On a beautiful, bright, warm day in early summer, as the birds chirp merrily and the flowers sway in the gentle breeze, disaster strikes the Jade Pavilion. It does not come as poison, nor fire, nor the dry, sickly touch of death. No, but to the pavilion 's residents, it is just as horribly grave:

The newly-planted hydrangeas in the central garden are blooming not pink, but blue.

'This won 't do, ' Hongniang says, cupping one of the blooms in her palm. 'This won 't do at all. '

Admittedly, it was a little hard to tell what colors the flowers were at first. They all started out pure white when the first buds popped. For about a week, one could probably argue that the first tinges of color seeping in around the center of each flower leaned purple-pink, not purple-blue.

But no, leaning in now, Maomao can say for certain: the hydrangeas are turning a beautiful, striking periwinkle blue, without a hint of pink in sight.

Ailan cocks her head. 'Did the gardeners mix up our request somehow? '

Hongniang sighs. 'It 's possible. I know for certain that I specified pink flowers, but ' '

'But we can 't have blue flowers in the garden! ' Yinghua cries. Her eyes burn with righteous fire. 'Not with a baby on the way! It 's ruining the color scheme! '

She swings her arm in a wide arc, at the blush-toned azaleas next to them, the just-blooming crimson lilies, and the pale, feather-delicate peonies now starting to wither. Even Maomao has to admit 'the blue sticks out like a sore thumb.

Hongniang kneels mournfully next to the bush and runs her thumb over a green, spade-shaped leaf. 'It really won 't do to have a rival 's colors in the garden, especially now. I suppose we 'll have to tear them up and start over. '

'No luck this year, ' Ailan agrees. She sighs. 'Even though the princess was so excited to see them bloom ' '

How horribly wasteful, Maomao thinks. No doubt hundreds of silver pieces were poured into someone 's hands to plant these bushes, and even more to maintain them and raise them. Rip them up, and the yearly salary of the average commoner goes down the drain 'not even counting the extra money to plant new ones, and the time it will take until they bloom.

And also, hydrangeas are mildly poisonous, and Maomao is getting desperate.

'Excuse me, ' she says, kneeling next to Hongniang. She digs her fingers into the loamy soil. There 's nothing particularly unusual about it 'the soil is spongy and damp with the rainy season starting, and there are some sticks and leaf litter mixed in as well.

A little pillbug emerges from the soil and crawls around her hand. Maomao can practically feel Yinghua behind her cringe. 'Before you rip them up, can I try something else, first? '

'Hm? ' Hongniang says. 'Do you know what happened, Maomao? '

'No. ' Not yet, at least. Maomao rises to her feet and brushes the dirt off her knees. The still-healing cut on her leg twinges. 'But I may be able to conduct a test to investigate. '

An hour, a quick request to the kitchens, and a small raid of the Jade Pavilion 's tea pantry later, Maomao returns to the garden with several things in her arms.

'What 's all this? ' Guiyuan asks, drawn from her diligent dusting by all the commotion.

'Materials for the test, ' Maomao replies, spreading her supplies out on a cloth. In front of her are two identical bowls as well as several cups of liquid '-all silver, to ensure they are as sterile as possible.

All four of Gyokuyou 's ladies-in-waiting kneel down to take a look. 'That smells like green tea? ' Ailan says, pointing at the first cup. Maomao nods.

Guiyuan kneels and lifts the second cup to her nose. She cocks her head. 'This one doesn 't smell like anything. '

'Plain water, ' Maomao replies.

Yinghua grabs the third cup. 'And this one? ' She asks. 'It 's kind of yellow-tinged. ' She brings it to her nose and sniffs, and her face twists like she bit a lemon.

'Vinegar, ' Maomao says.

'Well, that 's all well and good, ' Hongniang says, patting a queasy-looking Yinghua on the back, 'but how will it help here? '

'It 's possible that the gardeners made a mistake, and simply planted the wrong variety of hydrangeas, ' Maomao says as she divides the water evenly into both silver bowls. 'But hydrangeas are also very sensitive to the qualities of the soil they 're planted in. Some species will change color completely, from blue to pink or vice-versa, if the soil conditions change as well. '

All three of the younger ladies in waiting coo in delight. Maomao scoops a handful of soil from the base of the plant. Carefully, she sprinkles an equal amount of soil into each cup, then swirls them until the soil is fully waterlogged and no air bubbles remain. A few twigs float to the top, but that shouldn 't be an issue.

She reaches for the cups, but the girls are still gathered around them, peering into the two still-full ones with curiosity and whispering to each other. 'Excuse me, ' Maomao says, and grabs the cup of vinegar.

Maomao pours most of the cup 's contents into the bowl and swirls it again, staring intently at the surface of the liquid.

After a few seconds of silence, Yinghua says, 'Nothing happened. '

Which is entirely what Maomao expects, if her theory is correct.

This whole experiment would be a lot easier if she was back in the pleasure district with her old man, she quietly mourns. Luomen taught her this little trick with hydrangeas when she was young. They tested the soil with the juice of a vegetable called a 'red cabbage ' 'they aren 't native to Li, and she 's never seen them in the markets here, but her old man brought back the seeds from his studies in the west. They raised the plant in their herb patches for a while, and the juice changed color depending on the properties of the soil.

But in the rear palace, she has to work with what 's on hand, so vinegar and green tea, mildly acidic and alkaline respectively, will have to do.

She bats one of the ladies ' curious hands away from the second cup. This experiment would

also

be easier if they would stop hovering, but alas. Carefully, she pours some of the green tea into the second, un-vinegar 'd sample, and waits.

After a few moments, she sees it. 'There, ' she says, pointing with her pinky finger.

'Bubbles? ' Hongniang asks, leaning in as well.

'Bubbles, ' Maomao confirms, and lifts the cup to show the other girls.

'What does that mean? ' Guiyuan asks.

'That the soil is too acidic, ' Maomao answers. 'This is what turned the hydrangeas blue. '

The ladies coo and murmur in delight as Maomao unceremoniously dumps both bowls out 'on the opposite side of the azalea bush, so she doesn 't end up making the hydrangeas even bluer on accident.

'Incredible, Maomao! ' Yinghua cries, as the girls nod vigorously in agreement.

It 's nothing special, Maomao thinks. It 's a basic principle that she 's applied before. Instead of responding, she stares at the remaining green tea. She

could

dump it into the bush to get a start on neutralizing the soil 's acidity, but, well, she 's quite thirsty.

Maomao knocks back the remaining green tea and sets off for the rest of the day 's work.

Between Gyokuyou 's tea time, dinner for both her and Princess Lingli, several visits around the rear palace for materials, and a quick playtime with the princess before her bedtime, Maomao is only able to begin the process once dusk is already falling.

She took some eggshells from the kitchens and asked a (kindly, non-sparkly) eunuch for the chalk. Both crunch satisfyingly in her mortar as she works. Once the mixture is pulverized into a thin, loose white powder, she kneels down next to the first of the bushes with a trowel and begins to dig shallow trenches, sprinkling the powder into the soil.

Maomao pulls a few weeds around the base of the bush as she goes, falling into a calm, familiar rhythm. Dirt under her nails, digging around in the soil, it 's just like how she tended the fields of her home in the pleasure district with Luomen.

At least, it would be, if the air wasn 't so floral smelling, and she swapped the flowers for more useful plants, and the entire place wasn 't so color coordinated. Nobles sure are picky about the weirdest things.

Maomao finishes treating the first bush and moves onto the next, and the next, down the line planted along the garden path. The light is fading now, making it harder to see her work, but there remains a heavy, sticky mugginess in the air. It 's not unbearable yet, but it promises a hot, humid summer to come.

As she kneels at the fourth bush, there are footsteps behind her. A familiar, honeyed voice calls, 'Apothecary? Ah, there you are ' ' The footsteps pause. 'Why are you kneeling in the dirt? '

Maomao sighs and wipes some of the sweat off her brow, looking up at the nymph-like figure. He 's standing on the raised path that surrounds the central garden, leaning on the vermillion railing, and looking down at her with more than a little bewilderment.

When Maomao begins to rise to face him properly, though, he sighs. 'No, no, don 't get up. Not with your leg still giving you trouble. '

Well, she 'll have to get up

eventually

, and it 'll twinge then. But she 'll stay squatted in the dirt for now, if he doesn 't want her to rise. Fine by her 'her knees ache from gardening for so long.

'I 'm fixing the flowers, sir. '

Jinshi cocks his head. 'What about them needs fixing? '

'They 're ruining the color scheme. ' Apparently.

'Ah, yes, I can see that, ' he says with a nod, as if he understands perfectly now. Maomao resists the urge to roll her eyes. 'It 's hard to make out their colors in this light. How do you 'fix ' them, though? If they 're blue, the gardeners will have to just rip them up and start again, right? '

'There are treatments. ' Maomao holds up the bowl of white powder at her side.

Jinshi makes a face. 'I assume that 's not the face powder I banned, right? '

Maomao scowls. What did he take her for? Did he think she went to all that trouble teaching that lady-in-waiting a lesson just to hoard some of the poison away for herself? Who would do something so foolish? 'Absolutely not. It 's just crushed eggshells and chalk. '

Jinshi wordlessly gives her a look that she knows by now means,

I don 't quite follow, apothecary.

She sighs and continues, 'Hydrangeas are very sensitive to the composition of the soil they 're planted in. Tiny differences can change whether they turn pink, blue, or purple. ' She takes another handful of the powder and scatters it around the base of the bush, then mixes it into the dirt with the trowel. 'So I 'm changing the makeup of the soil. '

'That makes sense, I suppose. ' Jinshi replies. 'Seems complicated, though. '

'It 's the same idea as the blue roses, isn 't it? ' She replies without looking up. 'Hydrangeas start out white, too. The roots absorb whatever they 're able, and that 's what tinges them one way or the other. '

In all actuality, the hydrangeas ' mechanism of absorbing color is much more complicated than the roses. Her father could explain it better than she can 'and besides, she doesn 't feel much like getting into the weeds of a topic so complicated with a layman.

Satisfied with the treatment of this bush, Maomao pats her hands clear of dirt and powder and rises, ignoring the twinge of the wound on her leg. She brushes away the unsightly dirt and twigs stuck to the front of her skirt from kneeling, but there 's not much she can do about the spots at her knees stained deeper maroon from all the moisture in the soil. Ah, well.

'Did you have a reason for calling me, sir? ' She asks. Maybe she should stand for the rest of this conversation, but it 's getting dark, and he told her she could kneel, and she 'd like to finish this work before it gets too dark to see. She crosses the stone path and starts on the opposing row of bushes.

'Ah, right. I wanted to give you an update on Consort Yingfei 's case. '

'The middle consort 's poisoning? '

'You were right. Her head lady-in-waiting confessed to everything and has been dealt with. I wanted to thank you again for your input. '

Dealt with

, Maomao thinks with a shudder. Yikes.

And besides, she didn 't really do much with that case. A five minute search of the lady-in-waiting 's rooms was all she needed.

'She was cultivating belladonna, ' Maomao replies. 'She wasn 't exactly subtle about it. '

'Yes, but it 's not native to Li, isn 't it? It 's from the west. I certainly didn 't recognize it. '

More thanks should go to her father, then, for teaching her about the plants of the west, too. Belladonna is child 's play, as far as identifying poisonous plants is concerned. One look at the suspicious potted plant in the woman 's room, with its rich purple flowers and night-black berries, told Maomao everything she needed to know.

'Did she try to explain why she was raising it? ' Maomao asks.

Jinshi laughs, though there 's much humor in it. 'For cosmetics, if you can believe it. '

'That may have been the original purpose, ' Maomao replies. 'Some in the west use it to dilate their pupils or pale the skin. '

It was a flimsy excuse either way. The consort died murmuring delusions, a hand pressed over her racing heart, pupils blown wide and unseeing. Maomao has never seen the active symptoms of belladonna poisoning, but she has seen the corpses of people who died from it. A beautifying plant will find its place in both the rear palace and the pleasure district, after all. The connection was obvious.

'Did she say where she got the seeds? '

'Yingfei 's father is a western merchant, so I assume that 's how. '

This case isn 't really something worth thanking her for, Maomao thinks as she pulls another weed. It was such an easy answer she was almost insulted. And besides: 'You could have at least let me have a berry or two, if you wanted to thank me, ' she grumbles under her breath.

'What was that? '

'Nothing, sir. '

She can feel Jinshi 's disapproving scowl trained at the back of her head. Damn, she thinks. She 'll have to try to figure out how to get a few seeds and try cultivating it herself. Surely they 've confiscated the plant by now, but maybe there 's a chance they haven 't disposed of it yet. All she needs is a few berries.

And she 's heard those berries are sweet, too, at first bite. Deceptively so, enough to lure an unwitting victim into taking another handful. Maomao isn 't much a fan of sweet things, but she 'd gladly give belladonna a try.

Guess she 'll have to settle for the hydrangeas for now 'but hydrangeas aren 't really that interesting a poison. They 're only a mild toxin, enough to aggravate the stomach and cause nausea or vomiting. The best method to really test it, she supposes, will be to apply it directly through the bloodstream, through a cut on her arm. That 'll get her a better sample '

'You 're not thinking anything dangerous, are you? ' Jinshi accuses.

'Wouldn 't dream of it, sir. '

They fall into silence. Maomao keeps working. It 's getting harder to see her own hands in front of her eyes, and she 'd really like to finish this work tonight.

She can feel him still lingering behind her, though. If he 's finished all he wants to say, she thinks with a huff, it 'd be best if he leaves her to her work. No use lingering. But he doesn 't speak, and she doesn 't either. It 's not as if she has a lot to say, anyways.

He hovers for a while, and Maomao can 't help but think of the stacks and stacks of papers she has seen on his desk when she worked in his palace. Surely he has better things to do with his time than stand around in a garden.

After a long few minutes, Jinshi breaks the silence with, 'Is your leg still giving you trouble? '

Maomao wipes the sweat from her brow and sits up on her heels 'another treatment finished. The bowl 's nearly empty, but she should have enough left for the last few. 'Not much. I can walk just fine. '

Kneeling down and standing up in the dirt over and over has made it start to twinge, though. The stitches pull at her skin uncomfortably. There 's nothing to be done, though 'she has a job to do.

'Are you sure? ' he presses. Pushy as always. Maomao rolls her eyes and turns towards him.

For the first time since he came to the garden, their eyes meet. Jinshi 's face is cast in the pink-orange glow of dusk, and the light traces across the lines of his jaw and cheekbones, sharp enough to keep his otherwise androgynous face obviously male-leaning. Sparks of sunlight catch in the dark of his eyes. Really a waste that he 's a eunuch, Maomao thinks, not for the first time.

She averts her eyes. 'I 'm certain. '

He laughs, then, just a quiet chuckle 'smooth, soft, deep. 'Just wanted to make sure I won 't have to carry you back to your chambers again. '

Maomao scowls at the hydrangea bush. 'That won 't be necessary. '

'Did I ever thank you, by the way? '

'For what? '

'For saving my life. '

His voice is doing that thing again 'where it gets too genuine, too soft for a place like this. Maomao doesn 't dare look back at him again. She only shifts uncomfortably.

It 's weird to be thanked by a superior. It 's much easier to be ordered around, in her opinion. A personal thank-you isn 't necessary here, and besides, it 's not as if she knew it was

his

life at stake. She just didn 't want a head to fly. Didn 't matter if it was his or not.

And besides, if he wants to thank her properly, he can finally get her those bezoars he promised her. Bastard.

'There 's no need for such sentiments, sir, ' is the reply she settles on, and says no more.

She knows the eunuch well enough by now to expect that such a simple reply won 't be enough to end the conversation, but to her surprise, he hums and says no more. He still stays, hovering behind her on that balcony, but he doesn 't try to keep talking.

She still kind of wishes he would leave, though. He certainly has better things to do than just hang around, annoying a simple apothecary.

No such luck 'another few minutes pass, and then she hears a quiet gasp behind her.

When she turns to look, Jinshi 's not staring at her, but at the garden beyond. 'Is it that time of year already? ' He asks, voice hushed and full of wonder.

Maomao follows his gaze. After a few moments looking out across the garden, in its riot of pinks and reds turning dusky-purple in the dim light, she sees them 'weaving between the leaves of the flowers, little blinking lights cast quick flashes of yellow-green on the vermillion petals. More and more rise from the grass with each passing second.

Jinshi leans forward against the railing. 'Beautiful, aren 't they? Like tiny stars. I used to chase them around the palace when I was young. '

Around the palace

? Maomao thinks, but she purges the thought. A eunuch 's childhood backstory is not information she needs to retain.

The fireflies are interesting, though. Maomao chased them herself, as a child, through the medicine patches of her little hut in the pleasure district, as her father worked.

'How do they glow? ' She asked him once summer 's night, cupping a little blinking star in her hands.

'We don 't know, ' he answered, not looking up from the herb garden. 'One of nature 's mysteries. Only around for a few weeks out of the year. We just have to enjoy them while we can. '

At the time, Maomao looked back down at the little black bug with its red head, blinking a lazy rhythm, and quietly vowed she 'd be the one to learn their secrets. Current Maomao doesn 't have the time for such pursuits, not when she has poison to study and, evidently, a eunuch to entertain.

That 's not to say they 're not interesting, though. She 's heard of other bioluminescent creatures, but all of them can only glow constantly 'fireflies are the only ones able to turn that light on and off at will. Maomao has no idea how. Maybe Shisui will know, she wonders, and makes a mental note to let her know that the fireflies ' season has started.

One night, before her interests shifted to better, grander things, Maomao came to her sister Meimei 's room clutching a ceramic jar in her hands. When Meimei asked what was inside, Maomao removed her hand and showed her sister the contents. In the jar were a few bunches of torn-up grass, two broken twigs, and three fireflies, which immediately crawled up the rim of the jar, spread their wings, and took off into Meimei 's room.

Her sister was less than enthused.

All the palace women seem to feel the same way, funny enough. They appreciate the bugs from afar, but get squeamish when the things land on their robes, which Maomao doesn 't understand.

If you 're so captivated by the beauty of something, why would you be so afraid to let it come close?

So she expects Jinshi to react about the same way, but no 'one of the fireflies drifts lazily over the bush she stands next to, towards the pavilion, up to the railing he 's leaning on. It lands demurely on his slim finger, outstretched as an offering. He brings it to his face, and its rhythmic blinking illuminates his handsome features. His eyes are wide in delight.

Thank goodness she did save his life, Maomao thinks. The women of the rear palace would be up in arms if they lost the pretty boy eunuch. What else would these caged birds coo at to occupy their time?

'Maomao? ' comes a voice, pulling her from her thoughts. Hongniang emerges from around a corner, lantern in hand. 'Ah, excuse my interruption, ' she hurriedly corrects, bowing to Jinshi. Turning to Maomao, she says, 'Lady Gyokuyou is feeling a bit peckish, and would like to take a light meal before bed. '

Maomao rises, ignoring the twinge of stitching in her calf, and dusts herself off. 'Right away, ' she replies. 'I was able to apply the treatment to most of the bushes. '

Not

all

, she thinks, with a glare at the eunuch still cooing at the firefly. It lifts off his finger into the night, and he pouts.

'Ah, excellent! How long will it take to change the flowers pink? ' Hongniang asks, craning her neck to peer at the bushes in the garden. The light of her lantern doesn 't reach, but she squints against the dark anyway.

'If I continue to apply the treatment, ' Maomao says, 'they should be pink next year. '

Hongniang and Jinshi both look at her, dumbfounded.

'Why would it take that long? ' Jinshi asks, as Hongniang begins muttering

oh dear, oh dear

, under her breath. 'The blue roses took a few hours. '

'It 's complicated, ' she replies. 'As you said yourself, Master Jinshi. '

Hongniang buries her face in her hands, and Jinshi still looks more than baffled. Why would they be so frustrated by that answer?

Nobles really are weird about the strangest things, Maomao thinks, and goes to taste Gyokuyou 's dinner.