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Jinshi sighed, letting himself collapse onto his bed. It had been an exhausting day, and now that the anger and humiliation of the daylight hours had passed, he was willing to admit that he may have had made a mistake.
He’d known the apothecary for almost a year now, and he knew that he was a good judge of character. In fact, he’d go so far as to say he was an excellent judge of character -he’d all but made it his job, after all- and he was confident in his analysis of the girl’s personality by now. For all that she appeared disdainful and aloof, she was, more than anything, always aware of the status of her birth, and the gap between them that Jinshi had ceased to see a long time ago.
But… knowing that about her, it only made sense that she would panic when such unavoidably important information as his true identity was sprung on her with no forewarning.
Jinshi shook his head, and pinched the bridge of his nose in frustration. He wanted to say that, had they not just escaped from a life and death situation, had he not been as flustered by their positions as he had been, he would have had made a better choice, gently led her to the truth instead of dumping it over her head like a bucket of unwanted bathwater, but-
He tried to be honest with himself, at least, and Jinshi knew that the moment he was faced with her presence, that ability of his that charmed men and women alike simply stopped functioning.
He sighed, and leaned his head back to stare unseeingly at the ceiling. Intentional rudeness, he might not have forgiven.
(A lie, because a voice in the back of his mind was saying that he would forgive near anything, when it came to her.)
But he could still see her expression, still remember the look in her eyes as she flung herself backward, panic and fearful impulse loosening her tongue as she had begun spewing nonsense.
He had scared her, even if he’d never intended to, and maybe it was himself that he couldn’t forgive instead.
If anyone else had insulted the crown prince like so… even if they hadn’t known who he was, to speak ill of the royal family was a crime that could easily be punishable by death. It was a good thing, that they had been alone when the incident had happened- maybe Gaoshun would have looked the other way, but Jinshi didn’t want to think what someone like Basen might have done.
Ah. He would just have to come up with a better plan to get her to accept the truth, he thought. He had tried again, earlier that evening, but even if he’d successfully gotten the words out, he didn’t think that she’d heard them, given the now-familiar look of maniacal glee on her face when she’d swung the door open to her profuse gratitude.
He’d failed, twice in a row, and when had he done that ever since he’d come of age?
Truly, being in her company brought him new experiences everyday- the memory of her on his shoulders, as she’d swayed, then he’d swayed, and then they’d both lost their balance-
He’d been gripped by the instinctual compulsion to catch her before he’d even realised that he should also have been catching himself. And what had followed after that…
And, well. No one else had ever, and would ever, dare to treat the crown prince the way that she had. If he closed his eyes, he could still see the way she hovered over him, blue eyes wide with shock, small body pressed flush against his own. He could still feel the warmth of her breath, so close that it brushed over his skin, feel her small waist in his hands, their legs irrevocably tangled together in the mess of their robes.
He could still feel her hand, wedged between their bodies, fingers curled around somewhere no one else had ever touched before.
His cheeks burned at the thought, the memory, the remembered sensation- his face was hot enough that he knew that he had to be as red as a balsam flower, but he couldn’t let go of his thoughts. In the comfort of his own company, Jinshi felt free enough to admit, at least to himself, that he’d long known his own feelings.
Scrubbing a hand over his face, he swung his legs over the edge of the bed and pushed himself to his feet. It was late enough that he didn’t think there would be anyone in the corridor to witness his… embarrassment, so it was probably safe enough to pay a visit to the washroom.
He had, as the apothecary would say -and here, his lips quirked up a little, the embarrassment and indignation of the day mellowed to faint amusement with time- a frog to deal with.