Work Text:
If he wants this to look professional, Maomao groused as she stepped out of the carriage, Chue bouncing after with a mysterious cloth package flitting from sleeve to sleeve. He really ought to stop sending missives directly to the offices.
Stepping through the tall wooden gates, the sky awash with oranges and pinks as the sun began to sink below the distant city skyline, Maomao heaved a weary sigh. Suiren met her at the doors with a smile and a bow, which she returned, before following her through the vast, empty halls of Jinshi’s mansion. She continuously batted away Chue’s attempts to slip what was absolutely a bundle of sheer nightclothes into her hands as she went, and the little game of reverse keep-away reminded her somewhat of an incident that befell Empress Gyokuyou, back when she was a consort in the rear palace. The good lady had been talking Princess Lingli for a walk in the gardens, but suddenly found herself ambushed by a rather brazen hummingbird, drawn in by the fresh flowers she’d woven amongst her crown.
At the very least, that hummingbird was easier to chase off, compared to the dedicated sparrow currently hopping in a frenzy about the hall. Maomao had to hide her hands in the lapels of her robes when Chue almost shoved the package up to her elbow, and it took a gentle reprimand from Suiren to get her to finally take a few steps back and return to what Maomao hoped was her proper post.
A familiar, heavenly face greeted her at the dining hall, the weary smile on said face doing an abysmal job of distracting her from the deep bruises under his eyes.
“I’m glad you could make it,” Jinshi said, nodding to Suiren, who bowed and hurried off to the kitchens. Even his usual honey-smooth voice scratched along the edges, rough and dragging. “I’m sorry about the late hour again, this was the only free time I’ve had all day.”
“You ought to use it better, sir. Anyone can tell you aren’t sleeping well,” Maomao replied.
It was Jinshi’s turn to sigh. “As if you’re doing any better. You certainly seemed tired in your last letter.”
“Then I suppose we could both stand to use our time better.”
“Hm. Quite,” Jinshi smiled. “I wonder, then, why you’re here instead of writing back.”
It was true he hadn’t technically summoned her. Rather, he had merely told her the hours he was available and implied he wanted a chat, in somewhat wobbly handwriting and with more than a few accidental ink drips. That all his open hours were late into the evening was probably not intentional, knowing him, but Maomao figured she ought to discern what he wanted sooner rather than later. That she’d also be treated to dinner and allowed ample opportunity to check up on his health was merely a bonus. She had an idea of how punishing his workload was going to be following the emperor’s surgery.
But Maomao couldn’t exactly say all that, so she gave an easy answer. “The dining hall food was getting a little dull.”
If anything, his smile seemed to widen. “Of course.”
She rolled her eyes. As she was about to round the table and take her seat, though, she felt a gentle hand land on her shoulder.
“Ah… a moment?” came a quiet mumble.
She turned to look up at him. “Yes, sir?”
Jinshi hesitated. He worried his lower lip between his teeth, eyes on the adjacent wall. Then he leaned down to murmur, “may I have a charge? Just for tonight. It’s been a trying day.”
Maomao said nothing. She cast her eyes about the room, at the silk tapestries and softly flickering oil lamps hanging along the walls, the rich lacquered furnishings laden with potted plants and decorative vases, the fine plush cushions and intricately woven carpet below the dinner table. The tall doors that led to the kitchen hall were closed, as were the wooden shutters and the smaller doors that led to the other rooms in Jinshi’s home.
She turned back to Jinshi, who hadn’t budged in the slightest, watching her calmly. The patience of the great Buddha himself, this man.
Maomao dipped her head in a quick, shallow nod.
She kept her eyes on the table, so as such, she didn’t see the way his smile broadened, nor the drop in his shoulders. She was vaguely aware of him leaning down, but didn’t truly know what he had in mind until she felt warm, dry lips, slightly chapped, pressed lightly against the crown of her head, followed by a deep inhale. When he pulled away, Maomao’s hand instinctively came up to cover the quickly cooling spot, and she squinted at the suspicious, almost ethereal glow that came over Jinshi’s fine features.
“Thank you. I needed that,” he said happily, before patting her twice on the shoulder and drifting to his spot at the head of the table.
Maomao huffed. For how jittery he was during the day, and especially on past dinners, he really must have been behind on sleep to be so brazen out in the open like this. Even with a man as dedicated as Jinshi, it seemed exhaustion was more than enough to wear down his iron resolve. She watched him practically collapse into his seat, looking as light as a feather, and she couldn’t help side-eyeing him as she joined him. A “charge” indeed.
But then her attention was quickly redirected once Suiren returned, pulling with her a little cart laden with fine-smelling food.
Strangely, even after the disaster that was the first night visit following their return from the Western Capital, Suiren seemed to treat every single following dinner like a personal challenge. The spreads were nothing short of lavish, even though it was usually only her and Jinshi after Suiren set the table. Maomao initially thought it was to counteract Chue’s bottomless stomach, but Chue was only ever allowed in the room once its main occupants had finished, if she stuck around at all. And even then, Maomao always found herself leaving Jinshi’s place with at least two bamboo steamers of leftovers.
Tonight’s dinner was simple, yet still held far too much variety for a party of two. Grilled sea bass with butter and vegetables, spicy seaweed salad, pork and seaweed soup, plenty of rice, a plate of sliced fruit of various kinds, and a full platter of steamed oysters. There was a bit of a theme going, it seemed. Perhaps Lady Suiren wanted to rid her thoughts of the dry west as well.
She did eye those oysters warily, though. She would have been more excited if they came with pearls, since she had lost most of her good ones during the stint at the bandit village, but no, just plain shellfish arranged in a neat circle atop a bed of ice chips. They were supposed to be a rather tasty aphrodisiac. Jinshi seemed to notice too, because he staunchly avoided them as he began doling out portions for both her and himself.
“I don’t know what she thinks is going to happen,” he grumbled, setting down what Maomao thought was a rather overfull bowl of soup in front of her. “You’re only here to talk, I thought I made that clear.”
Another odd feature unique to these dinners, Maomao noted. Imagine that; the highest, most noble person serving the food to their guest, instead of the other way around. It would almost be enough to make Hongniang wither on the spot.
She didn’t stop him, though. How could she, when he looked so eager to pile things around her like one of Pairin’s most generous suitors?
“Oysters are known to be very nutritious. They are also supposed to reduce fatigue, among other things,” she commented. “Perhaps Lady Suiren merely wished to give you a leg up.”
Jinshi snorted derisively. “Hah. I’m sure that’s what she wants me to think.”
He leaned back into his seat with a huff, tugging the platter of sea bass toward him as he finally began to serve himself. “I did have something I wanted to discuss, though. Do we want to get straight to work, or do we want to eat first?”
“I would prefer to get the most important things out of the way, sir,” Maomao replied.
“You’re certain?”
“Is that not why I’m here?”
From his tone over the letter, he did want to meet with her about something or other. Maomao had just decided it was better dealt with over Suiren’s good cooking rather than juggled alongside their usual work. Except, Jinshi looked a little upset at this. From the way his lips pressed into a thin line, he seemed like he wanted to say something.
Maomao stared at him, puzzled.
“…if you want to eat first, we can, sir,” she eventually relented.
That got her a smile and a noticeable drop in his shoulders. “Thank you again.”
Maomao merely shrugged and picked at her salad. He couldn’t say what he wanted outright? Sure, these night calls were usually for work purposes, as she had explained to her coworkers and to Chue multiple times, but if he wanted to delay the actual discussion, he could have just told her so. Maybe this was his way of trying to be polite about it.
They ate in silence. The soup was, as expected, delicious, just the right amount of savory and salty, and the pork practically melted in her mouth. The chilled seaweed salad was flavorful and spiced to perfection, the fruit was crisp and fresh, the rice was warm and fluffy, and she did find herself eyeing the oysters every now and then, but was able to refrain. Across the table, Jinshi’s smile never dropped as he chewed, and neither did his eyes on her, which Maomao would normally find suspicious, but turned out to just be another weird hobby of his. Watching her eat during meals seemed to be a fascinating sight to him. His eyes always took on this oddly misty shine when she went for seconds, too.
Perhaps that ought to still be unnerving, but she found she didn’t mind. It was somewhat nice, in a way.
“You’re not going to try the fish?” Jinshi asked through his bowl of rice, cheeks slightly puffed like a squirrel. There were a few grains stuck to his lips, and Maomao’s etiquette training screeched at her to wipe them off. Somehow, though, she got the sense that doing so would be a much worse breach in conduct than letting him look a little silly.
"The sea bass has been a bit too sweet for me, lately,” she explained, nibbling on a piece of seaweed from her soup. Suiren had served the same fish a few nights ago, and it was like the poor thing had been candied.
Jinshi rolled his eyes and swallowed his rice, reaching over with his chopsticks to take a slice of fish from her plate, transferring it to his own. “Just be sure to eat properly. You still look far too thin.”
Maomao resisted the urge to roll her eyes back. She’d already had a full bowl of rice and half a plate of seaweed salad. Did he want her to get fat?
She ladled out some more soup regardless, since he seemed likely to try stuffing her full of more rice. “I could wrap some of the oysters in ice and take them back, if it’ll appease you.”
Jinshi coughed, almost spitting out his fish. He gave her a wary look as he roughly cleared his throat. “…are you sure about that?”
“I’ve told you before, my body is resistant to most poisons, aphrodisiacs included. I’ve had oysters before, they won’t affect me as much.”
His wary look quickly turned dry. “But they’ll still affect you.”
“I can manage myself, sir.”
When he didn’t look any further convinced, she added, “all of my neighbors at the dorms are women.”
“I suppose you can have them, then,” Jinshi mumbled, looking away as he took another bite. He coughed again. “It’s better than you going hungry.”
Maomao nodded absently, while on the inside she cheered. She had in fact eaten oysters before… seven years ago, as part of a celebratory dinner when one of the Verdigris courtesans got bought out. But Jinshi didn’t need to know that.
The easy silence fell back over the table, broken only by chirping crickets beyond the walls and the clinking of wood on ceramic. Meddling aside, Suiren was just as good a cook as ever.
Except, as she was finishing the rest of her salad, Jinshi coughed a third time.
And it came out... off.
Maomao looked up, lowering her chopsticks. “Are you alright, sir?”
“Mm,” he cleared his throat, wiping a little sweat off his collar, and Maomao felt goosebumps raise along her arms. “Fine. The spices are just strong today.”
Part of her wanted to disagree. That cough sounded… deep. Guttural, almost, like he was trying to clear something out of his throat without opening his mouth. Familiar, but in a somewhat concerning way. She put the seaweed she’d already picked up into her mouth, but her eyes didn’t leave him as she chewed.
Barely a minute passed before Jinshi made that sound again. Maomao swallowed and put down her chopsticks.
“Sir, kindly stop eating, please,” she told him, standing up and circling the table.
“Mm? Is something wrong?”
She’d once heard the exact same “cough” coming from herself, years ago before she even entered the rear palace— when she was testing buckwheat portions, as her throat was starting to itch and swell.
Jinshi watched her with wide eyes as she approached, and they only got bigger when she snatched a piece of fish from his plate, bringing it up to her face to sniff. “Hey, wait, Maomao, what’s wrong?”
No strange smell, just normal spices. It looked normal too, no unusual colors or markings. She massaged the fish between her fingers. Slightly gritty, like it had been dusted with too much salt.
“Is there- Maomao!” Jinshi yelped when she stuck the fish into her mouth, closing her eyes in concentration. As expected, it was sweet— almost too sweet. Like someone had taken fresh fish, salted and seasoned it well, then had it inexplicably candied. “Maomao, what’s going on?”
Maomao spat the fish back onto the table, ignoring Jinshi’s wordless disgust. “This is poisoned.”
“What?!”
Frantically she started patting through her robes, searching for her emetics, and swore when her hands came up empty. Damn it all, the one time she forgot to restock…
“U-uh…”
Maomao froze. Her head whipped around at the sound of Jinshi’s groan, and felt her heart skip a beat.
Shit. This fast?
The sight that greeted her was less than ideal.
Flushed face. Visible sweat along the face and neck. Labored breathing. Blown pupils.
If she thought his typical early-morning flush was bad, then this was nothing short of a workplace hazard. Letting him out in public in this state would be akin to releasing a rabbit slathered in chicken grease into a den of foxes.
Maomao flipped over his wrist, pressing her fingers to his pulse point, which fluttered and jumped under her touch. Increased heart rate.
Double shit.
An aphrodisiac. Of course it was an aphrodisiac.
“We need to get you to your rooms, sir.”
Jinshi’s throat clicked when he swallowed, the knot at the center bobbing as a bead of sweat slithered down the long, pale column of his neck. He nodded.
Wasting no time, Maomao grabbed him by the wrist and yanked him out of his seat, dragging him out through the doors and into the hall. Someone of Jinshi’s size shouldn’t have gone so easily, Maomao already struggled enough just pushing him out of the way, but he seemed to catch on quick, as there was no spluttering or heel-digging as he went. She had to get him to a secluded room, and fast, before whoever poisoned that stupid fish came looking.
At the sound of pounding footsteps, Suiren poked her head out of the kitchen, and Maomao had enough time to bark, “the Moon Prince has been poisoned, seal all doors and windows,” before the weight she’d been pulling along suddenly lessened— and just as quickly, moved ahead.
Suiren let out a startled “Oh!”. A large, sweaty hand seized Maomao by the forearm.
When she met his eyes, they were almost as dark as the bruises beneath them, and shone with intent that made her freeze, like a rabbit under a ravenous dog’s stare.
With startling, but not wholly unexpected strength, Jinshi’s hold on her arm tightened to a vice-like grip, and she found herself yanked off her feet in a complete reversal of before. He was practically dragging her behind him like a parent with a recalcitrant child as he marched with purpose through the halls of his villa. The doors to his bedroom came into view, and Maomao registered with a sinking feeling where he probably intended to take her.
“Master Jinshi, could you please let go of me?” she tried with rising urgency, digging her heels in the fine carpet.
Jinshi ignored her words completely. With an almost bruising grip, he threw her forward, heedless to her stumbling feet, until Maomao found herself tripping into a disturbingly familiar bed. She whirled around to make a run for the door, only to find her path blocked by a panting, flush-faced obelisk of disheveled purple silk and wild, crazed eyes.
“Sir, this isn’t—”
“Shut up,” the Moon Prince grumbled, voice heavy and rough.
Two large hands landed on her shoulders, followed by a harsh shove. Maomao’s back hit his bed so hard she bounced a little on the plush goose-feather mattress, sprawled supine amongst pristine silk sheets. She was barely able to sit up, nor open her mouth to speak a single word, before the looming shadow before her was descending like a crashing wave.
“Sir—” Maomao tried, before losing the rest of the sentence to an undignified squeak, crushed out of her lungs by the full force of his weight.
Jinshi paid her no heed, hooking his arms under her shoulders and dragging her up the bed, before promptly collapsing over top of her in a sweaty, overheated heap. Their difference in size was made exceedingly prominent, the billowing sleeves and drapery of his robes practically swamping her in rich, perfumed fabric. The clashing scents almost made her dizzy, flowers and sandalwood and sweat, tinged with the sharp edges of soap from the previous night’s bath and something far, far headier. With her nose shoved into his hair, silken strands catching in her mouth and tickling her palate, her hands pinned between their chests and her squirming legs hopelessly tangled in the many layers of his robes, her head was probably the only thing left visible.
Maomao was prepped and ready to kick the oaf off her, her knees the perfect height to strike where it hurt, when she felt something wet slide against her jaw.
Maomao went rigid underneath him, muscles tightening into solid steel.
She knew many aphrodisiacs and their effects well, and while she couldn’t immediately identify the one Jinshi had ingested, she had an idea of where this was going. Sweaty, roaming hands pawed and stroked along her back and torso, tugging at her collar and pressing down, feeling the shape of her spine and ribs through her clothes. Despite her efforts to remain still, Maomao shuddered when trembling fingers dug into the folds of her outer robes, swiftly shucking them off her body to reveal the soft white of her inner layers, one less covering between him and her bare skin. A cold nose shoved itself into her neck, damp, parted lips gently brushing the dip of her clavicle, followed by something hot and probing.
Maomao’s jaw clenched so hard, her teeth squeaked.
This will destroy him, she thought, eyes squeezed shut with the effort of remaining still and pliant.
His rejection was still fresh in her mind, as was the way his face had drained of color when she explained all the ways she could induce an abortion, if needed. His horror at such methods was obvious, and following that night, that fear translated into a veneer of frustrating self-restraint. Jinshi would not touch her, much less kiss or bite her like he once desired so strongly in the past, and the very thought of laying a single finger on her bare skin seemed to send him into a conniption. He had already been exhausted this evening, enough to indulge in the most chaste of ways, but no further. To suddenly lose all that carefully cultivated control because of a single slip in diligence, a single bite of tainted fish…
Scalding hot lips pressed firmly against the side of her neck, a slip of tongue sending a bolt of lightning down her spine. Large hands pushed down on her shoulders, pinning her to the mattress as he kissed and licked at her neck, panting breaths like furnace bellows raising goosebumps across her skin. Maomao swallowed around the growing lump in her throat, forcing herself to relax. It would hurt, she knew it would, but it was nothing she couldn’t endure. She had survived the biting heart of a locust plague and a village of bandits, something like this was far from life threatening. He might even try to be gentle, if clumsy and uncoordinated. She knew Jinshi was not a violent man, Maomao understood well what the future would hold when she accepted his feelings, but this was certainly a cruel way to cut straight to the chase. He might not ever touch her again once this was all over.
She just had to tough it out until the aphrodisiac worked itself out of his system. Mentally, she began to take note of the herbs and spices she had on hand in her dorm, as well as the balms and poultices she could potentially borrow from the medical offices.
Taking a deep, perfumed breath, Maomao squeezed her eyes shut, tamping down the tremors in her frame as she allowed her legs to fall open. Immediately, a strong thigh slotted itself between them, burning warmth that seeped through the thin fabric of her inner robes. She had to help him first and foremost, leaving him in such a state would be nothing short of heartless. Chue could probably get her anything else she was missing. Lady Suiren, too. Whatever he left her with, she was certain she could take care of it. Jinshi wouldn’t have to worry.
Perhaps she should be thankful it was her who ended up in the line of fire, instead of some poor serving girl, passing noble, or any of her colleagues. But then again, maybe that was the goal of the poisoner. The thought of some nameless, faceless perpetrator, fuming and red-faced at the knowledge that someone else had caught the Moon Prince’s eye right when their concoction took hold, was only a little funny.
Jinshi’s hands finally lifted from her shoulders, sliding down her body and tracing around the minuscule curve of her clothed breasts, before slipping below her spine, curling around her lower back. Not once did his mouth leave her skin, lips and tongue massaging and sucking gently, as though savoring a delicate sweet of spun sugar. Maomao braced herself when she felt his long fingers dip closer to her waist. He wasn’t aiming for her mouth at all, so she couldn’t even use her best defense. Her brothel training at least prepared her for this in any event, so she knew what to expect. She just had to endure. She just had to endure...
And then, right as Jinshi’s pillaging claws were about to descend again, to strip her of her last defenses and take, as was his right—
It stopped.
Jinshi’s head dropped. He slumped partially to the side, freeing her of some of his weight, but not leaving her completely. His mouth fell away, leaving behind chilly patches of spit, his face turning to rub his cheek into her collar.
Maomao remained as stiff as a board, wary of the heavy body still completely wrapped over and around her like a clingy octopus, exceedingly aware of every minute twitch of his fingers, every tickle of his breath rolling over her clavicle. She watched his half-hidden face with sharp eyes, as though Jinshi were a wild animal easily provoked by the slightest movement. She didn’t dare breathe herself, for fear of setting him off again.
It was like he had suddenly been struck dumb. Somewhere between tearing off her robes and curling around her like a coveting dragon, he had gone completely limp.
Maomao would be concerned he had suffered a sudden stroke or heart attack, if she did not hear his frantically beating heart pressed up against her ribs, each fluttering thump-thump-thump-thump pulsing through her body like ripples in a still pool; if she did not feel the damp, balmy puffs of his exhales against her neck, formerly frenzied and labored, but now rapidly slowing.
Jinshi was draped over top of her like a blanket, heavy, but not crushing. His cheek rested on her shoulder, the fat squished around his eye, while the crown of his head tickled the underside of her chin. His arms were wound tight around her torso, firm and solid, clinging like a frightened child with his hands fisted loosely in her robes, and one of his legs rested between her own, lighter now that it was no longer supporting his weight, the side of his thigh like a hot compress atop her knee. His eyes were shut, his long butterfly lashes still, and from what little she could see, his flushed cheeks were lax, devoid of the wrinkles and stress lines that usually marred his visage before he could smooth it all out into a mask of pleasantries.
Maomao waited. For all she knew, this was a lull in his focus, the calm before the storm. At any moment, he could snap right back into that lustful fervor.
Except, as the seconds dragged on, little changed.
Maomao waited, and waited, and waited. She waited some more. She counted his heartbeats, the seconds between his breaths, the way the distance between inhales and exhales seemed to stretch as he relaxed further and further into her, like butter melting in a pan. She waited for a long time, but still, nothing happened.
She didn’t realize she had unconsciously relaxed until the body atop her abruptly shifted, causing her to snap right back into rigid stiffness, heart rate spiking—but Jinshi only snuffled, nuzzling at her throat with his chilly nose like a needy hound. The resulting sigh appeared to take all of his earlier energy with it, the man’s weight somehow increasing as he deflated in place, the arms around her falling from a desperate hug to a loose, slackened hold.
He seemed… was he falling asleep?
Had he finished that quickly?
Maomao shifted her knee around, feeling for a wet patch in his robes. To her surprise, she found nothing, just a light dampness consistent with the rest of him, courtesy of his copious sweating. Even as she bumped his crotch a little, the pressure drawing a grumpy sound from her human blanket as a clumsy leg met her probing and nudged her away, the frog didn’t so much as twitch.
It wasn’t even hard.
Bewildered, Maomao stretched her neck to the side to peer down at his face. The Moon Prince drowsily watched her back with misty eyes, pupils blown so huge she could barely discern where the iris began. He rubbed his cheek against her shoulder a second time, a sleepy, devastating smile twisting his plush, rosy lips, and breathed a happy sigh.
Had it… had it worn off?
“…Master Jinshi?” she tentatively voiced aloud.
A long, slow blink. “Mm?”
He sounded a few breaths away from drifting off to the clouds, the wordless reply smooth and wistful. “Has the aphrodisiac worn off already?”
Jinshi hummed. His shiny lips parted, mouth clicking as he unstuck his tongue from his palate, and slurred, “Mmm… don’ think so.”
Maomao found herself struck with a powerful sense of dejavu. From years prior, when she was first bestowed the vision of the Moon Prince in all his tired, early-risen glory.
“…How are you feeling?”
Jinshi yawned, his jaw popping with the motion. “Tired. Warm,” he mumbled, smacking his lips a few times. He yawned again. “This is nice…”
Maomao released her held breath. Alright. She could work with tired. Strange for an aphrodisiac, they tended to boost energy rather than sap it, but maybe Jinshi was a unique case. Not all drugs functioned the same on every person, so perhaps she still had time to get out of here before the rest of the effects kicked in.
Maomao wriggled in place, straining to pull up her arms from where they were trapped between their bodies. The sweat soaking through her robes and the burning weight of Jinshi’s body was starting to get uncomfortable, like being in a steam bath for too long with a massive wet dog sitting on her chest. Not to mention he had her practically tied up, with all those ridiculous layers he was wearing. After some tugging, one hand finally popped free, which she placed on his sternum, pushing up lightly to put some distance between them. Jinshi's soft smile dropped into a frown the moment she did, a whine of protest escaping his throat as his eyelids fluttered open.
“No,” he said petulantly, clutching her tighter with huge, dark eyes. The resemblance to a cranky child was frightening. “No. Stay. ‘M tired.”
Nonplussed, Maomao pushed even harder. When he didn’t budge, she planted her hand on his face and tried to shove him to the side. Except Jinshi made an odd, guttural sound, frighteningly similar to a growl, and he—
“Ow!”
This is what it takes for him to bite me? Seriously? Maomao tried to pull her hand free, the meat between her finger and thumb trapped between his teeth, but Jinshi’s hand snapped up and snatched her by the wrist, his other arm tightening around her torso. He stared her down as his mouth slipped off her hand with a mortifyingly wet sound, a string of saliva marking where his lips once were.
“Stop moving,” he grumbled.
“Then stop crushing me,” she shot back, equally disgruntled.
A long pause, broken only by the steady huffs whistling out of his nose.
“Alright.”
Maomao felt her face twist in confusion, before a yelp was punched from her throat when he suddenly rolled onto his side, taking her with him. Jinshi buried his face into her chest and breathed another content sigh, hugging her closer like a boa constrictor with a beloved stuffed toy he intended to squeeze the stuffing out of.
Well. This was certainly a turn of events.
Maomao stared up at the wooden wall over his head, her mind drawing a blank for the first time since this insanity began. This sort of behavior was consistent with too much alcohol, not aphrodisiac poisoning. Was the substance slipped into his dinner some kind of relaxant or opiate? What did they even hope to accomplish? From what he’d told her, Jinshi didn’t have any particularly pressing matters tomorrow, besides his usual maddening amount of desk work. Did they want him to make a fool of himself in front of his inner circle? Did they want him incapacitated enough to miss a deadline, or catch the attention of the court? The man rarely left his office on most days, and in the ones following the surgery, his shut-in habits only got worse. He only really made time when he wanted to visit with her, or she needed to see him for something or other. At dinner, it was just Jinshi, herself, and Suiren occasionally popping in to take away dishes or refill drinks. And it couldn’t have been Suiren, she liked to meddle, but she wouldn’t go so far as to drug her master against his will…
A truly nasty thought occurred to Maomao at that moment. That, maybe, whoever planned this wanted Jinshi to do something to her specifically.
She looked down and opened her mouth, intending to ask him more questions— how he was feeling, any symptoms he could name, if he could loosen up a little since it was rather difficult for her to breathe in their current position— but the sight that greeted her was one of shut eyes, lax lips, and the softest of kitten-like snores.
The bastard was actually asleep.
Maomao sighed. She pitied whoever was behind this, for who could ever predict where the Moon Prince’s thoughts went at any given moment? His true nature was an enigma, even to herself at times. Who knew the monk of celibacy could hold out even in the midst of a sudden drugging?
Just then, a jaunty knock sounded from across the room. Maomao’s head jerked up, twisting to stare fearfully over her shoulder.
“Miss Maomao, Miss Maomao! Miss Chue is here to check in with the esteemed patient!”
Of all times!
“Don’t—!”
The door creaked open before she could get the rest out, and a sparkly-eyed sparrow bounced in. She came up to the bed and stopped just short of a respectful distance away, grinning menacingly. “Miss Chue brings updates! She hopes she isn’t interrupting anything good?”
“Miss Chue, Miss Chue, you aren’t interrupting anything of the sort,” she grumbled.
“Aww. But Miss Maomao is so flushed! How rare!”
She chose to ignore her. “You said you had updates?”
Chue spun in place, flags whirling from her sleeves, and struck a silly pose. “Miss Chue was on the case! Miss Maomao and the Moon Prince can enjoy their rest in peace!”
Maomao wrinkled her nose, firmly ignoring how said Moon Prince snuggled closer in his sleep, seemingly spurred on by Chue’s words. “Do we know what kind of poison it was?”
“Yes indeedy!” Chue chirped back. “Ahh, poor Miss Suiren thought it was all her fault, but it turns out she was innocent! A very naughty sir or madame snuck it into one of the spice jars!” She waggled her finger in Maomao’s face, taking on a faux-stern expression like a nagging auntie. “Luckily, Miss Chue is familiar with the poison, she knew right away from one sniff! So Miss Maomao doesn’t need to do any tasting for the evening!”
“And? What is it?” Maomao asked impatiently.
She grinned at that, a sly, fox-eyed smile that made Maomao immediately suspicious. “Oh, nothing dangerous, nothing dangerous. It’s just a tricky little powder that lowers your inhibitions. Not quite an aphrodisiac, but it can certainly go that way!”
Chue adopted a mournful expression, clutching her cheeks as if to say ‘oh, whatever can I do?’. “Poor Miss Maomao, such a shame the Moon Prince is so prim and proper!”
“That’s not…” she started, then quickly gave up. There was no point in trying to change her mind, not when Chue got that look. “…how long until it wears off?”
“Miss Chue thinks... by tomorrow afternoon!”
So she was in for the long haul, it seemed. Maomao sighed, resigning herself to a full night and day of acting as Jinshi’s pillow. She’d have to let the physician’s office know she’d be missing a day of work…
“Not to worry, Miss Maomao!” Chue piped up happily. “The good doctors were already told! Miss Maomao is busy attending urgent business with the Moon Prince!”
I sincerely hope you didn’t phrase it like that… She already got more than enough probing questions from her coworkers, not to mention odd looks from her seniors.
Maomao shook her head. Best not to think about that for now. More importantly, “Miss Chue, could you bring me some water? The Moon Prince has lost a lot of fluids, so he’s probably going to be thirsty when he wakes up.”
Chue’s grin was far too knowing for comfort, but for the life of her, Maomao could not discern what it was she had figured out. She gave a goofy salute, before hip-hopping to the doors and pulling them open. As if waiting for her cue, Suiren bustled in with a full tray in her hands, laden with fresh snacks and drinks, smiling ear-to-ear. Watching her set the tray on the bedside table, Maomao got the distinct feeling she was being set up for something.
“I’m glad to see you and the young master are well, Xiaomao. Especially after such a scare like that!” the old woman hummed, a strange glint in her mischievous eyes. “Would you like any help eating?”
“No thank you, I think I can—“ Maomao made to sit up, only for Jinshi’s arms to abruptly tighten and yank her back down with enough force to make them bounce when they hit the mattress. He huffed loudly in his sleep, like a disgruntled bull, and buried his face into her left breast.
“…if Lady Suiren doesn’t mind, could you move the side table closer to the bed, please?”
Suiren gave an amused chuckle, nothing more than a simple ho-ho-ho, yet it sounded more ominous than anything else she’d seen that day. “Of course, Xiaomao.”
The table was moved, putting the snacks and the carafe of water in reach, but before she could even make another request, like perhaps to fashion a replacement pillow dressed her in her old clothes, Lady Suiren had already vanished and reappeared appeared at the door.
“Sleep well, Xiaomao, young master,” she said happily with a bow.
Chue copied her to an almost exaggerated degree. “Miss Chue will be available if Miss Maomao needs anything urgent!”
And the doors were shut.
Cursing the both of them in her mind, she let her head fall back with a huff, dislodging an errant lock of hair that had fallen over her mouth. Jinshi’s hand was still curled around her wrist, but his hold had loosened after he fell asleep, so she was able to carefully extract it without much resistance. It took some stretching to manage it without rolling over or waking her leech, but she was able to snag a handful of roasted melon seeds without spilling a single one. Popping them into her mouth, she was pleasantly surprised to find they had been lightly dusted with salt and chili powder. Suiren knew her tastes well.
Slowly, her other hand slipped free from where it was pressed between Jinshi’s chest and her side. He shifted in place at the motion, brows pinching and nose wrinkling, but his expression quickly smoothed out when her fingers began to gently card through his messy hair, working through the tangles and brushing down the flyaways.
Maomao chewed on her melon seeds, spitting out the shells into her free hand and reaching back to drop them on the tray. It took more maneuvering to grab the carafe without spilling, but the welcome rush of cool water chased down the lingering spice with ease. Hopefully all this reaching and stretching didn’t damage her joints too badly. It’d already be annoying to try boiling bandages and mixing poultices with sore shoulders, much less tracking down a culprit.
Jinshi inhaled deeply, then let it out in one massive sigh. She watched him doze with half-lidded eyes, thinking back to Chue’s words.
“It’s just a tricky little powder that lowers your inhibitions.”
“How troublesome,” she murmured against the crown of his head, before sleep gradually took her down with him.