The pleasure district is always the quietest in the mornings.

Not at dawn 'when the first rays of golden light creep across the sky, most people in the Imperial City are asleep, but the pleasure district still pulses with some activity. Most of it comes from drunk patrons, who meander their way out of the brothels after spending a sleepless night pouring coin into a courtesan 's hands. Those stragglers are usually too deep in their cups or too worn out to notice things they shouldn 't, but one can never be too sure.

Come too late in the morning, and the district starts to wake up again. Manservants bustle around the streets, lugging sacks of grain to feed the girls or carrying fine silks and new jewelry to clothe them. In the afternoon, the courtesans start to wake up as well. White powder layered carefully under their eyes to hide the evidence of their sleepless nights, they coo and beckon from the windows.

A few hours after dawn, though, in the bright light of morning, the streets are abandoned, and the courtesans are 'for the most part 'asleep. The customers have all left, save for the occasional drunk passed out on the side of the road. The evidence of the previous night 's debauchery is laid bare 'foul-smelling waste of who-knows-what pools in the gutters, scraps of food and trash from stalls lay piled in alley corners. The streets reek of smoke and booze and sex, not yet swept out by the midday breeze.

So if Jinshi wants to come knocking, Maomao taught him, this is the best time to avoid attention.

Jinshi adjusts the cloth mask over his face one final time, grabs the cloth-wrapped bundle on the seat next to him, and steps out of the carriage into the cold winter 's air. Basen exits half a step behind him.

It 's still winter, and the sun is low in the sky, despite being a few hours after sunrise. The carriage horses ' breath hangs in clouds around them, and Basen gives one of them a gentle (well, for him) pat on the nose as he exchanges a few words with the carriage driver.

Jinshi has no interest in waiting a moment longer. He doesn 't bother waiting for his guard as he rushes inside the Verdigris House.

Its entryway is grand as ever, vermillion-painted beams climbing up into the high, dizzying ceiling. A few courtesans mingle at the higher levels, but they all turn at the sound of the door. They giggle and point at him when he enters.

Jinshi pays them no mind 'he knows exactly why he is here.

'Hm? ' grumbles the old madam of the Verdigris House, looking up from her blatant coin-counting. When she sees who just walked through her door, though, she hurriedly stuffs the coin back into her pocket and plasters on the fakest grin Jinshi has ever seen. He would know 'he 's practiced his own every day in the mirror for years.

'Oh, sir! ' she cries, already rubbing her hands together. 'We are always so honored to welcome you into our humble establishment! What can I interest you in ' '

'The same as always, ' Jinshi replies distractedly, adjusting his mask. The wire holding the veil over his mouth is digging into his nose, and his scar is itching again. He glances up at the stairs above. The courtesans who are still awake are already gathering like vultures at the railing, pointing down at him and cooing.

The madam deflates, a tiny bit, but bows. 'As you wish, sir, ' she replies. 'Right this way 'please follow me. '

Jinshi doesn 't really need the escort, not after so many visits here 'and he doesn 't really appreciate being paraded around in front of the courtesans, either. But the madam ushers him (and Basen, who caught up) down a narrow hall instead of up the grand staircases in the center, to a plain, unmarked door. Beyond it, he can hear the sound of stone grinding against stone, and his heart leaps in his chest.

The madam probably says something, alludes to some other services another girl could provide, but Jinshi pays her no mind. He only raises his fist and knocks thrice on the door.

The noise of grinding stone stops, and then he hears some shuffling. Jinshi shifts from foot to foot, unable to contain his grin. The door finally opens, and his favorite apothecary blinks up at him. She looks drowsy, and her hair is tied back into a simple ponytail 'the beads she keeps in her hair are nowhere to be seen.

'Master Jinshi, ' Maomao says in a familiar, scolding tone. 'How much sleep did you get last night? '

'Two and a half dual-hours, ' he replies perkily. More than usual!She narrows those lovely, night-dark eyes at him in a glare, and his heart skips a beat.

Why are you here so early when you could be asleep?

she seems to be asking.

He doesn 't bother answering that question 'instead, he holds up the cloth-wrapped bundle. 'Suiren sent lunch. '

Those lovely eyes widen in delight, and she steps aside. 'Come in, then, ' she says.

Jinshi cannot suppress his grin. 'You stay out here, ' he orders Basen. The old madam of the house opens her mouth to speak, but Jinshi does not give her the opportunity to 'he only steps inside and shuts the door after himself.

Immediately, he takes his mask off, and the smell of herbs hits Jinshi 's nose, pungent enough to make him dizzy. The shop is small and a little cramped, and the walls are lined with equipment or numerous shelves, which only further reduces the usable space. Bundles and bundles of herbs hang from the ceiling, and he has to duck as he enters to avoid knocking into a fresh-smelling bunch of mint.

A little table sits in the center of the floor, and her mortar and pestle sits next to it. Maomao grabs one of the ragged cushions stacked in the corner and gives it a good

smack

to fluff it up. 'Please sit, sir. '

Jinshi all but throws his mask onto the floor next to the table. The damned thing is wet from the condensation of his breath 'miserable in this cold weather. It 's much warmer in here. 'Where 's Chou-u? ' Jinshi asks, setting the cloth-wrapped bundle on the table. 'This early, I assumed he 'd be around. '

'No clue, ' Maomao grumbles, setting water boiling for tea. 'The brat 's probably upstairs with some of the girls. They love him for some reason. '

As Jinshi takes off his fur-lined cloak and sets it next to himself, Maomao stands on her tiptoes to grab the teapot and cups from a very high shelf. The lower, easier-to-reach shelves are stacked with medicine-making equipment and herbs.

Of course, Jinshi thinks, and smiles to himself. She has her priorities.

'Is he still selling those drawings? ' Jinshi asks. 'He seems to have quite the talent. '

Maomao yawns, plopping back down beside her mortar and pestle as she waits for the water to boil. She gathers the powdered herbs up with a little brush and pours them into a bowl, then unseals a small, unglazed clay pot and pours some liquid into it. 'He is, ' she says, as she mixes it all together. 'It brings in a little money, at least. I keep trying to convince him to draw diagrams of herbs for me, but does he listen?

No

. ' She scowls. 'Says plants are boring. Ungrateful brat. '

'Ah, I see, ' Jinshi drawls, resting his cheek on his palm. 'So he only cares about the things he 's truly interested in and refuses to pay attention to everything else. How terrible. '

Maomao nods vigorously, as if to say,

Isn 't it?

, and keeps working on her medicine.

Right over her head. He should expect no less.

Her hands fly as she works 'adding a touch of this, a bit more of that 'and in no time at all, the mixture is a smooth balm. 'Excuse me, sir, ' she says, and kneels next to him. This routine, done once every ten days on the dot, is familiar to him, now. He leans his head into her hand as she peels back the bandage on his face, revealing the healing scar.

'How does it look? '

'Fine, ' Maomao replies shortly, grabbing the little pot of medicine she just prepared. 'Now that the stitching is out, it shouldn 't become infected, though the skin may yet dry out. ' She runs a thumb over the raised line, and Jinshi 's eyes flutter closed 'his cheek is still cold from the winter 's air, and her hand is so, so warm.

'You still think it 'll scar? '

'Almost certainly, though it likely won 't be too pronounced. ' She takes a scoop of the medicine with two fingers and rubs it into the skin with practiced hands. Jinshi would almost call them gentle if he didn 't know any better. 'I worried the stitching would have scarred it worse. It was quite haphazard. '

'The doctor who did it seemed nervous. '

'I could tell. The stitches were too tight. ' She brushes another bit of the balm onto his skin, but her fingers retract too soon, reaching for a bandage.

Jinshi smiles. 'I 'm sure you could have done a better job. '

Maomao says nothing, though the twitch of her lip, he 's learned, probably means that she agrees.

'Besides, maybe I should thank that doctor. You said you like me better with a scar, anyways, ' Jinshi says, not bothering to hide the delight in his voice.

'When did I ever say that? '

'When you first took a look at it. '

Maomao purses her lips. 'I don 't recall, ' she says. When he opens his mouth to retort, she says, 'And please don 't talk, sir, or I won 't be able to place this bandage properly. '

Jinshi pouts.

She glares at him. 'That doesn 't make it easier either. '

'What would you have me do with my face, then? '

'Neutral. '

As if he could stop smiling around her. Still, Jinshi does his best.

Maomao affixes the bandage to his cheek, smooths down the wrinkles with her thumbs. 'Finished, ' she declares, wiping her hands on a cloth and rising.

'Already? '

'There 's little I can do for it besides preventing the skin from drying out, ' Maomao replies, taking the kettle from the stove and pouring the hot water into the teapot. 'Besides, sir, don 't you have better things to do with your time? '

'Not today, ' Jinshi counters. He raced through work yesterday to make his desk clear today, and he arranged today to not have any engagements until late in the afternoon. Later this evening is a feast to celebrate a new minister 's promotion, but even factoring in the ride to and from the pleasure district, the time he has to spend with her today is blessedly long.

And he hasn 't been able to

see

her, not really. He was busy in the rear palace, yes. He didn 't have much time to spare to visit her. But they could work together on the various incidents that cropped up in the palace, and even when their paths didn 't cross, she was a scant distance away in the Jade Pavilion.

They make a good team. Even now, he often sends her letters to ask opinions on one case or another. When he has a free moment 'rarer and rarer, these days 'he writes her a letter.

But it is so different from being here, able to bask in her presence, watch her in her element, so he carves out time whenever he is able. His visits usually only last a few hours, and he can only make time about once every ten days, but he begins to count down the minutes until he sees her again as soon as he boards the carriage home.

So today, when he can spend all of the morning with her, is a rarity. He intends to savor every minute.

Maomao has placed his tea in front of him and is, of course, now ignoring him. She 's plopped herself back down at her workstation, and is hunched over a small box of ingredients, counting each tiny seed with her pinky finger. Her lips trace around each number as she does inventory, murmuring the count quietly to herself.

Her hair isn 't in its usual style today. Instead, it 's tied back in a haphazard ponytail. A few locks of hair have already broken free from their ties. The strands that fall in the front slip forward and fall over her shoulder, hanging in her face. The beads that are usually tied to them are absent today.

Jinshi reaches forward and brushes the ink-dark lock behind her ear. 'Different hairstyle today? ' he asks, holding the tip of her hair in his hand and pointing to where the beads are normally tied.

He does not expect her reaction.

Maomao freezes for a split-second, eyes going wide, and then she nearly drops the container of seeds onto the table. Ignoring the few seeds that tumble out of the box, she begins to pat at the front of her robes, desperately feeling for something. Her fingers apparently find something after a second of frantic searching. She sighs in relief and draws a little drawstring pouch from her robes. Something inside clacks.

'Thought I forgot them at home, ' Maomao mutters to herself. She reaches into the pouch and draws out four beads 'two crimson, and two turquoise.

'I didn 't mean to startle you, ' Jinshi says, hands up in apology. 'I 've just never seen you without them. '

'I always wear them, ' Maomao grumbles, passing her hair through each bead with practiced fingers. 'Just forgot them today. '

'Why? That doesn 't seem like you. '

Maomao glares at him as she affixes the second bead into her hair. 'Early morning, ' she retorts. 'Had to get ready in a hurry. '

'Weren 't you the one who told me that this early in the morning was the best time to come? '

'It is. I just imagined you 'd take the time to visit another courtesan instead. '

'As if another courtesan could be half as entertaining, ' Jinshi retorts with a smile. Her glare is as invigorating as ever. It wakes him up better than the crisp morning air ever could. But he is curious, so he asks, 'Those beads 'I 've never seen you without them. Do they have some sort of meaning? '

Maomao 's fingers still.

It 's a split second before she keeps going, weaving the final bead into her hair, but it 's just long enough for him to notice. She stays silent for a moment, and he lets her gather her words.

'They were a gift, ' she says finally. 'From Pairin. '

'Your sister? '

'Mm, ' she hums. The little cloth pouch is still heavy in her hand, and he can hear more wooden beads clacking against each other inside as she tucks them away.

But she doesn 't just tuck them in her pocket, though, no 'instead, she takes the drawstring and ties it into a specially-sewn loop in the inside of her robe. It reminds him of the pockets she sewed for him for the garden party, over a year ago now. She draws the knot tight and smooths her robes down, then turns back to counting the seeds.

Jinshi watches her for a moment, chin in his hand, taking sips of tea, and feels more at ease than he has all week. Maomao 's practiced, clever hands sprinkle a pinch of the seeds into the mortar, then bundles of dried leaves and other concoctions from the drawers lining the wall. She settles at her workstation and gets to work.

'What are you making today? ' he asks her.

'Nothing very interesting, ' she replies. She takes another handful of dried herbs and throws it into the mortar, starts grinding it down. 'This is a particular blend of tea favored by the courtesans around here. I supply it to the House every week. '

A sharp, bitter smell rises into the air as she grinds the mixture down. He can smell them from his seat, a pace or two away. 'A tea? Does it taste good? '

'No. And it wouldn 't have any benefits for you, sir. '

Jinshi cocks his head. 'Then why would they drink it? '

She glares at him like he 's stupid, and his heart skips a beat. 'I said it wouldn 't have any benefits for

you

, Master Jinshi. Courtesans are different. '

Jinshi blinks, then goes red. Pleasure district, brothel. Right.

'But after this, ' she continues, and he sits up a little straighter 'how often does she continue speaking on her own? ' 'I 'll need to restock the antipyretics. '

'Oh? ' Jinshi smiles, watching her work. 'What are those? '

Though she doesn 't look up from her medicine, he can see how her eyes go a little brighter. Not as excited as she gets over the rarer medicines, and this reaction pales to her passion for poisons, but there 's that same light in her eyes. 'Anti-fever medicine, in layman 's terms. I have to keep them restocked, especially this time of year. '

He could listen to her talk for hours. 'Tell me how you make them, ' he asks, and she does.

She gets much more animated when she talks about medicines. The hard glint in her eyes melts, just a little, becoming a spark of heat, of passion. She launches into a long, winding explanation. She tells him each ingredient, how to process them, how to boil them down, how to bind them with honey into solid pills that keep ten times longer than the individual ingredients.

They lose track of time.

Once she finishes grinding down the herbs for the tea, and after she pours the blend into separate pouches and ties each one off, she rises from her seat and starts explaining to him the different plants hanging from the ceiling to dry. Like an encyclopedia, she lists the medical name, then the more common terms used by laymen, and then the main uses of each.

She is in her element, and she is radiant.

'And this one has many uses, ' she continues, 'so I dry the whole plant 'but I use the fruit the most. It 's an ingredient in the tea, so I keep it stocked at all times. ' She has to stand on her tiptoes to point at a bundle of herbs hanging right above Jinshi 's head. She takes one of the leaves between her fingers and purses her lips. 'It seems about dry, actually. '

Maomao turns and reaches for a tool leaned against the wall, a long stick with a metal hook at the end. Before she can grab it, though, Jinshi rises, careful not to get a faceful of leafy bush in the process. 'Let me, ' he says.

The ceiling of the shop isn 't too high. Jinshi stands on his toes, grasps the rope at the top of the bundle, and unhooks it from the ceiling. It 's lighter than it looks 'probably because there 's no moisture left in the plant. The leaves rustle as he lowers them. 'What 's this? ' he asks, handing the bundle to her.

'This is balsam. '

'Balsam 'the plant the consorts all painted their nails with a year or so back? '

'Correct, ' she replies, plopping back down at her work station. 'But that was using the flowers. If you dry the stems and grind them into power, however, you can make an antiseptic balm. ' She gestures to the little tin of medicine she used for his own treatment earlier. The medicine made by her hands, just for him.

Maomao plucks a little

pod off the plant and shows it to him. 'The fruit is toxic, however. As are the leaves, if consumed. That 's what I use. '

Jinshi frowns. 'And these plants grow around the rear palace for anyone to just take and turn into poison? '

'If you know how to use them. ' She starts stripping the leaves off the stem. 'Most don 't. '

Jinshi sighs. He needs the emperor to produce as many heirs as possible to get himself out of the line of succession, and having a potential abortifacient growing willy-nilly about the rear palace doesn 't help his cause. Thank goodness the nail-painting trend has mostly died off, but the lower consorts who cling to last season 's fads will be less than pleased.

'Are there any other plants you saw around the rear palace that I should be concerned about? ' Jinshi grumbles.

To his horror, Maomao puts one hand to her chin and starts counting on her fingers with the other. 'Peonies, lilies, bellflowers, chrysanthemums ' Just to name a few from the gardens. '

Jinshi rubs a thumb to his temple. It doesn 't ache yet, but after that answer, he knows it will. 'Let me rephrase. Are there any flowers the emperor favors that could

not

be used in a potential assassination attempt? '

Maomao thinks for a moment, eyes flicking to the ceiling. 'Roses, I guess. ' A pause. 'Unless you make a perfume with them. '

Jinshi groans.

They sit together for hours.

The sun shining through the window of the little shop shifts as the minutes tick by, growing a brighter yellow-white in midmorning, tinging gold by midday. The sunbeams are warm, catching in the steam curling from the next cup of tea she prepares for the two of them. His mask lays in the shadow of the table, forgotten on the floor.

She even only insinuates he should leave a few times, too.

Once she finishes processing the balsam, Maomao pauses in her work for lunch. Suiren sent four savory

baozi

stuffed with minced pork, bamboo shoots, and mushrooms. She makes yet more tea and lays out the dishes for lunch.

'If you 'll excuse me, ' she says, taking the first bite. A check for poisons, though it 's only formal now 'they both know it 's not necessary this time. She chews and swallows instead of spitting out the piece like she 's technically supposed to. Jinshi can 't blame her 'he wouldn 't want to waste Suiren 's cooking, either.

Instead of giving the signal for him to eat, though, her brows furrow in focus, and her dark eyes narrow at the filling of the bun. Before he can ask her what 's wrong, she mutters to herself, 'Simple

shiitake

. Would be nice if they were more

interesting

. '

Jinshi rolls his eyes. 'You 're saying things aloud again, ' he scolds, taking a bite himself. Even though they 're not warm anymore, the bun itself is fluffy and light, and the filling bursts with juice and flavor. 'We 'd both be in trouble if they were. '

She glares at him and takes another bite without a word. Jinshi grins at her. Her next bite is yet more indignant. Is she pouting? He 's never quite seen her pout like this.

Though he doesn 't really want to supply her with poisonous mushrooms (he 's seen the scars on her arm, no pleading look from her could make him forget), maybe he should bring some other rare medicinal ingredient on his next visit, or whenever he 's able to source it. More bezoars, maybe?

Maomao mentioned something called a 'velvet antler ' a few months back, though. He has no idea how to source this particular medicine, or how much it might cost. Naturally, he makes a mental note to start looking for it immediately.

His dear apothecary must have been hungry. She scarfs down the first bun as quickly as could be considered polite and reaches for another, sparing only a quick glance at him for silent permission. He nods, and she takes it.

'It 's not going away, you know, ' he reminds her as she takes a big bite of the second.

She sits up a little straighter in response, correcting her posture that 's started to flag. 'Excuse me, ' she says behind her hand after she 's chewed and swallowed, but that doesn 't seem very sincere at all either.

There 's a tiny, minuscule crumb of pork clinging to the side of her lips, small enough to barely see. 'Hold on, ' he says, reaching for her, 'you have something right....there. '

She jolts in surprise as his thumb brushes across her lips. They are just as soft as he remembers them being at that party, all those months ago. He swipes the crumb away, but his hand lingers on her cheek.

Maomao 's face, of course, scrunches up and she shakes him off. Jinshi lets her go, but watches her with a smile on his face.

The tip of his thumb still seems to tingle with the memory of her skin on his. Her lips are soft and warm, and he wonders if they would feel yet-softer against his.

And even though she 's glaring into the corner, she is still as stunning as the day they first met. The golden sunlight of midday catches in her ink-dark hair, touching the red and turquoise beads tied in it to stunning, richer hues. The dark of her eyes, like endless shadow, like the dark of the night sky, pull him in, and he is helpless to resist.

Here, in the peace of her little shop, with his mask forgotten on the floor, Jinshi can 't help but think that this was worth everything.

The scar on his cheek, that mask on the floor, the role he now must play 'it was all worth it. He would do it again in a heartbeat, if it means he can spend another few hours here, with her.

He wants to kiss her so badly.

And it would be so simple. He would just have to lean over, across the table, press his lips to hers. Would she resist, at first, in the way she always seems to? Or would she at last give in, give him the gift of tasting her?

He 'd bet money on her resisting, but that 's no issue. How could it be, when something about this time spent together with her feels so

right

?

Jinshi could kiss her now, here in her apothecary shop, learn the shape of her lips, tangle his fingers in her hair, press kisses to the exposed skin of her neck, her collarbone, her chest. Take her for himself, finally. Make sure she could never leave. He would spoil her, adorn her in silver moons and silk robes finer than that cotton he 's given her before.

I want to marry you,

he thinks, watching her.

He wants to do many things 'crawl over to her, crawl

over

her, kiss her into the floor. Cradle the back of her head, tangle his fingers in her soft hair. Bite her. Mark her. Claim her.

His skin feels hot, suddenly. Overheated in a way that contradicts the chilly winter 's day outside. His robes feel too tight, and the skin beneath them rises with goosebumps as he remembers how she feels, pressed against him.

He 's memorized the shape of her body through their robes already, but what he wouldn 't give to learn her again, and again.

And surely she must want this too, if she 's tolerating him spending so much time uselessly wiling away his time in the apothecary shop. Surely she must be okay with it.

Right?

She 's staring at him, now, those ink-dark eyes glancing up and down, looking at him like one might a predator. The

baozi

is half-eaten in her hands, seemingly forgotten.

It would be so easy.

Jinshi can 't help himself 'this want burning in his veins is demanding action.

He moves forward, just an inch, then another, pulled to her like gravity. Their eyes meet for a split second before hers flick away. She 's hard to parse as always, but the way her eyes dart to his face, to the ground, to the dwindling space between them '

'Master Jinshi? ' she breathes. Maomao 's voice is quiet, softer than he has ever heard. He wants to kiss his own name off her lips.

Jinshi creeps forward. Maomao does not move. She is still not looking at him, but he is close, now, closer than he 's been in a long time. He could reach out his hand and touch, from this distance 'relearn the feeling of her skin on his, and take what he has wanted for so, so long.

Is this it?

Is this finally '

'HEY, FRECKLES! ' comes a loud voice from the door. 'DIDYA MAKE LUNCH? '

'No, ' Maomao calls back, wolfing down the last of her bun and throwing the lid on the box containing the remaining one. She covers it with the wrapping cloth and shoves it all under the table.

'ARE YOU SURE? ' comes Chou-u 's voice. 'I CAN SMELL SOMETHIN ' GOOD IN THERE! '

'It 's your imagination, ' Maomao retorts. Ignoring how Jinshi is half-crawling over to her, she gets up to rifle through her medicine cabinet once again.

Chou-u bursts into the room a second later, yapping away about something or another. Jinshi doesn 't bother listening to what. He just sighs, dejected, and lays his cheek on the table. The scar 's aching again.

He could bring it up and ask her to do something about it, but he 's too busy mourning the moment lost.

Chou-u spends only a few minutes pestering them before racing off somewhere else. Jinshi spends the rest of the afternoon watching her work, but he doesn 't try to get close to her again.

He was

so close

this time. But '

'I 'll be back in ten days, ' Jinshi tells her as he gathers the last of his things. Maomao hums, but says nothing. She 's finished binding the antipyretic pills with honey and is lining them up to dry on a bamboo basket. Jinshi retrieves the box from beneath the table as well the cloth Suiren tied it with, but he can 't quite get the knot right when he tries to tie it.

'Let me, sir, ' Maomao says, and all but knocks his hands away. Jinshi sits awkwardly at the table as she expertly ties the cloth around the box and hands it to him.

Finally, Jinshi scoops that damned mask off of the floor and fixes it to his face. Like this, he 'll be protected from prying eyes, but he much prefers wearing his real face in this little shop. He already hates the weight of it.

Basen snaps to attention at the sound of the door rattling in its groove. Jinshi pretends not to notice that his guard was clearly dozing up against the wall. Maomao walks him to the threshold of the little shop, but no further.

'I 'll write soon, ' Jinshi tells her, scratching at the bandage on his cheek. 'There 's another suspicious case in the rear palace that I want your eyes on ' '

Maomao 's eyes narrow at him.

'Yes, I know, ' Jinshi grumbles. 'Old habits. '

Her eyes only narrow further, like a cat 's. 'I may not be able to help much without seeing the details for myself, ' she says, 'but I can do my best to provide input. '

Jinshi smiles. 'I always appreciate it. You 're better at cracking the cases than me. '

Maomao glances down at the floor. They stand there for a moment. He waits for a reply, but of course, none come. She 's never been talkative unless she has something worth saying.

He 'd love to hear just a few more words from her, though.

'Well 'I 'll see you soon? '

Maomao nods. 'In ten days, correct? '

'That much I 'm sure of. ' He 's carved time out of his schedule to ensure it. 'Though I don 't know what time I 'll be coming. ' Jinshi scratches absently at his cheek beneath the mask. 'I 'll include that in the letter too. '

When he scratches at his cheek, though, Maomao abruptly turns from the entryway 'and to his great surprise, she doesn 't even slam the door in his face.

He 'd like to call it progress.

Jinshi pokes his head back into the shop to find her rummaging around in her medicine cabinet. She returns a moment later holding a shell filled with some kind of balm.

'What 's this? ' he asks, poking a finger into it. It 's smooth and some sort of off-white, though it looks different from the makeup she used on him back in the rear palace.

'A balm for your wound. Apply it twice a day, and it will cleanse the wound and ensure it heals correctly. ' A pause. 'If you can apply this yourself, you may not need to visit anymore. '

Jinshi takes the shell, tucks it in his robes, and says, 'I 'll keep visiting. '

Maomao bows her head in understanding, but by now he knows it 's just to hide the annoyed look on her face.

He still really wants to kiss her.

Before he can say anything, though, Maomao looks up at him. Before he can get lost in those dark eyes again, she says, 'I believe it 's time you get going, sir, ' and slides the door shut.

'Wait, I ' '

Click,

goes the bar of the door.

Jinshi sighs and turns to the entrance. Basen, who was silent but looked mildly bewildered throughout the whole thing, follows a half step behind him.

The Verdigris House is waking up at this hour, and about a dozen courtesans lounge about on the second floor, peering down the staircase at him. Among them, Jinshi can recognize the faces of the three women Maomao calls her sisters. They are the few who do not coo or wave at him as he goes, only watching him like a hawk.

Once they 're seated and the carriage jolts into motion, Basen breaks the silence.

'How was your treatment, sir? '

Jinshi gazes out the window. The pleasure district is starting to come alive again. A young apprentice carries a tiny flame down rows and rows of lanterns, lighting each in turn. The orange fire of dusk turns yet-crimson with each flame lit. He reaches beneath his mask, grazes a thumb along his scar, and touches a finger to his lips.

'Refreshing, ' he replies. 'As it always is. '

In his mind, a countdown has already restarted, ticking down the minutes until he can see her again.