Chapter Text
On a particularly warm and sticky summer morning, Jinshi finds himself meeting the Empress at sunrise.
Gyokuyou’s smile widens at the sight of him, her cheer extending to her eyes. “Good morning, Moon Prince. Thank you for joining me.”
Jinshi matches her smile, slipping into the same candied persona he wore at the Rear Palace. “How lovely you are, Empress, even more radiant than the rising sun.” Gyokuyou smirks, amused, but she thanks him for the compliment and asks him to sit. They trade the niceties of polite conversation, before Jinshi finally asks the obvious question. “Forgive me, my lady, but to what do I owe this unexpected invitation?”
Gyokuyou’s smile changes by a single degree. Jinshi tries to decipher it, but discerning what goes on in the Empress’s mind is much easier said than done. She’s just one year older than him, but her quick mind and clever charms vastly outshine his own. The peony brand, the very same one adorning the pillars behind Gyokuyou, that Jinshi burned into his side begins to ache.
“First, tell me, Master Jinshi.” That gets his attention, making him sit straight up. Gyokuyou hasn’t called him Jinshi in years, not since his true identity was revealed. Leaning forward, raising her hand to make a show of whispering behind it, Gyokuyou asks, “Have you heard?”
“Heard what?”
“The new legends.” Gyokuyou’s green eyes sparkle. “Well, I’d suppose it’d be more accurate to call them rumors. There’s talk of a clever, beautiful lady — though some make sure to add cold to their descriptions.” Jinshi’s stomach promptly drops. Plenty of women are clever and most of them are beautiful, but he can think of only one who, in addition to being both clever and beautiful, is often described as cold. Expression unchanged but voice dropping, Gyokuyou goes on, “Some say she’s a powerful spirit who takes the form of a maiden, and she has the ability to either poison or heal someone with a single touch.”
“Legends, huh?” Jinshi says. Even he can hear his facade cracking. Behind him, Gaoshun clears his throat. Clenching his fists, Jinshi fixes his face back into the politely curious expression he’s been going for.
“Can you imagine?” Gyokuyou sits back in her seat, breathless with the idea. Anyone who might overhear their conversation would consider it little more than palace gossip. So that’s how the Empress wants this situation handled.
“A fantasy, indeed,” says Jinshi, remembering to smile. After being away from the Rear Palace for a number of years he finds it more and more difficult to maintain this persona. He takes a long drink of tea before pressing, “Tell me more Empress, what else do these rumors say?”
Eyes shining again, Gyokuyou says, “They tell the story of the Poison Lady, who protected a small farming village during the insect plague.” Jinshi’s smile doesn’t falter, but his brow furrows. That story is not inaccurate. “They say she’s powerful enough to touch poison with her bare hands without being hurt. Some say she can even ingest it without dying. As I said, most believe her to be a spirit.”
Jinshi folds his hands into his lap. They ache from clenching them into fists; if he’d continued, his nails would have broken the skin. And if that were to happen, a certain court lady — who, incidentally, has a peculiar fondness for poison — would be most displeased.
Gyokuyou goes on, “But I’ve heard whispers that the Poison Lady isn’t just human, she’s a member of the Imperial Court. And while she is indeed beautiful she is frightening, as she cannot be won over by any suitors.” At that, Jinshi has to keep himself from groaning aloud. The Empress claps her hands together, grinning. “What excitement! I, for one, have never heard anything like it!” Across the table, Gyokuyou’s smile narrows. “Tell me, Moon Prince, should such a Poison Lady exist, wouldn’t you like to know her?”
Pursing his lips, Jinshi chooses his next words carefully. “One could only dream of meeting such a terrifying creature.” He can only imagine such a thing would act much like a cat. “Perhpas I’ll look further into these stories.”
Closing her eyes, swallowing her annoyance that he didn’t take the bait and divulge more about his evolving relationship with Maomao, Gyokuyou folds her hands in her lap to mirror him. She fixes her smile before speaking again. “Well, if the Moon Prince is on the case, I’m sure we can rest easy knowing these tall tales will soon be put to bed.”
Before Jinshi can process her double entendre, Basen appears in the doorway, trading places with his father. Jinshi scowls — where’s Gaoshun going?
“Say,” Gyokuyou says, tapping her chin, “won’t the new medical officials be presented soon?”
She and Jinshi lock eyes for a single, horrible moment. The Empress is right, the new court medical officials are completing their training this very week. Among them happens to be the nation's first woman to receive the title. Gyokuyou’s reasons for gossiping about the Poison Lady crystallize in the space between them.
Standing, Jinshi says, “Forgive me Empress, it would seem I now have matters to attend to.”
Gyokuyou opens her mouth to say something more, but at that very moment a terrible crash echoes down the hallway, followed by two children screeching and the sound of every available lady-in-waiting rushing toward the sound. She lets out the smallest sigh before once again putting her smile back in place and saying, “It would seem I do as well. Until next time, Moon Prince.”
Jinshi takes his leave hurrying down the hallway. The morning is already humid, the air sticking to the walls of his lungs. Basen jogs lightly, trying to keep up.
“Master — ?”
“Basen.” Jinshi stops suddenly, turning to him. “What do you know of the latest gossip?”
Basen stares blankly, mouth opening then closing silently. It occurs to Jinshi that he’s asked the wrong person.
“Shall we seek out Lihaku?”
“Sir!”
They make their way to the military training area. When Lihaku spots them he jogs over like a big happy dog. A few steps away, however, he seemingly remembers himself and bows to Jinshi.
Without lifting his head, Lihaku says, “Moon Prince, how may I be of service today?”
“At ease,” Jinshi hurries, annoyed with formalities. “Lihaku, forgive my forwardness, but have you heard anything strange recently?”
Lihaku tilts his head. If he had a dog’s ears, one of them would perk up. “What do you mean, sir?”
“Anything. Gossip, rumors…”
Rubbing his chin as he thinks, Lihaku says, “Well, I heard the Grand Commandant wants to host a medical exposition, I think to celebrate the announcement of the new medical officials.”
A vision of Maomao’s birth father swims into Jinshi’s mind, and he pushes that problem to the side. He does not presently have the fortitude to wonder what Grand Commandant Lakan might hope to accomplish by putting on such an event. If he aims to ply Maomao with exotic herbs and remedies, Jinshi will just have to beat him to the punch. Biting back his grimace, reminding himself about the current problem at hand, Jinshi asks, “Anything else?”
“Well, I don’t know if this is the kind of thing you mean, but I did hear some of the new recruits talking about a spirit they saw back home.” Shrugging, Lihaku shakes his head to Basen like back me up. Basen furrows his brow, confused. “But it’s just a ghost story.”
Jinshi orders, “Take me to them.”
When the young soldiers spot Lihaku approaching them, they smile and wave. But when they notice Jinshi, they all scramble to their feet, tripping over each other in a rush to remember their manners.
Waving their concerns off, Jinshi says, “Soldiers, at ease.” They lift their heads, but keep their gazes averted, preferring to stare at their feet or hands. “Lihaku here tells me you may have seen something recently, and I must confess it has sparked my curiosity.” Now the three exchange nervous glances. Is this something they didn’t want others to know?
“Tell me,” Jinshi presses on, “What do you know of the recent spirit sighting?”
After a second of terrible silence, the youngest of the three pipes up. “You mean the Poison Lady?” Remembering himself, he adds, “Sir?”
“Poison Lady?” Jinshi repeats, as though he’s never heard that phrase before.
“She’s not a lady, your grace,” another one of them says. Jinshi scowls at the kid, who hurries to correct himself. “What I mean is — she’s a spirit, as you said.”
“That’s not true,” the first guy hisses to his companion.
“Yes it is!”
“You weren’t even there!”
The third soldier, a youth with bright eyes and narrow shoulders, steps forward and says, “I saw her myself sir, she came to my home.”
“Is that so?” Jinshi nods. “Go on.”
“She was a lady, about,” he puts his hand up, measuring a bit below his shoulder, “this high. Fierce little thing, I saw her scoop poison into her bare hands and beat back the plague herself. She was not injured by the poison either, sir, she —”
Squabble now forgotten, the youngest chimes in, “It was strong stuff she brought to the village, sir. Look.” He lifts his right sleeve to show Jinshi and the others something on his arm, a splotchy, misshapen scar, like a burn. Jinshi frowns. “But she saved our village!”
“It’s true sir, the Poison Lady saved us.”
Finally putting the pieces together, Basen mutters to himself, “Poison Lady…”
“What makes you believe this lady is a spirit?” asks Lihaku. If he’s realized they’re talking about Maomao, he isn’t letting on.
Pointing to the scar as though that explains everything, the soldier insists, “I tell you sir, she touched the same poison that gave me this wound. And yet she was not harmed.”
“What else do you remember about this Poison Lady?” Jinshi wants to know. He and Maomao returned from the Western Capitol nearly two years ago, he supposes that would be enough time for a story to turn into an urban legend. The real question is whether or not those stories can be traced back to Maomao.
A small ripple runs through the three of them, and they all share a long look before the second youth finally says, “All who have seen her say she can change form. She either comes to you as a beautiful maiden, or as a pitifully ugly thing.” Jinshi closes his eyes, sucking a deep breath in through his nose. Not noticing the fresh wave of unease that just rolled over everyone else, he decides he’s handling this conversation well. The soldier finishes, “B-but if the Poison Lady comes to you, do not fear. She will help you.”
That last sentence grants Jinshi some small relief. A benevolent — albeit frightening — maiden is hardly the worst way to describe Maomao. He has reason to worry; Maomao’s propensity for strangeness and more than occasional disregard for manners could send the rumors in any number of directions. He’s surprised the soldiers seem more afraid of Jinshi himself than their mythical Poison Lady.
Collecting himself, Jinshi looks at each of the soldiers in turn. They’re likely younger than they look, and traveled far to be here. “Thank you,” Jinshi tells them, offering a smile, “my curiosity has been satisfied. I believe that’s enough ghost stories for today.”
He turns to go, but the third soldier trips forward. “If I may speak freely, sir —”
“Yes, go ahead.” Jinshi glances back over his shoulder.
“Well, it’s just — she didn’t seem like a spirit to me, sir,” he says, steeling himself to meet the Moon Prince’s eye. “When I saw her, there was a bandage on her arm, and I saw a girl here —”
“Alright, back to training,” Lihaku says, stepping in between Jinshi and the soldiers. Jinshi departs without another word, hurrying out of the training yard and back to the inner court.
Next to him, Basen asks, “What shall you do now, sir?”
He’s going to do the obvious thing. “Get to the bottom of this.”
***
The next day, Jinshi pays a visit to the La Clan’s estate.
Upon finally being taken to Lakan, Jinshi assumes a mask of civility. He still hasn’t solved the mystery of how to deal with the Grand Commandant Lakan — that is to say, Maomao’s birth father and the head of the La Clan. Lakan is often Jinshi’s greatest hindrance or most powerful ally, and it’s impossible to tell which he will be today.
“Please forgive the intrusion —” Jinshi starts, then notices that Lakan did not bother to get completely dressed. Nor does he bother to get off the couch he’s lounging on. When he turns to Jinshi, his robe falls open. Sucking a sharp breath in through his nose, forcing himself to stick to formality, Jinshi continues, “But I have an important matter to discuss.”
“Ohh, the Moon Prince paying me a late night visit?” Lakan’s eyes light up behind his thick spectacles, dancing with dangerous curiosity. “Whatever for?”
Glancing out the window, from which the blazing afternoon sun is streaming, Jinshi can’t help but point out the obvious. “It’s nearly noon, sir.” Lakan narrows his eyes, but Jinshi presses on as if he doesn’t notice. “As for what I’ve come to discuss, well, I’m afraid it has to do with your daughter —”
Jumping to his feet, suddenly possessing the faculties of a grown man, Lakan roars, “Maomao!”
“Please, Master Lakan,” Jinshi pleads, fighting the instinct to shrink back when Lakan’s juice spills, the bright red puddle spreading on the floor.
“Tell me who did it,” Lakan says, stumbling toward Jinshi with murder in his eyes. His bare feet splash in the spilled juice. “Tell me where it happened —”
At that very moment, Lahan enters, apparently drawn by the noise. “Oh! What a pleasant surprise.” He grins, smug even as he deftly positions himself between Lakan and Jinshi, catching his adopted father before he can slip and fall. “Welcome, Moon Prince.”
Collecting himself, Jinshi decides it best to simply ignore the mutterings coming from Lakan and instead directs the conversation to Lahan. “As I’m sure you know, Maomao will complete her medical official training at the end of this month.”
“Of course,” Lahan says, brimming with what can only be genuine pride. Despite what Maomao may think, her cousin cares for her. “The princess of the La Clan is to become the nation’s first female medical official.” His mouth splits into the sly grin of a fox. “Before long, Maomao may just become the most accomplished member of the family…”
“Indeed,” Jinshi agrees as Lahan trails off, gaze dropping down to settle, seemingly, on Jinshi’s crotch. Another problem for another day. “You agree, then, that it would be most unfortunate if any rumors of a so-called Poison Lady took root among the palace’s flowers.”
“I thought you tended the garden,” Lakan sneers from behind his nephew, having regained enough of his senses to lob another insult at Jinshi.
“Honored Father,” Lakan cuts in. Recovering, he smiles again at Jinshi. “That would be concerning, if it were true. Tell me, your highness, are there rumors of a Poison Lady?”
“Well, if there were, surely they would have made their way to you by now, Grand Commandant.” Shrugging lightly, Jinshi says, “To tell the truth, I’m surprised you weren’t already aware.”
Their eyes meet, sharing an understanding. Returning to his couch, Lakan picks his teeth while Lahan watches on, helpless. “I may have heard a thing or two, but now that my interest is piqued.” He slides his eyes back over to Jinshi, who understands that he has doubly insulted Lakan by being privy to gossip he knew nothing about in addition to the unforgivable crime of winning Maomao’s affections. Lakan examines whatever he just picked out of his teeth. “Who knows what I’ll uncover.”
“I look forward to your discoveries.”
“And why would I share information with you?”
“We have the same goal, Grand Commandant.” Realizing Lakan may not understand unless he points it out, Jinshi adds, “Protecting Maomao.”
“Hmph.” Lakan examines the pinky nail he used to pick his teeth before sticking it in his ear. To the side, Lahan closes his eyes. “Perhaps in exchange, you could do a little something for me.”
He’d half-expected this. “What is it you request?”
“I want…” Lakan’s eyes slide across the room, though it seems whatever he’s looking for is not here. “I want to teach my daughter to play chess.”
Jinshi purses his lips. “You think me a miracle worker.” Then, remembering what Lihaku told him, he suggests, “Perhaps I could assist you in organizing a medical exposition, to celebrate the new officers.”
“I’m tired,” declares Lakan, standing. “Goodnight.” No one seems to have the energy to point out to him, again, that it is hardly the afternoon. Looking over his shoulder, Lakan tells Jinshi, “I’ll send Rikuson with word.”
Once his uncle has departed, Lahan turns back to Jinshi, who isn’t sure whether he feels relieved or defeated. “Fear not, Moon Prince, you can count on the full force of the La Clan.” When Jinshi frowns at the doorway that Lakan just left through, Lahan adds, “There is only one La princess. Protecting her is of the utmost importance to us.”
Pushing away his questions of how upset Maomao would truly be if something were to happen to her birth father, and biting back the urge to remind Lahan that Maomao refuses to claim her father’s family name, Jinshi nods once.
“Please make sure of it.”
***
By nightfall, Maomao has once again found herself in the Moon Prince’s bedchambers, washing her face and hands with the water Lady Suiren brought her. Maomao chooses not to count the number of nights she’s spent in this room, which is rapidly approaching triple digits. If she’s summoned by the Moon Prince, who is she to refuse?
She stretches her arms over her head, yawning. The medical office was even busier than usual today, bustling with bruised and bleeding new recruits. It gave her the chance to test her newest antiseptic ointment, as well as practice her stitching. Not even Tianyu could critique her work.
At last, Maomao’s training to become a court medical officer is almost complete. In a few short weeks, she will officially become the first woman to be made a medical officer in the nation’s history. It should feel more important to her, she thinks, but it’s really just a means to an end. If Jinshi were granted a name and allowed to leave the palace, they’d need a source of income.
Looking in the bronze mirror situated on the table she can see Jinshi undressing, gingerly poking the scar on his abdomen and frowning as he does so. Maomao purses her lips. The sight of his broad, bare chest would be more than enough to drive any normal person mad.
“Master Jinshi,” says Maomao once she’s done drying her face. “Did you happen to speak to the new military recruits?”
“I did, and to Empress Gyokuyou,” Jinshi says, turning to look at her. A waft of sandalwood follows his flowing hair. The grey circles under his eyes and the thin scar on his right cheek give his otherwise absurd beauty an edge, which Maomao can’t help but appreciate. “And what do you have to say about it?”
Confused, Maomao searches his face for a clue. When she cannot discern any meaning, she shrugs. Jinshi sighs, finally asking, “Maomao, what are these rumors about a Poison Lady?”
Oh — !
“Who?” Maomao tries. Unconvinced, Jinshi’s scowl deepens. She mutters, “I told them not to call me that —”
Unprompted, Jinshi drops to his knees before her. Maomao bites back a gasp, looking down at his lovely face. He seems almost desperate. “Is it true?”
Maomao doesn’t know how to answer, so she doesn’t say anything. Instead, she wonders if he will be brave enough to touch her. She silently dares him to reach out. After what feels like a long silence, however, Jinshi tells her, “I’ve done my best to quell the flood of rumors, I even spoke to the Grand Commandant, but please —”
“Why go to such great lengths?” interrupts Maomao, breaking away from him and walking to the wardrobe. She’s quickly grown tired of talking about this. She hasn’t actually poisoned anyone — if anything, she’s saved people from poison. In fact, that sounds like the kind of thing a medical officer would do. Jinshi frowns, scratching his scar. “It’s entirely unnecessary. What does it matter if there’s gossip about me — ?”
“This isn’t gossip, Maomao.” He shakes his head, suddenly seeming very tired. “Bending the rules so you could become a medical officer was one thing.”
Maomao swats his hand away from his injury, scowling down at him. “Remind me, Moon Prince, when did I ask you to do that?”
Pouting, he takes her hand. “Practicing medicine and dallying with poison are not the same thing. You understand that, right?”
“Aren’t both crimes?” counters Maomao, unable to keep the bite out of her words. It’s bad enough for a celestial nymph to be a masochist, this one insists on also being annoying. Why does this matter to him? “Since I’m a woman?”
Releasing her hand, Jinshi pinches his brow as if she’s given him a headache. He flops down on his bed. “Women are now permitted to practice medicine as long as they receive training at the palace, which you have done. Poison is still not medicine.” Maomao opens her mouth to argue, but he wags a finger at her, cutting her off. “Don’t.”
Entirely agitated and moderately enkindled, Maomao asks cooly, “Master Jinshi, wouldn’t trying to quell the rumors lend to their validity?”
Taking a moment to process that, Jinshi balks, sitting up. “You want to just ignore it? Do nothing?”
“Yes.” At that, Jinshi pouts again, this time grumpily. Maomao steps into him. “I understand that isn’t in your nature.”
“It’s not typically yours, either.” He tilts his head, watching her slowly draw closer. Even sitting, his eyeline is just above hers. If he wanted to pick her up and toss her onto the bed, it’d be all too easy. The thought is so intriguing it makes Maomao glare at him, much to his apparent delight.
But there’s another thought tickling the back of her mind. The Empress tipped Jinshi off about these rumors? Gyokuyou wouldn’t do that unless she had a reason. Maomao can’t think of what one might be though, so instead she responds to Jinshi.
“I’m most often acting upon your personal request, sir.”
“And yet you never refuse,” he says, now leaning toward her. The space between them sparks with dry static. Maomao holds his gaze.
After a long beat of silence, she says, “Say there are rumors about a Poison Lady, who can shoot toxins from her eyes and raise the dead.”
“Pardon me?”
Maomao continues as if she doesn’t hear him, “That’s an utterly ridiculous notion. Playing into these superstitions would only excite the public and give the legend credibility.” She glances down at her hands, which were burned during the insect plague. They were raw and swollen for days afterward. “Besides, no human can be entirely unharmed by poison, that’s absurd.”
Jinshi gently takes both her hands, pulling her onto the bed with him, a surprisingly intimate thing for him to do considering he’s pretending to have developed shame and self control. But this isn’t a romantic gesture, as his gaze lands on her bandaged left arm. When he goes to remove the bandage, Maomao flinches.
“What are you doing?”
“Checking something.”
“Jinshi,” Maomao starts, tempted to wrench her arm back from him. But his eyes search her scars until he finds whatever he’s apparently looking for.
“This,” he whispers, pointing to a long-healed splotch. Maomao purses her lips. That’s where she tested the insect repellant that earned her the nickname of Poison Lady.
“What about it?”
Locking eyes with her, Jinshi points next to a much uglier scar right next to the first one. Incidentally, that mark came from her first test batch of insect repellant, which proved to be far too potent for practical use. Jinshi’s voice is low. “You didn’t want this to happen to any citizens, did you?”
What kind of question is that? Of course she didn't, that's why she tested it on herself and made adjustments. She can handle watching her skin bubble and hiss and blacken, but any normal person would be traumatized. Maomao snatches her arm back, rewrapping it herself. “What are you getting at?”
“This is why they’re talking about you, Maomao, why they think you’re a spirit, or a witch.” He watches her rewrap her arm, covering up all the evidence of her experiments.
“Spirits aren’t real,” she reminds him.
“But a lady who isn’t harmed by poison is.” Suddenly exhausted again, he collapses down onto the bed, making sure to grab Maomao’s waist and take her with him this time. Surprised, her heart jumps into her throat. “And ladies — no, actually, anyone using poison is a crime.”
“So prosecute me.”
“No.”
With that, he rolls over and pretends to go to sleep. After a moment, Maomao says, “Master Jinshi?”
He doesn’t look her way. “What is it?”
She sits up. “Do you want me to go?”
He pulls her back down, more gently this time, so they’re facing each other. “Never.”
“You’re worried about me.” She adjusts herself, scooting closer to him in the process. His words carry a light scent of jasmine.
“Was that not clear?”
Maomao says, “I can handle myself, sir.”
“That’s not what this is about, and you know that.”
Maomao thinks on that for a second before realizing, “You’re worried that I’ll get into a situation where even you can’t help me?” Maybe that’s why Empress Gyokuyou shared this gossip with him. Jinshi nods, reaching his hand out to cup her cheek. His fingers are cold. “But you can do almost anything you want. You could pardon me. You could make me the official Poison Lady of the court.”
Jinshi laughs — actually laughs, eyes watering. “If only that were the truth!” Closing the distance between them in a heartbeat, he presses their foreheads together. The sudden contact makes Maomao gasp. “Then I’d run away, and take you with me.”
“And what will you do for work?”
Putting his finger to her lips, he whispers, “Shh, this is just a wish. It doesn't need to make sense.” He holds her gaze for a moment. Then, quite unprovoked, he presses a long kiss to her forehead. He speaks into her skin. “I dream of a world without restraints, where you being mine means nothing but that.”
A future where Jinshi’s only responsibility is to her and any family the two of them may create. Part of her thinks he might go mad with boredom, but if it means he will sleep through the night, so be it. The idea, strangely, makes Maomao smile.
Her voice reverberates against the pale skin of Jinshi’s throat. “That’s what you want?”
Jinshi wraps his arms around her, settling into the mattress. “That’s what I want.”
And just like that, he falls asleep. Nodding to herself, Maomao breathes, “Very well.”
She observes the celestial nymph sleeping beside her, after a time reaching over to brush his hair away from his face. A tiny smile pulls on the corner of his mouth, his body relaxing further in response to her touch. What a strange creature.
He was so worried about a rumor that he sought out that old freak? The very idea makes Maomao’s stomach churn. What in the world did Lady Gyokuyou tell him? After all, Maomao’s made it this far without being executed, she thinks she can manage a few more weeks until she’s made a medical officer. Once that is done, she can work without reproach —
Ah, that must be it.
She examines her bandaged arm, holding it overhead. Jinshi’s breathing deepens, the soft rhythm filling the room. He spent so much time worrying about her that he somehow failed to realize he’s the one who is actually at risk. Maomao sighs, yawning. What a hassle, having people care about you.
Reaching over, she brushes Jinshi’s hair away from his face, her fingertips lightly tracing his scar. He smiles, his furrowed brow smoothing out, seemingly in response to her touch. Is he dreaming of it, a world without restraints?
Whether or not it was a personal request, Maomao already decided to consider it one. Pressing a kiss of her own to his forehead, she makes a promise: “I’ll see to it.”