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The ocean crashed along the port, the sounds eerily different to what the moon prince was used to. He had travelled far and wide before, but his duties as Jinshi the eunuch made things difficult. It would be unwise to leave his post so much, so he regularly only took engagements that were no longer than a day's travel.
Though now was different, he was no longer Master Jinshi the eunuch, he was the moon prince, the imperial younger brother.
Ka Zuigetsu. The name echoed weight, suffocation, expectations.
It should have been an easy transition, stepping into the role he was born for. Yet, it had been harder than he had assumed.
It had been ten years since that day, since the day the Shi Clan fell. Ten years since he took his place as the prince of an empire. But more importantly, it had been ten years since Maomao had vanished.
His jaw tightened at the reminder.
Once, he had refused to say her name. As if withholding could dull his attachment to her. As if distance could be manufactured by denial.
It had been a childish defence. Now her name lingered constantly, uninvited and unrelenting.
Some say she had died in the chaos. Others insisted she escaped. He didn’t know which was worse. That she had died because of him, or that she had lived long enough to run from him.
His fingers curled tighter on the window frame.
He had searched for her, of course he had. At first he had searched quietly, then desperately. That was until his brother intervened. Three years, that was all the time he had been given before duty strangled hope.
By the fifth year, he had surrendered further, taking a concubine as ordered, convinced it would help. It hadn’t.
Every obligation had suddenly become a performance he could not finish. Every touch felt wrong, because none of them were her.
The roughness of her hands, the faint bitterness of herbs that clung to her skin, the way her expression would twist into irritation. Even after ten years nothing had dulled.
He used to be scared he would forget her, as much as he needed to, but now he knew he never would. It had been ten years and he still remembered her scent, the way she did her hair, and the sound of her grinding herbs.
He took a deep breath as the waves roared again, louder this time. He had been forced into this excursion, the bureaucrat far too irritating for his liking.
“Your Highness.” The voice of Gaoshun rang through the room, interrupting the waves.
Perhaps it would be Basan serving him, if not for the fact that he was back home basking in the excitement of welcoming his new child. A thing Jinshi had long since given up on ever feeling.
He plastered a smile on his face and straightened his posture. He doubted Gaoshun remembered that it was the ten year anniversary, there was no reason to act upset around him, it would only attract more questions he didn’t want to answer.
“Yes, Gaoshun.”
The older man stood near the doorway, posture still rigid despite the years that had begun to mark his face. There were deeper lines now, grey at his temples, but his gaze remained just as sharp.
Too sharp, Zuigetsu resisted the urge to look away.
“We have received the updated schedule.” Gaoshun said, his tone even, “meetings across the week, and a banquet in your honour.”
“Understood.”
He nodded quickly, his hands fidgeting with his sleeves. It had become routine by now, the numerous events. The banquets were always the worst. Many officials forced him to recount the Shi Clan rebellion, something that had become rather entertaining over the years, something he never wanted to relive.
Gaoshun watched him for a moment longer. Zuigetsu opened his mouth – and sneezed. The sound surprised him. He hadn’t gotten sick in months, perhaps it was that time of year.
A moment later, pain followed. It was sharp, almost blinding. His breath hitched as his world seemed to tilt. A violent pressure surged behind his eyes, splintering through his skull.
“Your Highness!”
He barely heard Gaoshun speak before he doubled over, a strangled sound escaping him. His hand shot to his hair, as if he could somehow tear the pain out himself.
The ocean. It was in his head now. Crashing, splitting, unrelenting.
Gaoshun’s hands stabilised him, and guided him to the couch. His palms clawed at the armrests as he collapsed.
He hated being seen like this. He hated how easily everything could fall apart.
This wasn’t good, he had a tight schedule, he couldn’t afford to fall ill. He was the moon prince, he had been serving passively for years. He had done far more than any normal person should do in hopes it would distract him from suddenly breaking. If he fell sick now, he feared he may actually break. Being bed ridded would be the worst thing that could happen. No, he had to fix this now.
A cup pressed into his hands. Water. He drank quickly, even with how tight his throat felt.
Breathe, just breathe.
Even in the fractured pain, a pair of blue eyes came to the forefront of his mind. Maomao.
He exhaled sharply “Gaoshun,” he wheezed out, his breathing still heavy as the worst of the migraine subsided, “summon the physician immediately.”
He stared down at his lap, only looking up when he failed to get a response. Gaoshun looked almost uneasy, as if he was scared to utter a word. It was unnerving to see him in such a state, but Zuigetsu could only rub his head vigorously, afraid if he spoke that headache would be inclined to return.
“I’m afraid,” he spoke slowly, “that they won’t be arriving until tomorrow.”
Of course they wouldn’t. They had left later due to issues locating enough supplies. He let his head fall back, his eyes closing briefly. The pain was duller, but it had yet to disappear.
When he opened them again, Gaoshun was already moving, talking to someone beyond the door. Moments later he returned.
He forced himself to stand on shaky legs, he wasn’t broken after all, he could still walk.
“Moon prince, there is a medical centre nearby.”
“They will not send their own physicians to aid me?”
“It appears not, sir. They state that they are all busy as of now.”
He scrunched his eyes shut, maybe this bureaucrat was really out to get him. “Then I guess we have no choice.”
Gaoshun bowed quickly, already moving to make arrangements, "I'll have a carriage prepared.”
He waved his hand, his face still scrunched up in pain, “no need, I would like this to be as inconspicuous as possible.”
He had long since learnt that safety attracted attention, and although Gaoshun wasn’t a human bear like his son, he was the next best thing. Gaoshun looked at him for a moment too long, but he didn’t argue, offering a simple “understood” before they departed.
The clinic was smaller than expected. Low ceilings, narrow walls, the air thick with the smell of medicine, and something faintly metallic. There were shelves lining the walls, each decorated with jars, bundles, powders. Like an organised chaos.
A young woman darted around the room, her movements quick and distracted, as if her thoughts moved faster than her body could follow.
He stayed where he was, allowing Gaoshun to take point. She startled easily as Gaoshun approached her. She had obviously been in her own little world.
Zuigetsu couldn’t help but think she was rather strange.
“Oh! Sorry, I didn’t see you there, how can I help you guys?!”
She seemed to not have realised who he was. Good, he hated the bows, the flattery, the manipulation. Something Maomao had never engaged in. He stayed silent, allowing Gaoshun to speak.
“We’re here to see the physician.”
The girl tilted her head, “there aren’t any physicians here I’m afraid.” She said brightly, “Though we do have an apothecary!”
Something twisted in his chest. Zuigetsu couldn’t help himself as he spoke up, “an apothecary?”
“Yes! Though they’re out at the moment. They should be back soon though if you’re okay with waiting?”
He should have refused, should have left. He wasn’t supposed to stay in places like this, “we are.”
He sat in the seat provided, Gaoshun’s disapproval was palpable. Though he chose to ignore it. The older man knew better than to say his thoughts to his master’s face.
It wasn’t until thirty minutes later did he hear talking in a back room. His headache had subsided to a dull throbbing and although he could leave and be fine, he would rather be safe than sorry.
“Apologies for the wait, if you can just-” the voice cut off abruptly.
Something in him shattered, he looked, forgetting how to breathe.
She stood in the hallway, half turned, the words dying on her lips. She was older. Of course she was older.
She looked softer in some places, sharper in others. She had grown slightly taller, as if he even remembered her height in the first place. Her hair was longer, pinned differently – but carelessly, as if she hadn’t bothered to perfect it.
An all too familiar silver hairpin caught the light, and a leaf caught in her bangs.
He could smell the bitter scent of herbs on her. Her freckles were still there although in a different pattern. She would be twenty-eight now. An age in which having a family would be considered necessary. He wondered if she had done such a thing.
He couldn’t speak, he had dreamed of this moment for a decade and yet when he was finally given the opportunity he was speechless. It seemed she was the same, her eyes slightly bigger than usual before narrowing. She addressed the assistant, her eyes never leaving his.
“Renmei, why don’t you close up the shop for today, head home early.”
“But what about the money?” Jinshi could only wonder what money she was talking about.
Maomao spoke slowly, almost intentionally so, “I don’t believe we will have to worry about that for a while.”
Renmei moved around quickly, gathering supplies, though Zuigetsu wasn’t focused on her. No, he was focused on the girl in front of him, the one that was so evasive he feared if his eyes left hers for even a second she would disappear.
She looked him up and down, “please follow me.”
The room she brought him to was small, too close, too intimate. Two couches, a small table between them. The faint scent of herbs in the air.
A cup of tea was placed in front of him before she took a seat across from him, he eyed it carefully.
She gestured vaguely, “it’s for your headache.”
He twitched, eyeing it and then her, “how did you-” he began to ask before he stopped himself. Of course she knew, she always knew. While he had been staring at her in awe, she had most likely been analysing his symptoms.
He took a small sip as she bowed her head, “Master Jinshi,” she said quietly, then paused, “or should I say… Moon Prince.”
There was no accusation in her tone. That almost made it worse.
“So you know.” It wasn’t a question.
She rolled her eyes, it reminded him so much of her at eighteen, it seemed like almost yesterday.
“I know well enough. There are many stories of the moon prince’s beauty, I put the rest of it together.”
She sat there, her posture relaxed, but he could see her fingers tapping faintly against her sleeve restlessly.
“I wouldn’t expect anything less, you’ve always been smart.”
She couldn’t help but huff, but he could tell there was no heat in it. Why did this feel so normal, as if they hadn’t spent ten years apart. As if she had actually chosen to remember him.
He looked down at his cup, suddenly remembering where they were. He spoke quietly, almost carefully, “I don’t understand, how did you end up here?”
It was her turn to sigh, her eyes darting around the room to look anywhere but his face. “Survival. And choice.” She paused, taking a deep breath, “During the siege on the Shi Clan I managed to escape with Shisui, I mean Loulan. We escaped here, where I’ve been ever since.”
She explained it all. The escape, Loulan’s identity. The years that followed. A life built from nothing, while he had been trapped in silk and expectations. It didn’t feel fair.
He didn’t say anything, it was all too much to process, instead, he waited for her to continue, only taking a small sip of tea to quell his racing heart.
“After three years Shisui came to me with a proposal. She wanted to explore the world, she asked me to come with her, but I declined.” She paused, taking a small breath, “I’ve built a life here, it’s more peaceful. I’ve heard my father’s stories of what happened to him in the West,” she paused, taking her own sip of tea, “I don’t want to become one of those stories.”
Over the years, Jinshi and Luomen had met, mostly to discuss Maomao. They would share stories of cups of tea. He frequently heard of the physician's unlucky streak, he could understand the sentiment. Still,
“There aren’t any mysteries to solve here,” he pointed out, “do you not get bored?”
He was grateful she remained, no doubt he would have never found her otherwise, but it didn’t seem like her to decline such an opportunity. It seems she has changed more than he would like to admit. He suddenly wondered if she still got as excited over poisons as her teenage self.
She shook her head, her gaze drifting from him to her own cup, “I’m not as curious as I used to be, sir. Curiosity got me into this mess, I highly doubt it will get me out.”
So she believed she was trapped in some sort of mess. Did she not realise she could come home whenever she wanted? She wasn’t trapped here, sure she may not have the money, but he was sure she could work for a crew to take her back to the capital.
“Do you think you’re trapped here?” He asked.
“I know I am.”
“You could return.”
Her eyes snapped back to his, something sharper shining in them, something colder.
“I abandoned my post, helped a fugitive escape. Do you think the palace would welcome me back? To return would be a death sentence.”
Perhaps from a certain standpoint she was right, but not from his.
“You know I would never do that.” His voice was calm.
Her eyes narrowed, as if she was studying him.
“Master Jinshi once told me that.” She stated simply, “but you are not him.”
The words struck far deeper than intended. She was right. Master Jinshi was a facade. He didn’t know who he was anymore, not Jinshi, but not fully Zuigetsu either.
He glared at her, was she suggesting that the moon prince would have her beheaded?
“Am I wrong?”
It was such a simple question, one he should have been able to answer, and yet he couldn’t. He was never really Master Jinshi, only using it as a means to an end. Though was he really Zuigetsu either? That too felt more like a persona the further this charade went on.
“No I- I don’t know,” He paused, placing his head in his hands, it seemed the girl he had not seen in a decade had managed to unravel his identity crisis.
Her eyes remained passive, she spoke calmly, “then who are you? Master Jinshi, the Moon Prince, or someone else?”
Who was he truly? He racked his brain for an answer, he couldn’t leave her empty handed, could he? He took a deep breath, there was only one name he still felt some attachment towards.
“Yue.”
Her eyebrows shot up. “Yue?” She repeated.
He nodded. Did she find it weird, would she laugh at him. He didn’t expect her to smile at him, “like the moon?”
“Yes, it’s a nickname Lady Ah-Duo gave me while she was still a consort.” One he would hold on to for as long as he was allowed.
It seemed she wanted to say something more to that, but she just closed her mouth once more. There was still so much he wanted to ask her, so much he needed to know.
“You said before that you built a life here?”
“If you’re asking whether I have a husband and children, then the answer is no.”
He cringed, god she was good at reading him, even after all these years, it was rather terrifying.
She continued, “there have been offers, especially now that I’ve grown, but I’ve refused all of them.”
He knew she wasn’t one to settle, yet the notion still surprised him, “why?”
She opened her mouth to answer, before closing it again and sighing loudly. It was obvious she wanted to say something.
“I have a job here,” she said plainly, “I don’t need to rely on a man to support me, I can do that myself.”
He smiled slightly, she was always so stubborn, a quality he both loved and hated about her.
“What about you?” She asked as she took another sip of tea, he wondered what was in hers.
What about him? Where should he start? He scratched the back of his neck. “Over the years the Moon Prince has taken on concubines,”
“Yes, I’ve heard the rumours.”
Just how many rumours were there about him?
“None have become with child thus far.” Would she get his hint?
“If you require it, I have some fertility treatments I could sell to you.”
Was she still this dense? No, he was sure she wasn’t, would she make him spell it out for her? Damn it, of course she would! And he would do it, because for ten straight years he regretted not confessing his feelings sooner.
“That isn’t the issue.”
“Then what is?”
“You.”
He stated it so simply, as if there was no room for discussion, like it was simply a fact of life. Her head tilted to the side, it reminded him so much of her younger self.
If she still didn’t understand, he would just have to make her.
He took a deep breath, wavering slightly, “for the past ten years Maomao I haven’t been able to rid myself of you.”
The words hung between them, heavy and suffocating.
Maomao didn’t respond immediately, instead studying him. As if she was trying to decide if this was real, or just another illusion she needed to dissect.
“But that doesn’t make any sense.” She said finally, quieter than before, “we’ve been strangers longer than we’ve been… anything else.”
His jaw tightened, “I know.”
He did know. He was reminded of it everyday.
“And yet,” he continued, leaning forwards slightly, “you are the only thing that has ever remained constant.”
That seemed to make her pause, something flickered in her expression. “Are you really so bound to the past?”
He met her gaze fully this time, “I am.” There was a beat, his eyes growing softer, almost scared, “are you?”
For a moment she didn’t move. Then she stood slowly. She moved around the table to sit next to him, the couch dipping lightly under her weight.
He felt her hand before saw it, as it came up to caress his cheek, the scar he had received just three years ago on a mission to the eastern provinces on full display.
She moved closer, her breath mingling with his. She felt so warm, and he would be lying if he said he didn’t want more, it almost felt intoxicating the way she looked at him.
“You’ve changed.” She spoke carefully.
“So have you.”
A faint exhale left her, almost a laugh, but there was no humour in it. “No.” She said “not where it matters.”
Her hand lingered longer than necessary, then she leaned in, slowly. He felt the ghost of her lips, and for a second neither of them moved.
The first kiss was light, almost tentative. As if she expected him to disappear under her touch.
Yue didn’t move, or breath, lest he ruin it. Her lips were softer than he could have imagined. She pulled back slightly, enough to look at him. There it was, the slightest switch in expression he had learned to read so well.
The second kiss was nothing like the first, the hesitation was gone, the kiss coming with intent. Ten years of distance collapsing in a single moment.
Yue responded instantly, one hand rising to her waist, fingers tightening against the fabric of her clothes, grounding her to him.
She leaned into him, the distance disappearing under her advances. Her hand slid from his cheek to his hair, her fingers threading through it. The feeling sent a sharp unexpected tension down his spine as he groaned into her mouth.
She shifted, angling closer as his hand pulled her further into the kiss where she belonged. The kiss became more insistent, neither knowing how to stop anymore, or not wanting to.
Even with the lack of distance between them, it didn’t feel close enough. The years pressed into a single moment, into every breath, every movement. All of the things he had left unsaid were gone now, in one final kiss.
Maomao broke the kiss, the both of them gasping for air. He was fully aware that everything had just changed. Her forehead rested against his for a second, a rare glimpse of her most unguarded self.
She pulled back enough to look at him, “Yue…” she started, her voice uneven.
He didn’t let her finish, “thank you.”
She blinked quickly, “for what?”
“For never forgetting about me.”
She averted her gaze, but she didn’t remove herself from his lap, “how could I forget? You were such a large part of my life, if only for a little while.”
He suddenly laughed, the kind of laugh one laughed after ten years of nothing, he only laughed more when she started glaring at him.
“What’s that for?”
“It’s just,” he wiped the tears from his eyes as he calmed down, “it seems to me that you’ve gotten better at communicating your feelings over the years.”
Her glare only grew, but she didn’t say anything further, only playing with the hem of his shirt.
“You could return to the capital with me.” He knew it was a long shot. She had been here for ten years, though it was hard to tell if she even liked it.
“I’m not sure I can. I have the shop to think about and Renmei as well.”
“You could bring her with you, and I’d be more than happy to help you with a new shop.”
“Can you do that?”
“I can do whatever I want.”
She suddenly stood up from his lap, making her way over to a desk with a dozen packets, she picked one up and he caught it as she tossed it to him.
“So you don’t catch a cold. The altitude here is lower, if you’re not used to it, it can have negative consequences on your health.”
He nodded along with her instructions as she continued to gather more sachets.
“Though, as an apothecary I do recommend regular check ups while you’re here to ensure you stay in good shape.”
He smirked at her round about way of asking him to visit her.
“And I’m sure you’ll be the best person for these checkups?”
She smiled slightly, giving him a strong feeling of deja vu. He didn’t miss the slight twinge of red in her cheeks, “of course, sir. Though I must add, I am not above charging you.”
“I wouldn’t have it any other way.” A certain fondness found its way into his tone.
He would be just fine, now that his apothecary was back.