Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

Six hours, forty-three minutes, and thirty-two seconds.

Six hours, forty-three minutes, and thirty-two seconds after he first sat down at his desk, and Jinshi is just barely halfway through the pile of papers Gaoshun delivered to him this morning.

He sets down his brush with a clack, practically dropping it in its case with trembling fingers and an aching wrist. The paper in front of him swims — some letter, a request from a noble and his friends for a bill to be considered, or something like that — the characters fuzzy and blurring together like watercolors.

He blinks, and oh, that’s not good, even his eyelids are sore. A single glance to one of the covered windows beside him reveals the dim, honey-colored glow of an afternoon sunset. It’s soft and muffled behind the screen, yet just bright enough to keep his exhausted brain from passing out on him.

Jinshi looks back at his work and can’t help the scowl that crosses his face. The stack looms, rather threatening for a pile of dead wood. A few scrolls and tablets are set neatly beside it, which is funny, because he doesn’t remember those being there. Gaoshun must have brought them in earlier without him noticing. The half-drunk teacup at his side has long grown cold.

Jinshi sits up, feeling his neck crack, each individual vertebrae popping back into its proper place. It should be satisfying, but it just makes him feel deflated. He stands with some difficulty, his legs taking a moment to wake up, aching with pins and needles, and he briefly glances at the ink brush before tearing his gaze away.

He knows better than to attempt to get anything else done like this. Last time he tried, a maid found him knocked out at his desk, mouth open with his cheek half-glued to a minister’s complaint. Completely dead to the world.

Jinshi shudders at the memory. Apparently Gaoshun got there just in the nick of time before she could say anything. He hated to think about what might have happened if anyone less innocent had stumbled in.

The process of putting away the remaining papers into his desk goes by without issue, the motions so tired and familiar his body just acts automatically. By the time he’s opening his door to leave this accursed box and all its bland, annoying, boring busywork, Jinshi is already thinking about what Suiren might make for dinner. Hopefully something not too light, as he has an awful feeling he might need to skip breakfast tomorrow, if the last letter he read was any indication.

Gaoshun doesn’t greet him by the door. Jinshi briefly panics, because he’s never been absent before, what on earth could have happened to make him abandon his post—

…But then he remembers that he sent him away an hour prior, to help Basen with… hm. What was it again? A minister who needed something or other, done somewhere he can't recall. He shakes his head with a sigh, pinching the bridge of his nose. He must really be out of it if he can’t remember. Maybe future-Jinshi will have better luck once he can lie down.

A bone-cracking yawn catches him not two steps outside the office, and he ponders the idea of convincing Suiren to let him sleep in an extra hour. If he looks tired enough, she might just pity him…

So caught up in wistful thoughts of his comfortable bed, Jinshi almost misses the tiny shadow darting past his feet.

He does not startle like a serving girl, as that would be most unbecoming of the manager of the rear palace. He doesn’t catch his foot on his robes and bang straight into a support beam either.

Rubbing the side of his head, Jinshi whirls around to try and catch… whatever it was. The shadowy thing. Surely people didn’t move that quickly, or were that small, so it couldn’t have been a person. An animal maybe? They were banned in the rear palace, for sanitary reasons mostly, but it wasn’t unlikely that something could have snuck in. A runaway pet, perhaps? That'd be a whole other problem if it was.

Jinshi scans the pavilion, finding it shockingly empty (which, thank the heavens nobody saw that, but just how late was it?). There’s no sign of the mystery creature anywhere. He checks around corners, pokes his head back into his office, even peers into the tiny gap underneath the steps, but no luck. Whatever it was clearly didn’t feel like sticking around.

He tries not to feel too upset. It’s probably for the best, an animal infestation would be a real issue, especially if it got out of hand. He sincerely hopes it wasn’t a rat.

A little put out, Jinshi sighs and turns to make the decent trek back to his villa. He could easily call a carriage, but the thought of being stuck in another wooden box for longer than a minute... it makes him want to wilt. How he hasn't gone stir-crazy yet is beyond him.

At least the weather is nice. Just warm enough to be comfortable, without any of the typical humidity, and the sunset looks truly lovely, turning the sky a rich orange-yellow-purple. It's a tad blustery, and his robes do nothing to keep the winds from cutting through him, but he's too tired to care. There's the ever-present smell of incense and flowers in the air, but it's been sufficiently diffused by the wind, nowhere near as choking as it would be indoors. In fact, it's almost pleasant this way. Jinshi doesn’t get much time to himself outside of work, so he might as well take advantage of this.

What if Suiren made soup today? Jinshi ponders, the sunset's colors bringing to mind the image of broth. He inhales the sweet summer air as he passes by a small row of flowering bushes, almost sleepily content. I could go for something light… something for sleep would be nice too…

Suddenly, a sharp, animalistic yowl lances through the air, shattering his reverie.

Jinshi shrieks loud enough to match it, jumping so badly he falls back right into another support pillar. Clutching at it to avoid embarrassing himself any further, he frantically whips his head around, expecting to see a rat, or an assassin, or a toy, or something equally dangerous.

What he does not expect to see is a pair of wide, green eyes, shining like cut flint, and just as sharp.

“Oh,” Jinshi breathes, because there’s a tiny black cat in front of him, hunched over amongst the branches of a decorative bush. It has a leaf of some kind poking out of its mouth, and it’s fixing him with the most irritated, hateful glare he’s ever seen, human or otherwise.

A glance down tells Jinshi exactly why the cat might be upset. He grimaces.

“Ah. Sorry about that,” He says awkwardly, watching the cat pull its crooked tail into the bush. “I, uh, didn’t see you. You’re... tiny.”

Jinshi must truly be exhausted, because the cat seems to glare even harder, flicking its tail. He almost shivers at the intensity. It turns and crouches low to the ground, that odd leaf still hanging from its jaws, watching him like a hawk. Where the sunlight hits the bush, he can catch the edge of what appears to be a dark green ribbon tied around its neck. Despite being half-hidden, Jinshi can tell it’s worryingly skinny, even for its small size. He could probably wrap his whole hand around its middle. Would it be light enough to carry that way, too?

Jinshi tilts his head, to try for a better look. “I don’t remember any of the consorts getting a cat. Do you belong to someone?”

The cat's ears flatten against its skull. Jinshi’s never been much of an animal person, mainly because he’s never encountered many beyond the occasional bird or stray dog, but something compels him to lower himself into a crouch. The cat’s eyes follow him warily, the fur on its back puffing up as a pitched growl starts to rise in volume. He slows down and raises his hands.

“It’s alright, I’m not doing anything. I just wanted to get a good look at you.” He hums, unable to keep the soft smile from tugging at his lips. It really is quite cute, despite the harshness of its glare. He’s never seen such a rich shade of green. They're almost sparkling. “Now where did you come from, I wonder? Outside the walls perhaps?”

A beat. The cat, of course, does not respond, because it's a cat. It flicks its ears, and Jinshi has to be projecting or something, because he swears it's giving him a horribly flat look, as if to say “What were you expecting, dumbass?"  Whatever that expression is, it's making him feel awful silly.

The cat continues to watch him, its growl gradually fading when he doesn’t move any further, but its eyes never leave his face. Jinshi stares straight back, a little mesmerized at the way its pupils widen and narrow, from snakelike slits to perfect circles. The green of its irises really are like gemstones, faceted and flecked with so many colors he couldn’t possibly name. Forest, algae, leaf, toxic, jade, every shade he can think of, none of them seem to match.

The cat shifts on its paws, restless. By contrast, Jinshi is almost perfectly still. It’s strange; he has never felt this calm while being so closely observed. He’d heard cats are popular because of their aloofness, always doing what they please with little care for the humans feeding them. Something to do with how you can rarely tell what they’re thinking, despite their huge, expressive eyes.

Jinshi doesn’t want to assume, but he could make a solid guess of what this particular cat is thinking. Probably something along the lines of “Fuck off and stop staring at me, you creep.” He huffs a quiet chuckle.

As if reading his mind, the cat suddenly spits, fur bristling. Jinshi pulls his hand back, blinking. When did he reach out? Part of him wants to apologize, but he’s too worried about spooking the creature to try.

He’s also heard that they’re apparently very soft to the touch. It’s like velvet, the palace doctor had once told him. Very soothing, and the perfect reward once you win them over. Jinshi had wondered what it would feel like to pet one back then, though with the real deal watching him like how one would regard a poisonous snake, he feels less curious and more worried for the little thing.

When was the last time it took a bath? Can cats even bathe? He eyes the cat’s body, where he can spot tiny ribs poking out from its fur. Something clenches in his gut. When did it last eat, for that matter?

His knee gently thumps against the stone path beneath him as he leans forward, and sadly, that was all it took for the timer to finally run out. With a crack of broken branches and a flash of black and green, the cat bolts. It springs from its place beneath the bush and takes off running, its skinny body skillfully weaving around him like a fish through water, and then it’s dashing toward another arrangemnet of bushes at the edge of the pavilion, a shadowy streak in the grass.

Jinshi moves to follow it, but by the time he’s risen to his feet, it has already vanished. He catches a brief glimpse of its tail slipping between a pair of rose bushes, the afternoon glow reflecting on its glossy fur like glass, and then just like that, the little stray is gone. He takes a single step in the cat’s direction, before a sound almost makes him jump out of his skin for a third time.

“Master Jinshi?”

Jinshi turns, his usual glittering smile already plastered on his face at the sound of his title. “Yes? May I help you?”

Thankfully for his patience, it’s only Basen. He looks sweaty and slightly out of breath, like he ran all the way here, poor guy. Jinshi almost falters when the young aide goes from looking confused, to deeply concerned, his brow furrowing as he gives him a once-over. He’d laugh at how Gaoshun-like he looks if he weren’t so weary.

“Is something wrong, sir? You look a little disheveled.”

Jinshi blinks, then glances down at himself. His hair is a bit of a mess, his robes are all bunched up, his collar is crooked, and there’s a spot of dirt near his legs. He doesn’t even want to picture what his face might look like, the ache in his eyelids scratchy like sandpaper and his sparkle taking some serious effort to keep up. Somehow he’d forgotten he was supposed to be exhausted, and the weight of it collapses over him like a bucket of water. Basen’s frown deepens when he visibly deflates.

Jinshi manages a smile, hopefully unbothered enough to waive off suspicion. “No, I’m alright. Just a little tired. I was about to head home, is something the matter?"

Basen doesn’t look convinced, but nods either way. “I see. My father sent me to collect you in his stead, actually. Something came up and he had to stay with the minister later than expected.”

Jinshi sighs internally, mourning his short-lived solitary walk. He turns to leave, Basen easily falling into step behind him as he goes, but his eyes flick over to the rose bushes as if drawn there. There’s no movement within, at least as far as he can tell from here.

“You see something, sir?” Basen suddenly asks, craning his neck to follow his gaze.

Jinshi is quiet for a moment. Not a single leaf twitches. Eventually, they turn a corner and the rose bushes are out of sight.

“It’s nothing.” He says, though his steps feel a little heavier. Heavens, I'm tired.

The sensation of eyes boring into his back remain, until he passes through the gate to the outer palace.

Chapter Text

Weeks pass, and Jinshi forgets all about the cat. It can’t be helped, because there are more pressing matters taking up his mind— Namely, the intriguing new taster Lady Gyokuyou hired. 

He’s never met someone so interesting, the enigma called Maomao. She appeared almost completely out of the blue, solving the mystery of Lady Gyokuyou and Lady Lihua’s sickness in an instant. She passed all of his subsequent tests with flying colors, and even fulfilled a direct request from the Emperor with only a slight hiccup.

Her attitude alone fascinated Jinshi to no end. The way she could seamlessly shift from a flat, blank expression befitting a stone statue, to the cold bluntness of a seasoned doctor, to (his favorite) a twisted visage of barely-disguised disdain… almost always accompanied by a glare sharp enough to pierce steel… It's nothing short of captivating. 

Jinshi didn’t know it was possible for a young woman to be so utterly immune to his charms, much less disgusted to that degree. The apothecary was very respectful, clearly mindful of her place within the rear palace, but every time he so much as glanced at her, her brow always twitched. Like she was just barely keeping her irritation in check. A man rumored to rival the moon itself in beauty, who has been paying special attention to her no less, and she treats him like an infuriating horsefly, equal parts annoying, disgusting, and dangerous.

She obviously hopes to drive him away with that icy attitude, but… well. There was unfathomable intelligence behind those dark eyes, yet trying to glean anything personal from her was like trying to squeeze water out of a rock. He typically hated having to use his looks to get by, but to be honest, it was all he had.

The fact that with the apothecary, he had to find other ways to get what he wanted... now there was something. After years of sea-level paved roads, he'd finally been given the choice of a rough mountain trek. And since when has Jinshi ever taken the path most traveled? If anything, her refusal to allow him an inch makes him just want to poke and prod at her a little more, see how that clever mind of hers worked.

And to try and get more of those tantalizing looks out of her, His brain supplies without permission.

The only time he saw her appear genuinely happy was when she was allowed to make medicine as part of his tests, though her wild grins and strange dancing did disturb him a little. Everyone has their quirks, he supposes. It just adds to the mystery.

Humming, Jinshi takes a sip of his tea, reclining in his seat. He’d managed to get through his usual workload rather quickly today, so with noon nothing but clear skies and Gaoshun busy helping prepare for the upcoming garden party, he snagged a bench in one of the gardens near his office. He only has about an hour to himself, so what better way than to spend it plotting all the ways he could bother test the apothecary further?

Gaoshun would probably sigh and shake his head if he knew about this. Jinshi didn’t particularly care. This was the first non-death-related interesting thing to happen in the rear palace since he got here. He’ll be damned if he doesn’t have a little fun every now and then.

“Maybe I could ask her about those mushrooms…” He muses, smiling to himself as he remembers the previous evening. The apothecary had attempted to hide her secret snack in the medical office, but sadly, she didn’t seem to realize that normal serving girls don’t often run in and out of abandoned orchards, cackling all the way. A rather frightened eunuch had tipped Jinshi off, much to his delight.

He’ll have to find a good excuse to bother her, so she doesn’t feign busyness and try to blow off his request. Perhaps he could word it as a concern? Some mushrooms could be harmful, and the rear palace needed to be as safe as possible, so it just might work…

A cold breeze drifts through the trees, and with it, goosebumps start to raise all over his arms. Jinshi’s smile drops, brainstorming interrupted. Shaking his head, he sits up, glancing around the garden. His eyes harden.

It almost feels like… is someone watching him?

No. Even worse. It feels like someone is judging him.

“Oi. Show yourself.” He says sternly, hand tightening around his cup.

For a while, his only response is faint birdsong. If he tried to flee back to his office, would they notice? Would they follow him? His jaw clenches, mind racing.

Until something shifts in the corner of his eye, and Jinshi looks down to see a familiar black shape step out from a cluster of flowers, an arm's reach from his shoes.

“It’s you again!” Jinshi exclaims before he can catch himself, the tension immediately lifting from his shoulders. Thank the heavens.

The cat freezes in place, one paw raised high from where it was about to step over a decorative stone. Slowly, almost comically, it turns to look up at him with wide eyes. Its ears immediately flatten the second it sees him, its body dropping a fraction to the ground, fur puffing up. There’s a tiny bundle of blue cloth clutched in its mouth, and it dangles precariously from the cat's snarling lips.

“Aw, don’t be like that.” Jinshi pouts. “You remember me, right? I’m certain we’ve met before.”

He doesn’t know why he’s talking to the cat like it’ll say anything back, but he can’t help it. Maybe another appeal of cats is how easy they are to talk to. It’s not like they can run off and tell anyone else, after all. Those big, pointy ears probably make them good listeners, and with how this one stares, he definitely knows he has its attention.

The cat stays frozen for a moment, before it tentatively puts its paw down, once again staring at him with all the wariness he remembers. Jinshi is unable to keep a smile off his face when it doesn’t take the opportunity to bolt. 

So cute. He thinks, setting his tea down in the grass.

Its eyes are just as big and green as before, and up close, they really do sparkle like gemstones. The color makes him think of leaves, fresh growth come springtime encased in glass. Its black fur is short and glossy, shiny in the dappled sunlight, and the ribbon around its neck is tied neatly like a serving girl’s kerchief. The ribbon itself is a rich teal, not dark green like he initially thought, and slightly frayed around the edges. It's also spotted with dirt and grass stains, meaning the cat’s probably had it on for a while. Its tail is still crooked, though it doesn’t look injured, and the cat itself doesn’t seem to be in pain. Which is a relief, because that means its tail has probably always looked like that, and not as a result of human clumsiness. 

One thing does stand out to him, though. Something new that makes his smile soften.

“You aren’t as skinny now.” He notes happily, bending over to lean his elbows on his knees. He recalls being able to see the cat’s ribs back thern, and he’s not afraid to admit it had concerned him. “I’m glad. Has someone been feeding you?”

The cat narrows its eyes at him with a short growl, tail flicking.

“Don’t worry, I won’t tell if someone is. You looked like you needed it.” Jinshi adds, completely genuine. 

The cat is still thin, but now its sides have filled out considerably, and its frame is much less bony. Less ‘malnourished’ and more ‘sleek’. There’s even a bit of chub in its cheeks. If someone had been feeding it, likely for a while and with some regularity, then there was at least one other person in the rear palace kind enough to turn a blind eye. The knowledge puts his mind at ease.

The cat still hasn’t run away. Its tail keeps twitching, lashing from side to side like a whip, but it’s standing taller, those tiny paws perched delicately together, like a dancer poised to begin her set. Jinshi decides to take a leap of his own and extends a closed hand, wrist up. Someone told him once that offering a hand was a good way to introduce yourself to a cat, since they didn’t like being approached quickly. The same trick worked with hunting dogs.

This cat must be unique, though, because it regards his outstretched hand like he’d just handed it a dead bug. It recoils with narrowed eyes, nose scrunching as if smelling something utterly foul. Jinshi can feel his face fall, a pang of sadness lancing through him at the rejection.

“Alright then, I suppose we aren’t there yet.” He mumbles, resting his chin in his other hand. The cat glances between his hand and his face, as if checking for something hidden, growling around the bundle in its mouth. Jinshi deflates when it moves to walk away, heaving a disappointed sigh.

And maybe the cat pitied him then, because it pauses, and with a motion that looks suspiciously like an eyeroll, its ears flick forward and it leans in to sniff. That tiny micro-centimeter of progress is enough to put the grin back on Jinshi’s face, though he suspects the little creature isn’t used to being smiled at, because its ears drop the second he does. It even shoots him a warning glare.

Jinshi isn’t intimidated in the slightest. He lets the cat sniff as much as it likes, grinning like an idiot as he enjoys the feeling of its tiny breaths puffing over his fingers, before an idea comes to mind. 

He waits for the cat to tilt its head, tiny black nose hovering over his thumb, before he darts out a finger to try and brush the cat’s cheek. But felines really must have great reflexes, because he only gets a single half-second of contact before it immediately dodges. It drops its bundle to hiss at him, white teeth flashing, and at the sheer fury in its fuzzy face, Jinshi can’t help huffing a laugh. 

If only she would give him that much… 

“You know, you remind me of someone,” He comments, leaning to the side playfully. “You’re a lot nicer than her, though. She’d probably smack me away if I offered her a hand.”

In fact, she already has. He doesn’t add.

Instantly, the cat goes shock-still, back bristling. When it stays like that for a solid five seconds, Jinshi starts to worry he did something wrong. Maybe he spoke too loudly? Or was he pushing into its personal space a little too long? He starts to pull away, slowly, like there’s a delicate string of spider silk between them.

Suddenly, the cat rears back and swats at his hand, a blur of motion and a flash of needle-sharp claws. Jinshi recoils with a choked sound of surprise, expecting to feel the sting of hooked nails cutting into his wrist—

But the pain never comes. He blinks. When he turns his hand over, he finds nothing out of the ordinary, save for a single white line at the base of his thumb. A superficial scratch, so light it didn’t even break skin. He barely even noticed he had it.

“I take it back, you’re not nice.” He deadpans, but when he looks up, any minuscule amount of annoyance he might have felt immediately falls away.

The cat looks… he can’t tell if it’s terrified or enraged, but whichever one, he just knows he hates it. Its back is arched, fur standing so high it looks like spines, and its tail is puffed to a point, curved in the shape of a hook. Its wide eyes are somehow even wider, pupils blown so large they almost consume the glittering green of its irises, and he can barely see its ears with how far back they’re pinned.

The cat makes a strange, aborted leap backwards, tottering on the toes of its paws like a balancing act, Jinshi opens his mouth to say something, maybe apologize—

But before he can get a single word out, the cat lets out a fierce spat! before turning tail and fleeing into the pavilion. The bundle it had been carrying is left behind in the grass, forgotten.

And Jinshi… well, Jinshi feels like a massive jerk.

He drops his face into his hand with a groan. Damn it all, he shouldn’t have pushed. This was, what, the second-ever time he’s seen this cat? Way too early to try petting it.

Jinshi lifts his head. He watches the cat disappear around the corner of an office building with a resigned sigh, brushing a finger over the scratch. It was tiny, something easily explained away as an accidental bump or a scrape. He supposes he should be lucky the stray wasn’t any angrier than it already was. He only got a split-second glimpse, but those claws were nothing to sneeze at.

Jinshi flops over onto the bench, rolling onto his back and throwing a sleeve over face, letting his scratched hand dangle over the side. Sigh.

…But he was so curious…

If there was any silver lining, Jinshi was able to catch a glimpse between the cat’s hind legs, which soothed some of his fears with letting such a secret stay hidden. His research told him male cats were more of a problem in regards to hygiene, since they would spray to mark their territory, and cat urine is not known to smell pleasant. But, with his mystery stray either female or already castrated, there’s no pressing concerns. So long as she stays out of trouble, he can afford to look the other way.

He can let her have her freedom. Besides, it's a little funny just how similar she acts to a certain chilly apothecary. Maomao’s name certainly suited her.

While gathering his things, Jinshi picks up the forgotten bundle. When he undoes the tie, he finds it full of little brown mushrooms– the very same kind the apothecary had been enjoying with the doctor just the other day. She must have dropped it while foraging, and then the little stray picked it up, perhaps mistaking it for a toy or some food. 

Do cats eat mushrooms?

Jinshi’s smirk comes easily. Either way, now he has a good excuse to go visit her again after the garden party wraps up. She really ought to be more careful.

Chapter Text

Jinshi’s sightings of the cat are few and far between.

He spots her once after the garden party, sneaking toward the kitchens under the cover of darkness, but she flees into the night the moment he shifts his foot.

Almost a week later (a very rough week at that, half of it spent agonizing over nothing while the apothecary enjoyed her very normal and not-at-all-charged homecoming ), he finds her sitting near the main wall, where the drowned servant was found. He managed to get a little closer that time, close enough to see her peering through the gate towards the outer moat, head bowed almost as if in prayer. But, as all good things must end, something rustles when he moves and sends her slinking off into the brush.

After that, he was only allowed the barest of glimpses.

Every time, he isn’t able to catch her for more than a few seconds at most. And every time, as he watches her dash away, tail slipping around corners, under stairs, or between bushes, part of him twinges like an old wound. 

It’s a familiar ache, one he hasn’t felt since he was a young boy. The sensation of losing something he thought he could keep. He’d hoped to be able to endure like always, that he could make peace with the fact that he might never be able to win the little creature over.

Unlike most things, animals were not so easily caught, unbound by any societal codes and harboring a very fragile sense of trust. For his old toys, he could try to sneak around the palace and dig up wherever they were hidden. For people, he could track them down, look up their name, or at the very least ask around after them, if only to see how they were doing. But if he lost the cat for good, and if that cat was determined enough to stay lost, there was very little he could do about it.

At least I still have the apothecary, He’d thought then.

Now though, weeks after that first ill-fated encounter and still reeling from the aftershocks of the garden party, the ache has swollen into burning hurt.

Jinshi sighs into the back of his clasped hands, staring at the wooden slips laid out before him. He feels… cluttered. Unfocused. His attention is torn in so many directions, yet he can’t bring himself to pick a path, because doing so would mean pushing everything else to the side.

Fengming, Lady Ah-Duo’s own loyal head lady-in-waiting, had tried to poison Lady Lishu, and will be executed for it. Lady Ah-Duo had left the rear palace, and he likely wouldn’t see her again for a long, long time. Eighty people across the rear palace had to be fired as part of Fengming’s punishment. Maomao’s kidnappers were part of Fengming’s direct family, meaning she was one of the many hands set free from the shackles of her ill-gotten contract. The apothecary had come directly to him, red-faced and out of breath, to discuss her employment.

And she told him, eyes to the floor all the while, just how bound she would be by his orders.

"I'll do as you order."

Jinshi can feel his forehead drop none-too-gently onto his desk. The tablets rattle.

“Sir?” Gaoshun asks, leaning over to peer at him. The sheer exhaustion on his face is pinning him down with guilt, so he decides to retreat behind the curtain of his hair.

“I’m fine,” Jinshi grumbles into the woodgrain. There’s a new scuff in the polish next to his nose. “Just gimmie a minute.”

“You cannot stay like that forever, Master Jinshi.” Gaoshun chides.

“I knowww….” He whines, lifting his head. A piece of scrap paper sticks briefly to his face before drifting back down to his desk. “It’s just… ugh. I hate all of this.”

“As do I, sir. But as sad as I am to see Xiaomao go, you have duties to attend to. It’s not a good look for ‘Master Jinshi’ to waste the day moping in his office.”

Ouch. Jinshi leans back into his chair, resting the base of his head on the backrest to stare up at the rafters. It’s getting pretty dusty up there. The apothecary might say something about it being a health hazard if left to build up.

“If you like, we could see her off. She’s not set to leave until later this afternoon.”

Oh, he wants that. He wants that so badly. Jinshi would do anything just to see her one more time, to see that freckled face pinch at the sight of him. To hear that annoyed exhale, to watch her neutral expression twist into a scowl when he appears before her, a new mystery or rumor in hand for her to solve. To look into those intelligent eyes as they sparkle with thought, gears audibly turning in her head… before she returns home to the pleasure district for good… probably never to be seen again… 

“I’ll do as you order.”

Jinshi sits up. Stares at his desk for a long moment, his thoughts a dull, droning roar. 

“...I don’t think she’d want to see me, anyway.” He croaks, his voice weak even to his own ears.

He doesn’t want to know what sort of expression Gaoshun is making. The aide simply hums an affirmative, gives him a brief bow, and turns to leave. Jinshi faintly registers the door closing.

A long, long moment of staring off into space later, uncomprehending of anything, the sound of a slip clattering to the floor forces him back down to earth. He picks up a half-finished incident report, the characters gradually coming back into focus.

He still needs to make two more copies, something he really shouldn’t have to do at his current station, but if there’s one thing the inner palace bureaucrats loved, it was to foist all their menial tasks on Jinshi. It’s blatantly lazy, and some would even say disrespectful, but by this point it’s just easier to get things done himself, if only to ensure it gets done at all. 

So, fate sealed for the next couple hours, Jinshi picks up his brush, flexes his fingers, and gets to work.

He only manages to get the bare minimum done before his restlessness catches up to him, Gaoshun’s words repeating over and over in his head. His leg is bouncing so rapidly he swears he’s boring a foot-shaped divot in the floor, and his already scattered attention keeps flitting about like a loose songbird. Jinshi is able to get at least one more notice of leave copied before he’s standing and moving towards the door, lungs begging for fresh air. 

It only takes one step into the low sun of the afternoon before the old ache returns. I’ll never get used to it, he thinks, and maybe he’s more spent than he thought, because when the impulse strikes, he barely hesitates before he’s acting on it.

Jinshi knows she probably doesn’t want to see him. He respects that wish, because he really doesn’t want to trouble her any further than he already has, so he’ll try his best to stay at least out of sight. He won’t force her to talk to him, he won’t even stop her if he finds her. He wanders from place to place, almost in a daze, trying to hide how his eyes wander in search of a familiar green ribbon, wrapped up in smooth dark hair. The sun sinks ever lower, the blue sky gradually warming to orange.

Just one look. That’s all he needs.

He’s trying to think of places his apothecary might be, hoping desperately she hasn’t already left for the rear palace for good, that he’s not too late, when he hears it: Quiet words, drifting from a gap between the maidservant’s dorms and the laundry building.

“…see you go, Maomao!”

“I know. I’m sorry, but it’s…”

Jinshi almost trips. That voice, it said–

He quickens his pace and almost skids to a halt in front of the space between buildings. Jinshi catches a split-second glimpse of a familiar red skirt, green robes, as he turns the corner, a flash of dark eyes falling onto his own, his face brightening—

But right as he steps into view, before his brain can even register what he’s looking at, there’s a small snap! like dry twigs being broken underfoot. And instead of two people talking like he expected, there’s the back of a startled-looking laundry girl.

And in front of her, a little black cat, fur puffed as it stands in a slowly-drifting shower of leaves.

The laundry girl turns at the sound of his approach. The minute she lays eyes on him, she lets out a quiet eep! and practically falls into a low bow. 

Jinshi takes the moment to calm down and recompose himself, catching his breath as subtly as he can. He must have misheard, because there’s no Maomao to be seen, just the stray and this maidservant, who he swears he’s seen around before. She’s small, with light brown hair tied in twin braided loops. She looks a lot younger than many of the other maids he’s seen walking the grounds, probably no older than fourteen, maybe fifteen. She was likely sold to the rear palace by her family, like many others, but at such a young age…

A memory resurfaces, unbidden. 

Dull, disinterested eyes, dark as the night sky. Makeup so striking she looks like a completely different person, almost unrecognizable to even him, but he knows it's her because nobody else could look upon him so flatly. A monotone voice, choked by formalities, speaking of horrible, preventable things as if they were no less factual than the day’s weather, just a common occurrence she’s had to endure all her life.

Fake freckles. To protect her from men like himself.

"I’ll do as you order."

Jinshi bites his tongue and wills, almost angrily, for his mind to quiet. He needs to focus on the present. He’s in public, for heavens’ sake, this was no place to let his true self show. He lets his eyes drop from the maidservant to the cat, seeking some kind of familiarity in those wide green eyes. 

But perhaps the universe didn’t feel like giving him a break, because the cat’s already growling, high and ominous. Her glare seems to hold significantly more heat than usual, and she’s slipped in front of the girl to stand with the same spiny-furred arch from their last encounter, an animal both spooked and undeniably pissed. He can see claws jutting out from her tiny paws, long, white, and stark against her black fur. Dangerously hooked. 

He almost felt their bite that day, back in the garden. Hidden inside his sleeves, he traces a finger over the long-healed scratch.

“If you don’t mind my asking, who is this?” Jinshi says gently to the maid, who hasn’t lifted from her bow. He can tell she wants to though, with how she keeps squirming in place.

The cat haltingly stalks toward him when he speaks. Jinshi doesn’t budge. “You may rise, I’m simply curious.”

“U-Um!” The girl whips her head upright and immediately rushes to stand in front of the cat, face flushed. Jinshi briefly catches a look flash over the stray’s face, something akin to surprise, before she’s hidden away behind the curtain of her skirt. 

Jinshi opens his mouth, but the girl is already steamrolling ahead, dropping into another low bow. “I-I’m sorry sir, I apologize for her behavior! She’s not dangerous! Y-You just scared her, I promise, I was going to tell the matron about her as soon as I could! Please don’t hurt Ma— hurt Xiaomao!”

If Jinshi were anyone else, he could easily have the girl reprimanded for speaking so informally to her superior, and especially for making requests above her station. But he likes to think he’s different from the majority of the nobles who parade themselves around the court, so he says nothing.

The apothecary would probably have a heart attack if she were here, he’s gleaned from watching her just how often she tries to look after the other serving girls and ladies-in-waiting, and this maidservant looks exactly like the kind of person she’d stick her neck out for. She cares far more than she’d like to admit, it’s something he’s always—

He catches himself. Stop it. You’re in public. Don’t go any further. Focus.

Blinking rapidly, he straightens himself up, wiping a hand down his face. He’s glad the maid hasn’t lifted from her bow, he doesn’t even want to think about what might happen if she’d seen how close he came to cracking.

“It’s alright, I have no intention of hurting anyone. Do you know this cat?” He asks the laundry girl, leaning to the side to try and catch another glimpse of the stray. She shifts when he does, pushing the cat even further out of sight.

“I-I do! She– I see her around the dorms sometimes, and sometimes she sits with me on my lunch breaks…” The girl briefly peeks out from behind her sleeves, eyes fearful, before ducking again with a blush. Jinshi can still hear the cat growling.

“So you’ve been feeding her?” He continues.

“I…” She hesitates.

“I promise I won’t be mad if the answer is yes.” Jinshi assures. “Truth be told, I’ve met this stray a few times before. She was very skinny the first time, but she looked much healthier the second. I was rather concerned for her safety.”

“Oh!” The girl starts, as if to look up, before seemingly remembering her manners and staying still. “Then– Then, yes, I-I have been… leaving out some things... But only when I know she’s around! I promise, sir, I've been very careful.”

Well then, that’s one mystery solved. How kind of her.

“I don’t doubt you have. But even so…”

There’s a sharp spitting sound, making the girl jump, and he catches a glimpse of the cat’s furious face before the maid is shielding her again. It takes significant effort to keep his expression from changing. There’s no way he’s letting the mask slip over a cat, especially in front of a laundry girl.

Still, though. Double ouch.

Then, in a move that surprises both of them, the little stray swiftly creeps out from behind the girl’s skirt. She maintains full, unblinking eye contact with him as she moves, with slow, deliberate steps, stalking something only she can see. She pauses next to the girl (who looks to be shaking), head bobbing, almost as if sizing him up. Before suddenly, without breaking his gaze, she stretches and rubs affectionately against the laundry girl’s legs. Her growl smooths into a loud purr.

Jinshi can practically hear his mask crack, loud as a cannon shot.

“Aww! M- Xiaomao!” The maid coos, lifting her head to happily peer down at the cat. Her smile shines like the midday sun. It’s very difficult to look at. “See? She knows me!”

“I suppose she does,” Jinshi hears himself say, though the words sound oddly distant. There’s a tightness in his chest, like a rubber band stretched thin. One of those things she said, it digs into him like hooked claws. Before he can stop himself, he’s asking the question. “Wha- ahem. What did you say you called her?”

The laundry girl bows, yet again. “Xiaomao, sir.”

Xiaomao. Now where have I heard that before?

It hits him. That’s the nickname Gaoshun uses for the apothecary, when they’re out working together. The old ache starts to burn, accompanied by a new sensation bubbling up in his stomach; it’s as if he’s host to a mass of writhing insects, chewing and scuttling and buzzing as they hollow him out like a rotting log. He swallows. Now it takes almost everything he has to keep his placid smile firmly in place.

“Sir? Are you okay?”

Crap. The maid has lifted her face again, and she’s looking at him with more of that horrible concern, head tilted like a confused puppy. Heavens, if even a laundry girl can tell something’s off, he must be worse than he thought. He’s never had an issue fooling servants before, not since his pre-teen days.

He turns up the sparkle as much as he can, smiling pleasantly down at her. The maid blushes, as expected, thank the heavens, he can still manage something, but the stress is starting to get to him. He tries to avoid looking at the cat, who’s practically wrapped around the girl’s leg, with how closely she’s pressed to her.

“Well, if you truly think she won’t cause any trouble, I see no need to report her,” He says plainly, ignoring her inquiry and toying with a strand of his hair for added effect. “She can be our little secret, yes?”

“Of course!” The maid squeaks into her sleeves. “I-I promise, I’ll make sure she doesn’t get into a-any trouble, nothing at all!”

The cat’s glare weighs heavy on his face. His smile feels even heavier, like there’s hooks in the corners of his mouth, straining to drag them down. He has to get out of here before he slips up.

“May I ask for your name?” He asks, already turning to leave. He might as well try to remember this girl, if anything to keep track of their stray.

“It– It’s Xiaolan, sir.”

Jinshi pauses. His face softens. 

Xiaolan and Xiaomao. Huh.

How sweet.

“Then, it was a pleasure, Xiaolan,” He glances down at the cat, who hisses. Triple ouch. “May we meet again sometime, Xiaomao.”

“Ye-yessir!” The laundry girl stammers, blushing deeper.

The cat, meanwhile, stiffens at the name, ears perking up. Her eyes, still so beautifully green in the setting sun, appear to widen. But she makes no move to leave Xiaolan’s side.

He walks away with a swish of perfectly-brushed hair, stiff-backed and dripping with false confidence. His thoughts run wild, the mask crumbling a fraction with every hurried step.

First Maomao, and now his stray. 

It was for the best, He tells himself, picking up speed as he all but flees toward his office. She’s a person. Not a pawn. Not a toy. She’s Maomao. It’s what she wanted.

“If you are ever tasked with executing me, could you make sure it’s with poison?” She had said to him once, in an office quiet as the grave, her small form stained with the lingering scent of death.

He’d protested, naturally. He could never hurt her. Never. Not as long as he lives. But she’d simply sighed at him, like he were a naïve child. “It’s not would-or-would not, it’s can-or-cannot.”

It shouldn’t have struck him so hard, her simple matter-of-fact-words a blunt blow that almost left him gasping. That was just how Maomao saw the world. She’d never hid it. Hell, she was one of the only people Jinshi knew who insisted on reminding him of her status. But the way she spoke, both casual and solemn, and the way her beautiful dark eyes glinted like a glass doll’s, near unseeing… All combined with the sheer gravity of the truths she lay out for all to see, it was a harsh reminder of just who exactly she was supposed to be to him.

The apothecary had drawn a clear line in the sand with one breath, and her every word hammered in the posts of a steadily-rising wall between them.

“I’ll do as you order.”

He ducks into the stuffy room like there’s lightning at his heels, breathing heavily. Gaoshun looks startled at his sudden and entirely disheveled re-appearance, putting down even more wooden tablets into the pile he’d just whittled down.

“Were you able to find her, Master Jinshi?” He asks. An innocent question. The title stings as it always has, but something about how casually Gaoshun says it makes it feel even worse. The difference between a bee sting and a horsefly’s bite.

I have no right, no matter my station.

Jinshi feels raw and restless. An open wound exposed to biting, freezing winds, and he has nothing to cover it with. The hollowness in his chest gapes and crumbles. Never has sinking to the floor in a heap seemed more appealing.

It was for the best. It was for the best.

To hell with appearances. It’s only him and Gaoshun right now. He limps over to a corner and collapses to the ground, curling up like a pillbug. He buries his face in his robes, his knees. The smell of his own perfume tickles at his nostrils, almost sickeningly artificial. He thinks of the color green.

It was for the best.

So why does it hurt so much?

The silence stretches on long after he’s left. A snapping sound breaks it.

“…Xiaomao?” She can’t say she likes the idea of her new moniker spreading.

A sheepish grin. It takes Xiaolan a second to remember to look up at her face, and not down by her feet. “Sorry. It’s the first thing that popped into my mind.”

A sigh. There’s a rustle as a small bundle is returned to its place within her robes, the precious leaves inside dangerously low. She’ll need to restock as soon as possible.

There’s a sniffling sound. She’s probably making that expression again, all round-eyed and weepy. But when she looks up, the smile hasn’t dimmed in the slightest.

“…I really am going to miss you.”

“I know.”

“You’ve been a really great friend. I mean it.”

Silence. A hand reaches up to pat down her bangs. 

“Stay safe out there, okay?”

“…I will.”

Chapter Text

In hindsight, it shouldn’t be surprising that even with Maomao’s return, things wouldn’t go smoothly. 

Things started off normal. Great, even. The stars had somehow aligned in such a way that she wound up returning to the rear palace, something that had him feeling giddy to no end (even if he was slightly annoyed that the whole fiasco could have been avoided if she just spoke her mind). And even better, she could work closer to him than ever. She even had a room in his villa! They could work in the same building!

Jinshi had briefly worried about how she’d settle in, since all that time spent stewing in guilt wouldn’t just go away with one conversation. He didn’t want to push her too far (or even at all), especially since he now owned her work contract. But Maomao, clever, resourceful, resilient Maomao, had accepted her new assignment with little more than an eyeroll. She wasn’t anxious or hesitant in the slightest. She didn’t even glare at him! 

Suiren had regarded him somewhat skeptically when he told her he’d bought someone out, no matter how many times he insisted he knew her well before she became a (Part-time! There’s a distinction!) courtesan. It wasn’t that unusual, plenty of nobles and officers before him had recruited talented women from the pleasure district. And Maomao was more than talented, she was brilliant. Why was his case somehow different? 

Suiren took to her well, at least. She was sharp when it came to new hires, and he’d have to admit, watching her wrangle Maomao into shape was a little entertaining. He probably should have told the apothecary about the court lady exam he signed her up for, though. It was to push her up the ranks a little and keep the layoff incident from happening again, why was she so shocked? It was the best he could come up with.

Either way, Maomao had adapted to her new surroundings well. Suiren liked her, she handled the other palace ladies like a champion (though he questioned her methods), and she seemed decently content, especially once more and more mysteries popped up for her to solve. She still wasn’t paying much direct attention to him, despite his best efforts, but ah well, you can’t win them all. He’ll happily take being able to see her every day over the opposite.

But then things started to pile up.

An explosion at a warehouse, closed as the result of a simple mistake, with the guard taking an ill-advised smoke break. A poisoning case that resulted in the death of an official, involving a scare with toxic seaweed (which Maomao tried to eat for some heavens-forsaken reason). The death of a metalworker, which led to a dispute among sons regarding his puzzling will. And then the strategist Lakan, whom he had never formally met or even crossed paths with before, started randomly visiting his office, seemingly just to antagonize him. Maomao had been leaving the outer court more and more often as a result, to look into all those cases.

Then the walk down to the pleasure district, which started off fun, but quickly soured once he learned exactly what conclusion Lakan had been goading him toward. 

(He’d never experienced a glare quite like the one she’d given him when he mentioned the strategist by name. Jinshi would happily do anything in his power to make sure she never looked at him like that again.)

All of those incidents would have been hectic on their own. Jinshi was too busy dealing with the strategist to give them much thought, he trusted Maomao and Gaoshun to handle things in his stead. And because the universe just loved to keep him active, he’d also been occupied with preparing for the purification ceremony, something he’d been dreading all month but absolutely required his attention. It didn’t help that he was still working on trying to bridge the gap between him and the apothecary, a task somehow more difficult than anything the strategist could cook up. 

Regardless, Jinshi had failed to see the thread connecting each and every incident. He had been stuck juggling three incredibly delicate endeavors simultaneously for days. Trying to keep an eye on everything potentially happening behind the scenes, it just never crossed his mind. He was so caught up in his own little world, he didn’t notice a thing.

But Maomao had. Clever, clever Maomao.

And then she was lying on his bed, so still she could be mistaken for a corpse, if it weren’t for the stuttering rise and fall of her chest, the whistle of her breaths struggling through a nose clogged with blood. Sealed away in a room, his room, the air choked with the scent of iron and bitter, bitter medicine. Wrapped head to toe in bandages white as bone. 

It’s been a few days. The actually qualified doctor he'd called in declares Maomao fit enough to work in moderation, and she’s already returned to her duties. The ceremony altar is finally cleared of debris and the ceremonial materials have been mostly salvaged. The nobles and guards involved are still being investigated and questioned. One of the guards stationed outside was personally questioned by the strategist, but unlike his colleagues, he has yet to reappear. Jinshi is given his room back, freshly cleaned and reeking of incense, while the apothecary resettles in her own.

She seems to have moved on entirely from the incident. The bruises on her face and body have faded entirely, so all that remains in terms of evidence is the bandage around her right leg. She doesn’t even limp.

Jinshi wishes he could be that strong.

At that moment in the altar, Jinshi should have been more than a little shell-shocked. He would have been forgiven for panicking. He had almost died, crushed to a bloody paste beneath hundreds of tons of solid metal. But instead of getting up and running, or calling for a guard, or ordering a lockdown of the area, things he should have done in the wake of such a blatant attempt on his life… all he could do was hold her face in his hands and think, Who did this to you?

The trap had sprung, but the wrong creature was caught in its snare. Some would call it lucky, that things turned the way they did. He’s heard more than a few court ladies tittering amongst themselves, thanking the heavens he escaped without a scratch on his beautiful face, that the scrawny little servant girl had been there to save him. If she were a moment too late, they hummed, the palace would have lost its most valuable asset.

It’s a testament to Jinshi’s self-control, and perhaps the fact that the apothecary was still going about business as usual, that he didn’t snap and do something stupid. But while he personally wouldn’t regret putting them in their place, several someones around him probably would, and it would ruin ‘Jinshi the Eunuch’s’ image.

So, he keeps his smile light, his steps graceful, and his posture straight. Perfectly noble. A heavenly nymph to all, despite the swirling maelstrom of emotions howling within.

No matter how many times he washes his hands, no matter how many times he scrubs his entire body raw, the sickening warmth of her blood running down his arms and legs still clings to his skin. Whenever he ventures outside, especially if he nears that building, he can still smell centuries-old dust in the air, feel her labored breathing against his chest. He can feel her heartbeat, slow and loud as a drum, beating through his body. And whenever he closes his eyes for a moment too long, he can see her small (so small, she was so small, Maomao never looked so small before, she always carried herself like a giant) face looking up at him with dazed, blurry-eyed confusion, marred with blotched bruises and a nose oozing with blood, half of it swollen almost beyond recognition. 

All those horrible memories and feelings floating about his brain... as expected, they do absolutely nothing for his already atrocious sleep schedule.

For the third– no, fourth night in a row, Jinshi finds himself wandering the halls of his own villa like a ghost. He could be mistaken for a sleepwalker, a copycat case of concubine Fuyou. But the deep caverns under his bloodshot, unfocused eyes betray him as just another restless soul. 

It’s pathetic, really. His own room now seems foreign to him. Every night since the apothecary left has gone like this: Suiren helps him into his sleep clothes, he stalls outside the door until she leaves him be, then he goes inside and paces like a restless lion for about an hour. He sits down on the bed and tries to not let memories dictate his senses, lies down and stares at the ceiling for another hour, then gives up and goes for a walk. Wash, rinse, repeat.

Some nights, he’s so tired he’s able to fall asleep before the unpleasant thoughts can take hold, but he always wakes well before the sun is up. The night after though, the routine catches up and he’s forced to follow it like clockwork. It hasn’t affected his work too much, he’s only fallen asleep at his desk once so far, but Gaoshun is starting to notice and Suiren keeps adding cups of chamomile tea to his regular dinners. Even Maomao has been giving him funny looks.

Normally Jinshi would greatly enjoy those, but they’ve been less annoyed or disgusted like he’s used to. They’re worse. She keeps glancing over at him with her face twisted into concern, as if she isn’t even aware she’s making such an expression. It makes him feel guilty, though he can't quite discern why.

At the present, this night is shaping up to be one of the worse ones. His exhaustion has kept his head foggy and mostly clear of bad bugs, but he couldn’t even bring himself to sit down this time. He’d just stared at the sheets, clean and neatly tucked, and thought to himself, I wonder how long it took to wash the blood off. 

That alone had been enough. 

So here he drifts, from hall, to room, to hall again. He halfheartedly dodges and weaves side tables, chairs, couches, and more. His bare feet pad against carpet, then cold wood, then carpet again. 

More than once he passes by where the apothecary is sleeping. On his third go around, he pauses outside her door and sort of… hovers. Swaying from side to side and staring into nothing, filling his lungs with the bitter scent of herbs. He must look like a creepy drunk, but in all honesty, it does wonders for his head. Just knowing she’s safe and already replenishing her stash is enough to lift the fog from his gaze. Where she gets all that medicine from, he still doesn't know.

On his fourth go around, he pauses in front of a window instead. The blinds are drawn, but a sliver of moonlight peeks through and casts a thin silver line into the hall, cutting it neatly in two. Jinshi stops just before this line. On the other side of it, not three paces away, Maomao’s door sits cloaked in shadow. 

He feels himself smile, a weak thing, and huffs a croaky laugh. The universe couldn’t be more obvious.

Jinshi turns to leave, the growing heaviness in his limbs a clear sign that he needs to find his way back. He needs to get to that accursed bed before he passes out somewhere unusual. Suiren would never let him hear the end of it, and honestly Maomao would jump at the chance for a snide remark. But as he turns, he hears a small, faint creak, just barely audible. He casts his aching eyes over his shoulder. 

The apothecary’s door is open.

There’s no inside light, no flickering candle or glowing lantern, nor any sounds of footsteps within. He can’t see a single thing through the gap, as small as it is, still bathed in darkness. But what he can see, even in such minimal light, is movement.

There’s a long, skinny, shape creeping close to the wall. When its face passes over the line, her brilliant green eyes shine like moons of her own, her whiskers glow like moonbeams, and her fur shimmers like a starry night sky.

Jinshi is struck dumb. Xiaomao doesn’t make a sound while she walks. In fact, she doesn’t seem to notice him at all. She slinks toward him, less than an arm’s reach away, ears forward and on a mission. Standing like a statue by the opposite wall, Jinshi's mind races with questions.

Why is she here? How did she get here?  Was she in Maomao’s room? How come she didn’t see me? How did she get in?

One thought in particular has him moving to follow her. Where is she going?

Unfortunately, his body chooses that exact moment to betray him, for he is so focused on Xiaomao’s shadowy form, he overshoots his step and ends up smashing his toes into a side table’s leg.

The resulting clunk is loud enough, but it’s Jinshi’s choked curse that startles her so badly, she leaps almost his full height into the air with a sharp yowl. Jinshi clumsily attempts to lunge forward, maybe to catch her, but only succeeds in kicking the table a second time. With the grace of a flailing one-winged swan, Xiaomao twists mid-air and sinks all four of her clawed paws into the drapes of the hallway window. The resulting painful rrrrripp of presumably very expensive fabric being torn to shreds echoes down the hall. But luckily it’s sturdy enough to hold her skinny body aloft, leaving the little creature hanging from the wall.

She quickly jerks her head from left to right, eyes blown wide. But when she settles on Jinshi, his arms outstretched and eyes equally huge (and also currently occupied with keeping his mouth shut against a flood of sheer agony), she sort of… deflates. Relaxes, if Jinshi wants to be generous.

Her tail stops lashing, her ears flick forward, and her stare shifts smoothly from panicked to downright irritated. She looks so absurd, glaring down at him like he's the one dangling by his claws like an upside-down bat, that Jinshi finds his smarting foot shockingly easy to ignore.

“…You alright up there?” He finds himself whispering, slightly delirious but also extremely entertained.

The cat hisses at him. Yeah, that checks out. Jinshi can’t help laughing, only thinking to muffle it with his hand a second later.

“I’m not even gonna to bother asking how you got in here.” He murmurs, his words slurring with fatigue, but his eyes are clear and sparkling. “I thought you lived in the rear palace or something.”

Xiaomao levels an unreadable look at him before turning back to her predicament. She yanks her legs in an attempt to pull them free, but her claws are firmly dug into the woven drapery. She’s begun to growl again, as if it might shame the curtains into letting her go.

“Here,” Jinshi says, shoulders still shaking with laughter. He raises his arms and gently hooks his hands under the little creature’s front legs, like how one would pick up a toddler. Xiaomao lets out a mrrp?! of surprise and immediately starts squirming, but Jinshi simply lifts her up, and her claws easily unhook.

He does pause to examine the tearing left behind, but they don’t look deep enough to be immediately noticeable. That would have to be a problem for Future Jinshi. And possibly Suiren. Whoever spots them first.

“You really don’t weigh much,” He notes as he crouches to set her down. He also tries not to weep at how right the doctor had been when he’d said cat fur could feel like velvet. She’s so unbelievably soft he could cry, velvet simply pales in comparison. “You should eat more.”

The cat shakes him off the moment her paws touch the carpeted floor, and she twists to shoot him an icy glare, tail flicking. He’s likely imagining it, but she looks equal parts mortified, furious, and shocked, like him even daring to touch her was a grave insult. Jinshi just smiles, sitting back on his haunches and giving her plenty of space. Heavens, what he wouldn’t give to feel that fur under his fingers again.

For a moment he expects her to run off. Their last interaction wasn’t exactly pleasant, after all. She seemed angry at him then, probably still nursing a grudge, and Jinshi had done very little to soothe it. He’d just stared at her like an idiot and ran away.

But to his surprise, she just lets out a short, light growl, studying him with narrowed eyes and swiveling ears. Then, after a moment, she turns and walks away, tail high in the air.

Distinctly not running. She isn’t even speeding up. In fact, she’s moving at an almost leisurely pace. And when she reaches the corner of the hall, she stops, looks over her shoulder, and mews.

It’s quiet and flat, almost dry, but deliberate. Faintly, Jinshi registers that this is the first time he’s ever heard her make a sound other than growling or hissing. Curiosity piqued and permission all but given, he stands to follow her.

His back pops when he straightens, the sound amplified by the still night air. His legs ache as he walks, his arms swinging limply like sandbags, and he can feel his energy draining with each step. His eyes feel scratchy and his eyelids weighed down, it takes conscious effort to keep them open every time he blinks. And yet, despite all this, Jinshi thinks he could run a marathon without breaking a sweat. He’s practically buzzing with sheer elation, at the fact that not only was Xiaomao back, but she didn’t seem to hate him in the slightest. She didn’t even swipe at him when he’d picked her up.

With the most sincere smile he’s worn in weeks, so wide his dry lips crack, Jinshi quietly pads after the curious little creature. To an outside observer he must look quite silly; the Moon Prince, known far and wide for his impeccable beauty, the second-highest person in the nation… trailing after a stray cat like a lost duckling, sleep-deprived and giddy. In his own home no less. What an absurd picture they must make. 

Jinshi, however, cannot bring himself to care. This is the happiest he’s been since… well, since that nobleman’s party, when he reunited with someone he never thought he’d see again.

At the memory of Maomao, he’s struck with a pang of guilt. It’s rather rude of him to forget her so quickly once confronted with something as small as a stray. But it’s strange. Xiaomao, for as little as he’s seen of her, seems to draw out the same sort of emotions he feels while he’s with his apothecary. That sense of safety, of familiarity and comfort, like he’s in the company of someone he can trust with the world. A sense of excitement that smooths over time into something content. A constant feeling, one he can’t precisely name, but one that tells him he could spend an eternity in their company and never fall to boredom.

It’s a bit much for just a cat. But what was that western saying?

The heart wants what it wants.

Xiaomao stops and looks back at him with a confused tilt of the head. Jinshi blinks slowly, mind blank, before he realizes he may have spoken aloud.

“Nothing. Ignore me.” He whispers, staring at the carpet to hide his flushed cheeks.

Xiaomao doesn’t look convinced, but with a motion that could be a shrug if he squinted, she rounds another corner. Jinshi dutifully follows, happy to ignore whatever came over him, before he notices they’ve arrived at a very familiar location.

Jinshi sways to a stop.

“…My room?”

He looks down at the little creature quizzically, but she simply stares at him, expression flat as a board, and lets out a soft mrrr. When Jinshi just stands there, blinking, she makes that motion again, the one oddly close to an eyeroll, before she moves past him and tugs the cracked door open with her paw. She slips inside like she’s melting into the shadows, only to turn around and push the door open wider with her head. Then, she trots over to where his bed lies, cold and empty, and neatly sits down on the rug by its foot, prim and stiff-backed like a statue. 

Jinshi’s brow furrows. “You can’t be serious.”

The cat flicks her tail and gives him a look that easily reads, “Yes, yes I am.“

“Oh, wonderful. Not you too.” He throws his head back to groan at the ceiling, shoulders slumping. Xiaomao growls at him in reply. Then she stands up and marches toward him, green eyes sharp as daggers. Jinshi can only watch in amazement as slips behind him and suddenly starts headbutting the backs of his legs like a disgruntled baby goat.

“I can’t believe this,” Jinshi whines, both outraged at the audacity and fully allowing himself to be pushed forward step by step. “I’m being bullied by a cat. A tiny little stray cat the size of my–“

A particularly forceful headbutt cuts him off, almost making him stumble backward, but he lets Xiaomao maneuver him to his bedside, grumbling all the way. When he does no more than stand next to it, no matter how many times the stray tries to topple him over, she lifts her head to hiss at him.

“You seriously want me to sleep, don’t you.” He mutters, almost in disbelief. 

Xiaomao gives him her fiercest glare yet. She meows, and the sheer annoyance in the sound is more than enough to tell him she’s wholly displeased with his behavior.

Jinshi decides he likes that look. So, instead of getting into bed, he plops down on the floor next to it, resting his back against its side.

“Well then,” He says to her, crossing his arms with a cheeky grin. “I suppose if you want me to sleep..." He pauses to release a bone-cracking yawn. "...you’ll have to sit here until I do.”

That makes Xiaomao glare even harder at him, the force of her gaze almost searing. He wouldn’t be surprised if she lunged forward and bit him right then and there. She would probably take a decent chunk out of him, too. The look in her eyes is nothing short of murderous.

But, to his complete shock and delight, Xiaomao simply pins her ears back and trots over to where he’s half-sprawled on the floor. He’s sitting just slightly above eye-level with her, so he can watch with no shortage of wonder as she turns in place, kneads the carpet for a moment, then settles down next to him with a bored yawn. Granted, she’s a good half-arm’s length away, but it’s still next to him. He could probably reach out and touch her if he were more daring. 

Jinshi doesn’t even realize he’s holding his breath until Xiaomao tucks her paws in against her body, ignoring his ridiculous wide-eyed staring entirely. He’s struck by the resemblance to a loaf of black bread, and the thought punches his lungs back into working order. He tries to hold the laugh in, but fails because heavens, it’s such a ridiculous image, so it comes out sounding more like a strangled whine. Every word after is mushed into something resembling a half-giggle. He’d be embarrassed if he weren’t so struck silly.

The cat side-eyes him, like she can’t quite believe she’s allowing herself to remain in the company of such a deranged human, but neither says nor does a thing. It takes a moment for Jinshi to stop having this strange fit and recover his words. 

Once his breathing is under control, he’s struck with a new sensation. It’s not a brand-new feeling, it’s appeared every now and then as he grew, like a seasonal spectere. And with it, a sense of melancholy settles over him like a blanket, thick and smothering.

A long, idle silence stretches between them. Crickets chirp just outside his bedroom walls. Somewhere in the house, the foundation settles and the floorboards creak, as it always does when the winds blow strong enough. There might be a midnight storm overhead, one that may vanish come dawn. The last bit of moonlight visible through his curtains burns a silver stripe into the floor, brilliant and bright.

When he next opens his mouth, what comes out, neither he nor Xiaomao expects.

“…Would it be silly to say I envy you?” He asks quietly into the night.

Xiaomao turns her head toward him at this, licking her chops as she gazes up at him with those glittering green eyes. Even in this darkness, he swears he can see stars. Her ears flick forward and her head tilts, a silent question. 

Jinshi takes in a breath, then lets it out slowly. He feels like he’s slowly sinking into the floor, bit by bit, like whatever's holding him up might suddenly break and send him plummeting to his death. If he fell asleep here, Future Jinshi would hate him deeply for it.

“You’re very intelligent, for one. You can go anywhere you want, eat whatever you like, whenever you like, and not worry about what anyone thinks of you. You can make friends with tango r... get nicknames from them... and if you don’t like something, or someone, you can just… run away from it all.” He swallows down the growing lump in his throat with some difficulty. He is not letting anything else out, not even when he’s so utterly drained his bones feel like dead weight. “Most people like cats. It’s special when one decides to hang around you. Me, on the other hand, I can’t…”

Another swallow. He wets his lips. “The apothecary had a point, I guess, when she said most people're just being nice to me. I can’t keep anyone around. I’m not s'posed to. All I can really have are retainers and servants. And the one time I try to reach out and keep someone close–“

His voice cracks. Jinshi keeps his eyes locked onto the shadowy ceiling, trying to ignore the emerald eyes staring straight through him. He swallows again.

“…She could have died, Xiaomao.” 

He hates how small and wobbly his voice has become, like a teetering top slowly losing its wind. 

Jinshi shouldn’t be saying these things. Someone could be listening just outside the window, a passing guard, a late-working noble, a petty thief, anyone. It’s utterly pathetic, gradually falling to pieces in front of an animal. But somehow this little room feels closed and contained, enveloped in moonlight and swirling darkness, at once comforting and isolated. It’s just him and his stray. So the words just keep coming. 

“She could have died because of me, and– she– it was supposed to be me back there, not her. She wasn’t s’posed to get hurt. I’m... everyone says I should be be grateful it wasn’t anything permanent, but every time I remember it, I just...“ Jinshi slides fully onto the floor, lying on his back, his eyes filled with memories he likely won’t ever be able to shake. “The way they keep talking about it. About her. Like it’s normal. Like it’s just expected of her, to do that for me. Because for some reason my life is more important than hers, and I don’t– I can’t–.”

Jinshi scrubs a rough hand over his face. It does absolutely nothing to wipe away the mess. “I should have never brought her here, it’s– heavens, why did I even bother her in the first place? Why did I think it would be okay? I should have known this would happen, and yet–”

He’s so tired. The many, many sleepless nights from before are taking the opportunity to catch up to him all at once. He knows what he’s saying doesn’t make sense. He’s practically sinking into the ground, that damned ache returning alongside a burning heat behind his eyes. His tongue feels heavy in his mouth.

“What am I even doing.” Jinshi tries to force a laugh, but it comes out watery and bitter. “Whining to a cat like some kind of child. Oh, if only the court ladies could see me now...”

He sniffs, the sound uncomfortably wet. He can’t bear to even look at Xiaomao right now, not when he can feel the tears sitting in his eyes, waiting for him to move so they can fall freely. So Jinshi just lies there, flat on his back, choking down the gunk and the lumps and any more damning words he would sooner die than say to anyone else. 

Gradually, the roaring in his ears begins to die down.

It takes him a moment to realize the room isn’t silent.

There’s a strange sound drifting about the room. It’s a rumbling sort of sound, like falling boulders or rattling wood, only much softer and so quiet he has to concentrate to hear it. Jinshi turns his head, the gathered tears finally falling sideways down his face and sinking into the carpet.

Xiaomao has turned away from him, her eyes closed and her face straight ahead. She hasn’t moved at all, still in that same bread-loaf position with her paws and tail tucked in tight. She could almost pass for being asleep, if it weren’t for the single ear turned toward him and the low, low sound, traveling through the wooden flooring like aftershocks.

She’s purring. 

Jinshi had been told of this before. But he’s never experienced it himself. It changes speeds as she inhales and exhales, he can feel it through the ground as well as in the air, and it just might be the most beautiful sound he’s ever heard in his life.

He can’t help the weak smile that creeps over his face. Jinshi turns back toward the ceiling, soaking in that wonderful, wonderful sound like a sponge. It sinks into his bones like a balm, a hot bath after hours of training in the snow, a heating stone under his clothes on a winter day. It’s so unbelievably soothing he practically melts where he is, putting the stubby candle on his bedside table to shame. He would thank her, but the air feels fragile, as if a single wrong word would shatter his entire world, and he’d wake up cold and alone in a bed that no longer feels like his.

Xiaomao continues to purr, completely unbothered. The night moves on.

Jinshi couldn’t ask for a better lullaby.

When he wakes, Xiaomao is gone, and there’s a new crick in his neck that refuses to leave for days. Current Jinshi absolutely despises Past Jinshi for falling asleep on the floor. Current Suiren also despises Past Jinshi for not telling her about the torn drapes in the west wing.

And yet, he’s never felt so well-rested.

As such, he can now focus more energy into making sure Maomao doesn’t pick up too many chores. He’s seen her catch herself from nodding off twice today, and the bags under her eyes are just painful to look at, he’s never seen her so openly tired before. It makes him wonder what she got up to after hours. Maybe she finally broke into that caterpillar fungus.

He’ll have to ask Suiren if she can slip in some chamomile with her usual dinner.

Chapter Text

“Spit it out! ”

Xiaomao responds with a sound somewhere between a screech and a yowl. 

She thrashes in his grip, flailing and hissing like some kind of demonic trout fished from the depths of hell itself. Jinshi is struggling significantly to keep her still, his brow soaked with sweat and his jaw clenched so hard it’s trembling. Never did he think all those nights training with Basen would come in handy for something like this.

Heavens, I think I’d prefer a trout.

At least with a fish he doesn’t have to worry about accidentally strangling them. Or being clawed to death.

“Just give it to me, you are not–“ He grunts, one hand firmly fisted around her extremely slippery scruff, while the other is digging around in her mouth. “If you swallow this, I swear on the heavens above, you will regret it.”

Xiaomao, in a shocking display of irrationality, snarls ferociously and tries to yank her head away from him. Jinshi in turn refuses to let go. He isn’t sure how he’s managed to avoid getting bitten, but he suspects it might only be because Xiaomao would have to release her prize in order to do so. 

“Come on, just– ow!”

Jinshi yelps when her claws dig into his exposed arm, dragging a rough cut above his elbow. She’s kicking frantically at him with her back legs like a rabbit. He can feel each needle-sharp nail sticking in his robes every time she lands a hit, and if he weren’t so busy trying to keep his grip steady, he’d be mapping out his apology to Suiren. Jinshi thanks his lucky stars he was able to scruff her before she started swiping; The doctor’s scrolls on cat care mentioned grabbing the loose skin at the back of their neck would help keep them still, and it’s kind of working… but only for her upper half.

This cat is going to be the death of me someday, He thinks, hissing through his teeth when another one of Xiaomao’s kicks grazes his forearm. First the apothecary, and now her? Aren’t animals supposed to be a little smarter about eating poison?

For all her similarities to Maomao, the little stray just had to adopt the one trait that never failed to give him a heart attack. Even worse, he didn’t even know she was here. The last he saw her, she was in the outer palace near his villa— this was the rear palace.

Maomao had been tasked with making another aphrodisiac for the Emperor, and as such, had spent the better part of the day hard at work in one of the rear palace kitchens. It had been a bold request, even for his brother, made during a lunch visit to the Jade pavilion. Evidently the concoction she’d whipped up last time worked wonders, if the mischievous glint in his sharp eyes was anything to go off of. Though Jinshi couldn’t help but feel a tad concerned for Lady Gyokuyou, as her face had gone a little pale the moment the words left His Majesty’s lips.

Maomao took it all in stride thankfully. And Jinshi, naturally, stuck around to monitor the process. It was an imperial order, and hey, he was genuinely curious as to how that ‘chocolate’ stuff was made. Evidently, though, after about half an hour the apothecary had reached her limit and sent him away to retrieve some of her things, which she supposedly had left behind in her quarters. 

Part of him suspected she did so just to get him out of the way, as she didn’t specify what she left there, just to “Make yourself useful, sir, and get some ingredients from my room.” But he didn’t mind. Who was he to deny her help?

Except, just as he was returning, a haphazard pouch of herbs and ingredients in hand (at least he assumed they were ingredients, he kind of just grabbed stuff at random), lo and behold, he was met not with the apothecary, but a certain green-eyed intruder: One who was perched on the kitchen table, her face stuck deep inside the mixing bowl.

Maomao was nowhere to be found. Her supplies were left behind, servings of fruit, sugar, butter, cow’s milk, and cacao scattered around the kitchen. A tray of cooling chocolate-covered fruit was set up high in the bare shelves, while a mixing bowl sat filled with half-mixed brown goop. Even the stove was still warm. His first thought was that she must have ducked out to use the bathroom or something, and evidently, Xiaomao had taken advantage of her absence to steal a taste— a taste of something that was not only a potent aphrodisiac, but extremely toxic to cats.

His bundle is dropped without a single care, and the panicked “NO!” that burst from his lips would have put a seasoned actor to shame.

And now he was here, wrestling with a cat on the dirty kitchen floor, trying with immense difficulty to pry a lump of cacao the size of his thumb out of her mouth. 

“For the love of all things good in this world, just spit it out.” He grunts. Xiaomao is all but screeching at him by this point. You’d think he was trying to murder her.

Jinshi really hopes Maomao doesn’t come back during all this.

Eventually, thankfully, the cat briefly loosens her bite to hiss at him and he’s able to yank the offending object from the back of her mouth, flinging it into an open storage crate. Xiaomao, for some reason, jerks and scrambles as if to follow it. Jinshi has to heft her fully into the air like a ragdoll to keep her from digging her claws into the wooden floor (or himself, for that matter).

“One,” He says, holding up a finger in front of the cat’s face. “This stuff belongs to the Emperor. He is a very powerful man and you are a stray cat. He’ll have your head for stealing it.”

“Two,” He lifts a second finger. “This is people food. Very expensive people food. You should not be getting into the habit of eating food that’s not made with you in mind.“

“And three,” He lifts a third finger and fixes Xiaomao with the fiercest glare he can muster. To her credit, she actually looks a little cowed this time. “This is poison. Cacao makes cats very very sick, the palace doctor himself has records of what can happen, and it’s not pretty. His own cat stole raw cacao and got so sick, she could barely move. He had to make her throw it up so she wouldn’t die.”

Jinshi shakes her a little, to make sure she’s paying attention. “You want that to happen to you? Huh? You want to get horribly sick and die?”

Unfortunately for him, perhaps he overestimated his stray’s intelligence. Xiaomao’s face says yes, she does want to get sick and die, because even though he’s dangling her from her scruff she’s still eyeing the mixing bowl of chocolate like it’s the tastiest thing in the world. Her body suddenly tenses, and he quickly tightens his grip before she twists and tries to wriggle free again.

When the stray starts running mid-air, as if she’ll suddenly gain the ability to gallop over air currents and leave him in the dust, Jinshi decides enough is enough.

“Nope. Uh-uh, no, I’m not falling for that. Stop it. You’re making a fool of yourself.” He stands and carries her out of the kitchen, holding her at arm’s length like she’s some kind of delicate explosive. The cat swipes and kicks, but sadly, her reach is far shorter than his own. She’s growling in a way she probably hopes sounds like rolling thunder, though to him it just comes off as a temper tantrum. 

“I am not letting someone else die on my watch, you hear me? Especially not for something this stupid.” He drags his free hand down his face, dropping down onto the outside steps. “Heavens above, you’re worse than the apothecary. Are you two related or something?”

Xiaomao freezes at that. It was strangely common for her to get all stiff and quiet whenever he mentioned Maomao. Perhaps she had a bad encounter with her in the past? Jinshi wouldn’t put it past her to experiment on animals, though she seemed like the type to stick to small rodents (and herself, the lunatic), not large animals like cats. Maybe Xiaomao accidentally ate a concoction of hers and kept a grudge over it.

“What am I going to do with you…” He mutters, part of him wondering if this was what Gaoshun had to go through in his younger years. Surely he wasn’t this obnoxious, though. He leans back onto one hand, tilting his head into a shoulder to observe her. 

Xiaomao, finally realizing he’s not going to let her poison herself, has resorted to glaring at him like he’s just condemned her to a life of torture and misery. She’s completely limp, licking her chops and flicking her tail like a pendulum. Jinshi gets the sense that if he drops her now, she’s going to lunge and tear right back into the kitchen, clawing him to shreds in the process. Her eyes rapidly flick between him and the kitchen doorway.

Experimentally, Jinshi lowers her. Her pupils widen, almost swallowing the green completely, and she stares far, far beyond his shoulder. The little stray is practically trembling. Jinshi raises her back up. Immediately her body stills. She snaps her attention back to his face, pupils narrowing to snake-thin slits.

He scowls. “Alright then. Be that way.”

Then he stands, ignoring her squeak of protest as he swiftly tucks the infuriating creature into his arms, against his chest. “If you’re so set on being a nuisance, you can do so somewhere else. I’m not letting you bother the apothecary.”

Xiaomao wriggles and squirms, but her kicking legs keep getting tangled up in the loose fabric of his robes, and she’s unable to find purchase. Jinshi keeps his grip tight just to be sure, walking as smoothly as possible to avoid jostling her. He attracts a few curious gazes from the occasional maid or passing eunuch, but he’s able to distract their wandering eyes from his precious cargo with a practiced sparkle. Oddly, the stray growls quietly each time he does so.

“Weirdo,” She seems to be saying. Jinshi ignores her. 

By the time he’s made it back to his office, Xiaomao has resorted to sinking her teeth into his shoulder, a last-ditch effort to escape. Her efforts are in vain, however, as his robes have become bunched up with all her struggling, meaning she just gets a mouthful of fabric and perfume for her troubles. Her teeth don't even graze skin.

“Calm down,” He grumbles, shouldering open the door. “I’m not going to hurt you.”

Stuck fast in the cage of his arms, the cat tilts her head back to glower at him, nose scrunched with displeasure. Physically? She was fine. Jinshi was hardly a brute when it came to raw strength. But her dignity…

Xiaomao tries once more to push herself out of his grasp, and while she struggles, Jinshi is hit with a wonderful idea. He can feel a smirk twisting at his lips, and quickly he tugs the door shut behind him. He waits for her to stop straining, before hefting her a little bit higher and securing an arm underneath her. The cat pushes back against his chest with her paws to glare up into his eyes, face flat and extremely unimpressed. When she does, he takes the opportunity to reach up and scratch the top of her itty-bitty head.

She dodges his first attempt, leaning as far to the side as she can, but sadly for her she can’t exactly go far. When his hand makes contact, she freezes up, and in that brief, blissful window, Jinshi is able to run his fingers from her forehead to the back of her neck. 

Her fur is softer than he could ever imagine, smooth and clean and almost downy. There’s no dirt, no bumps, scratches, or scabs, just pure softness. And Xiaomao, shockingly, doesn’t even snap at him. She just sits there, claws dug into his robes, eyes wide.

When she doesn’t move any further, he finds it very difficult to stop petting, a sort of rhythm forming. Already Jinshi feels light as a feather. If the universe would let him, he’d spend the rest of the day standing in the doorway and running his fingers through her fur. 

Up, and down, and up, and down. He scratches and pets and strokes to his heart’s content, smiling so wide his cheeks have begun to ache. And to his growing surprise, Xiaomao just… lets him. Staring straight ahead like she can't quite register what's happening. He tries scratching at different spots with his nails, the spots he’s seen soldiers go for with dogs, but Xiaomao only really reacts when he reaches under her right cheek. To his utter delight and amazement, her eyes start to drift shut and she leans into his touch, her small head fitting neatly into the curve of his palm. He has to bite back a coo, for her sake. Perhaps he’s found an itch there. Luckily for her, he’s more than happy to scratch it.

It couldn’t have been more than a few minutes, but to Jinshi it feels like hours. He runs a thumb under Xiaomao’s chin, almost melting with joy when she sticks her head out to allow him more access. There’s a faint rumble building in her tiny body, he can just barely feel it through his robes, and it’s turning his bones to mush. His heart feels so incredibly full, like it could burst at any moment and come flopping out onto the ground. Jinshi might be dangerously close to crying.

He briefly removes his hand, planning to reach around to the other cheek, when Xiaomao’s eyes suddenly snap wide open. She jerks upright, the rumble gone, replaced with a sharp yowl. She immediately starts struggling with renewed vigor, pushing against his body and kicking her feet, slipping further and further out of his arms. Her teeth flash in the light of the window. The timer has run out.

Though he loathes to do so, Jinshi decides to finally grant the poor thing mercy. He withstands her kicks (which are getting increasingly more painful) and gently sets her down on the ground. The second her paws touch the floor, she breaks free like a hunting dog set loose, immediately sprinting toward his desk, tail arched like a fishhook. Jinshi watches her scramble behind it, deflating like a leaky balloon.

“Aw… I thought we were having a moment there.” He says to the glaring shiny-eyed silhouette, already missing the sensation of her soft, soft fur. She meows angrily at him in response, the sound high and drawn, her ears folded so far back, the top of her head looks completely flat. 

He sighs again, smoothing out his sleeves before following after her. The cat watches him warily, but refuses to move from her spot, her harsh-cut gaze tracking his every move.

“Don’t be like that,” He says, dropping into his chair with a hearty exhale. She barely even flinches. ”Look on the bright side, you can keep me company while I work. Just until the apothecary is finished.”

Xiaomao lets out a mrrrmm sort of sound, skeptical. Distantly, Jinshi realizes he has no idea how to tell when Maomao would be finished, least of all from within his office. He shrugs it off. Someone would tell him. Probably. 

He turns his attention from the irritated lump of shadow by his feet to the stack of papers at his front. His chop sits innocently off to the side, doing absolutely nothing wrong, but Jinshi can’t help the feeling of irritated exhaustion washing over him as he picks it up.

The first leaf he pulls from his mountain of crippling responsibilities is a familiar one; It’s an edited rendition of the alcohol abstinence proposal, the very one that once gave his apothecary a real fright. It seems like the age was lowered to nineteen and the proposed import tax for wines increased by a fair amount, with added emphasis on foreign market pressures. Imported wines, it appears, were outselling those made in-house. The Linese brewers would surely appreciate it, but trade with their neighbors was already shaky, and the tax being bundled with the age limit was just–

A light thump breaks him from his musings. He turns, and suddenly there’s Xiaomao, sitting on his desk like she’s always belonged there. She looks rather regal in the midday light, stiff-backed and unbothered, the sunlight from the window shimmering over her glossy fur like ink. Even her green ribbon looks wrinkle-free and neat. Not to mention her gorgeous eyes. They might be his favorite part of her.

She’s peering at the paper in his hand with interest, though when he shifts to admire her (Such a beautiful creature…), she fixes him with a withering look. As if him daring to look at her was an insult beyond belief. Jinshi flashes her a smile, one of his very best. It worsens her glare, just like he expected.

“What do you think? Is nineteen good enough?” He asks his frosty guest teasingly, tilting the bill so she can see. She looks at him with complete and utter disdain, only widening his smile, but her ears flick toward the proposal. Emerald eyes rake over the characters, one line after the other, up and down. Her whiskers twitch.

Jinshi pauses. She's staring at the lines very... intently. Like she's focused.

Is she… is she actually reading it? 

The stray certainly appeared to be deep in thought, or was he just projecting? Can cats learn to read? Is that normal? He’s heard of dogs being trained to recognize symbols and names, same with messenger pigeons, but nothing about cats…

Ignoring his drastic shift in mood, Xiaomao lets out an audible snort and places her paw over his hand. Jinshi stills as she presses down firmly, forcing his hand to place the paper down. There isn’t so much as a poke from her claws. Then she’s tugging it from his loose fingers, pulling it across the table and wrinkling the parchment. The cat backs up, dragging the paper with her, until she’s perched at the very edge of his desk. She lifts her paw, glowering at the bill as if it were a sun-dried earthworm, tail flicking and glittering emerald eyes flashing…

…then pivots, swatting at his inkstone and sending a splash of ink right over the paper. Rendering the entire proposal illegible in an instant.

It takes an embarrassing amount of time for Jinshi to stop laughing.

He lets Xiaomao out after a few hours, once the sun has started to sink behind the horizon, and takes his time walking home. When he stops by the kitchens for a progress update, to his surprise, Maomao is still working.

“Hey, apothecary?” He asks, leaning over her shoulder and stifling a yawn.

She doesn’t look up from where she’s cutting fruit, leaning away from him as if he were a pesky fly. “Yes sir?”

“Are you certain that batch is… er, good?”

The knife stills. She glances up at him sharply, not quite glaring, no, this is a new expression. He doesn’t think he’s ever seen her look so supremely insulted. “Why do you ask, sir? Do you doubt my abilities?”

“No! No, not at all!” Jinshi scrambles. “Nothing like that, it’s just–“

“Yes?”

“–it’s just I, uh, caught someone. Earlier. Looking into the kitchen. I was wondering if perhaps that batch may have been… tainted?”

She’s quiet for a moment, watching him. She doesn’t blink. Then, “Nothing has been touched by anyone other than myself, Master Jinshi. I assure you. If it were, I would have thrown it out by now.”

He nods, but then a question comes to mind. Before he can catch himself, he’s asking it. “Have you seen any stray animals around here? Like cats or dogs?”

Maomao doesn't say anything, her knife still held frozen mid-chop. She searches his face, those deep, bottomless blue eyes drawing a shiver out of his spine. He doesn’t think he’ll ever get tired of it.

Her own face is smooth, an almost solid mask without a hint of emotion, but he can still tell she’s thinking hard. She’s studying him, in a way that clearly has her anxious, if the slight wrinkle of her brow and tightening of her jaw is any indication, but Jinshi doesn’t know what she’s looking for. Evidently she doesn’t find it, whatever it was, because she gives a slight huff and turns back to her task.

“No.” She says, flat and simple, like a strike of steel. And that’s the end of it.

Chapter Text

Maomao is in serious trouble.

One could argue none of it was her fault. She hasn’t done anything to warrant too much attention, she has broken no taboos nor laws. She’d helped change the laundry at the Jade Pavilion, tasted breakfast and lunch for Lady Gyokuyou (no poison, sadly), and brought Xiaolan some leftover baozhi. Afterwards, she finally found a break in her day long enough to drop by the medical office. The day, in all honesty, has been up to this point entirely uneventful.

In fact, the only pressing matter that plagued her was a personal one. Maomao always kept a small kit of supplies on her person; bundles and pouches tucked away inside hand-sewn makeshift pockets, alongside basic necessities like bandages, a needle and thread, and emetics. In one of such pouches, between the balms and cold remedies, her stash of silvervine appeared to be running low.

Maomao kept multiple stashes of the stuff all over the place. In her robes, under her bed in the Jade Pavilion, in an unused drawer in the medical office, and most recently, stuffed behind a desk in her quarters at Jinshi’s villa. She had reliable access to silvervine whenever and wherever she needed it. She’d also planted some sprouts near the northern orchards in the rear palace, and they took to the soil rather well, so she typically found herself with more than plenty.

So, she visited the medical office to replenish her stores. Silvervine was of particular importance, since she relied on it for a great number of things. Not only was it useful as a medicinal herb, but she needed to keep it on hand at all times, so she could… exercise certain freedoms, so to say, without issue. Silvervine was Maomao’s best-kept secret weapon.

Now imagine Maomao’s shock when she tugs open her drawer, the effects of her last leaf quickly wearing off, only to find a certain Admonisher of Thieves instead. 

The damned kitten lies fat and happy in a bed of crushed, shredded, and most of all eaten herbs. Not a single salvegable scrap is left. She blinks up at her with drunken glee, only mildly surprised to see another cat, rolling happily in her mess.

Maomao is not the type of person to panic. In that instant, though, she felt something very close to it.

She couldn’t help the snarl that burst from her throat, spooking the calico out of her silvervine-induced stupor. The kitten puffs up with a yowl, ears flattening, but a sharp hiss was all it took to send her somersaulting out the drawer and diving under the table. As young as she was, she knew when to pick her battles.

It gave Maomao ample time to frantically paw through the remains, sorting the usable from the ruined. Her despair only grew with each passing second. When she was done, the resulting piles weren’t promising in the slightest.

She had just enough left for half an hour. It should be able to tide her over long enough to reach her secret garden in the orchard, provided nothing else got in her way, but she’d be cutting it close. Despite this, Maomao is confident she can make it. She needed to keep her second skin on for at least the rest of the afternoon, so she could test the effects of azalea consumption. 

But then, enter one sparkly eunuch, in all his heavenly wild-eyed glory.

A eunuch who, upon sighting her half-in the drawer, promptly seized her around the waist and hauled her into the air, like she barely weighed a thing. Making her stomach flip and shaking loose the last tattered leaf of silvervine from her jaws. 

He started shrieking about poison and stealing and likely many other things, but Maomao could barely pay attention, as she was too busy trying not to lose her mind.

Time blurred. She didn’t know how any of it happened, but after a whirlwind of flapping robes, stern talking-tos, and long fingers in her fur, Maomao somehow ended up back at Jinshi’s villa. 

In his room.

On his chest.

Dammit.

The bastard had kidnapped her from the rear palace, taken her to his home (carrying her like she was an infant), locked them both in his personal quarters, and subjected her to a petting session in his own bed. He didn’t relent, not even when she managed to sink her teeth into his hand. If anything it seemed to spur him on.

And then, an unidentifiable time later (Maomao tended to lose her sense of time when petting was involved, to her annoyance), he had the sheer audacity to fall asleep, hugging her smaller form to his body like a child with a stuffed toy.

How did Maomao end up working for such an annoying, inconsiderate, and above all clingy man?

It was said by some that one could tell the true character of a person by how they treat the animals around them. If they were kind to creatures smaller and less intelligent than humans, then they were likely to be kind to their fellow man as well. The logic seemed perfectly steady at first glance. 

But more than once, Maomao had witnessed quite a few glaring contradictions. Namely, that some people treasured their animals more than their fellow man.

One time, before she learned of her affliction, a noble came to the Verdegris in a carriage pulled by four horses. When he stepped out, he’d spent a full five minutes doting on those horses, giving them water from his own gourd and stroking their manes, looking a good ten years younger. But then a servant girl swept some leaves a hair too closely to his feet, and he immediately fixed her with a truly nasty sneer. He felt no problem barking orders at her, while at the same time apologizing to his horses for making them wait around in the summer heat. A truly perplexing and detestable figure.

Suffice to say, this was Maomao’s initial impression of the eunuch known as Jinshi. When he’d stumbled across (or rather, on) her while she was wrapped in her second skin, she could only describe his demeanor as “childlike”. He’d gazed at her quietly, his handsome, heaven-sculpted face overcome with wonder, and he’d spoken so softly, even her second skin had to strain to make out a single word. He had looked profoundly harmless then, struck with nothing more than innocent curiosity. And when she ran, taking the remains of her latest experiment with her, he did no more than watch.

But when she met him a second time, walking the palace grounds as her usual skinny, freckled self, he might as well have been a different person entirely. 

Sparkly, overbearing, persistent, and above all annoying. There was no innocence in his deep obsidian eyes, nor gentleness in his honey-sweet voice. A gorgeous heavenly nymph, yes, but one entirely composed of shallow smiles and practiced brilliance. He clearly saw her as nothing more than a source of amusement. An entertaining toy, and likely one of many.

As for Maomao, in him, all she saw was an irritant she just couldn’t wash out. And infuriatingly, he stuck to her like a celestial burr in her side, no matter how many glares she shot his way. If anything, glowering at him like the disgusting horsefly he was only seemed to spur him on. She was confident in her assessment of such a character. An animal-lover he may be, but a creature worth her time? Not at all. He would grow bored and move on to some other poor soul to torment soon enough. She just had to wait it out.

So she waited. 

And waited. 

And waited.

Perhaps, Maomao thinks, as she gently rises and falls in time with his breaths. I made a slight miscalculation.

She wonders if this is some form of divine punishment, but she can’t think of anything she might have done to warrant the wrath of the heavens.

Doesn’t he have work to do?

Jinshi is soundly, deeply asleep. His face is lax, inhumanly serene and unfairly beautiful, with the hint of a smile gracing his plush, slightly parted lips. In the light of the window, his pale skin seems to shine like polished porcelain, smooth and unblemished. His long, silken hair is artfully draped over the pillow, nary a strand out of place. It’s almost shimmering, like spun glass in the sun.

This close, Maomao can feel his breath ghosting over her whiskers, the scent of jasmine tickling her nose. She can feel his heartbeat under her paws, steady and strong, and she can smell his perfume; spices, flowers, sandalwood, and something else, something heady, distinctly human in a way she can’t quite pinpoint. There are bags under his eyes, faint but clearly visible to a trained eye, his brow is smooth, and a line of drool is carving a path from the corner of his mouth.

If Maomao were anyone else, Jinshi would be in some serious danger. Such a sight is not fit for common eyes.

He looks so peaceful, so deep under the waves of sleep, so beautifully unguarded, her urge to escape before the silvervine wears off is actively warring with her urge to let the idiot get some rest. She can’t quite tell which side is winning.

One hand is resting on her head, fingers loose and frozen mid-stroke, his thumb dangling between her eyes, while the other hangs limply over her hip. She’s tried wriggling out of his hold, but each attempt only makes his arms heavier. Even with his loose, silken robes between her fur and his skin, she can’t quite seem to slip out. Jinshi is practically dead to the world, and yet the bastard still seems hesitant to leave her be.

Maomao’s skin prickles. Her whiskers and ears have begun to twitch. They’re tell-tale signs that her time is almost up, before the silvervine is fully absorbed into her system and this already difficult situation becomes significantly worse.

The first time Maomao learned of her second skin’s existence, it had been a thoroughly embarrassing experience. She had been taking stock of her father’s shop at the Verdegris, sorting through medicines and mentally tallying up what they were missing, when she accidentally sneezed and sent many of the powders flying. Head encircled by a cloud of medicine, she’d taken one breath, and suddenly the world grew. 

Her sister Pairin had then chosen that exact moment to come calling for her, and after a squeal of astonishment, Maomao found herself suffocated by wandering hands and a bountiful bosom. She’d never been manhandled so thoroughly and abruptly in her entire life, not since she was a baby. And somehow, in that moment, with her senses suddenly heightened to a terrifying degree, she felt every touch against her now-furry skin like a white-hot brand.

Once she’d broken free from her sister’s onslaught on her person, Maomao had managed to flee and scramble into a hiding place somewhere in the annex. She spent exactly thirty-seven seconds there, shivering under a table and gripped with senses too sharp and overwhelming to be hers, until the affliction passed and… whatever this was wore off. 

The return to her normal self was near-instantaneous. And when she stood up to shake off the itchy sensation of balmy air tickling her skin, mind reeling with questions, she found she was being watched by a pair of glassy, doll-like eyes. 

The dead woman had been staring at her with an intensity she had not seen in years, her gaze not unfocused like usual, but firm. Like she was seeing something Maomao could not. She watched, a living corpse hunched and hidden by a curtain of tangled hair. Maomao had frozen in place. Gooseflesh crawled over her body as the seconds ticked by. 

Then the woman’s eyes glazed over. She opened her mouth, and just as quickly closed it, before turning away. Maomao took the opportunity to make a hasty retreat. 

When she’d wandered back to the shop, slightly shaken and mind racing, she found Pairin at the mercy of a vicious dressing-down, courtesy of the Madame. When things calmed down, Maomao learned a great many things that day, both about herself and the woman that bore her.

The courtesan named Fengxian had been born with a curious condition, one that allowed her to change shapes, from human to cat. Neither the Madame nor anyone else who knew her understood the source of her affliction. It was something she almost never utilized, in fact it was only the result of accidental exposure to certain plants that made others aware of it. And thanks to circumstances beyond her control, that peculiar affliction had been passed down to her.

There were few things Maomao hated more than questions that didn’t have answers. While she generally knew when to cut off her train of thought, in the back of her mind the puzzle pieces would always find their way together. Everything, she believed, had a reason for its existence, be it a curious disease or unusual phenomenon. She took very little stock in tales of spirits, ghosts, curses, or monsters. Some people enjoyed them, and she had no problem letting people believe what they wanted so long as it didn’t bring trouble. But Maomao was firmly set up in the camp of rationality.

Suffice to say, the impossible existence of her other skin infuriated her. 

Some diseases or conditions were hereditary, and many more were born from bloodlines mixing too closely. But an illness such as her own, one that defied the very laws of reality, would likely haunt her until her dying breath. Maomao would never admit to believing in curses, but what was she to do when it was the only explanation for something she herself was experiencing?

She normally loved to think through problems, but thinking too deeply on this particular topic only made things worse. It was a betrayal on her psyche from her own body, and it stressed her out more than anything she’d experienced before. Maomao couldn’t let herself fall too deeply into her own head. So, the best way to avoid ruminating on the implications that the supernatural could possibly exist in a tangible form? 

Experiment. It was the only thing she could do to keep herself sane.

Once she had narrowed down the triggers for her second skin’s appearance, Maomao dedicated every free moment she had to testing the logistics and abilities of her other self. Sometimes she enlisted her sisters’ help, sometimes her father, but usually she had to run through her experiments alone.

Both the leaves and seeds of woodsorrel and silvervine, when taken orally, could trigger the change to her other skin. But when powdered and inhaled, the effect was significantly more brief. Silvervine tended to be more effective than woodsorrel, as one full leaf could make the change last up to two dual-hours, as opposed to only one with the latter. A pinch of powder of either, however, lasted no longer than two or so minutes. If she tested the ratios well enough, she could prepare batches that allowed for any length of time she needed.

Her other skin was about an eighth of her normal self’s size at the shoulder, and any clothing worn by her human self would vanish, only to reappear unchanged on her body when she returned to normal. Objects she held in her hands would not transfer, but the things sewn inside her robes would. Objects held against her body would also not transfer. The rule seemed to be that the only things that stayed on her when she changed were things she could have on her person, ones that didn’t require conscious effort to hold. 

A very convenient symptom, if not completely and utterly impossible. 

Maomao had spent days trying to discern how things like clothes and medicines could just vanish between changes, but she made very little headway. Her first thought was to observe caterpillars and frogs, as they were capable of similarly drastic transformations. But no matter how many tadpoles she studied and butterfly cocoons she sliced open, all she got for her troubles was a shack full of frogs and a workbench covered in goo.

She’d even gone through the effort of digging out a small pond by her personal garden. The frogs enjoyed it, but Maomao could only watch them bitterly. Not even skewering a few over a fire and harvesting their medicinal parts could satiate her frustration.

Her claws and nails grew at the same rate, her other skin’s fur stayed short no matter how she cut her hair, and her cleanliness was consistent across both forms, as was her appetite. She was more agile than her normal self, but had the same general stamina and was prone to overheating. Fleas and ticks were a genuine concern, so Maomao would have to avoid tall grasses and dense foliage while wearing her second skin, but regular baths and personal checkups kept the parasites under control.

Cat’s paws were functionally useless for anything other than running, climbing, or swatting. She could not write, talk, or even carry her mortar and pestle with anything other than her mouth, and even that was immensely difficult. Her senses of smell and hearing, however, were greatly heightened, and her small size made navigating narrow or hard-to-reach places significantly easier. And, as a cat, snakes, frogs, and insects were much easier to catch.

Her other skin was also susceptible to different herbs and poisons. Things nontoxic to humans would have adverse effects on her other self, sometimes to extreme levels, and vice versa. Maomao is still keeping track of all the differences, but once she’d learned she could experience the same herbs and plants differently, it had been a very exciting week.

Her kidnapping to the rear palace did little to damper such experimentation, as navigating the grounds while under the guise of a tiny black cat was ridiculously easy. She could hide herbs and plants almost anywhere she wished, and retrieve them just as easily. Plus, there were some plants in the rear palace she couldn’t find anywhere else. Perfect for testing their potential toxicity on a cat’s body. 

But even then, whenever Maomao left the safety of her normal skin, she could never shake the fear of somehow being discovered. Xiaolan was the only one who caught her changing forms, and luckily, though she loved to gossip, she was both trustworthy and smart enough to not go around telling. She even gave her a little green ribbon to wear, so she wouldn’t be mistaken for a random stray.

But the terror that had gripped Maomao’s heart in that moment, when she turned and saw the young maid staring at her with wide-eyed shock, standing at the doorway of a room that should have been empty…

Jinshi lets out a quiet groan, his head lolling to the side and pressing deeper into the pillow. He inhales deeply, lifting Maomao in the process, before releasing it as a happy sigh, a soft smile blooming over his face. The hand on her head starts to slip, soft fingers tracing paths through her fur, pristine manicured nails dragging over her skin, before falling away onto the bed.

Maomao wonders what he could possibly be dreaming about, to make him smile like that.

He’s so very warm.

Her skin itches something fierce. There’s a painful twinge to it. Maomao needs to get out of here now.

Slowly, as slowly as she can despite her pounding heartbeat and the roaring in her ears, she tries to stand. The hand on her hip drifts, the weight of it lessening. She tucks her paws underneath her and pushes, lifting her backside, feeling his arm shift as she wiggles her tiny body out of his grip. The hand slides down her back, toward her head. Maomao starts to back up, away from that beautiful face and his light, kitten-like snores.

The hand slips over her neck. Her back foot touches down on plush silk sheets. Almost…

There’s a sudden tug at her throat.

You’ve got to be kidding!

One of his fingers has hooked around her ribbon. She looks up at his face. Still out cold. An accident, then.

I swear, if he’s an active dreamer or something… Maomao thinks as her wriggling turns frantic. Never did she think Xiaolan’s gift would come back to bite her in the ass. The itching in her skin has become painful, a burning sensation that brings with it a wave of panic. 

She’s out of time. She flails, pushing and pulling and pawing at his hand, desperately trying to break free without strangling herself or waking Jinshi. This idiotic bothersome little–

A violent shudder runs from the tip of her nose to the base of her tail. There’s a light crack, like the snapping of a twig underfoot, and Jinshi’s face is suddenly a hair’s breadth away.

“Fuck.” Maomao breathes through human lips.

Perhaps she should be thanking the heavens she’s able to keep her clothes when switching skins. But the heavens had decided to give her this damned affliction in the first place, as well as committed the heinous sin of dropping the nymph lying under her onto this earth. So, there’s not much to be grateful for.

His hand hasn’t moved, so it’s still resting on the nape of her very human neck. Maomao’s skin burns at the touch. She can feel her face twist with mild concern, looking over the slight flush painting his cheeks. Is he feverish?

He better not get me sick because of this.

Slowly, she pulls her head back. The hand mercifully slides off at the motion, now that she’s her full size again. This close, the jasmine on his breath is even stronger. A sneeze starts to build in her throat, and Maomao claps a hand over her face, squeezing her eyes shut and willing it to pass.

When she moves, Jinshi shifts under her again. He lets out a soft groan. There’s pressure on her back, and Maomao opens her eyes just in time to watch him roll them onto their sides, his arms wrapped tightly around her like an octopus’s tentacles, holding her as close as she could possibly be. His warmth bleeds into her, mixing and leaching into her bones like dye in water. One of her legs dangles precariously over the edge of the bed, the other trapped beneath his own.

Damn it.

Another sound escapes his throat, croaky and heavy with sleep, rumbling through his chest. It sounds suspiciously like the word “Xiaomao ”. Her pulse stutters.

Frozen stiff, a single thought races through her mind: l need to put a stop to this right fucking now.

Maomao plants her hands on his chest, decidedly ignoring how she can feel the shapes of his pectorals beneath his robes ( pectorals that are suspiciously well-defined for a eunuch ) and pushes herself away from him. His arms don’t let go, merely extending while his hands fist themselves into her robes.

“Master Jinshi.” She says firmly.

The body before her shifts, the hands on her back tightening a minute amount, but doesn’t wake. Jinshi whines, and his arms start tugging her back towards him.

“Master Jinshi?” Maomao tries again with more urgency, bracing herself against his body. She can practically hear the seconds flitting by.

Jinshi’s brow creases, but smooths just as quickly. She frantically throws her head over her shoulder, glancing between him and the door, straining her ears for the sounds of footsteps or idle words. Nothing. They appear to be alone.

Jinshi’s arms start to curl around her lower back, hugging her impossibly closer. Maomao, her nose full of perfume and her cheek smushed into a bony collarbone, is firmly at the end of her rope. She pushes herself away with as much force as she can muster, propping herself up with one arm, and says, loudly, "Master Jinshi!"

The eunuch jolts as if struck by lightning, eyes flying open in panic. His hands release her as if burned and he rolls flat onto his back, bracing himself with one hand on the wall of the bed and the other fisted in the sheets. He blinks several times, staring up at the ceiling and wheezing as if he just ran a marathon. He shakes his head and winces when something in his neck cracks.

“Wuzzit?” He slurs, voice hoarse. “Who–“

“Are you awake now, sir?” 

His gaze falls on her, and she watches in real time as he starts to come back to himself and realize who, exactly, is in his bed. It’s surprisingly entertaining, watching the color drain from his face and his eyes bug out of their sockets.

Jinshi yelps and scrambles away from her, pressing his back to the wall. “Apothecary?! What are you–“

He looks around, as if expecting to see someone else hiding off to the side, then leans to the side and scans the door. He looks back to her, his face uncharacteristically stern. “How did you get in here?”

Now this was a reaction she didn’t expect. Embarrassment, smooth-talking, an apology, maybe even anger. But instead, Jinshi is watching her like she’s someone else, someone with malicious intent. She’s never seen him this terrified in her life, except for the few times she’s eaten poison in front of him. It’s unnerving.

A memory resurfaces, unbidden: “We’ve had serving girls in the past, but, well, things happen and they don’t last long. After all, who likes finding unfamiliar underwear in their closet?”

Jinshi gulps in a breath, chest heaving like a startled maiden. His hands are shaking.

Oh. Oh, no.

“I do not have any untoward motives, Master Jinshi, I assure you.” She says hastily, sitting up and backing away on the bed. Her mind scrambles to come up with a valid explanation, one that wouldn’t reveal her other skin, reassure the spooked eunuch before her, and keep her dignity intact. “I’m not here because I want to be.”

He looks at her strangely, wetting his lips. His brow furrows. “Then… someone brought you here? Who? Were you coerced?”

Crap. Now he’s even more wound up.

“I…” Her words fail her. 

She could say someone coerced her, but then she’d be throwing some other poor soul to the wolves. Jinshi looks disturbingly unwell, there’s no telling what he’d do if he thought someone acted unjustly around her. He’s strange like that. 

She could say he brought her, but then he’d put two and two together, and the proverbial cat would be out of the bag. She doesn’t even want to know what he’d do with that kind of information.

And if she said she brought herself… 

“Apothecary?” 

His words shake her from her panicked musings. Shit, she must’ve gone quiet for too long. Jinshi tilts his head, concerned. The resemblance to a confused puppy is uncanny. “Did… did something happen? Are you alright?”

Maomao turns away. “I’m fine, sir.”

He frowns, looking far from convinced. His voice cracks, still raspy with sleep. “Then what on earth is going on here?”

Maomao says nothing, worrying her lip. Sweat has started to bead on her brow. Jinshi presses on, his words starting to tremble. “I-I can’t help you if I don’t know what’s wrong, apothecary. Please, tell me what happened.”

“There’s nothing wrong, Master Jinshi.” She sighs. What the hell. There’s no way she’s getting out of this with everything intact. “You’re the one behind this mess in the first place. You brought me here, sir.”

He blinks. “…pardon?”

“You brought me here, then fell asleep.” Maomao enunciates her words very clearly, as if talking to a child. “And now we’re both stuck.”

“I don’t… I don’t think so…“ Jinshi mumbles, bringing a hand to his chin. His face scrunches in concentration, thinking hard. “I greeted you this morning, but then you said you were busy, so you left… I went to the medical office later, to look for you, but I found Xiaomao there instead, and then…”

“And now we’re here.” She finishes for him.

Despite his pretty face, Jinshi is a smart man. She can practically see the gears turning behind his eyes. She opens her mouth, but before she can even begin to explain why the stray cat he’d abducted had been suddenly replaced by a scrawny apothecary, something clicks. Realization dawns over his face and he looks up at her in a panic. His mouth flaps open and shut without a sound. He raises a shaking finger.

“You–” He says dumbly, when his voice returns. “You’re not Xiaomao, are you?”

Maomao stays silent, watching him passively. Jinshi stares at her in disbelief.

”…You’re not going to argue with me?” He says after a pregnant pause.

Maomao tilts her head back and sighs. She slips out of the bed and gets to her feet, patting down her hair and smoothing her bunched-up skirt in an attempt to look decent. All the while, Jinshi watches her.

“Why should I? You’ve already put it together, there’s no point in trying to fight it.” She says idly, like she’s commenting on the weather. “I do ask you keep most of your questions to yourself, though. I don’t know everything about my condition.”

“Condition?” He mumbles, almost to himself. “That’s a surprise. You always seem to know everything.”

“No-one is all knowing, sir. The woman who birthed me could do it, and now so can I. That's all there is to it. The trail was cold before I was even born.”

She feels something brush her hair, and Maomao whirls around to see Jinshi has placed his hand on the top of her head. He scratches hesitantly at her scalp, his nails dragging in a way that sends sparks shooting down her spine. It takes immense effort to keep her eyes open and her expression neutral.

“What, exactly, are you doing, sir?” She says dryly through gritted teeth, leveling him as flat a look as she can muster. Jinshi quickly removes his hand and drops his gaze to the floor, embarrassed.

“Apologies. I wanted to try something.”

Maomao hums, unimpressed. “Humans and cats have different erogenous zones. Not everything is going to translate. If I may, Master Jinshi, please don’t touch me without asking. Regardless of what skin I’m wearing.”

Jinshi blanches.

“E-Erogenous?!" He splutters, somehow even redder than before. He tries a few more times to form a coherent word, before burying his face in his hands. “Right. O-Of course. Sorry. I’m… really sorry.”

He sits there, as miserable as can be, letting the silence stretch on. He peeks at her between his fingers, then stiffens. She can see the horror blooming in his eyes. “Wait. Th-that night, you…”

Right. That 'conversation' at his villa, after the ritual incident. She had hoped he’d forgotten all about it. 

“Not to worry, sir. I stopped listening fairly early.” She says as casually as she can. 

Not early enough, but I digress. He had looked shockingly pitiful then, every inch the young man she suspected him to be underneath all that glitter. She could let him have some of his dignity.

At her words, a complicated expression overtakes Jinshi’s face, like he‘s torn between feeling insulted or relieved. 

“If you ever think it’s going to happen again, I can always prepare you some medicinal tea, for calming the mind.” She offers.

Jinshi frowns and looks away, crossing his arms like a petulant child, thoroughly embarrassed. “I don’t need any calming tea.”

Maomao levels him a flat look. “Forgive me, Master Jinshi, but I think you do. Staying up until dawn isn’t healthy.” 

Suddenly, he freezes again. It seems a third realization has hit the building. Jinshi lets out a mortified groan. “I locked you in my office. I– I touched you. For hours.”

He could have phrased that better, Maomao thinks. But, feeling a twinge of pity, she gently pats his knee. “It’s alright, sir, you didn’t know.”

Jinshi just groans again. “I don’t suppose you have any poisons on you? I feel like dying today.”

“Absolutely not.” She straightens her collar. “Good poison is hard to come by these days.”

He gives a weak chuckle at that. “I’m sure you could whip something up.”

“I could. But I won’t.” 

There’s a knock at the door, making both of them jump. Jinshi bolts upright like he’s been stung.

“Young master?” Suiren’s voice floats through the door, muffled.

“Yes?” Jinshi squeaks. He frantically looks to Maomao, who glares at him and mouths Don’t you dare. He swallows and tries again, his voice smoother. “Yes, Suiren? I’m, uh– I’m working right now.”

Maomao resists the urge to facepalm. Working? In his bedroom?

Suiren hums. ”Dinner is about ready, Young Master. The table is set for when you’re done.” 

Both of them wait for her to leave, the jaunty tune she’s humming gradually fading away, before releasing simultaneous sighs of relief.

“That woman terrifies me sometimes.” Jinshi admits, crossing his arms. His finger taps incessantly against his forearm, a clear nervous habit. “I didn’t even hear her approach. Did you?”

Maomao shakes her head. “I’m just glad she didn’t open the door.” 

Jinshi shudders, then stands up. He gives her a tired smile. “I assume staying for dinner is out of the question?”

“You assume correctly, sir.” Like hell is she letting someone else know about her affliction. Nevermind the sinking feeling in her gut that Suiren somehow already knows. She pauses to listen for any more footsteps, then turns to head for the door.

“Just a moment.” Jinshi interrupts. Maomao stops, irritation stabbing through her like a needle. Her eyebrow twitches. Slowly, she turns back to him, not even trying to hide the glower she’s sending his way.

“Yes, Master Jinshi?” She drones.

Jinshi isn’t even looking at her. Instead, he raises his hand and turns it, looking it over. Against her will, Maomao’s eyes are drawn to the base of his thumb, where she can see four tiny, neat holes. She can feel the color drain from her face. Two on the palm, two on the back. Unmistakably bite marks. 

Oh. Right. I did bite him earlier, didn’t I. 

When he presses a thumb underneath the marks, tiny drops of blood slowly well to the surface. It’s not deep enough to be a concern, but the red stands out against his pale skin.

“I apologize, sir.” She says, feeling sweat trickle down the back of her neck. For some reason, she has a very bad feeling. “Do you need a bandage?”

Her gaze flicks up to Jinshi’s face. He’s studying the bite intently, like it’s the most interesting thing in the world. He turns his hand palm-up.

Slowly, almost tauntingly, he brings his hand higher. His eyes flick over to meet hers, something dangerous flashing through them.

Then he leans forward, and licks the blood from the wound.

Maomao can feel the breath leave her lungs in one solid blow. Her face heats. Jinshi’s expression twists into a devilish smile, eyes sparkling. He looks far too pleased with himself, in a way that she finds shockingly familiar.

That fucking pervert!

“You can go now, apothecary. That's all.” He says smugly.

Maomao wrenches her gaze away, turning on her heel and marching toward the door. She stops just before the doorway, the realization that she’s technically not supposed to be here right now suddenly striking her. She needs to get back to the Jade Pavilion, she specifically was loaned over to take care of Lady Gyokuyou through her pregnancy. She curses; Just how long did he keep her here?

Maomao can hear Jinshi get up from the bed and come up behind her. She doesn’t even need to turn around to know he’s still smiling.

“Don’t worry, I can vouch for you.” He says, voice full of mirth. How this bastard seems to read her mind sometimes, she’ll never know. “Let’s just say I needed your help and things ran late. I’m sure Lady Gyokuyou will understand.”

She’s sure her face is still flushed. Maomao curses internally, scrunching her cheeks as if it would squeeze out the color. It’d probably be best if she doesn’t turn around.

“And your hand?” She manages to get out.

Jinshi hums. “Simple. Maomao bit me.”

Maomao, who was about to retort, chokes on her words. Jinshi laughs. 

“It’s my fault, I pushed her too far. Kittens can be feisty sometimes.” He must be positively grinning by now. “That calico, she’s stolen even Gaoshun’s heart. I’m sure she’ll be forgiven.”

“Th-the calico. Right.”

He leans around her, his face slotting itself into the edge of her vision. When she dares a look, she finds his smile softer than she thought. His expression is playful, but his eyes are hesitant.

“You’ll be fine. I won’t tell a soul.” He says softly, like he means it. “I mean it. If there’s anything I can do to make it up to you, I will do it. It’s no problem at all.”

Something in her settles at that, the panic that had been clawing at the edges of her mind suddenly quieting. It made her want to believe him. To trust him.

“Get me some ginseng root, and maybe I’ll forgive you.” She grumbles, her eyes hard as she pushes open the door. “Not a word to anyone else. You hear me?”

Jinshi nods. He brings his hand to his lips and mimes turning a key in a lock, before tossing it to the side. His smile is blinding, even though he’s not even trying to sparkle. Maomao all but flees into the hall.

“I’ll see you later, Xiaomao.” She hears him say, so quietly she almost misses it. He doesn’t follow her, which is an immense relief.

When she passes Suiren, the old woman gives her a gentle, yet ominous smile. She doesn’t look nearly as surprised as she should be. “Oh, Xiaomao! The young master didn’t tell me you were visiting!”

Maomao burns the entire walk back. 

She doesn’t even spare a glance at Lady Gyokuyou, even though she could possibly lose her head for such blatant disrespect, but she’s too wound-up to care. She marches into her room and firmly shuts the door, before throwing herself onto the blessedly empty bed, mind racing.

He can have this one. She’ll just have to get him back tenfold.

When Jinshi opens his office the next morning, he finds several things out of place.

One, his workload left over from the other day is in complete disarray. It looks like someone had flipped through it, taking out papers from stacks and unfurling scrolls, before leaving it all without even trying to put it back in its proper place. 

Two, his inkstone is wet. He can see his brush on the floor, lying on top of a document, a huge black blot seeping through the center. A closer look reveals it used to be a proposal for a tariff on imported medicines.

And three, on his desk, a scroll is fully laid out. This scroll, it seemed, used to be yet another revised version of the drinking bill. The nobles have been oddly insistent on it, especially after Sir Kounen’s death. But, sadly, this one probably won’t be going anywhere.

Because when he walks up to it, he finds it covered from top to bottom in tiny black paw prints.

Jinshi sighs, exasperated. Perhaps he should give her that ginseng root sooner rather than later.