreciated the chance to mourn her dad properly, at this point she wanted to get on with it! The sooner she was out of the La Clan’s home, the better. Although…

“And here I thought you were having fun playing Go and Shogi with the old fart every time you came to visit,” she couldn’t help but tease.

Jinshi grimaced. “Talk about being humbled. I dread the sight of that tiny hourglass he pulls out.”

“I dunno. I appreciate that he’s making you play quickly - it means you’re not stuck with him for hours at a time,” Maomao pointed out. Lakan had a single rule for Jinshi while officially courting his daughter - Jinshi had to play a game of either Go or Shogi (Lakan’s choice) to Lakan’s satisfaction before he and Maomao were allowed to spend time together.

And, loathe as she was to give the old fart credit for anything, she rather thought that Jinshi was benefiting from the timer - the logic of which Lahan had pointed out to her.

He’s overthinking his moves. Our honored father is forcing him to practice simply making a decision, whether it be right or wrong, under pressure and quickly. Lahan had said, the two of them peering at a Shogi game around the doorjamb.

Maomao had considered stomping his toes. What do you mean?

The Moon Prince prefers to act once all the pieces are in place - when he can be assured not only of overwhelming victory but more importantly, he is not risking any type of error. And that caution is good, but it hobbles him in the court, because when he can’t exert that careful planning, he becomes anxious. So our father is teaching him how to overcome that anxiety in a relatively safe setting, while also making sure he has plenty of motivation. He had smirked at her before stifling his ‘ow!’ as she stomped his heel - a place he had not thought to armor.

Perhaps it was a consequence of Jinshi’s quiet contentment or maybe the old fart’s constant games were having an effect, but he did seem much calmer and more assured than he had in the past.

A chill wind fanned several golden ginkgo leaves past them and Maomao shivered. “Well, I hope they finish soon. I heard the Empress actually set up the tables this year with low braziers underneath to heat everyone’s legs.”

“His Majesty tested it out last week and has demanded that every single outdoor banquet in the cold has to have this setup from now on, so I think we can be assured that it works,” Jinshi commented, turning his sparkling smile on a passing group of lords who watched them and murmured behind their hands.

One member of the group paused to speak to them. “Moon Prince,” a reedy looking man said, his baby face lighting up with an unctuous smile.

“Lord Hao,” Jinshi responded politely, with no sparkling charm to be seen.

Maomao used every bit of self control to keep her thoughts off her face. His Majesty had all but banished Hao from the court ever since he had so thoughtlessly revealed Jinshi’s parentage a year ago. She wasn’t sure what had inspired the explicit invitation to this garden party, but here he was, eyes eagerly trained on her and Jinshi. “A pleasure to see you, Moon Prince. And this lovely lady on your arm must be Lady Maomao.”

“Lord Hao,” she dipped her head toward him, her expression scrupulously bland.

The man appeared to take that for welcome, the smile widening on his face. “It is good to see that you have fully recovered your health. Truly, the ambition and savagery of some knows no bounds.”

“Indeed. But I am fortunate - I had a very qualified apothecary to see me through the worst of it.” Jinshi smiled at Maomao.

Lord Hao glanced between the two of them. “Indeed. Sometimes things do work out for the best, even if they don’t feel like it at the time.”

That’s not an excuse for what you did! Maomao thought, inhaling sharply, but Jinshi beat her to it.

“Words of wisdom indeed. Of course, sometimes discretion is also the better part of valor, wouldn’t you agree?” Jinshi smiled, but there was nothing charming about it, the flash of his teeth more like a knife’s edge.

Lord Hao looked like he might try to say something else, but a gong rang as the Emperor entered the banquet to take his seat. “I believe that is our cue, Lord Hao,” Jinshi finished. “Do enjoy the party.” He swept them both away in an elegant twist of his wrist that shielded Maomao from Hao’s gaze.

Chue snickered. “Excellent work, Moon Prince.”

“Don’t look back, but his face is perfect,” Basen chimed in from where the two of them were trailing behind Jinshi and Maomao.

Jinshi just smiled with a certain amount of satisfaction before turning to Maomao. “Time for me to go up on the dais. I’ll see you after the party?”

“I’m pretty sure you’ll be able to see me during it - the old fart should be sitting right by you,” she retorted.

“True.” He took her hand and bowed over it, pressing a kiss to the back before glancing up at her with a wicked expression through his eyelashes.

She pressed her lips together, knowing damn well that she had blushed, even as they both heard the squeal of his admirers. “I’ll see you later, Master Jinshi.”

Jinshi and Basen left, leaving Maomao with the sensation of his lips tingling against her hand, which she carefully wiped against her skirt while Chue chuckled. “If you’ll come this way, my lady, I believe we’re finally getting started.”

Maomao made her way over to the old fart, who had once again been forcibly shaved for the event, along with Lahan. “Honored Father, Honored Older Brother,” she murmured, only feeling the words stick slightly in her throat.

Lahan shook his head. “It’s disturbing how I manage to feel utterly mocked, still.”

“Wow, you noticed.”

“Children,” Lakan broke in, adjusting the collar of his formal tunic while Maomao and Lahan looked at each other in horror - had Lakan just pretended to be the mature one here?

Chue, as ever, slid between Maomao and the rest of the La Clan. “Better take your seat, my lady.”

The La Clan sat, Lahan on duty to keep Lakan under control until after whatever announcements were going to be made - then Maomao would switch off with him. It was at least a familiar rhythm by now, although Maomao continued to debate the virtues of a leash as the rest of the party were seated.

The Emperor stood, as the rest of the Imperial family remained seated. But there was a change to the seating arrangement that was setting tongues wagging - Jinshi was seated at the Emperor’s right, rather than the Empress or Empress Dowager. What had been his former place, when he was still the heir apparent. Whispers began to run up and down the tables.

“Maybe they’re not announcing a wedding date after all!”

“I knew it! Pay up - that was ten silver on a new Crown Prince for the garden party!”

“But what about the Empress?”

Maomao glanced at Empress Gyokuyou, who was seated at the Emperor’s left. She was smiling with the excited expression she had worn so often in the Rear Palace. She certainly didn’t look like a woman who was anticipating her son being pushed aside - but Maomao had a knot in her stomach. She turned her gaze to Jinshi, who continued to wear his perfect nymph’s smile, hiding his true thoughts from the court.

“Today, we will acknowledge the long, honorable service of General Lo as he begins his long-awaited retirement,” the Emperor began, his voice ringing clear so that all could hear him.

Maomao sighed. Well, at least this was anticipated. She stopped paying attention as the Emperor recounted General Lo’s accomplishments to the court before extolling the virtues of his successor. Blah blah, diplomatic blah. This could have been a letter.

Lakan stood to receive some sort of fancy sword from General Lo, who did an excellent job, Maomao thought, of not looking like he wanted to plunge it through Lakan’s heart. She felt Lahan tense beside her, however, until the handoff was completed and Lakan knelt before the Emperor to receive the title of ‘General’ officially.

Lakan retook his seat, sighing in what might have been a moment of regret. Delegation was even more important than ever, but his days of loafing around his office and listening for rumors was now severely curtailed. Maomao spared a moment of pity for poor Onsou.

“Lady Kan Maomao, approach.”

Huh? She blinked and looked around. Most of the banquet seemed as confused as she was, but Lakan merely grinned at her and nodded in encouragement.

She stood and approached the Imperial dais, sinking into that careful, practiced bow before the Emperor, the Empress and Jinshi. “Your Majesty?”

“Raise your head,” the Emperor said, his voice warm. Maomao obeyed and saw that his eyes crinkled at the corners. “We would be remiss if We did not acknowledge the Ka family’s debt to you, personally.”

Her eyes stretched wide and she opened her mouth to demur, but quickly shut it again when the Emperor caught her gaze with his own and arched his eyebrows at her, as if challenging her to deny his words.

The Son of Heaven continued, his words ringing out over the assembled court. “When you were no more than a laundry maid in the Rear Palace, you had the courage to warn two consorts of the poison hiding in their everyday accoutrements. Because of your bravery, Princess Lingli’s and Consort Lihua’s lives were saved. And that was only the beginning.”

Maomao tried to keep from fidgeting as the Emperor continued. “Your service in the Rear Palace, as one of the Precious Consort’s ladies-in-waiting was marked by your continued diligence and intelligence, your mantle of protection stretching far beyond our future Empress. You saved Lady Lishu, a girl who is like a daughter to me, from poisoning. You rooted out murder. You intercepted an abortifacient aimed at Consort Lihua, even as you safeguarded the Empress’ pregnancy as well. You secured the services of your late mentor, Doctor Kan Luomen, to deliver the Crown Prince and Third Prince safely. We could recount all of the times you have saved the Moon Prince’s life, but at some point, I believe those assembled would like to eat.” The Emperor paused, allowing a ripple of amusement to pass through their audience. “Suffice it to say that, without you, my oldest son would have been lost to me many years ago. And this does not even begin to address some of your less well-known accomplishments.”

She was in danger of flushing as red as an apple! She hadn’t set out to do any of those things, they had just happened! She glanced at Jinshi, who watched her with his court mask firmly in place, but his eyes crinkled around the edges in a sign of genuine pride before that gaze returned to His Majesty’s continuing speech. Maomao guessed that Jinshi had no more idea of what the Emperor was up to than she did.

The Emperor caught her attention as that speech went on. “You have also aided in national diplomacy. You have provided foreign guests with impossible requests that were made easy and medical care when it seemed none was possible. It was also your extensive knowledge and intelligence that has brought malicious foreign actors to Our notice before any harm could be done.” He paused. “Your wisdom in foreign affairs is matched by your intelligence in domestic concerns.”

Oh, she did not like where this was going! She glanced at Empress Gyokuyou, who just grinned at her. If all eyes had not been upon them, Maomao was quite sure that the mother of the nation would have flashed her a thumbs up!

“It was you who guided your sovereign and Ka Zuigetsu through the Shrine of Choosing - a ritual as old as the empire itself - to choose our next ruler as the original Queen Mother envisioned, ensuring that we did not lose this vital piece of our history. It was your bravery and cleverness that inspired you to leave a warning when the Shi Clan boldly kidnapped you from inside the Rear Palace, giving Ka Zuigetsu the vital clue he needed to realize that the north was in rebellion.” The Emperor paused and looked out at those assembled. “It was you who took over the surgery that saved Our life when assistance was desperately needed and it was you who nursed Us back to health. Because of you, We will rule for many more years and see Our younger children grow. Your loyalty and virtue are beyond question.”

The murmurs of the court behind Maomao grew. She couldn’t hear everything, but she managed to catch individual words and phrases.

Worthy of the Moon Prince.

Wedding date announcement.

Crown Princess.

Jinshi’s nymph-like smile never slipped, the perfect picture of the serene prince. Only Maomao seemed to notice the tension around his eyes, the set of his shoulders, as if bracing for a blow.

The Emperor caught Maomao’s attention as he focused his gaze back on her and took a deep breath, his voice ringing out over the garden party with practiced resonance. “Therefore, it is our honor and pleasure to bestow a name upon Lady Maomao.”

Maomao was grateful that her back was to the assembled audience, because she was fairly certain that her expression mimicked Jinshi’s, whose court mask broke as he stared at His Imperial Majesty with rounded eyes, shocked, clearly struggling to figure out what in the heavens was going through the Emperor’s mind.

Jinshi was the one who was supposed to receive a name! Why is the Emperor giving one to me? What am I supposed to do with a name of my own?

The Emperor gestured and Gyokuyou came forward with a small box that she presented to her husband. The Emperor opened it and pulled out what looked like a royal plaque - but instead of jade, it was made of gold. “Approach, Lady Maomao.”

She felt as if she were moving with the slow, syrupy quality of a dream as she obeyed, kneeling before the Imperial family. The Emperor placed the plaque in her upraised hands and she stared down at it. There was a design engraved on the front - a qilin, holding a crescent moon between two paws. When she flipped it over, it was likewise marked with a single character.

金

“With this, We bestow the name Jin upon you. Rise, Lady Maomao, the first of Clan Jin.”

Jin. Gold. She stared down at the gold plaque with a royal symbol in her hands and rose, unable to keep from staring at the Emperor with wide eyes.

He smiled at her. “This name also carries with it a boon. Anything it is within the Emperor’s right and privilege to grant shall be yours.”

You’ve already given me more than I asked for! What on earth - oh! She glanced at Jinshi, who had at least closed his mouth and was watching her with a mixture of pride and consternation.

A golden dragon with four toes that had once held an orb of purple amethyst.

A gold plaque marked with the same qilin that was Jinshi’s right to wear within the royal family, holding his sigil.

She met the Emperor’s eyes with her own and she saw him nod, ever so slightly.

Her world focused around her, and she drew herself up. “Your Majesty is generous. I gratefully accept this honor and, with your permission, I will claim that boon now.”

“Smart girl,” she heard the Emperor murmur, for her ears alone. Louder, so the crowd could hear him, “What boon do you request of Us, Lady Maomao?”

She looked at Jinshi, who watched her with wide eyes, as if trying to figure out what on earth she and the Emperor were up to now. He hadn’t gotten it yet. No matter. She would be happy to enlighten him. “To propagate this new name, I ask that you bestow the hand of the Moon Prince upon me.”

If the banquet had burst into chatter before, it positively exploded now. The implications of Maomao’s request were slowly filtering through the event, but the only reaction she cared about was Jinshi’s.

He was slack-jawed, tears standing in his eyes and the most beautiful flush on his face as the shape of the Emperor’s plan was suddenly clear to him as well. Basen stood behind him, grinning openly as Gaoshun placed a hand on Jinshi’s shoulder to remind him to close his mouth in front of the court - but with a gentle squeeze of encouragement.

One voice broke through above all the others, “This is unacceptable! To marry the Moon Prince into another clan, like a common concubine?!” Lord Hao was on his feet, red faced and nearly foaming at the mouth.

Maomao arched her brows at Jinshi. “Well, I intended to take a husband, but I suppose you do have experience administering harems. Would you build me a stable of young stud horses?” She teased Jinshi, keeping her voice low enough not to carry across the entire banquet.

Empress Gyokuyou nearly choked on her own tongue, laughing.

The risque joke was well timed, because the Emperor also smirked at Jinshi’s sudden glare for Maomao before addressing Lord Hao and the rest of the court. “Are you suggesting that I would marry Princess Lingli out as a concubine, Lord Hao?”

Hao’s mouth flopped open and shut, but he managed to come up with, “The princess is not in line for the throne!”

“Ah, thank you, uncle. That reminds me.” He turned to Jinshi. “Zuigetsu, I will give you this choice. To accept this marriage is to forfeit the name Ka and give up all rights of inheritance. Your name would be Jin, your children would be the heirs of Lady Maomao’s body rather than members of the imperial family.” The Emperor smiled slightly - Maomao thought she detected a hint of sadness.

There was, however, none in Jinshi’s expression, which had lit up with an unreserved delight that even Maomao had never seen before. The grin splitting his face was punctuated by the tears that finally fell from his eyes as he rose, left his seat of honor and bowed before the Emperor. “Your Majesty, it would be my honor and my joy to accept this marriage,” he said, his beautiful voice turned hoarse.

Maomao held out her hand and Jinshi blindly grabbed it as they both bowed before their Imperial Majesties.

“Well, then. I think, with such a husband at your side, Lady Maomao, the two of you will be up to the task I have for your clan. We bestow upon the Jin Clan the province of Shi-hoku, to administer and rule in Our name.”

Whoa! What am I supposed to do with a province, let alone a name?!” Maomao couldn’t help but think, but as she glanced at Jinshi she thought she saw his shoulders fall with the sudden reminder that Imperial gifts inevitably carried the sting of responsibility. Then again, it’s not like he didn’t rule the West while he trained Shikyou. He’s got experience. And it’s also not like Li has never had a matrilineal clan before…

“Forgive me, my Emperor, but what is to prevent their children or their children’s children from making a play for the throne in the future? This decision seems like an unnecessary confusion of the line of succession.” Gyokuen’s voice came from his removed position on the Imperial dais.

The Emperor’s eyes turned cold as his father-in-law’s question rang out over the garden party, but this was clearly a challenge he had anticipated. Maomao saw him glance over her head and nod just the slightest fraction.

“The Jin Clan would hardly be the first to have a former Crown Prince married into their ranks,” came an elderly, quavering voice that nevertheless carried across the assembled court with steely strength. “The Shin Clan also received that honor and we have been loyal servants of the crown ever since.” The Shin Clan’s matriarch held out her hands and one of her nephews put the clan’s treasure in her hands - a gold statue of a four-toed dragon that had been meticulously restored, holding an amethyst orb.

Jinshi stared at that dragon, gobsmacked, and Maomao squeezed his hand. She had suspected that Lakan and Lady Ah-Duo were making the case that Jinshi could be given his own name safely, based on the Shin Clan’s example. She hadn’t expected to receive the name instead, but she carefully held that gold plaque against her chest, even as a thought occurred to her.

“I hope you’ve got money of your own that isn’t out of the royal treasury, because Shi-hoku was a mess the last time I checked,” she murmured to Jinshi.

He startled at the thought, but squeezed her hand and managed to get out, “It might take a little bit before we can afford to build you that greenhouse. Can you wait?”

She shrugged. “I suppose.”

They grinned big, foolish grins at each other.

The Emperor just shook his head at both of them. “Zuigetsu’s dowry has already been arranged,” he said for their ears on the dais before raising his voice again. “Well then. How fortunate that everyone is already gathered. Today we will wed Lady Maomao and Ka Zuigetsu!”

Well. Maomao couldn’t fault the Emperor and his sense of spectacle as servants began to circulate through the banquet, hanging red swaths of cloth as the autumn garden party began to be converted to a wedding!

“H-hey! Now?” Jinshi broke out, eyes wide.

The Emperor gave the two of them an exasperated look. “If I wait for the two of you to arrange it, Lingli will be the first to give me grandchildren.”

Maomao snorted and squeezed Jinshi’s hand. “I’m not staying under the old fart’s roof one more night if I have the option of my husband’s bed instead,” she pointed out.

Jinshi blushed bright red.

“Well then! Maomao, with me. Moon Prince, if you’ll go with Gaoshun, we’ll get you both ready for your wedding!” The Empress clapped her hands and swept them both up. “Your Majesty, with your permission, I will take over preparing her while the steward sees to our guests.”

The Emperor smiled at his Empress. “You are a treasure, as always, my dear. I leave this in your capable hands.”

And with that, Maomao was swept away in a swirl of silk and perfume as the Empress’ ladies crowded around her to escort her to the Empress’s palace to be made ready for her wedding.

“This is going to be a very long day,” she sighed, carefully cradling that gold plaque. The sound of beating wings caught her attention as a pair of doves burst from the eaves of the palace to take flight against the brilliant blue of the sky, disappearing against the golden light of the sun.

“Maomao, hurry up!” Yinghua scolded, shivering all the while in her fine clothes. “We’ve got a hot bath ready to go, just as soon as we get in from the cold!”

She smiled and quickened her step. Being late for her own wedding would be terribly rude, after all.

Chapter Text

Zui looked radiant in red.

The Emperor stood quietly in the doorway, watching Gaoshun and Basen attend to his son, draping him in his wedding attire adorned with the Imperial dragons that he would wear for the last time. The room swam a little as he blinked tears back to prevent them from falling.

One should not play favorites with their children - indeed, he tried not to. Lingli was quite dear to him, as were both of his sons by Gyokuyou and Lihua. He had opportunities with those two boys he had never had with Zui as a child, able to openly shower them with attention and affection that he’d been required to strictly control when Zui was little, in order not to attract his grandmother’s notice.

But Zui was special to him in a way that he didn’t think any other child of his would ever be. And it had nothing to do with the fact that he was his child by Ah-Duo, even though he saw so much of her in their son that sometimes it was hard to breathe. No, he thought it was rather something more fundamental than that.

For Zuigetsu, he had grasped his birthright with both hands and chosen to rule. Slowly, steadily, pulling control of the nation away from his ruthless grandmother and incompetent sire. To be a father to his own boy, he had ascended from a spoiled Crown Prince to an Emperor-in-waiting.

He still remembered the day he had been shaken out of the fog of his grief and rage.

He wandered the halls of the palace aimlessly, trying to sort his thoughts into some kind of order.

Ah-Duo was still here. Aside from the grief of losing their beautiful baby, his stomach was in knots with the knowledge that his Crown Princess would also leave him. It was only a matter of time. Indeed, she had mostly recovered from the birth by now - had their son lived, he would have been turning three months old. His baby brother would be receiving his official name any day now.

But when he discreetly checked, asking their milk brother to gently probe her about any plans to leave so that he could at least steel himself to smile as she finally broke free of the palace and spread the wings he had thoughtlessly clipped, Ah-Duo had given no indication that she was preparing to leave.

Her bags were not packed.

The Office of Records had no divorce request, on grounds of infertility, on file.

Suiren was still attendant on his lady mother. She was entitled to a pension at any time; if she chose to take it as a lump sum, it would be more than enough seed money to see her daughter’s merchant empire started (he had no doubt that Ah-Duo would build an empire of her own, given half a chance).

Why?

It made no sense. He knew she still sobbed every night for their lost baby, but surely the fulfillment of her dreams would provide some solace? The work alone would at least keep her busy. It was how he managed, day to day, applying himself to his studies with a diligence that had earned him genuine, if backhanded, praise from his grandmother.

Truly, Kyouyou, in every tragedy lies opportunity. It is pleasing to see you grasp it, rather than continuing to fritter away your time in idle dreams. She had watched him with lidded eyes, the osmanthus of her perfume choking off every retort, even as she gave him an awkward squeeze of the shoulder that he could only imagine she thought was encouraging.

He continued to pace the halls, turning the problem over in his mind, until he realized he stood outside the door to his mother’s chambers. It had been three weeks. He should check on her and his baby brother - Heaven only knew his father would not.

He had never feared his father, growing up. He hadn’t known enough to fear him. If anything, he rather thought his father was afraid of him, instead. But the birth of the two boys had upended their family balance. For the first time in his life, he was expendable. Not too expendable, since the tragedy drove home how fragile babies truly were, but his grandmother had made clear that if he stepped out of line, she would be perfectly happy to have a new, young mind to mold.

Especially one who looked so like her own baby boy.

He clenched his fists for a moment before politely requesting entry to the Empress’ chambers.

Suiren greeted him. “Your Exalted Highness,” she murmured, sinking into the proper obeisance.

For once, he accepted the formality without protest. “I have come to attend to my honored mother and see how she and my baby brother fare. Is she available?” he asked, keeping his tone even, returning her formality with his own.

“Of course.” She pulled open the door to his mother’s inner chambers and he entered.

A nursemaid was rocking the baby in a cradle, his mother no doubt being summoned from elsewhere in her suite, before coming to her feet and bowing. “Your Exalted Highness,” she murmured.

He nodded and approached the cradle, feeling his heart clench as he did so. His baby brother and his son had looked so alike. “How is he?” he asked.

“The child is doing quite well. It’s almost time to feed and change him, however. With your permission, I will attend to these tasks,” the nursemaid said, eyes downcast.

He almost dismissed her as requested, but his attention was caught by a hint of nervousness in her demeanor. “It’s all right. If he begins to cry, then you can take him.” He reached down and scooped his brother up into his arms, carefully supporting his head and neck as he had learned to do so recently. “Hello, little one,” he smiled as the baby looked at him with wide, obsidian eyes and a scrunched up little face.

Round, just like the moon.

He hadn’t told Ah-Duo that he overheard her crooning “Yue” to their boy, but he had picked out a name that would allow her to use the moniker after his official naming. He wondered what name this little boy would receive. Really, it was eerie. His brother felt so comfortable in his arms, yawning and watching him with the exact same kind of wide-eyed trust that his own son had.

“I’m sure he must be ready - ”

“Liying,” Suiren interrupted, watching him with the baby in his arms. “You will be called if needed. Why don’t you attend the young prince’s rooms? This is a good opportunity to change out the linens.”

The nursemaid bowed and left the room, leaving him with Suiren and the baby. His nursing mother watched them both with a fond, almost resigned, look on her face. “She was right. He will need to be changed soon, unless you wish to do it, Yoh.”

His attention now thoroughly caught, he looked up at Suiren with a faint scowl that he knew was a remnant of his childhood. “It seems a simple enough task.”

Suiren held out the supplies to him with a triumphant smile that he knew meant that he had gotten himself into something. But there was also an expectant edge to her expression that had him wordlessly take the linens from her and lay the baby down, gingerly undoing the diaper that was twisted in some strange, magical way that he wasn’t sure he could replicate.

The baby was wet, but thankfully he had not soiled himself too badly! He had a feeling that Suiren would have let him clean that up with glee, after his bold declaration about the difficulty of changing a diaper. Still, he took the warm, damp cloth he was given and did his best to wipe the baby’s bottom thoroughly.

And then stopped, staring in shock.

Some of the nursemaids had made sure to brownnose His Majesty and the Empress Regnant by pointing out how perfect this second son was - a baby without a single flaw on his skin, whereas the Crown Prince’s son had a birthmark where his bottom met his thigh that he’d always thought was shaped a bit like a flower. He had scowled, but held his tongue, as if a birthmark could somehow make his child less perfect.

A birthmark that was staring right at him.

He held the baby’s legs above his shoulders as he turned a wide-eyed gaze to Suiren, who simply held up a pre-folded diaper to him. “We should cover him back up,” was all she said.

He wasn’t sure how he managed to get the diaper wrapped around the baby at all. He suspected Suiren was going to have to redo it sooner rather than later. He didn’t care.

He just held his boy against his heart, silent tears streaming down his face.

Now it made sense. Ah-Duo did, indeed, have something to stay for. And even if she mourned her dreams and his true baby brother who had somehow been entrusted to her care and lost, he knew he would not lose her. Not yet. There would be questions later, he was sure. How on earth this could have happened, who exactly knew?

But he knew the one person who must never find out.

Suiren wiped his face for him, a complicated expression in her eyes, but she was silent. He also said nothing, focusing on cradling his precious boy. He looked at that little, round, trusting face and laid his forehead against the baby’s for a moment. “I’m here,” he whispered. “I’ll protect you.”

His mother entered the room, an apprehensive expression on her face as she saw the tableau in front of her - him, holding the baby with red-rimmed eyes, Suiren nearby. Still, she said nothing, merely coming over to put her hand on his shoulder and look down at the baby in his arms. Officially, her second son, his younger brother. “It’s almost time to name him.”

“Zuigetsu,” he said, choking back the remainder of tears in his throat.

Empress Anshi smiled at that, brushing the baby’s cheek with one finger. “The auspicious moon?”

“Yes. It fits him.”

The Empress thought about it for a moment. “I suspect the Empress Regnant and His Majesty will look favorably upon the idea of my sun and moon being paired.”

He took a deep breath. “We are done with worrying solely about what will concern my grandmother. And His Majesty is not to come anywhere near him. I may officially be his older brother, but I will stand as his father.”

His mother’s smile turned genuine. “Then I have no doubt this child will grow into a man we can all be proud of. Just like you.”

“No. He will be better than me.”

The Emperor shook himself back to the present, his baby boy once again all grown up and dressed in the scarlet wedding robes he had begun to despair of ever seeing him in. The path to the wedding altar had been much longer than he’d ever anticipated.

Gaoshun finished arranging the robe around Zuigetsu and the Emperor cleared his throat, bringing attention to his presence for the first time.

“Your Majesty,” all three said, bowing before him.

He smiled. “Gaoshun, Basen, I believe the Empress’ palace is setting up a truly epic gauntlet for our Yue to run. Why don’t you two see to the sedan while I finish getting him ready?”

“Of course, Your Majesty.” His milk brother ushered his own son out with a smile.

Zui watched him. They had spoken, certainly, since the revelation of his true parentage, but it had mostly been quite formal and stiff. He hadn’t known quite how to bridge the distance, so he had fallen back on his station, even as he doggedly worked the levers of politics behind the scenes to find a solution everyone could live with.

Eventually, however, Zui spoke. “Is this really going to be okay?”

He arched his brows. “You marrying into Lady Maomao’s new clan? Imperial princesses do it all the time.”

“Hao was right. I’m not a princess,” Zui began, but the Emperor held up a hand to forestall him.

“There are many things your great-uncle is, but ‘right’ is not one of them. For one thing, the two of you will be the progenitors of a new clan entirely. And there is merit to accompany the risk of having the Imperial bloodline be a little bit more distributed in the future. When my father became Crown Prince, it was only after sickness had swept through the Inner Palace and killed off all the other candidates. Had he not survived - and had my grandmother not been who she was - the country could have fallen into civil war.”

“And what if future generations start to contest the throne?” Zui watched him with those concerned, obsidian eyes.

The Emperor smiled. “One of the most shocking things I’ve learned, as a parent, is that we cannot control our children. To try is not only futile, but destructive.”

Zui took a deep breath. “Why didn’t you tell me? When I was thirteen and I asked to enter the Rear Palace? If I had known how childish my bet was - ”

He arched his brows. “Was it? Because of what you did, you rooted out the Shi Clan’s treachery. Had their rebellion not been strangled in its infancy, the insect plague that came later could have devastated thousands of lives and weakened Li, leaving us open for conquest. You kept war from breaking out until my brother-in-law’s not quite regrettable death. You ruled in my place while I was incapacitated, giving me the time and peace to recover from surgery. Your service to the nation has been exemplary. Easily worthy of the name you requested, had you not been born to the princehood, where such excellence is a forgone conclusion from a Son of Heaven.”

His son’s eyes were dark, but he remained quiet. The Emperor continued, “As for why I didn’t say anything then? Well, for one, I didn’t think you were going to stick with it for six years! You were at an age where many young men are just starting to enjoy love’s pleasures and you were far more stubborn than I ever imagined on that point.” He took a deep breath. “And then I was afraid that my father had somehow circumvented every protection we placed around you, and that was why you were uninterested in love.”

“No!” Zui’s eyes rounded, his mouth dropping open in horror. “No, I only met him once and Mother - I mean, Grandmother came immediately!”

He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding. “That’s good to have confirmed.”

“I mean, I wasn’t happy about the random men and women climbing through my bedroom window, but if I thought being a eunuch was going to make that stop, I learned otherwise very quickly,” Zui continued and the Emperor felt his hand clench into a fist with impotent rage at the realization that his boy had been subject to such bold propositions.

He let out his breath again with practiced control. It was in the past and, whatever else, it hadn’t prevented Zui from falling in love. “In any case, I wanted you to have more opportunities than I had. And, I’m not sure if you realized at the time, but the Rear Palace is an excellent training ground for the Crown Prince, if unorthodox.”

Zui thought about that for a moment. “Every corner of the empire is represented among the consorts.”

“Yes. It is a reflection of Li. And you learned how to balance your duties there. I was sure that, as time went on and you continued to mature, the thought of the throne would become less intimidating.”

His son was quiet, thinking about that before venturing, “I’m sure that, had my duty required it of me, I would have learned to adjust. Eventually.”

“No doubt. There is very little that we cannot learn to shoulder, in time.” He took a deep breath. “But then you discovered a pleasure district apothecary hidden in the Imperial flower garden and everything changed.”

Zui's eyes shone and he smiled at the memory.

“I don’t know where this tendency toward devotion comes from; it certainly wasn’t present in my grandfather’s reign that I’m aware of. But the moment that beam came crashing down and I got the report that you had carried a serving girl away from the scene without your mask, exposing your face for all to see, I knew that you felt the same way about your apothecary that I felt about your mother.” He sighed.

“You were making a very good argument for Maomao’s virtues in favor of her becoming Empress, one day,” Zui observed, wryly.

He huffed in amusement. “She would have been spectacular in the role. Command comes naturally to her and the way she can chill the blood with just a scornful look? I’d have abdicated in your favor, just for the pleasure of watching her be unleashed on the unsuspecting court.” He shrugged. “But it would have been an absolute waste of her true talents. I would hope that, after my father’s example, we might have learned a lesson about valuing the gifts of heaven where they’re given.”

Zui took a deep breath. “You had that piece of wallpaper cut away before that section of the Rear Palace was demolished.”

He nodded. “I did. There was so much to despise about my father that I keep it as a reminder of the man he might have become, had he not been trapped by the role his birth demanded.”

A complicated expression crossed his son’s face, but he was silent.

“You rose to every challenge the princehood threw at you, magnificently. No matter whether those expectations were justified. I maintain that you would have been a good emperor and I would have been proud to pass the throne to you.”

Zui swallowed, eyes shining suspiciously bright.

He continued. “But I’m even prouder to see you have an opportunity I never did.” He reached out and smoothed the edges of his son’s wedding robes down. “To see you escape the palace? To create a family with the woman you love? Free to explore the world for all the fascinating things in it, without the constant struggle for power, for favor?” He smiled, blinking back fresh tears of his own. “I may learn slowly - but I do learn. To keep you here, close to me, would have destroyed you, all because I was afraid to lose you.”

Tears fell down both their cheeks. “I didn’t want the throne - but I am proud to be your son,” Zui managed to get out.

“And I am proud to be your father,” he replied, cupping his boy’s face in between his hands to wipe the tears away with his thumbs, heedless of the tears streaking down his own face. “Whether your name is Ka or Jin, you are my son. Always.”

Zui sniffled and he rested his forehead against his boy’s, just as he did that day he discovered that his son had lived. He had done it. He had protected his child and watched him grow into a better man than he was.

Now it was time to watch him fly.

He pulled away, composing himself. “Besides. The north is a mess and I can think of no one more qualified than you to restore Shi-hoku to glory.”

His son laughed a little. “You realize Maomao is going to turn it into a center of medical research?”

“Good. In fact, Doctor Liu will be breaking off a part of his new pharmaceutical research team to accompany you both north. If a new smallpox epidemic is coming and the capital were to be infected, the doctors here would be entirely busy with the ill. Just like the imperial line, there is virtue in having our best medical minds a bit more distributed. Your dowry will also include a couple of greenhouses, for the purposes of establishing this new medical research center.”

Zui’s laughter grew. “No matter what, she was determined to get her greenhouse!”

“It’s not any less expensive than jewels,” he teased. “I’ve also leased several Imperial properties in perpetuity to certain nobles. The income from those properties will be routed to our new Jin Clan to help you establish yourselves until Shi-hoku’s economy begins to recover properly. So, while you won’t have access to the Imperial Treasury anymore, you shouldn’t want for anything either. Besides, the new palace manager is a competent man, but expenditures have doubled since you stopped running the place.”

“How? The number of concubines is continuing to shrink - he is draping them all in cloth of gold?” Zuigetsu sounded somewhat indignant and he could clearly see the ghost of Master Jinshi in his outrage.

He chuckled. “See? Your frugality will be an asset where you’re going.”

“If you think I’m frugal, you haven’t seen Maomao go after a budget.” His son still shook his head at the seemingly profligate expenditures going on in the Imperial flower garden, but that was no longer his responsibility.

“Well, then. I’m even more sure that the province is in good hands.” He took a deep breath. “I’m also sending the Shi children back to their home, with you.”

Zui frowned. “Is that a good idea? I mean, aside from sending them back to where they lost their parents, there’s also the political implications.”

“Never underestimate the value of marrying the old line into the new to smooth over potential bad sentiment. I expect you to make advantageous marriages for them, as best you can. As for continuity, Lady Ah-Duo and the rest of her household will accompany you to help them adjust.”

“Lady Ah-Duo? But - ”

He took a deep breath. “Life does not end at forty and your mother is not too old to realize her own dreams. You’re established and will soon be settled. She’ll be able to come back and visit any grandchildren - and I expect you and Lady Maomao to get on that in a timely manner, Zui!”

Zuigetsu blushed, but smiled. “Noted.”

“While I do not think she would accept an investment from me into a potential business she wanted to start, I suspect she would feel very differently about the investment coming from you. Besides, I know Ah-Duo. If you give her a copper, she’ll return a fortune to you in ten years.”

“Well. Maomao and I have a province to run. We’re going to need fresh businesses there.”

He smiled. It was good that both his son and iminent daughter-in-law were quick on the uptake. “Indeed. In terms of national defense as well, I have the West locked up with Gyokuyou and her clan - but the North has been vulnerable for the last few years. Having you and Lady Maomao there is a weight off my mind in that sphere as well. Hopefully, you will not need soldiers, but I’m prepared to send them if the diplomatic situation were to suddenly change. And you know Lakan would be leading them.”

Zui winced. “How much of my father-in-law do you think I’ll actually see?”

“More than you both would like, less than if you lived in the capital. Probably once a year. I intend to resume the tradition of going north to escape the summer heat - and that will include bringing the Empress, Lady Lihua and any other concubines with children. But not immediately. You should have some time to yourselves first.”

His son sighed. “That could be worse.” He then startled. “Lakan, not you!”

The Emperor laughed at that. “I understood your meaning.”

Zuigetsu laughed along with him before they both turned their heads at the sound of firecrackers being set off outside. “I think it’s almost time.”

“Yes.” The Emperor picked up the final piece of his son’s wedding attire - the cap adorned in flying Imperial dragons. “Let’s finish getting you ready so you can go retrieve your bride.”

Zui knelt in front of him. Fresh incense burned in the family altar to their side and the Emperor carefully tucked his boy’s tightly bound hair into the cap, fastening it under the chin.

His son turned his face up and he had to bite his lip to prevent fresh tears falling. He wasn’t one to focus on Zuigetsu’s beauty, but today he was magnificent. The obsidian eyes shone with joy, the perfect proportions of his face on full display, the scar faded to white on one cheek. Foolish hearts would break as he said his vows to heaven and earth and his parents today.

But not Zui’s.

Lakan sighed and managed some approximation of courtesy as a pair of Go stones finally stopped talking at him to go mingle elsewhere. He thought they might have been offering congratulations? He’s stopped paying attention about the same time that the same, tired opening gambit left their mouths

For a royal wedding, even though the Moon Prince was officially leaving the imperial family, it was both modest and moving quickly. He knew that. But if a normal garden party was already an overwhelming number of Go stones to sort, this was getting ridiculous.

Still. The look on his daughter’s face when His Majesty had bestowed a name on her was worth it.

It seemed like an obvious gambit to him, but the startled tone of the Emperor’s voice was a good indicator that their sovereign had been too bogged down in tradition to find the solution for himself. Lady Ah-Duo had laughed with glee at the suggestion, before pointing out that making Maomao the head of this new clan both restored the tradition of Li having a matrilineal clan while also being a bit of a screw-you to Gyokuen, who would have been supporting that rather useful trio of Pawns in the Empress’ retinue, had he been more of a Yi man and less of an opportunist.

Oh well. Hypocrisy abounded and it was just as boring as almost everything else about the court.

To distract himself, he pulled a creased letter out of the pocket of his robe and opened it carefully, looking over the beautiful handwriting before re-reading the words he had memorized at this point.

Lakan,

My time has come. You have always felt more deeply than those around you give you credit for. I know you will be devastated when I am gone and I wish I could say something to comfort you.

In lieu of comfort, however, I have something important that I am entrusting to your care. Our daughter. Maomao is going to need you now, more than ever before. I know you have your misgivings about her choice of husband. Truth be told, I have shared them in the past.

But as much as Maomao resembles you to a degree that can be uncanny, in this she is her mother’s daughter. Our woodsorrel has bloomed and the seed has flown the fruit. This is her one chance at love and family - and I think the world will be a poorer place if our Maomao never has children of her own. Her Master Jinshi sees what you and I do - her brilliance, her beauty, her kind heart, but also her stubbornness, her impulsiveness and the fear that can drive her to deny her own best qualities. But with him, she rises to his high opinion of her. They bring out the best in each other.

Most importantly, this is Maomao’s choice. Our little girl has grown up.

That doesn’t mean that she won’t need her father in the future. And you have to be there, Lakan. To put your child’s needs before your own is the duty and privilege of a father.

I won’t ask you not to mourn. But Maomao comes first. And when you see her in that red dress, light an offering in my name.

Love,

Uncle Luomen

He sighed and put the letter away. He would do as his uncle had asked. To which effect, he braced himself as he spotted a white Go stone with a pipe in one hand, escorted by the silver general that he had sent to fetch her. Fengxian was gone, but his mother-in-law remained.

And she also deserved to receive Maomao’s bow to her parents.

“Hmph! So that little prince is finally putting his money where his mouth is?” The Madam of Verdigris House looked around. He could only imagine the expression she was making, but he doubted it was anything complimentary. “Took him long enough!”

The silver general - Lihaku, that was his name - bowed to him. “Sir. Is there anything else you require?”

“Is the Go Sage here yet?” he asked, almost desperately. He could use an actual conversation.

Lihaku shook his head - a slightly exaggerated expression that Lakan could better interpret. “Not yet, sir, but I believe he and his first concubine will be arriving shortly. They have seats reserved beside myself and my wife.”

Lakan nodded. That had been a fortuitous introduction he’d suggested just before they’d had to go clean up Gyokuen’s oldest boy’s mess. Meimei had been good to him and she deserved a comfortable life with a partner who would appreciate her intellect as opposed to only her physical charms. “Good.”

“I see Joka also sitting by Pairin.” The Madam craned her neck. “Where’s our girl?”

“I think the Moon Prince just left to fetch the bride at the Empress’ palace. I heard her ladies in waiting have some truly epic tasks they’ve been thinking up for awhile, so we should have at least an hour before they arrive for the actual ceremony.” Lihaku answered, proving his worth once again as he kept flawless track of the situation around him.

Lakan glanced at the withered old Go stone next to him and, for the first time in his life, wished he could hold his liquor. “Very well. I’ll summon you if I need you.”

Lihaku saluted. ‘Sir!” before he wandered back over to the guests to greet his own wife.

Meanwhile, Lakan sat stiffly in place. The Madam would not appreciate attempts at conversation, so hopefully he could work a Shogi problem in his head while they waited. He could easily picture the board…

“Fengxian would have loved to see this.” The Madam’s voice was uncharacteristically soft.

Lakan startled, feeling unexpected tears come to his eyes. “Yes. Although I wonder if Maomao would have accepted her presence.”

“Probably not.” The Madam sighed. “But then again, she’s always been softer than she likes to let on. For all that her mother chased her away, Maomao never stopped seeing to her care.”

It had also been Maomao who had given him the opportunity to be reunited with his wife, despite this woman’s utterly obstinate objections on the subject. “I’d like to think that. But I suspect it said more about Maomao’s dedication to her craft than it did about her attachment to Fengxian. She has a keen sense of duty.”

“Well, she certainly didn’t get that from you,” the Madam poked, her tongue still as sharp as ever.

Lakan shook his head. “No. That she learned from my uncle.”

The Madam sighed. “It should be him, here today.”

“Yes.” He took a deep breath. “But you and I will have to do.”

They looked at each other and, as one, drew themselves up in some approximation of dignity, staring out over the sea of people.

He could do this. At least for the next few hours. But he started working on one of the most challenging Shogi problems he could imagine in his head, doing his best to ignore the noxious smell of tobacco as his uncle’s last words to him reminded him where his duty lay.

He had no idea what had been in that teacup he’d been given to drink before Gyokuyou’s ladies-in-waiting finally gave him access to the parlor where Maomao would join him, but whatever it was, it still lingered on the back of the tongue. He did his best not to make a face as he desperately worked his jaw, trying to swallow the last of the aftertaste.

Basen snickered next to him. “How much do you want to bet your bride had a hand in that concoction?”

“Don’t say that.” Now Jinshi truly did make a face. “Knowing Maomao, it’ll be some kind of mild poison.”

“Or an aphrodisiac. You’re going to be lucky if Their Majesties aren’t pressed up against the door, just to make damn sure this marriage is consummated.” Basen shook his head at him.

Jinshi blushed, but also arched his eyebrows at his milk brother. “What happened to our innocent little Basen who turned bright red at the mere mention of a wedding night?”

“He got word last week that the U Clan has set a wedding date.” Basen finally began to blush, but he was also smiling. “So, given the fact that my own wedding night will be coming up before you know it, I’m doing my best to get used to the subject.”

“Basen, congratulations!” Jinshi grinned and clapped his best friend on the shoulder. “When is the wedding?”

“Well, the astrologers have specified a spring wedding as the most fortuitous time to marry with our combined star charts, but I suspect it has more to do with the fact that Lishu mentioned that she’d like to be married during the cherry blossom season.” Basen shrugged. “I dropped a word in my mother’s ear about it and aimed her at the wedding planning.”

He wasn’t sure he could handle any more joy today, he was grinning so widely. “You’re getting sneaky. I approve.”

“I’ve learned from the best.” Basen returned his grin before his gaze suddenly turned serious. “You’re gonna be okay without me, right?”

“Pardon?” Jinshi blinked.

“You’re leaving the imperial family. Baryou’s your secretary and Chue is the apothecary’s chief lady-in-waiting, so them going with you makes sense. They’ll be part of your new household. But I’ll be assigned a new ward. Probably Lady Lihua’s son, if I had to guess.”

“How soon?” Jinshi covered his shock with the question.

Basen had been a part of his life since they were both boys. Their roles had been drummed into them for just as long - Jinshi was the prince and Basen his protector. But in the next hour, Jinshi would be marrying into Maomao’s new clan and Basen would soon be married himself in the spring.

The underlying assumption before today was that their children would be raised together in the same roles they themselves had taken - generations of Ka and Ma men intertwined in brotherhood since the First Emperor of Li had established those same named clans and their roles.

But not anymore.

They would be going their separate ways after this - each of them into brand new lives. Jinshi didn’t begrudge Basen’s new ward his best friend’s protection - indeed, that child would have a good man to learn from, just as he had when Gaoshun had stood up to look after him. But it was still a change. Even among all the joy of this moment - and Jinshi would not trade this wedding with its natural consequences for anything in the world - it was still a moment of bittersweetness.

Bashen shrugged and spread his hands. “I’m not sure. Both of the current princes are still primarily in their mothers’ care, and will be for at least another year before their educations begin. Or, depending on any pregnancies in the Rear Palace, Mother might hold my service in reserve for a few years and give me some time to settle into having a family of my own. Fact of the matter is that the Ma Clan is short handed right now. It wouldn’t shock me if Mother locked me and Lishu together in our bedroom until we’ve popped out more Ma babies to bring up the numbers.” His best friend couldn’t hide his shudder at the thought of his mother’s determination.

“So, we’re both worried about parental interference in the marital bed?” Jinshi pressed his lips together. Basen’s predicament would be funnier if he couldn’t picture Lady Taomei’s piercing gaze in his mind’s eye, looking at him with the same expectation that he do his duty that she had trained on him when he had barely been out of diapers and she had caught him about to engage in some sort of mischief.

“Maybe we should move north with you,” Basen joked.

Jinshi smiled and squeezed his friend’s shoulder. “Just so long as you know you’re always welcome in our home.”

Basen smiled at that. “The same goes for you. Besides, it’s not like you’re being banished to the north, never to be seen again. Shishou was in the capital more often than not.”

“True. But I think the north is going to need our presence the majority of the time, especially in the beginning. The Shi Clan ruled that province since Li was founded - people’s memories can be long and we’re going to have to work diligently and carefully to be accepted.” Jinshi sighed. The Emperor’s logic made perfect sense that that grand, overarching manner of the theoretically perfect solution. Especially since His Majesty wasn’t the one who would have to implement the Son of Heaven’s will. No, that would be Jinshi and Maomao’s job.

But that was nothing new. Indeed, it was so familiar that Jinshi found it rather comforting.

“Well, you’re also not getting married and then immediately punted north the next day. I’m at least hoping that you and Lady Maomao will be able to attend my wedding,” Basen said, shifting his feet.

Jinshi smiled at that. “We’ll be there, even if we have to travel down for it.”

“Thanks, Yue.” Basen returned his smile, kindly not calling attention to the fact that both of them were misty-eyed.

“You know, after today, you could actually go back to calling me Zui.” Jinshi smiled at the thought - his name would no longer be the sole right of the Emperor’s to say.

Basen thought for a moment. “I got so used to your titles, it stopped feeling normal. Although, here’s a thought. Do you think your wife will ever call you anything other than ‘Master Jinshi?’”

He stopped and thought about it for a moment. “I don’t think anything other than the name ‘Jinshi’ would feel right coming from her. But I guess we’ll see.”

“We’ll see what?” came a flat, disinterested voice.

Jinshi turned and his breath caught in his throat. Maomao had entered the room, clad in her wedding finery, the bridal veil shielding her features from his gaze. He looked at her with the automatic, trained attention to detail he had honed for years in the Rear Palace so that he could offer genuine compliments to individual consorts, taking in every facet of her dress.

Once again, the Empress showed her favor for the match by integrating the red and gold shot silk that only she had been privileged to wear before today as the main body of Maomao’s attire, broken by turquoise panels embroidered with golden Imperial phoenixes, as well as various flowers. There were the intertwined pink lotuses of a unified couple, but also tiny, yellow woodsorrel delicately tucked in as accents. The veil covered her face, concealing her features from view with the red gauze, embroidered with those floral motifs echoed, along with a wish for happiness at the crown of her head.

Maomao did not bother with a facade of maidenly hesitation either. She approached him with a sure stride, the silks swishing around her, even as he noticed that seemed to blink rapidly against the veil in her face to prevent herself from bumping into anything.

The room narrowed to the woman in front of him as Jinshi stepped forward to catch one hand in his, hesitantly reaching for the edge of her veil to lift it, trembling as he did so.

Her hair was swept away from her face, bound in a turquoise phoenix crown. Her actual jewelry was minimal - fine carnelian beads dangled from her ears and around her throat. The delicate, pink rouge was limited to the corners of her eyes and cheekbones, the lashes darkened modestly, framing those wide, expressive eyes that were trained directly on his. Her lips, however, were painted with the crimson of a married woman, highlighting the shape of that elegant, mobile mouth. Jinshi swallowed against the urge to kiss her here and now, heedless of the fact that her rouge would go absolutely everywhere and ruin what had no doubt been careful work by the Empress and her ladies-in-waiting.

A delicate huadian was pasted between her eyebrows - a gold phoenix, to match the motif of her dress and complement the Imperial dragons he wore. The Empress was an absolute master when it came to making a point. Maomao’s Jin clan would be allied by marriage to the Imperial family and thus, for her wedding day, she was entitled to wear a feminine symbol of royalty.

It suited her. Jinshi may have worked himself to the bone to step out of the line of succession, but when he had idly dreamed of Maomao on their wedding day, the dragon and phoenix, intertwined, had always been a part of his mental image.

“Master Jinshi?” Maomao asked, her eyes clearly communicating a touch of bewilderment at his reaction along with the clear question, what is going on?

Basen snorted from over in the corner.

Jinshi smiled through his tears. “Basen was just asking if you were ever going to call me by my name, instead of ‘Master Jinshi?’”

Maomao just looked at him, exasperated. “I suppose I can drop the ‘master’ now.”

“You could have dropped it years ago!”

“I most certainly could not,” Maomao looked at him with an expression that could only be described as asking a second silent question "Are you sure you want to say something so blatantly stupid?” To be fair, to call him ‘Master Jinshi’ rather than by his title had already been rather bold, but since he had preferred her manner of address, he had never corrected her.

The sound of giggles came from around the corner and Jinshi finished blinking back sentimental tears to see Gyokuyou’s ladies in waiting stacked up behind the door with excited smiles on their faces, unaware of the menace that was slowly looming over them from behind.

“What, exactly, are all of you ladies doing?” came Hongniang’s voice, chilly as the fall air that had nipped at them outside.

To a woman, all of them yelped, including the eldest of the trio of sisters, who had been unexpectedly caught off guard. Even Maomao winced, as if she were just as guilty as the rest of them.

That banished the danger of too much sentiment as he laughed, even as they heard a high pitched voice from down the hall.

“Put that down! Those are my shoes! Ugh, I am gonna flip my shit!

Every last lady in waiting let out a resigned sigh at the sound of Princess Lingli berating her little brother, even as Jinshi pressed a fist against his mouth at the princess’ continuing favorite phrase, much to her imperial father’s consternation.

Maomao blinked, startled. “When did she learn that?”

“Don’t ask,” Jinshi shook his head, surreptitiously passing Guiyuan a small bag of candy. He knew it would end up in Princess Lingli’s hands. After all, he had to cultivate her desire to tell him information he should know and just last week she had proudly declared to the Empress that Jinshi was her “most favorite” and that they needed to get her more big brothers, not these little ones!

Clearly, it was working.

“O-kay…” Maomao looked around, a subtle mix of perplexed and amused in her expression.

Jinshi held out his hand. “The sedan is waiting. Shall we go?”

Maomao reached out and took his hand. “I’m ready. You?”

He grinned at his bride, wondering if he appeared to sparkle with the charm he had carefully cultivated ever since he was old enough to understand the need to present a beautiful facade to the world. He thought, today, those sparkles might be genuine. “I’m ready.”

She squeezed his hand in return

“Excellent!” Empress Gyokuyou swept into the room, trailing the Crown Prince and Princess Lingli behind her, all of them carefully dressed for the wedding in Imperial ochre. “Everyone grab your firecrackers!”

“Yay! C’mon!” Lingli yelled with excitement, pulling her younger brother along by the hand like an especially animated doll. Jinshi noted with amusement that the Crown Prince did not seem perturbed by this treatment one bit, instead following after his big sister with adoration, babbling what sounded like, ‘let’s go’ to echo his mother.

Jinshi gently lowered the red veil again - the next time he lifted it would be in the bridal chamber. Meanwhile, he tucked Maomao’s hand into the corner of his elbow to guide her out. “Let’s go get married,” he murmured to her.

“About time,” was all Maomao said in response, but she squeezed his arm again as Gyokuyou and her household streamed out ahead of them in a parade to the waiting wedding sedan.

“First bow!” the officiant called, to honor the Jade Emperor and the heavens above. The Moon Prince and Lady Maomao sank gracefully to their knees, performing the first kowtow, even as whispers swirled around the wedding guests.

“What a pity…”

“Hush, you! It’s done, there’s nothing further to be said.”

“But I thought there was going to be a concubine selection - instead he’s the concubine?”

“No, he’s her husband - just not the head of the clan.”

“What real man would accept that?!”

“Do you have eyes in your head? Look at the Moon Prince’s face! Is that the expression of a man with a woman in his heart other than the one beside him?”

“But why her?”

Suiren shook her head and smiled, even as she watched the young master and Xiaomao rise to their feet. These silly girls (and lustful men) were finally beginning to recognize that all the coquettish manners, bold propositions and love spells slipped into her young master’s underwear drawer were not the way to his heart.

It had broken her own heart to watch her grandson grow from a curious and exuberant little boy (if perhaps too sheltered) into a cautious, withdrawn man who knew all too well how to wear his own face like a mask, shielding his warm, affectionate nature against the careless cruelty of the court. Within his trusted inner circle, he was still the open-hearted, generous child he had always been, but Suiren had worried. Time would wear that inner circle away and who would be left, if their boy never learned to let anyone else in?

She couldn’t help but smile at the memory of his excitement that first eight or so months, before Xiaomao came to work directly under the young master for a time, when she would hear intermittent stories about his apothecary in the Rear Palace.

“Suiren, have you ever heard of something called chocolate?”

“I need to check on the apothecary’s condition - she’ll be of no use if she’s too exhausted to work and the Crystal Palace put her through the wringer.”

“Did you know that salts can burn different colors?”

Then came the day he had asked her to pick a few trusted people to begin a quiet investigation into common sellers of indentured servants. His order was calm, but she noticed how his hand clenched. Gaoshun had provided context later that evening, when he described how the “ugly, freckled girl” was actually quite pretty underneath her makeup - and how she had come to serve in the Rear Palace.

Xiaomao had started a chain of events, all because she had the good sense to look at their young master’s charming persona and react with disgust to the falsity rather than admiration for his beauty. Suiren had liked her from the moment their boy excitedly described being glared at like a slug.

An idea that would have horrified these silly, flattering girls.

“Second bow!” The couple turned toward their parents - first the Emperor and Lady Ah-Duo sitting together.

Ah-Duo was dressed in the black that had been her official color when she was the Pure Consort, edged with celebratory red. The severe colors looked fantastic on her daughter, as they always did, even as the Emperor himself was dressed in Imperial ochre. The Empress and her children sat a few seats removed, but all of them also dressed in Imperial ochre. To the point, but also gracious. Yoh had chosen an excellent Empress.

She looked at her two children with a mixture of pride and sadness. As quietly angry as she had been at the time to see her foster son clip her daughter’s wings, even then she had understood (and been frustrated by) the fear that drove Yoh, in the face of people leaving, while he remained trapped in the palace. It was why she had never contravened Anshi’s instruction to take away anything their Yue grew too attached to.

Yet, that had not had the intended effect either. Instead of graciously learning to let go, knowing that there would always be another toy, instead the boy mourned each one as if it were the first, until he finally began refusing to get attached at all. Intellectually, he understood the lesson and recognized its importance. But Yue had inherited all of Yoh’s devotion. Pain was enough to make him reticent, but not enough to chill his warm nature.

No, as Suiren watched them begin to rise from their bows to the Emperor and his former consort, she rather thought that the difference was more starkly fundamental.

Yoh had been trapped from the moment of his birth. And while he had wished to pass the throne to Yue as a sign of his pride and trust, Yoh had also fought to loosen the chains around his own son, allowing him the freedom to don the mask of ‘Jinshi’ and forge a new identity, away from the role of Crown Prince.

She smiled. She was proud of all of her children. Her daughter, brilliant and determined, even in the face of her lost dreams (although Suiren was looking forward to Ah-Duo’s face when she was told about Yoh’s order to bring her wards north, in the care of the new rulers). It was time for her beautiful girl to spread those wings and explore the world.

Her foster son, who had learned hard lessons about love and freedom, too late to woo the devotion of his beloved in return, but early enough for him to apply them to his own bride, mentoring his Empress as she came into her own power.

And, of course, her grandson, who had made his own mistakes, learned from them, and won the love of a woman who saw the fundamental decency that would make her young master beautiful even when he was a stooped and wrinkled old man.

Xiaomao and Yue rose and turned their bow to the other set of parents. Suiren discreetly held a finger in front of her mouth to hide her chuckle at the sight.

General Lakan sat next to the Madam of Verdigris House and she was fairly certain that neither of them appreciated the other’s company. They sat upright, the perfect posture looking utterly natural on the madam, her delicate flower withered away to reveal the steel frame underneath. General Lakan, however, looked uncomfortable, blinking away the tears in his eyes as his daughter bowed to thank him for a job that, from all reports, he had tried and failed to do most of Xiaomao’s life. Still, imperfect though he was, he had risen to the occasion when called to do so.

She knew Xiaomo felt the absence of her foster father keenly today, but Suriren knew she was happy. Doctor Kan would have been proud today.

“Third bow!”

She watched Xiaomao and Yue turn to each other to perform the final bow and Suiren felt tears begin to streak down her face. Finally. It was done. They were wed.

She had heard all about this extraordinary young woman, but she still remembered Xiaomao’s arrival after the young master purchased her work contract. Their boy had been making an attempt to keep his cool while the beautiful young lady who stayed close to Gaoshun had taken in everything around her with a mix of apprehension and curiosity she had tried to hide behind proper speech and reserved manners.

Even after the finery had been stripped away, the freckles and plain, sturdy clothes tricking the inattentive eye into passing right over her, Xiaomao had impressed her with a work ethic that matched their master’s as well as a kind heart that had her rushing to take over as many of the more laborious duties as she could, clearly worried that Suiren struggled all on her own. She was occasionally prone to daydreaming, much like how their master was prone to bouts of childishness, but it was nothing the application of some gentle, yet firm discipline couldn’t take care of.

She still remembered Xiaomao excitedly digging at the frozen ground, carefully planting medicinal herbs in spots around the courtyard where she thought they might thrive, her mop forgotten as she became utterly absorbed in her task. Suiren had watched her, enjoying the smile that played over the young woman’s mouth, the shine in her eyes.

Go on, child. Finish putting down roots so you can grow. The work will wait until you’re done.

Not that she allowed their newest recruit to shirk her duties!

She had tended those herbs after Xiaomao had left Yue’s service, watching to make sure they were doing well. Which every single one was. Their apothecary had chosen her places carefully, leaving a thriving herb garden within the heart of their master’s home.

The crowd began to cheer, even the silly girls who thought they still had a chance to join the Moon Prince’s household register caught up in the romance of the moment. Their boy’s eyes shone with tears as he swept Maomao into his arms and carried her down the crowded rows of tables, through a rain of sweetly fragrant flower petals that had been carefully gathered from hothouses for the occasion. Guests called good wishes, some of them more risque than others as the couple fled for the relative privacy of the bridal chamber.

Suiren wiped her face, grinning. She had seen to it they would have everything they needed.

Maomao made a face as she bit into the dumpling. “It’s raw!”

Giggles abounded through the room and Jinshi grimaced, offering her a fresh amount of wine from the wedding toast, which she gratefully drained to get the taste out of her mouth. “All right, thank you everyone,” he said in the tone of voice she remembered from the Rear Palace; the gentle order that was phrased as a request.

Chue slipped a small vial into her hand, even as she began shooing everyone else out of the bridal chamber. Guiyuan, Ailan and Yinghua all winked at her as they passed and Gyokuyou shot her a thumbs up. Really. She had taught the Emperor’s high consorts of the time a good number of bedchamber skills. She could handle her own wedding night!

The door closed and she heard her new husband let out a sigh. “Think they’ve actually left or are they plastered up against the door?”

She glanced at the vial in her hand, pulling off the top to give it a sniff and screwing up her nose at the faint smell of iron that confirmed her suspicions. “It wouldn’t be anything new to Lady Hongniang, but I suspect the other ladies would be a little embarrassed to stand guard for a night visit.” She set the vial to one side.

“What is that?” Jinshi looked curious.

“Pig’s blood,” she answered, already beginning to look over the little tray of sundries that Suiren had thoughtfully left them as snacks. Mooncakes, of course, as well as rice crackers and some dried meat. She felt her energy begin to pick up after the exhaustion of the day as she continued to explore the offerings.

Jinshi, however, was startled. “Why?!”

She crunched a rice cracker, closing her eyes in pleasure before swallowing. “For the sheets. They have to be inspected in the morning, after all.”

“Oh.” He winced and looked more than a little apprehensive. “Um…does that mean you know how to prevent bleeding?”

“You break the maidenhead beforehand,” she answered bluntly.

Jinshi blinked. “That seems…counterproductive,” he ventured carefully.

Maomao shrugged. “Customers at the Verdigris House who pay for the privilege always want the production of taking a woman’s virginity, but never the actual consequences of a courtesan with no experience. So apprentices use tools to learn how to take a man into their body without excessive amounts of pain, but it can end up causing the first blood before their first customer. They’re not the only ones to use the trick, but that’s how I learned.”

Jinshi looked sickly fascinated. ‘So, did you…?”

Maomao shook her head. “No, you can blame Chue for the fact that we need it.”

“Why am I blaming Chue?”

“Because when she was teaching me how to ride, I landed too high on the saddle during one of my lessons. With force.” She shifted uncomfortably at just the memory.

Jinshi winced. “Ouch.”

“Yeah. Ooo!” Maomao pounced on the tray of snacks with excitement, holding up her prize carefully with chopsticks and staring at it with shining eyes and flushed cheeks.

Her new husband arched his brows, looking at what she was holding. “I’d ask if that was an aphrodisiac, but you haven’t even taken a bite yet. So, how poisonous is it?”

“This? Just enough to tingle. It’s parboiled blowfish - my favorite!” Maomao took a bite and the flush spread over her face as she chewed in bliss, feeling that delicious tingle spread across her lips and tongue. She opened her eyes to see Jinshi looking over the plate of snacks and shaking his head with a look on his face that combined amusement and exasperation. “What is it?”

“I’ll give them credit, it’s nicely put together, but I’m fairly certain that almost everything on this tray is an aphrodisiac.” He shook his head. “Maybe I should check the door, just to be safe.”

She snatched another bite of blowfish. “This isn’t.”

Jinshi just gave her a look. “For you, it is.”

She glanced at her prize and considered. “That’s fair. But I haven’t touched any type of poison in a year! And it’s not like there are any innards on the tray, so it’s safe enough.” Even as she pointed out how restrained she had been, she automatically looked over just to make sure she hadn’t missed the even greater prize.

None. Just the properly prepared, parboiled blowfish meat. Maomao pouted just a little - and then more when Jinshi’s face was suddenly inches from hers, with that familiar mischievous smile. “Was there something you wanted?”

His smile grew wider at that, even as she detected a faint flush across the bridge of his nose and cheekbones. “That’s a dangerous question.”

Maomao rolled her eyes. “You could let me finish my snack first. I’m exhausted - I never imagined a wedding banquet could feel that long.”

Her husband groaned. “Between all of the greetings, thank yous, and glad handling, I barely managed to eat half a meal.”

“Same here.” She went to pop the bite into her mouth before Jinshi parried her chopsticks with a pair of his own, the mischievous grin back on his face. “Yes?” She had a bad feeling about this.

“Are you going to share?” Jinshi asked, looking at her bite of blowfish.

She looked at him, then back at her snack. Then back over to the tray before returning her gaze to him and narrowing her eyes. “You may try it.”

He smiled at her with every ounce of sparkling charm he could manage before laughing at her when she shuddered in disgust, his own flush spreading as his eyes shone. She offered him the small platter of blowfish to try.

He looked at it, then at the portion still in her chopsticks, before gazing at her expectantly.

She glared at him. “You want me to feed it to you?”

“If you please,” he teased.

Maomao looked over the platter, unable to keep herself from muttering, “Where are the stewed grasshoppers when you need them?”

“Hey! Did you say something?”

She shoved the bite of blowfish into his open mouth without much grace. “Here.”

Jinshi chewed carefully, a thoughtful look on his face. “I don’t think it’s to my taste, but I see why you enjoy it.”

“Good. Go eat a mooncake instead.” She liberated the rest of the maligned fish onto her plate to enjoy in peace, even as Jinshi laughed and picked out a few snacks of his own, falling on the little plate with fervor.

They ate in comfortable silence, devouring the tray, with all of its various aphrodisiacs without comment. Maomao was amused to find a small amount of chocolate included on the tray and glanced at Jinshi, remembering the ghost of his breath over her neck as he stole her snack.

Come to think of it, five years later, not much had changed in that regard!

Jinshi reclined on the couch, his demeanor suggesting that the exhaustion of the day was fighting with the stimulating food and winning. He had propped his chin on one hand and was watching her savor the last bite of blowfish with a content smile, resting his chin on one hand as his eyelids drooped.

She glanced over at the bed, then back at her new husband. He might need some motivation. “Shall we begin?”

Jinshi arched his brows, his posture straightening. “Did you have something in mind?”

“Those around us have been varying degrees of patient, but if you try to leave this room without consummating this marriage, I’m going to lose my patience!” Maomao huffed. “Pregnancy is now the desirable outcome, rather than something to be avoided.” She paused for a moment, remembering one of her dad’s final requests. “Although I wonder…”

“You wonder what?” Jinshi watched her with soft eyes.

She took a deep breath. “My last conversation with Dad, he wanted me to delay childbearing for a year after marriage - but I don’t think he anticipated we’d take almost another six months to actually be married. I think I’ve fulfilled the medical requirements, but that wasn’t his only reason.”

Jinshi scooted over to sit next to her, pulling her into a loose embrace with one arm. “What did he want you to do?”

“He wanted me to take a year for us to settle into being husband and wife, rather than prince and subject, before we changed everything. Again.” She sighed and relaxed against Jinshi’s shoulder.

Her husband nodded. “Your dad was a wise man. And I wouldn’t mind having you to myself for a year.” He took a deep breath. “Well, you have that vial - it’s nobody’s business but ours if we wait for tonight and then use one of those contraceptives you showed me that one time until you’re ready to be a mother.”

Maomao glared at him. “We’re not waiting. If you’d let me finish laying out the options, you wouldn’t have had to wait until tonight either!”

“I thought it was either I used that…thing, or you took a whole bunch of medicine.” Jinshi seemed startled - and more than a little embarrassed, the flush spreading across his face.

“The third option was to focus on pleasure that didn’t require penetration.”

Jinshi just sat against her, completely still. “I feel like an idiot.”

Maomao thought she was displaying wisdom of her own by deliberately not commenting on her husband’s rather accurate self-assessment. Instead, she pushed onward. “I don’t think we’d need to be as strict. After all, it’s not a crisis if I were to become pregnant within the first year, but I’ve been timing my cycle since I first got it. I have an idea of when the ideal window is for your seed to catch - we could focus on non-penetrative acts, or abstain, during that window.”

“What, and when we’re ready, simply switch?” He seemed thoughtful as he considered her proposal.

“Exactly.” Maomao watched him.

Jinshi smiled at her - and then suddenly pulled her into his lap. “Well, then. Since my clever apothecary has been tracking this information for years, which should it be tonight?”

“Tonight is fairly safe.” Of all things, she felt herself begin to flush!

Jinshi’s smile became even wider. “I was informed, in no uncertain terms, that my father expects the timely delivery of grandchildren. Fortunately, he didn’t specify exactly what he meant by ‘timely,’ so he will simply have to wait a year. Besides, aside from your father’s advice, you and I are going to be very busy just trying to get settled in the north.”

Maomao felt a chill against her skin before shaking it off. “That’s tomorrow’s problem.”

“Very true.” Jinshi tilted her face up toward his with two fingers under her chin, his smile falling away in favor of an intense expression that had her involuntarily shifting in his hold. “More to the point, are you ready?”

She blinked. “Huh?”

Jinshi’s beautiful mouth was a firm line. “The last time we tried anything like this, you starved yourself for a day. I know you don’t like to do things when you feel you can’t do them well, but I can’t imagine that would make this a pleasurable experience for you.”

It was times like this that Maomao was reminded how considerate Jinshi could truly be. “From what my sisters have told me, it usually takes a few times before a woman learns to find her own pleasure in the act. Men are easier to gratify.” She shrugged before looking at his very serious expression. “Are you worried about that?”

“Of course I am!” The concern evaporated for the moment with a flash of exasperation. “You’re not a courtesan, you’re my wife. I want you to find the same pleasure and comfort in our bed that I do - and while you may have a good amount of academic knowledge about techniques in the bedchamber, I am perfectly capable of doing my own research.”

Of course he was. When he was determined to win a Go tournament against overwhelming odds, he had secured the services of a man who could rival the old fart to train him. He had arranged an archery contest, while sick as a dog with gold poisoning, to flirt with her in front of everyone and make his choice of wife crystal clear to the entire imperial court.

Why had it never occurred to her that, should Jinshi choose to study the erotic arts, he would do so with the same bull-headed determination and commitment that he brought to everything else?

Maomao felt herself flush with an intensity she hadn’t experienced since a particularly intense bout of food poisoning she’d experienced as a young girl. She managed to get out, “Oh?” with a moderately even tone.

Jinshi’s beautiful smile returned with a distinctly wicked edge this time. “Oh yes. In fact, I have been inundated with various materials on the subject in the last four months. And while I intend to have us study them together this winter, at our leisure, I think the best advice I have received on this matter actually came from Lihaku.”

She blinked. “Wha - ?”

Jinshi’s chest huffed with a bubble of laughter. “To be completely fair, his advice was aimed at Basen, but I took note of it.”

“Okay, I don’t think we’re in need of nearly as much help as Basen!” she objected.

Her husband merely arched his eyebrows at her. “I’m willing to bet there’s a line of people with their ears pressed against the door, who would beg to differ.”

“Chue doesn’t count,” she muttered with just a hint of petulance.

Both of them paused, just in case there was the faint call of yes I do! through the door. When nothing but blessed silence greeted them, Jinshi and Maomao let out a sigh of relief in tandem.

Jinshi shifted his hold, turning her so that they sat chest to chest, face to face. Her legs straddled his lap and she fought not to flush at the vulgar position that allowed her nowhere to hide. “Do you want to know what he told Basen?”

“It seems I’m going to find out,” she muttered, her eyes focused somewhere over his shoulder.

He tilted her chin again to make her look him in the eyes. “He said, ‘Don’t get too hung up on the details. Your best guide is your partner’s response.’”

Maomao froze on top of Jinshi, wide-eyed.

Jinshi continued. “We are married. I am yours, and you are mine. I will hold your hand until our hair turns silver and every hint of youth and beauty is gone, but I will never say farewell. Not until the edges of the mountains have been rubbed away into nothing and the sky and ground are one will I even consider parting.”

Unexpected tears stung Maomao’s eyes and nose, even as Jinshi took a deep breath and continued. “You are precious to me. Let me care for you - because it would devastate me if I hurt you in pursuit of my own gratification.”

She swallowed the lump in her throat and nodded, unable to speak.

Jinshi let out a quiet sigh of relief and he cradled her face between his hands. “Thank you.” He rested his forehead against hers for a moment before gently, experimentally, pressing the softest of kisses against her mouth. It was over in a moment, as he pulled away to gauge her reaction.

Maomao gathered herself and returned his gentleness with her own, reaching for the button that closed his collar to release it, exposing the hollow of Jinshi’s throat that bobbed as he swallowed in nervous anticipation. “Well then,” she croaked before swallowing to smooth out her own voice. “The moon is beautiful tonight. Will you help me admire it?”

Their gazes were locked together as she undid the next button on his clothing.

He really can be appallingly sentimental! Tears welled in her husband’s eyes and, as one spilled over, Maomao wiped it away with her thumb.

Jinshi recovered quickly, however, that wicked smile blooming in counterpoint to his tears as he began to help her with the buttons. “My darling wife, it would be my pleasure.”

Nobody knows what the future holds; that is the nature of life.

An apothecary, sold into service in the Rear Palace, too lowly to be given an official rank, could only hope to do her duty diligently and without incident. To keep a low profile was common sense, lest one offend their betters and be punished. To gain royal notice would be ambition unbecoming of her station.

A prince with the beauty of a celestial maiden wore the mask of a eunuch, preferring slander and vulgarity to the chains of unctuous flattery and empty pleasure the throne attempted to wrap around his throat. Slowly, patiently he fought to slip loose, his eyes turned toward the freedom of the sky.

Fate laughs; that unimportant servant girl had risen to become the head of a new clan, while the prince had joyfully thrown away title and inheritance to become her husband, but not her lord. If only either of them had known this would be the outcome on that day when a scrawled, desperate warning brought them together, could they have imagined this glorious triumph of love in the face of politics?

But as our couple revel in their first night of marital harmony, neither of them has yet had the time to wonder; what adventures might Fate have in store for them next?

Fin.