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Since Herta’s return from Amphoreus, Ruan Mei had been acting strangely.
She had initially dismissed it as Ruan Mei’s usual eccentric behavior; after all, all Geniuses toed the line between madness and, well, genius. However, it had started to become bizarre even by her standards. Herta found herself encountering Ruan Mei much more frequently in the station—wandering in the halls, pacing around the Simulated Universe, appearing suddenly during Herta’s studies, even speaking to other researchers. The cat cakes had become a more frequent sighting, at least one of them hovering around her and her puppets at any point of time.
It was all very puzzling.
“Herta.” Ruan Mei appeared behind her in the Simulated Universe’s room, a cat cake following close behind. “What a coincidence. I was just feeling a bit hungry. Care for some tea?”
Herta was really starting to suspect, after the fourth chance tea time since her return, that it was not a coincidence. Ruan Mei kept appearing amidst her studies, pulling her away for an hour or two of tea and cakes against a backdrop of starry space.
“I feel as if I’ve been seeing you a lot more lately,” she replied, studying the genius in suspicion.
Ruan Mei only shrugged, her lovely turquoise eyes revealing nothing. “I am trying a new recipe for my lotus root osmanthus cake, and I need a test subject.”
This was the third time she’d switched her recipe this week alone, but Herta refrained from commenting. “If you insist, I suppose I’ll grace you with my presence.”
Visibly brightening, Ruan Mei gestured toward their usual tea spot, already sliding the freshly baked cakes onto the table. The cat cake at her heels purred, looking up with expectant, shining eyes for a crumb. “I’ve been experimenting with different sweeteners. Traditionally, the sweet nothings of lovers are used, but they’re most commonly substituted with white sugar. I’ve found that it doesn’t quite recreate the same taste of authentic cakes, so I wanted to see if I could find the perfect substitute to it. The issue, though, is that I have no control group to compare against the experimental variable without access to lovers’ sweet nothings, so I’m forced to adjust the flavor based on my memory…”
This was another change in Ruan Mei’s behavior: she’d become unusually talkative, sentences filling the air where they’d once eaten in comfortable silence. This, too, Herta found odd for the introverted genius—after all, how often had she complained about Ruan Mei’s hermit-like nature? Yet Herta could not pinpoint the reason for the abrupt change, and it puzzled her to no end.
“What an inconvenient ingredient,” she remarked instead of voicing her internal musings as Ruan Mei finished her musings of volume-to-size ratios and reconstruction of disaccharides.
“Inconvenient,” Ruan Mei echoed. “Yes, I suppose so. But I find that good desserts come from patience.”
“Like your favorite plum-scented soybean cakes, no? They take an entire year to prepare.” Herta took a bite of the cake and hummed, enjoying the fragrant flavor.
Ruan Mei watched her reaction closely, gaze not wavering until Herta had sufficiently chewed and swallowed her first bite. “Yes. But they are all the more exquisite for it.”
“If you ask me, that’s far too much time to wait for a small cake,” Herta replied, taking a quick sip of her tea. “Why wait so long for something? I’d get bored far too quickly.”
At that, Ruan Mei smiled faintly. “Yes, you would. You’ve always been like that, haven’t you?” Before Herta could raise an objection, Ruan Mei gestured at her to continue eating. “Eat. I won’t have satisfactory data on how I did with this iteration of the recipe unless you finish the whole thing.”
“I have work to do, you know,” Herta replied dryly, bringing another piece of cake to her mouth.
“You’re assisting me with my own work. Drink your tea, too.”
“How presumptuous of you to order around the peerless, unrivalled genius of the Herta herself,” she teased, her tone lofty.
“Your beauty and intelligence are unquestionable,” Ruan Mei said, sipping delicately from her own teacup. “As are your habits of forgetting to eat and drink when you consume yourself in your own work.”
Herta raised her eyebrows at that. “You’re hardly one to criticize forgetting human needs when researching when you do precisely the same thing. One might think you were an Intellitron like Screwy the way you stay holed up without any sleep.”
Ruan Mei made an odd expression at that, something tugging her brows down slightly and her eyes becoming tight. “Please eat,” she repeated.
Over their many years of collaboration, Herta would consider herself something of a Ruan Mei expert—that is, as close to any living being might come to understanding the eccentric scientist. Yet she had never seen that expression on Ruan Mei’s face before. There was an unfamiliar tension in the purse of her lips, the way her eyes studied Herta intently as if she were about to disappear. It was something she could only name as worry. Worry for Herta.
That was… new.
“No need to worry so much,” Herta said, taking a large bite of cake. Something in her heart eased a little as the dip of Ruan Mei’s brow relaxed slightly. “See? Sustenance.”
“Thank you.”
Several more quiet moments passed as Herta finished her cake and tea, broken only by the soft sounds of eating and the cat cake’s soft rustle as it nuzzled into Herta’s leg. She slipped a small bite of cake to the creature, which purred in delight as it quickly devoured the sweet treat. The unfamiliar tension remained in Ruan Mei’s expression as she kept her careful watch over Herta.
“…You’ve been researching Irontomb,” Ruan Mei said finally.
“Of course. It’s rare to have such an opportunity to study a Lord Ravager up close, after all, particularly right at its birth.” Herta gave her a sidelong glance. “It’s a shame you didn’t come to Amphoreus. I’m sure you would’ve loved to see a world with three Paths intertwined. Aeons have always been your line of research.”
“Yes. It is only… Do you not think that perhaps your energies could be spent elsewhere?”
Herta raised her eyebrows. “Are you calling my project a waste of time?” she asked bluntly.
“No, not at all,” Ruan Mei started, but her words were quickly waved off.
“Oh, please, don’t bother sugarcoating it. We’ve worked together far too long for that.”
Ruan Mei pursed her lips, studying Herta. Yet another new habit of hers: the repeated tracing of her eyes over Herta’s face, carefully examining the lines and angles as if memorizing them. Herta was no stranger to her discerning eye—many found it unnerving, like a bug pinned underneath glass—yet she’d never particularly minded it. That is, until now, as Ruan Mei’s gaze fixing on her in an oddly intense way as if she were slipping away made Herta shift uncomfortably, warmth creeping up her neck.
“It is not that I find your project a waste,” Ruan Mei said slowly. “Your mind is far too brilliant to ever call something it focuses on worthless. I am also aware that your research is vital as you are searching for ways to curb the Destruction’s influence. I only wish…” She paused, frowning in that frustrated way she always did when she was unable to figure something out. “Never mind. It is only that I worry.”
Herta blinked. “Do you doubt my ability?”
“No, I would not dare.” Ruan Mei let out a soft exhale. “You never slow down, do you? You’re always working like you’re running out of time.”
“We don’t exactly have an infinite amount of time to set up a defense against Nanook.”
“Touché.” She shook her head, her jewel-like eyes softening a bit as they ran over Herta’s features again. “You’ve gained dark bags beneath your eyes.” She then leaned over and reached out, her fingers pressing delicately against Herta’s face in a ghost of a caress, her thumb running over the eyebags in question.
Herta remained perfectly still, suddenly forgetting how to breathe at the sudden touch. The brilliant sea in Ruan Mei’s eyes trapped her, effectively dissolving whatever thought had started to form in her head. The scent of Ruan Mei’s perfume lingered, something sweet—plum blossoms, Herta guessed, and a hint of vanilla—beneath the sharp chemical smell of whatever she’d been working on in the lab.
“Normally you pride yourself in such a perfect presentation of beauty,” Ruan Mei said, her head tilting. Herta felt helplessly pinned beneath her gaze. “Although I suppose you never fail to be beautiful regardless.”
Well. That was just playing unfair, wasn’t it?
“Um,” Herta said with all of the eloquence she could summon.
One of her puppets quietly appeared beside her. “Excuse me, Madam Herta. Screwllum is requesting your assistance. He said it was urgent regarding a recent extrapolation’s anomalies.”
Ruan Mei and Herta both turned to look at the puppet, Ruan Mei withdrawing her touch. Herta finally remembered how to breathe, no longer drowning in oceans of turquoise and chemical sweetness.
“Right.” Herta turned to her puppet, attempting to gather her composure. “Thank you. Inform him I’ll be there shortly.”
“I apologize for pulling you away from your work. Thank you for indulging me,” Ruan Mei said, standing up. Underneath the table, the cat cake grumbled in discontent at its mother’s movement. Herta followed, quickly rising and turning to follow after the puppet before Ruan Mei’s voice stopped her. “Herta.”
She turned and was surprised by the soft smile that curved over Ruan Mei’s delicate lips. “Please take care of yourself,” Ruan Mei said. “Many here depend on you. And many who care for you, as well.”
Herta turned around quickly. “Well, of course,” she said dismissively. “None of you could ever go a second without me, could you? How hopeless.”
Ruan Mei just let out a laugh reserved for Herta only, the sound like music.
It was a true shame that Herta was not a puppet like the one that stood in front of her now. If she was, she would not be so flushed at the mere sound of laughter and the brush of cool fingers against skin.