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The cicada wings on Maomao's wrist flutter.
For a moment, she wonders if she's imagined it, but no. They flutter again, tickling against her pulse—not much, but enough to make her start. It's been months since she felt those wings move. Only the cicada's vibrant colour has kept her company in the meantime.
She tries to focus on the task at hand, but apparently she's focusing too hard, judging by the irritable sound Doctor Li makes.
"You're going to crush that into powder," he grumbles.
Maomao stops and stares down at the herbs in her bowl. Her fingers twitch around the pestle, and she has to resist tugging at the edge of her sleeve to make sure the antennae aren't peeking out below the hem.
"Er—sorry," Maomao mutters.
The third time he has to snap her out of her thoughts, he gives an aggrieved sigh.
"Give that to me," he says, glaring at her bowl and pestle. He digs into his pocket and hands her a scrap of paper instead. "Why don't you go pick up these ingredients from the marketplace."
Maomao doesn't hesitate. She snatches the list out of Doctor Li's hand before he can think to take it back.
She doesn't even look at the list as she winds her way towards the Pleasure District, just shoves it in her pocket and slips between pedestrians as quickly and as unobtrusively as she can. She stops only once, as she nears the Verdigris House, to buy some meat skewers from an old man at a stall.
She eats one of them on the way, as she ducks down streets and around buildings. The other—
"What the hell are you thinking?" she scowls as she shoves the food at the cloaked figure leaning against a wall out back. The cicada flaps its wings again, and Maomao just scowls harder.
Shaking back her hood, Shisui laughs. "Thanks," she says. "I'm starving."
Crossing her arms, Maomao sighs and watches the other girl eat, juices running sticky down her fingers. The faint smell of wood sorrel that clings to her is almost drowned out by the spices.
When she's done, her sleeve falls back a little to reveal the delicate curl of gently blooming leaves.
Maomao waits as patiently as she can, which is, unfortunately, not very patiently.
"There's unrest in the west," Shisui finally says. "I was worried you'd get caught up in it, since you're always such a magnet for trouble. I thought I'd better let you know."
Maomao frowns. It's not her fault trouble seems to seek her out like roots seek out water. Just look at who her soulmate is, after all!
"You could have sent a letter," she grumbles, because it's the height of recklessness for Shisui to be here, in Li, where a single rumour of her survival will bring the force of the Empire down on her head.
Shisui just grins. "Are you not happy to see me at all?" she asks.
"I brought you food, didn't I?" Maomao demands, and Shisui laughs again. Maomao narrows her eyes, and then asks, curious despite herself: "..how long are you staying?"
Shisui takes a step in towards her, and Maomao only realizes then how close they were already standing. She can feel the warmth coming off of Shisui's body.
"Well," Shisui says. "It would be a shame not to catch up while I'm here."
Shisui leans in against her, and when her arm brushes Maomao's, the cicada trills in contentment.
On Shisui's wrist, the wood sorrel blooms full.