Chapter Text
Every garden holds thorns,
sharp teeth hidden—
in sweet petals and jade stems.
The wind is cool and the sun pale,
the vernal sky clears gently—
there is beauty in danger.
Leaves from the trees above drifted down with the breeze, cooler now that summer was winding into the creeping chill of autumn. A season had passed since Maomao was kidnapped and sold to the Rear Palace, and her investigation into the Emperor’s garden was proving rather... boring.
Until now, that is.
No, Maomao huffed, slapping her palms against her cheeks as she scuffled away from the crowd and the fighting consorts. Bad. The Emperors' children falling ill was not interesting. Of course not.
But it had been months since she worked as an apothecary with her Granduncle back in the pleasure district, and she missed it. Her herbs and her poisons and the small shack her uncle called home. The acerbic smell of brewing medicine and the sting of liquid acid coursing through her veins from a particularly strong toxin. The idea of using her skills, especially in the capacity of saving the young prince and princess, was tantalizing. She needed to figure out a way to tell the consorts the powder was poison before further damage was done. Maybe they’d let her try some? Uncle did not allow her to taste the powder when they—
Momo faltered in her steps. Then stopped completely.
How could she tell them without risking the possibility of getting caught? Who could she tell?
A twinge of indecision licked up her spine. It would be unwise to get involved in the higher court while she was here, especially since she wasn’t supposed to be in the Rear Palace in the first place.
She doubted any of the concubines or eunuchs would recognize her as a noble with her painted freckles and her servant attire, but still...
What if they figured out that she was the Princess of the La Clan? Would she receive punishment? She shouldn’t considering who her old man was — her station afforded her too much leeway she didn’t deserve—but, living in the Rear Palace under false pretenses would not go over well if she were caught. Maomao wasn’t supposed to come live in the Rear Palace until after she married the Moon—
No. She shivered at the thought; lips twisted in distaste. Two mid-ranked concubines shot her a nasty look over the sleeves of their raised arms as they passed her, as if smelling something unpleasant. Maomao paid them no mind, shoving the unwelcome thoughts of her impeding marriage to the back of her mind. Not going to think about that. Focus.
Poison.
The Emperor's children were, unknowingly, being poisoned. That was what was important.
If she could help the young prince and princess, she had no choice. It was the duty of the La Clan to serve the Imperial Family at any capacity, and it was Maomao’s duty as a trained apothecary to help the sick. No matter what the cost.
Maomao nodded once; eyes lit with determination. Yus.
She continued, footsteps light against the smooth sandstone below; her chin tipped in thought. But how would she tell them?
Her next words escaped, unbidden.
“If only I could find something to write with...”
The whisper was carried by the breeze along with the leaves. The man called Jinshi whipped around at the murmur, but there was no one there.
A torn servant skirt, two flowers, and a hastily written note later Maomao’s job was done.
Not well, evidently.
Barely a month had passed before news spread that the crown prince had succumbed to his illness.
The mood around the Rear Palace was low, and rumors of the “curse” were high. The child of Lady Lihua was the fourth royal heir to pass away within the first year of their birth.
Maomao sighed. Her knees scraped against the stone tile as she washed the bed sheet in her hands. Her fingers were growing numb from the cold water; her cheeks tinged red from the bite of the wind.
She failed.
Did they not receive her note? Did they throw it out?
There was no use in conjecture; what was done was done. But a faint echo of guilt still lingered in her chest. Should she have done more? They did not listen to Maomao, the Apothecary and laundry girl, but would they have listened to Kan Maoling, the daughter of the Gran Commandant, if she had come forward?
Her hands spasmed, droplets of soapy water splashing the servant next to her.
“Hey!” The girl hissed. Maomao started, then blinked at the scowling face next to her. Oh, where did Xiaolin go? “Be careful, it’s cold.”
“Sorry,” Maomao murmured, ducking back into her work. There’d been no news of the infant princess—good or bad. Did the Jade Pavilion get her note?
She hoped so.
Okay, Maomao thought, wringing the gaudy red fabric in her hand with a methodical efficiency a high-born noble shouldn’t have. New strategy. If there is no news that the Princess is getting better by next week, I’ll come forward.
She really hoped it wouldn’t come to that.
At least she wouldn’t be executed...
maybe.
The Rear Palace was a wondrous and bountiful garden, home to a variety of lovely flowers.
Some rich, vibrant, and foreign; others feather-soft and pastel. A palace of simpers and silk. Glittering jewels, feminine beauty, and a light, sickly sweet undercurrent of malicious intent.
It was fascinating—much more interesting than the La Estate—but it meant Maomao needed to be wary of everyone. That included ridiculously beautiful, nymph-like eunuchs.
The day started like this:
The servants woke up at dawn for breakfast at the dining hall. Once they ate, they were given thirty minutes for personal hygiene before they began their workday. First, they spread out among the Rear Palace to collect soiled and dirty sheets. Once that was gathered, half of the servants would begin the process of washing, and the rest would go back out to collect clothes needing to be laundered. The process was repeated over and over again for the next ten hours.
It wasn't difficult work for Maomao, who, despite being raised as a princess of one of the high clans in the Royal Capital, spent two seasons a year working with her uncle. It used to be only one season, but it was raised to two after she completed her ‘studies’ two years ago.
From a young age, she was trained in high etiquette and protocol, calligraphy, history, mathematics, and poetry. Not all high-born ladies were trained in such subjects, as the majority knew they would be married to other high-ranking families not long after they bled; but Maomao had no choice. Her mother demanded it. Even though she never said it aloud, Maomao knew it was because she wanted to protect her from any ridicule for being the daughter of a former courtesan.
She had taken the Court Lady exam at sixteen — which she hated, but it was an order from her honored parents— and failed due to her lack of interest in it.
That had not gone well with her mother.
She spent the next six months living at the Verdigris House, being trained by Granny and her aunties, The Three Princesses, in the exam material, and was not allowed to come back until she passed. Honestly, she would’ve failed again if it wasn’t for her aunties (Meimei specifically) guilting her into remembering her privilege. Blegh.
Once she finally passed, she was able to fully devote herself to her apothecary studies, and because of it, she was no stranger to early mornings and hard labor. Palace life really wasn’t so difficult in comparison.
Actually, Maomao mused as she chewed her lunch. Life here really isn’t so different than living in a brothel. Same power struggle, same hierarchy, and same... skillset. Well, at least for the courtesans and consorts. It wasn’t what Maomao expected when she allowed herself to be kidnapped and sold.
“I heard,” Xiaolin interrupted her thoughts, “The Emperor has been visiting Lady Gyokuyou a lot recently as a way to show his love for the surviving princess.”
Maomao's ears perked. “So, she’s improving?”
“It seems like it.”
A sigh of relief escaped her. Thank goodness. Her chances of avoiding corporal punishment just rose exponentially. “What about Lady Lihua? How is she?”
Light brown eyes stared blankly at her. “Um? What makes you think I know anything about that?”
Xiaolin took a huge bite of their lunch. Maomao frowned. "Your information is strangely selective, you know.”
Before Xiaolin could answer, a strict-looking eunuch she’d never met before summoned her, which led her to the predicament she was in now.
The ethereal Master Jinshi, Head Manager of the Rear Palace, smiled placidly from the Matron’s desk. His pale, flawless skin shined in the dull office light, and his glittering eyes twinkled like the constellations of the night sky. Wistful sighs and girlish giggles echoed around the office as Maomao hid behind their swooning forms. She was shaking.
You with the freckles, the paper he held up read in elegant script, stay behind.
Crap, crap, crap.
What did she do? Did they find out I left the note or... Maomao paled. Had they figured out who she really was?
No, no. No way. She was careful not to leave any proof, nor had she said a word about it, not even a hint. Was her clan looking for her?
No. Not likely, either.
There was no way the old man was looking for her yet. She was positive he’d already deciphered her plan back on her first day here, and Maomao did not believe he’d interfere so soon. Her strategy was a good one—a gamble that lived up to her father’s reputation. To come to the Rear Palace disguised as a servant girl, a full year before she was meant to marry the Imperial Brother, to see for herself what life was like in the Rear Palace. It was the best she could do given the situation.
If she was going to be forced to spend her life in a nest of vipers, it was best to get familiar with the territory, and its snakes, before she walked in with a blaring target on her back. It was a genius plan; one she knew her father and mother approved of. Though she didn’t think the Palace would if they ever found out.
Maomao continued to tremble. How could they have found out?
The rest of the girls filed out. It took her a moment to realize she’d fallen right into a trap. Crap again! She was the only one who could read. It was a play meant to isolate her. She turned quickly, hasty to correct her misstep, but a warm palm stopped her.
The hand on her shoulder was firm. The croon in her ear was syrupy and soft; a misdirect.
“Now, now, miss. Didn’t you read my note?” Master Jinshi breathed, his tone rich and inviting. Goosebumps rose along Maomao’s neck as she shivered; caught prey. “I said to stay here. Keep quiet and follow me.”
A breath passed, then two. Maomao sighed and straightened. She could tell when she’d been outmaneuvered.
Fine, she grumbled to herself, cringing away from the sparkling eunuch’s unnatural charm. She looked at the soft hand on her shoulder and brushed it away with barely concealed disgust. She felt rather than saw Master Jinshi’s frown. Doesn’t mean I’m telling them anything.
This was how the Moon Prince and his fiancée, the Princess of the La Clan, met for the first time. Not that either of them realized it.
Yet.
Becoming a lady in waiting to the Precious Consort, the Emperor’s favorite, was not a part of her plan.
Maomao packed her meager clothes into her basket distantly, mind spinning with this new development and all its complexities. There were multiple issues and dangers to her promotion.
One, the most obvious, Maomao was not just an Apothecary as she insinuated back in the Jade Pavilion when she spoke to Lady Gyokuyou and Master Jinshi about the poison.
She did not lie, of course. Everything she said was true. She had been trained as an Apothecary by her uncle in the pleasure district, sent by her parents a few months a year, since she was a little girl. They had not asked who her parents were or where she hailed from, so she did not expand further. That was not Maomao’s fault.
But there was an issue in employing her in one of the High Consorts' houses.
The La Clan was a very purposefully neutral clan. It was a necessity for their survival. They were known for their oddities, obsessive interests, and extremely high intellect. Some of them, the occasional prodigies born into the clan, were more intelligent and dangerous than others.
Over the generations, her clan has managed to survive without any major political wars or upheavals. Mostly because they do not seek power, so as not to be perceived as threats to the palace or other clans, and do not throw their loyalty to any clan or faction that is not the Imperial Family. That included never offering any of their daughters as consorts to any reigning Emperor.
Because of this, they’d been allowed free rein to pursue whatever trade or skills they desired and stay out of politics for generations. Of course, things changed with Maomao’s father. Lakan did not fully follow the clan’s unspoken rule; he decided to use his skills to work his way up to the highest position in the military and usurp the previous head of the clan. According to her father, this was a necessary evil. He needed enough power and reputation so he could marry a courtesan without too much fallout for the clan and their children. Also, the last head of the clan had more interest in farming than maintaining their political standing. It was best for all involved for Lakan to take ownership of the clan and raise their standing just a little higher than previous heads were comfortable with.
It was a precarious balance her father maintained. To remain relevant and powerful enough to hold sway in the court, be left to do as he pleased, and offer validity to his children, while still demonstrating to the Imperial Family, and all the clans in Li, that he was no threat to the throne.
Maomao becoming a member of Lady Gyokuyou's court, even though no one actually knew who she was, could potentially be seen as the La showing favoritism to one of the High Consorts over the others.
Not good.
The second issue, and to Maomao the most pressing, was what would happen when she finished her contract here as a servant and then returned to the palace as a consort? Would Lady Gyokuyou feel betrayed? Would she see her as a rival who snuck into her home?
Also, not good.
Maomao sighed, closing the lid of her basket. She crawled into the rough mattress of her cot. It was sunset, the sky beyond the window burning pink and gold. The only way she could see herself coming out of this unscathed was to serve Lady Gyokuyou well, and when she returned as the Moon Prince’s consort (eww!) swearing her fidelity to the Precious Consort’s faction. It would put her father in a rough position, and it may disturb the power balance of the Imperial harem, but it would also give Maomao a powerful ally when she returned.
Besides, she was only returning as a mid-level consort (ew ew ew) she couldn’t hold that much political sway.
Best case scenario, it didn’t come to that at all. Hopefully, when the time came for Lady Kan to enter the Rear Palace, no one would remember Maomao the commoner.
Yes. That would be nice.
A poison tester?!
They were assigning her to be a poison tester!?
Everyone else in the room looked fearful, nervous, or utterly stoic. Maomao was overjoyed!
She should’ve allowed herself to be kidnapped years ago.
“Apothecary, how are you at making aphrodisiacs?”
The stars shone in large blue eyes — or that’s what the poets would say.
More accurately, large blue eyes widened in manic excitement. Maomao’s heart quickened beneath her ribs. She licked her lips, face flushing a budding rose. A phantom burning sensation trailed pleasantly up her bandaged arm at the thought of her second most favorite pass time (besides experimenting of course).
Drugs?! He wants me to make drugs!?
After collecting herself, barely, her chin tipped haughtily, and a small thumb jabbed at her chest. Her lack of control over emotions and loss of decorum was atrocious. Even though she technically was not present in the Rear Palace, the La Princess was truly nowhere to be found. If Maomao were not a La, her family would surely be dishonored by this type of conduct... and illegal activity.
Thankfully, she was a La.
(She would never say that out loud.)
“Well, Master Jinshi, with the right ingredients, I’m sure I can whip something up for you!”
Scarred fingers tingled at the thought of what type of fancy and expensive ingredients the Rear Palace would have in their selfish, ungrateful hands.
Don't worry, unknown palace ingredients. I will find you and set you free.
Beneath the gold haze that swallowed the room at her excitement, Maomao noticed Master Jinshi’s pleasant mask twitch with an emotion she did not have the capability nor desire to decipher, before settling back into an expression of forced serenity. His voice sounded deeper, a sign that at least he meant what he said. An obvious tell of his.
He should do better to hide it. They’d only spoken a handful of times, and she already figured him out.
“That’s good to know. Head to the clinic so you can collect what you need. I’ll need it by tonight.”
Maomao didn’t even care why he needed it in the first place, or who sent him a batch. She forgave him for knowingly trying to get her to eat one. That useful creep.
It wasn't until later, as she lay in her very comfortable bed (not as comfortable as the bed in her room at the La estate, but certainly nicer than the one in the servants' quarters. No bed was better than her mat in Uncle Loumen’s), that Maomao realized that the brush of lips on her neck earlier was technically her first kiss. Kind of.
It was a ridiculous, childish, girlish thought that slipped past Maomao’s razor-sharp defenses.
The spot on her neck that had experienced such a disturbance still tingled. The sensation was unlike any she’d felt before; a featherlight, almost warm, prickle concentrated on that single spot. If she thought about it too hard, the feeling would lick up her spine and through her extremities, and her temperature would rise significantly.
Like poison, but less pleasant and much more alarming.
So stupid! The eunuch was obviously clingy; he had proved it during their time at the clinic when he would not back off and allow her to work. Why was she allowing him to cling to her in her own mind?
Maomao allowed herself to briefly acknowledge the strange frizzon of nerves at the smooth span of skin between her neck and shoulder. Yes, it’s there. It exists. Then, shoved it forcefully to the back of her mind and gleefully burned the memory into ash.
She rolled onto her left side, mind clear as the spring sky, and sighed into her sheets. Maybe she’d get lucky, and there would be poison in Lady Gyokuyou’s meal tomorrow.
A girl could only dream.
A few days later, a smooth, sonorous voice whispered in her ear and stole her snacks.
“You’re working hard? Good girl.”
A cringe and a glare. Why would a eunuch be so... touchy? Back home, no one touched her freely. Not her mother and definitely not her father (gross). Her parents at their core were strategists and masterminds, cunning above all else. Affection was hidden in traces of their actions and words. Not...touch.
He was so brazen, especially in such a place. Did he not worry about any consequences or anyone getting the wrong idea? Evidently not.
He was obviously higher ranking than the Matron of the Serving Woman... who was he? He obviously has the favor of the Emperor, but how—
Oh.
Maomao thought salacious things. Master Jinshi noticed. Dang! How was he so childish yet so perceptive?
He asked her about sleepwalking. She shrugged it off, ignoring his question. She was not supposed to get involved with so many high-ranking people! He cajoled and simpered and begged. When she looked at him as if he were a bug, Master Jinshi blushed.
Urgh.
Love was an odd phenomenon. It led completely rational people to do irrational things.
It led a concubine to concoct an entire plan to remain pure, escape an inescapable palace, and return to her love.
It led a lazy, genius strategist to take control of his life for the first time.
It led a high-ranking courtesan to ruin her own reputation.
It led to Maomao—the pawn they needed to have their happily ever after.
She would likely never experience such an emotion. Not only was she not sure she could, but she was also assigned to marry a man no one had ever seen. A man who doomed her to a life in a gilded cage.
At least being in the Rear Palace so far had given her some hope — that garden was so deadly there were bound to be assassination attempts. For her to solve, and of her person. It was a comforting thought.
The night was chilly, and the moon was wan. Red lanterns from the pleasure district burned prettily behind the far gates.
Love was an odd phenomenon.
“I wonder what type of medicine it would make?”
Her investigation from that point on became much more interesting—though Maomao would never admit it. No reason to give the sparkly eunuch another reason to preen.
Months passed, mysteries were solved, and Maomao’s skills were being utilized to their highest potential, which was both nice and an issue.
Every day she was becoming increasingly more involved in Palace politics, the complete opposite of her intentions.
Especially considering she was not being honest about her station and family.
At least, they were letting her make drugs, and her chances of being poisoned were the highest they’d ever been. That part was nice. Being the errand girl for the Manager of the Palace was not so nice; or at least that’s what Maomao told herself.
But it wasn’t an errand for the annoying eunuch she was on now.
Maomao unfurled herself from where she’d been kicked out of the room by the Crystal Pavilion ladies-in-waiting. No, this was a direct order from the Emperor himself — one, for her sake and for the honor of her entire clan, she could not fail.
If only those ladies-in-waiting allowed me to do my job, she grumbled. Careful not to spill the medicinal soup on her tray.
She was not one to care about rank or hierarchy; none of the La really were, but for the first time in her life Maomao was tempted to pull status. At least to get these silly, misguided staff to listen to her.
Lady Gyokuyou and Mother are right to keep their ladies-in-waiting to a minimum. This is ridiculous.
When she discovered the reason for the Wise Consort’s continued decline, any thoughts of pulling status were gone from her mind. Instead, she was consumed by anger and a distant, savage glee at the ladies' trembling figures and glassy, dilated eyes. They trembled in fear. Good.
Served them right for poisoning Maomao’s patient.
“You’re looking tired,” a familiar, velvet voice said behind her.
Maomao turned from her chores, too tired to feel anything other than a faint curiosity and piqued interest at Master Jinshi’s greeting. It was still early in the day, the sun peeking faintly through the drifting clouds. They hadn’t seen much of each other since Maomao was sent to the Crystal Pavilion, and he’d gotten the ladies to see sense. The weeks had passed slowly but steadily with Lady Lihua gaining her strength and Maomao losing hers. She hadn’t even realized how absent the eunuch was until now.
Caring for a patient at all hours of the day was a difficult job she'd never had to do before. It made her respect her uncle more than she already had... and miss him more as well.
Was he well? Was he eating?
Lahan had better allotted him money for food as she requested. Maomao had sent a letter her first month specifically stating that the portion of her wages that were being sent to her kidnappers (who Maomao was sure had already met unfortunate ends, so sad) was to be sent to Uncle Loumen.
If I find out the miserable cheat is putting the money elsewhere...
“Thanks,” Maomao demurred, reaching up to brush away the sickness still lingering on the sheets. There was a slight smile on her lips; it echoed in her voice. A symptom of sleep deprivation. "Unlike some people, I’ve been very busy.”
A masculine yet chiming laugh sounded behind her. Her freckled nose scrunched lightly, though she was too sluggish to be truly annoyed. What a weirdo. She’d never met anyone who seemed to enjoy her bad moods and blunt demeanor more than him. She didn’t realize her smile broadened at the thought.
Another symptom of sleep deprivation, obviously
“We brought gifts.”
Cat-ears poofed onto the top of her head, and her preciously small grin morphed, pulling and twisting into an edged smirk too wide to be polite. Both eunuchs stared in varying states of interest and discomfort.
Oh. Yess. Food!
“Is Lady Lihua making a recovery?” He asked a bit later, standing over Maomao as she munched on her treat. She was on a bench by the hanging laundry, her favorite spot. The warmth from her snack pooled into her tired limbs. Ugh, so tasty. Now if only it had a bit of poison...maybe an anesthetic to numb her body and a toxin to sizzle in her nerves, leaving her immobile and prone. Completely powerless against the coursing toxin. Yes, how nice...
“Are you thinking about poison right now?”
Maomao jumped. Jinshi was looking at her in a mixture of horror and disgust. Gaushon behind him looked pained.
“Oh. Apologies,” she bowed, ducking behind her sleeves. “I’ve been nostalgic. I miss my experiments.”
“You're...experiments?” He asked with mounting horror. “Like experiments with poison?! As in you poison yourself?”
Blue eyes blinked languidly. He was stating the obvious; that was redundant. She liked him better when he showed the intelligence she knew he had hidden somewhere underneath his oozing charm and childish exterior. “Yes, that is the only way to build immunity.” This conversation was boring her. “Lady Lihua is slowly recovering. She’s eating more and steadily building strength.”
“Ah, right. Yes...That’s good,” Jinshi murmured, blinking past his shock and schooling his expression into its usual serene veneer. A mask if Maomao had seen any. Sometimes she wondered why a eunuch would need it. “You’ve done incredibly well. If you need anything to aid in her recovery, please let me know.”
Oh. Well, if he was asking...
“I do have something in mind, if you’re amenable, Master Jinshi.”
The sauna was set to be built that same day. It would aid Lady Lihua to sweat out the illness and would be a good addition to the Higher-ranking consorts' amenities.
And, well, there wasn’t much Maomao missed from home — both the Verdigris House and the La Estate — other than her uncle and her experiments.
And saunas.
She missed that, too.
“Well. You do what you can with what you have.”
The clinic became Maomao’s second home, and the quack doctor became her closest friend, besides Xiaolan. They were both highly useful. Xiaolan had information. The doctor had a whole clinic.
Perfect.
I hope they both are still here next year when I —
No.
Maomao shoved a finger in the boiling medicine for the recovering Lady Lihua. Her skin burned and sizzled enticingly; the pain flashed so hot and overwhelmingly intense that within approximately four seconds she lost feeling in that finger. The smell of burnt flesh wafted in her face, mingling with the smell of herbs and paste.
She’d have to make another batch. Oh well.
Since completing her assignment at the Crystal Pavilion and returning to the Jade Pavilion, Master Jinshi had become very... present.
That was the only way to describe the lurking man-nymph. It was like everywhere Maomao turned, there was the faint smell of musk, parchment, and jasmine, and a trail of long violet tresses in the corner of her eyes.
Most of the time, directly in front of her face, simpering and glowing with a heavenly aura.
“Apothecary.”
“Apothecary.”
“How are you, Apothecary?”
“Can you taste this for me?”
“Do you need anything?”
“You’re not gaining enough weight back, Apothecary.”
“Apothecary! What happened to your finger?! We need to see the doctor now!”
And so on.
Maomao wasn’t particularly annoyed by it. Perhaps a bit exasperated, at most. But he always came with little puzzles, snacks, and presents. So, she allowed his clinginess.
Eventually, Maomao found herself feeling comfortable at Jade Pavilion. It was starting to feel almost like home. If she didn't think too much about what role she would have when she returned after her eighteenth birthday in a little over a year, she could almost imagine herself tolerating it; depending on the entire Moon Prince debacle that is.
Maomao stopped herself from shutting down the train of thought.
The missing puzzle piece of the Imperial Brother had been tingling in the back of her mind for months. She’d been stoutly ignoring such unpleasant thoughts, but six months into her time at the palace it was now time to actually address the giant, life-altering elephant in the room.
Part of her genius plan in coming to the Palace was to watch the Imperial Brother from afar. They say the clearest view of someone was from below. Maomao wanted to see the type of man she was dealing with. Was he cruel? Vapid? Disfigured? Dull?
(She would prefer him to be disfigured. Now that would be interesting.)
Maomao didn’t have the answers to any of those questions; the best answer she’d come up with was that he was sickly and absent.
And apparently, uninterested in the flowers that bloomed in his brother’s garden.
It wasn’t unheard of for members of the Imperial Family to take untouched concubines from the emperors' harem for themselves. It seemed like that was not something the Moon Prince was interested in. It gave Maomao hope. If the Moon Prince was too sick or too much of a recluse to be interested in the beauties that surrounded the Rear Palace, then it was very unlikely he’d be interested in Kan Maoling, who, despite her family name and rich wardrobe, was slight and small and not particularly charming.
Nonetheless, it was all conjecture until she actually saw him. Perhaps the opportunity would arise during the Garden Party, as much as she secretly hoped otherwise.
An errant thought flitted across her mind, quick and fleeting as a candle in the wind. She paused her dusting of a gold vase by the entrance. None of the other ladies-in-waiting noticed her stop, and Maomao said nothing. She grabbed the unpleasant thought with clenched fists and hauled it back to the front of her mind.
The Garden Party was being held in the Inner Court, but those of prominence in the Outer Court, like soldiers and military officials, would be invited as well. Ailan had gushed about it just this morning.
What are the odds her father was invited to the Garden Party?
Ugh, Maomao cringed, cheeks paling beneath her clay freckles. Nervousness and an irrational sense of annoyance swirled in her gut. It felt like she’d swallowed an emetic agent. Damnit.
The odds were very high.
Lady Gyokuyou allowed Maomao to keep her freckles.
It had been an embarrassing—borderline horrifying—moment when Maomao fell to her knees and begged Hongniang to not wipe the freckles off her face.
“Please,” she had begged. “I draw them on every day. Please, my lady. I’m not ready to take them off.”
A truth.
Once the other ladies and their grabby hands backed away, she had explained further about spending a few seasons a year studying with her uncle in the pleasure district and using them to keep vile men away. She admitted that it was a habit she kept up in the Rear Palace to remain unnoticed and able to move freely. Another truth.
Her voice had been shaky; not even clearing it got rid of the tremor beneath her words. The uncharacteristic show of emotion worked in her favor. Lady Gyokuyou had allowed her to wear her freckles for the Garden Party.
Maomao drew double her usual amount.
Though she did put some peach and apricot powder around her cheeks and eyelids to appease Hongniang, so they couldn’t be too upset at her.
“Oh, my,” Lady Gyokuyou giggled. "Here comes Master Jinshi. He looks quite excited.”
For some reason, Lady Gyokuyou smiled at Maomao.
Maomao blinked. Huh?
“Lady Gyokuyou,” Master Jinshi’s honeyed voice called. He billowed in smelling of parchment and jasmine, and with the rising sun over his shoulder, he looked particularly handsome. “Good morning! You look resplendent this morning. May I say that crimson robe looks marvelous...”
Maomao shook her head, sighing softly. She turned to complete her task, drowning out his lilting praise as she tucked in Princess Lingli to her bassinet. Part of her believed that such beauty was wasted on a eunuch; the other part of her believed that such intellect was wasted beneath such beauty. She alternated between which one she believed more strongly every day.
“And now to say hello to the Princess!” Master Jinshi crooned, then paused at the sight of Maomao. He blinked three times, obviously confused by something. The silence lingered uncomfortably.
“Hello, Master Jinshi,” Maomao probed. Was he feeling ill?
“Apothecary,” he coughed, eyes trained on her nose and cheeks, frowning. “Your freckles...there are more of them. There are so many. I almost didn’t recognize you. Did you sit out in the sun for too long? It’s winter...how...?”
Ah. Of course. She almost forgot. “I used more makeup.”
Another lingering pause. “You used make-up to add more freckles to your freckles?”
“No. I used more makeup to draw more freckles.”
“It sounds like you’re being redundant.” Master Jinshi leaned forward, frowning lightly and bending to be at eye-level with her. She was used to him so close. She did not flinch back, allowing him to examine her face. She didn't even feel annoyed at the proximity. Huh. “I’m confused.”
Maomao sighed, breath fogging in the winter chill. Master Jinshi straightened but did not step away.
“I suppose I must be honest now that everyone here knows...” Blue eyes met violet. “I was not born with freckles. Every morning I use dry clay to draw them on my face. Every time you’ve seen me so far, I’d already put them on. Cosmetics aren’t always for making people more beautiful.”
It took a second for the words to reach the eunuch.
“Why?” Master Jinshi finally asked, eyes wide and probing. “Why would you do that?”
“As I mentioned before, for one to two seasons a year, since I was a girl, I lived with my Grand Uncle in the pleasure district. His home is not too far from the brothel. Sometimes, not all men leave a brothel satisfied. They leave with empty wallets, violent tendencies, and diseases. I’ve always drawn on my freckles to keep from being dragged into an alley during the months I stayed with my uncle. No one pays much attention to a short, ugly, skinny girl.”
“Were you ever harmed?” He whispered, horrified. Maomao was already shaking her head.
“No. Attempts were made, but no.” Her response was soft and hushed in a way she wasn’t used to. When did Master Jinshi get so close? She leaned back, breaking the spell they’d all fallen under. How odd. “Yet, I did end up kidnapped and sold to the palace, so I suppose someone found me borderline marketable.”
This was pushing the truth. She’d purposefully not worn her freckles that day.
“Then, why do you wear them here? Why are you wearing more now?”
Ah. That question. A swell of guilt thickened her throat. She did not want to lie or continue keeping secrets, but she wasn't ready to leave. Not yet. Her next words were carefully honest.
“They serve the same purpose here as back in the pleasure district. To remain unassuming and forgettable. I enjoy the anonymity it gives me. I am wearing more today because we’ll be in front of so many people.”
Please don’t ask anymore. Please don’t ask anymore.
“I’m so sorry,” Master Jinshi murmured. His usually sparkling eyes were shadowed as they looked at her; his lips turned down at the edges. “If we had policed them better...”
Oh. The guilt came back at the eunuch’s troubled expression. She swallowed it down.
“I don’t mind, Master Jinshi. Please don’t trouble yourself. A buyer doesn’t know if someone was kidnapped or sold by family, nor do they care. There’s nothing you can do about it.” But I will talk to my father about it once I'm done here.
“Doesn’t that make you angry?”
“The practice makes me angry, yes. But it’s not your fault, nor is there anything that can be done about it at this moment. I’m not angry I ended up here, Master Jinshi, quite the opposite.”
“Really?” Master Jinshi gasped, brows arched in surprise. Maomao cringed as she realized that last thought slipped out. “You don’t mind?”
“Ahhh,” Maomao said, arms waving nervously. “No. I’m not mad I... well...uh—” How honest should I be? “I kind of was trying to get away from home anyway, so...”
Too honest! Too honest! Abort.
Maomao refused to look at Master Jinshi, keeping her gaze locked on the arch railing around them and an oddly shaped spiral etched into the wood. His breath tickled her cheek.
“What do you mean—"
“Master Jinshi,” Gaoshun rumbled like a thunderclap. She felt Jinshi start, locks of his hair tickling her as he whipped around to his attendant. “We need to head out soon if we are to be on time.”
Thank Heavens for Gaoshun.
Maomao made to inch around the ridiculously tall eunuch. “Of course, forgive me.”
The warmth of a now familiar hand landed on her shoulder, stopping her movements. She looked up, blinking curiously at its owner. Master Jinshi was not looking at her. Instead, he looked at his hand on her shoulder. Her head tilted; she was used to the random grabbing and touching at this point, so she did not feel alarmed. But the weighted stare and solemn regard were new. She had never seen him this serious for this long before.
“Master Jinshi?”
His hand lifted, pulling a pin from his hair, and before Maomao could even blink, it was placed in her hair. It scratched her scalp dully, though she was too shocked to react.
“That hurt,” she whispered through frozen lips.
He was hunched over her, close enough that their foreheads almost brushed. “Yet, it’s yours.” Then, with a turn and a billow, he was gone. “See you at the garden party.”
Maomao barely noticed. The weight of the pin in her hair was heavy and foreign. She had her own hairpin marking her as the Princess of the La Clan that she left back in the Estate, but it was so seldom she wore it that the feeling of having one in her hair was disconcerting.
“Aww, Maomao! I want a man’s hairpin too!”
That also troubled Maomao. Though she might not act like it, she was raised in the court. She understood that for a man to give a young woman a hairpin, unless it was direct family, was a clear indication of romantic interest. Was it not?
Did she misunderstand the rules?
“Ugh! I’m so jealous! It’s so pretty!”
Maybe it’s different for eunuchs? She thought distantly. Yes, of course. It has to be. All the other ladies squealed in her ears and hugged her close. Maybe it’s like Lady Gyokuyou’s pin, a sign of unity and protection. Does eunuch etiquette fall under the same rules as a fully endowed man?
“Well, Maomao,” Lady Gyokuyou hummed. Her jade eyes glimmered like jewels under the orange and yellow sky. “Now, it looks like you aren’t just mine anymore.”
“Master Jinshi.”
“Yes, Gaoshun?”
A sigh. “You know what I’m about to say.”
“I do not.” Petulant.
“You should not have given her the hairpin. You must be careful.”
“Jinshi is a eunuch. He can give a hairpin to whoever is under his protection within the Rear Palace.”
“Yes, but was that Jinshi who gave her the pin, or was that the Moon Prince?”
Silence.
Another sigh, deeper. “The Moon Prince is engaged, Master Jinshi. Please remember that.”
Anger. “And I’ve told you! Once a son is born and I’m removed from the line of succession, that will fall through!”
“Do you truly believe a son can be born within the year?”
The pause felt, briefly, like defeat.
A rally.
“Then, she will be taken in and brought as a concubine, like so many others, and remain untouched. As long as she keeps her purity, she can remarry. My brother does not touch the majority of the harem. It would not be outside of the norm, Gaoshun.”
Disappointment.
“...She is the daughter of the Grand Commandant, princess of the most powerful military family in Li. You would bring her in, set her aside, and then wait until you can throw her out? Allow the court to wonder what is so unappealing about her that the Imperial Brother would not want to touch her for years on end? Her father holds the entire Imperial Army in his hands, yet he aligns with no factions, shows no ambitions, and has no true loyalty to any entity besides his family. It was your brother who approached him for this union to secure the Gran Commandant's loyalty. You would dishonor this young woman, anger her father, and offend their clan in such a way? That is your plan?”
Silence again.