'So '. ' come the singsong voices every time Jinshi leaves, ' 'who 's that? '

'An acquaintance, ' Maomao tells Meimei, who arches an eyebrow.

'An annoyance, ' she tells Joka, who nods in silent understanding.

'I 'm leaving, ' she tells Pairin, because she is tired of answering this question.

'No you aren 't! ' Pairin grabs the collar of Maomao 's robe and pulls her to her chest. 'I want to know all about the man who 's stolen my dear girl 's heart away! '

There are many things wrong with that sentence. Maomao tries to breathe enough to attempt protest, but in squishy hell, she can 't get much air. 'Let me go. ' Her voice is muffled in her sister 's chest. 'You 're too warm. '

'Not until you tell us

everything.

' Pairin cups her cheek with the hand not pinning Maomao and keeping her from escaping. 'Why, we never get to see his face, but he must be quite handsome under that mask. '

'High-ranking, if he 's going to such lengths, ' Meimei adds from across the room, gathering her hair in an updo.

'Rich, too, ' Joka says, not looking up from the mirror so she doesn 't smear the rouge she 's applying to her lips.

Maomao protests, 'Pairin, you 're supposed to be getting ready for work. Let me go. '

Pairin huffs, which makes it even harder to breathe. 'The madam hasn 't come knocking yet, ' she protests. 'I 'll get ready once you tell us. '

Maomao would

really

rather not. At her silence, Joka sets down the brush and pulls out a white face powder 'already checked by Maomao, to ensure it has no poison in it. 'Does he have a wife? Is that why? '

Maomao takes a half-second to think about the man who comes knocking every ten days to, as far as she can gather, annoy her. She scoffs. 'No. '

Although 'it wouldn 't be too unusual for the Imperial Brother to be married off sooner or later. The imperial line needs to make babies, after all, and the Emperor doesn 't seem to be trying very hard at all, judging by what she saw in the rear place. Two sons and a daughter, all in infancy, do not a steady imperial line make. It 'd stand to reason that someone would get on the Imperial Brother to do his part sooner or later.

And besides, if he

did

have a wife, Maomao 's sure the fine lady would not be pleased with her husband fucking off to the pleasure district to spend time with some random girl born to the dirt. She 'd certainly be carted off by the wife 's family by now, and she doubts her head would still be snugly attached to her shoulders.

Why is she thinking about the affairs of royalty? There 's no need to.

Even if that royalty is crashing into her shop every ten days.

'I mean, it 's not like it 'd be a problem if he did. ' Meimei pins her updo in place with a delicate, flower-like ornament. 'Goodness knows we 've dealt with worse. '

Pairin finally lets Maomao go. She gasps for air just as Meimei turns in her seat and fixes Maomao with a curious, mischievous glare.

That look does not bode well. Maomao turns to leave, only to find the door blocked by Pairin.

Great. It 's two on one now.

'So, ' Meimei croons. 'What

do

the two of you get up to, during the hours and hours he spends in your little shop? '

'Nothing interesting, ' Maomao replies, which is entirely true. She treats the scar on his cheek, though that barely takes five minutes now. He asks constant questions about her work, pointing to this or that, which slows her down. At least he has the decency to feign interest and nod along as she explains.

He sometimes takes impromptu naps on her floor. He has a bad habit of resting his head on the cushions but letting his long, flowing hair spill out onto the floor like rivers of ink. It gets horribly tangled like that, too, and Maomao knows how much time his damn hair takes to untangle 'she

did

it for him once upon a time.

Across the room, Joka scoffs and turns as well. 'Nothing interesting? In all those hours you spend holed up with an unmarried man, nothing interesting? '

Fantastic. It 's three on one.

All three of her sisters lean in, curious. The door is blocked. So Maomao protests, 'Wasn 't it the three of you who taught me about customer confidentiality? '

All three of her sisters ' eyes go wide at once.

Mentally, Maomao kicks herself.

'

Oh,

' Joka drawls, and oh, dammit, she really walked into this one. 'Strange. I didn 't hear any of

those

noises coming from your shop. '

'I meant ' '

'We taught you to moan loudly when we trained you, didn 't we? ' Pairin agrees. 'You know the men like that! We practiced and everything! '

Maomao 's eyes dart around the room. Pairin is firmly blocking the door. Joka is at the vanity, and Meimei sits in a luxurious armchair, both of them to her left. All are within arm 's reach and could grab at her if she tries to escape.

She could dart to the right. The only thing that could help her there is a window, though, open to let in the crisp spring breeze. It leads to a three-story drop, though.

'You 've seen his face, right? ' Pairin plies. There 's a familiar, hungry glint in her eyes that Maomao doesn 't much like the look of. 'Can you at least describe him to us? '

A face like a god, a gnarly scar running down his cheek, eyes of obsidian that glint and flash in the light. She

really

has to make sure none of these three ever see Jinshi 's face. Especially Pairin. Forget bringing the country to its knees, that pairing would cause an international incident, and no one wants that.

Besides, Jinshi 's tired enough from work as is. She doesn 't want to think about how withered he 'd be after a night with Pairin.

Scratch that. She doesn 't want to think about anything in that direction at all.

Maomao takes a deep breath and steels herself. The window it is. If she dies from the fall, so be it.

'Don 't jump, ' Joka barks.

'I wasn 't planning to, ' Maomao lies.

Meimei sighs, leaning back in her chair. 'Really, Maomao, we don 't want to push you ' '

'I do, ' Pairin interjects.

' 'but you can tell us anything. If you want advice, or just to share. ' Her sister 's smile is gentle. 'We just want you to be happy. We 're always here. '

Maomao glances away. 'Nothing untoward is happening. '

'But there 'd be no shame if something

was

, ' Joka replies. 'We 're whores by trade. You won 't find judgement here. '

'And we 're curious, ' Pairin adds. 'A strange man, coming to visit you again and again? I 've been in this trade long enough to know that 's usually not 'nothing ', Maomao. ' Pairin taps a finger to her chin, then says, 'Wait, is

he

the man who bought you out? '

'That 's what I assumed. ' Joka leans back in her chair and reaches for her pipe. 'Who else would it be? '

Maomao stays silent, shifting from one foot to the other. She 'd still like to run, but she does have to (begrudgingly) thank Jinshi for buying her out before the old madam could try and sell her off.

Meimei taps her chin. 'And what 'd that man pay again? Five thousand silver, I think is what the madam said? '

Maomao freezes.

He paid all that money?

For

her

?

Joka whistles. Pairin claps her hands together. 'So he must be a prince! ' she exclaims. 'Or a high-ranking noble at the very least. ' Maomao squeezes her eyes shut and tries to think about the herbs back home that need grinding, but her sister continues, 'He just keeps coming back for you again and again, doesn 't he? So romantic 'why, it even makes me think of a particular legend about a little red string ' '

The pinky finger of Maomao 's left hand, crooked at the first joint, twinges in phantom pain. 'I don 't want to hear it, ' Maomao snaps.

Her sisters all fall silent at once. Meimei grimaces. Joka looks away and takes a puff of her pipe. Pairin wilts, jutting out her lower lip in a pout.

Before any of them can say anything, there 's a bang at the door. 'Girls! ' comes the madam 's voice. 'The sun 's down, where are you? '

'Coming! ' Meimei calls. To Maomao, she says, 'Just remember what we said. If you ever do want to talk about it, we 're here to listen. You know that. '

Eyes downcast, Maomao nods. She rubs her fingers over the protrusion of bone at the first knuckle of her left pinky finger. The pain is already gone. Must have been an ache from the weather, she thinks, like how her old man 's knee always protests the changing of the seasons.

On her way to the door, Pairin grabs for her again. Her older sister sweeps her bangs aside and presses a kiss to her forehead. 'I 'm sorry if I pushed, ' she murmurs. 'We just want you to be happy. '

Maomao would be very happy if she wasn 't in this room right now.

'I know, ' she murmurs. If Pairin knows it 's a lie, she doesn 't call her on it.

She turns to leave, but before she can, Joka calls, 'Maomao. '

After the grilling she 's just gotten, Maomao would really prefer to go back home, tend to all the weeding she has to do, and not think anything more about this conversation. Unfortunately for her, Joka grabs her pipe and beckons with a single finger. 'Walk with me. '

'Do I have to? ' Maomao grumbles.

'Do what you want, ' Joka says with a crooked smile. 'You never do anything less. '

Maomao sighs and follows after her.

They walk in silence down the halls of the Verdigris House, passing many courtesans in a rush to get ready, their robes blurring into colorful smears in their haste. A few wave at Maomao. The older ones do not.

Maomao nods at a few, but Joka pays none of them any mind. Maomao loves all three of her sisters, but temperament-wise, she has long known herself to be most similar to Joka. While Pairin or Meimei try to fill silence with chatter, the youngest of the Three Princesses prefers the quiet. People pay all three of them handsomely for their time, but Joka makes the most coin off of conversation. It makes sense she 'd be quite reserved with it.

Her sister leads Maomao to a door at the end of the hall. Wordlessly, Joka pushes the door open, and they step together onto a balcony overlooking the pleasure district. The streets are coming alive now 'crimson lanterns cast a blood-red glow upon the paved stones, and patrons are already starting to buzz about. The silver-stuffed wallets they carry will be much lighter come daybreak.

The air is crisp and chill, and the moon hangs in the sky, half-full and shining down its silver light. Joka leans against the railing, takes a long draw on her pipe, and looks down upon the throng of people.

'I can 't say I don 't empathize, ' she says, after a long moment. Smoke still curls from her crimson lips. 'It 's not fun to be interrogated. Not about something like that. '

Maomao pulls her robe a little tighter around herself. 'It 's hard to keep secrets here. '

Joka huffs a bitter laugh and takes another draw. Purplish smoke rises into the air. 'Five thousand silver, huh? '

Maomao shivers. 'We don 't know where she heard that from. ' It might not be true.

Joka hums. She taps a finger on her pipe, scattering the hot ashes into the breeze. 'We don 't. Just remember the rules, Maomao. '

Maomao 's three sisters taught her many things. A lifetime 's worth of lessons. But she knows what rule Joka is referring to instantly 'even if her sisters never said it aloud, Maomao has lived her childhood in the pleasure district, and she has seen enough to never, ever forget.

Her pinky finger twinges again.

'I wouldn 't worry so much, ' Joka continues, 'If you were more like Pairin. She knows exactly what she wants, and heaven will strike down anyone who gets in her way. ' Another blow of smoke out into the moonlit air, like an offering to the silver moon. 'But you have to be careful in a world where you sell love, Maomao. '

There 's that damned word.

'I hope we raised you well enough that you know there is no life where you find some prince whose heart will never change. Not in a place like this. What does trust get you?

'At the end of the day, I 'm just a whore. And you 're just a whore 's daughter. '

Her words aren 't vitriolic. They don 't sting. Joka says them with something neighboring sympathy, an understanding of the pain they bring. But it 's just the reality.

Maomao pulls her robe tighter around herself. 'Isn 't that enough smoking for one night? ' she asks, eyes downcast. She does not dare raise them to the moon.

Joka laughs again, though it 's warmer this time. 'Maybe so. Just remember what I said, alright? '

Maomao is planning on forgetting this conversation ever happened. 'I will, ' she lies.

If Joka notices her insincerity, she doesn 't say as much. Her sister only gives her a rare smile, squeezes her shoulder, and says, 'Good girl. Take care of yourself. '

Joka goes inside, leaving Maomao standing alone on the balcony. She keeps her eyes solidly on the crowd of people below her, all clamoring for a night 's revelry, and counts to one hundred, to be sure Joka will be gone.

How many of them will leave once their purses run dry? How many more will get what they want from a courtesan and vanish into the night?

Is there a difference?

Maomao only thinks about this until her silent count hits one hundred. Once it does, she slips back inside, hurries down the stairs, goes to her little hut in the pleasure district, and weeds until midnight.

Chou-u is asleep by the time she finally comes home, and the moon is high in the sky. Her hands are stained with dirt from weeding, but her mind is clearer, free of the thoughts her sisters planted in her head. Maomao knows they don 't mean any harm, but she plucks those thoughts like weeds regardless. She has better things to do.

Maomao curls up in the worn, familiar blankets atop the rough, uneven floor of her run-down shack. It is not the most comfortable, but it 's familiar. She 'd take the latter over the former any day.

The moonlight still spills into the walls of her hut. It's horribly insistent. Maomao turns her head away from the light and shuts her eyes to it.

Despite Maomao 's protests, Jinshi still comes again after ten days on the dot.

He shows up at her door mid-morning, just as Maomao taught him. The mask he wears covers everything but his eyes, but they glint in mirth when he holds up his peace offerings for the day 'a full bottle of liquor and, more oddly, a bundle of dried wood sorrel.

'You mentioned running low, ' Jinshi says in explanation as he plops down at the table, casting his mask aside. 'And you taught me how to identify them, so when I saw them at the market, I thought I 'd pick up some. '

Maomao does not comment on how a man as high ranking as the Moon Prince does not absently wander through markets looking at dried grass. She also does not comment on how wood sorrel is one of the most lowly, common plants an apothecary can find. Give it a month, and the world will be bursting with their heart-shaped leaves and little yellow flowers.

'I appreciate it, sir, ' she says with a polite, humble bow, and descends upon the liquor like a madwoman.

The visit goes as the visits always do. After she drinks her fill of the liquor, she sits in front of Jinshi, peels back the bandage, smears salve on the wound so it doesn 't dry out, and sticks another bandage back on. It takes less than three minutes.

'That eager to get rid of me? ' Jinshi pouts.

'The treatment is finished. ' She glances up at his face. He is as beautiful as ever, yes, but his eyelids look heavy, and the bags under his eyes are worse than last time. What work the Emperor puts him up to, she has no idea. She figured nobility would shunt most of their work onto others, but here he is anyway, looking exhausted. 'Besides, you look tired, sir. You should go home and rest. '

Instead of bothering me,

is the unspoken half of that sentence. He doesn 't seem to catch it.

Jinshi opens his mouth to retort, but yawns instead. 'Maybe so. '

'Then go home and rest, sir. '

'Mmph, ' Jinshi protests, and falls forward.

Maomao doesn 't have time to try and catch him before he 's collapsed onto her, head pillowed on her knees. He snuggles in, wrapping his arms around her back and sighing in childish contentment.

Jinshi cracks an eye open, notices her disapproving look, and grins up at her. 'Why go home when I 'm comfortable right here? '

This man is ridiculous. Maomao turns back to her work.

Jinshi seems to be just fine being ignored. Thankfully, his head in her lap doesn 't get in the way of the work she needs to do. She only keeps grinding down the herbs in her mortar until they 're a fine powder, and it takes just a few minutes for Jinshi 's breathing to fall into the slow, steady rhythm of sleep.

He must be really exhausted. Half the time, this is what his visits consist of. She wasn 't lying to her sisters when she said nothing of interest happens at all.

After about half an hour, Maomao finishes the mixture of herbs. Now she needs something from her medicine cabinet, but it 's not like she can get up like this, she thinks as she looks down at him.

Jinshi 's hair spills out onto the floor like a river of black silk. It 's tangled from his unceremonious flop onto the floor. He 's just making more work for Suiren later. She knows how long his hair takes to detangle.

She might as well make Suiren 's job easier. Maomao doesn 't have a comb, so she runs her fingers through his hair instead. It 's soft and fragrant-smelling. Jinshi sighs in his sleep and leans into her hand like a needy kitten as she works, so she puts her free hand on his cheek, running her thumb over the bandage. He leans into that instead and lets her detangle his hair in peace. His skin is warm.

It only takes a few minutes to fix the mess of his hair into something that won 't make her sisters giggle and pester more about what they get up to. Once he looks presentable enough, Maomao sighs through her nose.

Jinshi is still fast asleep. His lips are curved into a small smile, so different from the fake, sparkly one she knows from the rear palace. He leans into her hand on his cheek, and a stray lock of hair falls in his face. She brushes it away with her thumb, tucking it behind his ear.

Five thousand silver.

'I don 't understand you, ' she says to the empty air.

Even though his hair is much more orderly than before, her hand in it does not still.

The summoning letter is as innocuous as any of the others.

It arrives the same as all the others have 'by an imperial messenger who comes knocking at Maomao 's little apothecary shop and delivers it by hand. When she opens it, the scent of familiar sandalwood incense hits her nose. The paper is smooth and heavy in her hands. Of course 'the Imperial Brother would use nothing less.

Maomao reads over it emotionlessly. None of the words ' 'official business ', 'accompany ', and 'Western Capital ' 'spark any particular feelings. When she has finished, she draws a lacquered box from beneath the counter and places the letter inside, atop a neat stack of dozens of others. Each is made of the same high-quality paper and scented sandalwood. Each was delivered by the same messenger. Opening the box, the scent would be thick enough to make her dizzy if it wasn 't so pleasant. Suiren has good taste, after all.

Maomao shuts the box, shoves it back under the counter, and begins making her preparations. It 's not a matter of 'if ' she 'll go, of course. She will. It 's an order from the Moon Prince, even if it 's phrased in gentle language and so nicely perfumed.

Who is she, a simple commoner girl, to say no?

Her sisters raise a few eyebrows when Maomao begins packing her things, but they help nonetheless. Pairin insists she bring more makeup than she will ever wear. Meimei sends her with the best jewelry from her own jewelry box. Joka raises an incredulous eyebrow at Maomao 's short explanation.

None of this is necessary for the 'official business ' Jinshi mentioned, of that she 's sure. It 's not like anything will happen that will require her to dress up.

Whatever 'official business ' means, anyway. Who is Maomao to question?

Maomao slides into the carriage and only looks at the man sitting next to her after the door is closed behind her.

Not bad

, is her first thought. The burn scar is a good idea to cover up that distinct scar on his face, and it has the added bonus of dulling his beauty a little. Not enough 'Maomao knows firsthand from doing his makeup on their trip to the pleasure district that no amount of powder or creams or stench can really hide it. His beauty is still there, just beneath the surface, peeking out like moonlight behind the clouds.

The disguise works well enough that an untrained eye won 't notice, though. The plastered-on burn scar will work well enough at a distance. His hair is duller, and his bangs are tousled to cover his eyes. The man before her looks awfully brooding.

The bags under his eyes give the entire thing away, though.

'Master Jinshi, you really ought to sleep more. '

The man next to her grimaces, running a hand through his bangs to tousle them up more. 'Am I that obvious, even with this? '

'Not from a distance. ' She 'd just recognize those eye bags anywhere 'and while he took her advice about the makeup, he forgot to cover up the scent of fine sandalwood and jasmine. This close to him, it 's very obvious.

Besides, even behind the makeup, he 's still pretty.

Maomao looks out the window. 'It 's passable. '

'Only passable? ' Jinshi pouts.

'Only passable, ' she agrees, glancing sidelong at him. 'You forgot to dust the underside of it with the red powder. ' Jinshi grimaces and touches the bottom of the scar, paler than it should be. 'Most won 't likely notice, though, ' she continues. 'Who did it for you? Suiren? '

Jinshi scratches at his cheek. The true scar beneath must itch. 'I asked Suiren to prepare the materials, but I tried my own hand at it. '

'Was this your first try? ' If so, it 's not a bad first try. Maomao 's first attempts at makeup during her courtesan training were much worse than this.

'I practiced a few times in the mirror to get it right, ' Jinshi confesses. He gives a sheepish smile. 'It 's harder than you make it look. '

Maomao glances back out the window. 'I 've watched my sisters do their makeup for years, ' she deflects. 'They taught me everything I know. '

'Well, ' Jinshi says, a smile tinging his words, 'I 'm glad I learned from the best. '

Maomao is not the best, she thinks 'but before she can open her mouth to protest, the carriage door opens again.

'Are we ready to go? ' Basen asks, settling into his seat with his arms crossed. He still looks very uncomfortable at the reversal of roles with his master, and he adjusts the hair ornament atop his head. He must be unused to it.

Jinshi grins boyishly, leaning forward. 'Isn 't that your decision to make, Master Basen? '

Basen makes a face. 'Don 't make this weirder than it needs to be, ' Jinshi 's guard protests. 'These clothes are itchy enough without

you

making my skin crawl. '

Jinshi leans back into his seat with a snort of laughter. This smile is different from the one she saw in the rear palace, Maomao realizes. This one isn 't so horribly smarmy, like he 's trying to get something out of it. He seems lighter and much younger without the smarm, which is much more preferable.

The quack doctor of all people climbs in after Basen, with Maomao the cat of all creatures tucked neatly in his arms. 'I gave the carriage driver instructions on what road to take, ' he reports proudly. 'We should arrive in my hometown in two days! '

The quack 's hometown? That 's an odd destination, Maomao thinks. What on earth are they going West to do, anyway?

The quack doesn 't seem to notice Maomao staring, but the calico cat in his arms does. Maomao the cat gives her a few slow blinks.

Ah, well. Maomao doesn 't need to think about it.

The carriage ride is horribly boring.

Despite there being four people (plus a cat) bouncing around in the carriage on the journey, there 's little substantial conversation, and Maomao participates in none of it. Most of the words spoken are the quack explaining barley field number sixty-seven passing by. He, at least, seems to be enjoying himself.

Maomao tunes it out.

She stays curled up against the wall of the carriage, watching the unending scenery go by.

Maomao (the cat) has apparently taken a liking to Jinshi. Maybe she recognizes him by smell through the disguise 'the sandalwood and jasmine scent really does give him away. The little calico spends much of the carriage ride curled up at his feet or in his lap, or standing with two tiny paws on his knee and two on the window 's frame to watch the scenery.

She is in his lap now, on the second day of the carriage ride, curled up and asleep. She is purring so loudly that Maomao (the human) can hear her contentment over the roll of the carriage wheels and the quack 's ramblings.

Jinshi absently pets her, his long fingers scratching behind her ear or running across her back. Despite what he said in the rear palace, he seems to have taken more of a liking to the creature. It 's a shame he 's getting cat hair all over his expensive robes.

Jinshi grins, nudges Basen with an elbow, and leans over to whisper something in his ear. Basen makes a face in protest and smacks Jinshi lightly on the arm. Jinshi smiles even wider and whispers something more, the sound of his words swallowed by the carriage, and Basen doesn 't quite hide the snort this time. Jinshi falls back into his seat, giggling like a young boy rather than a prince.

He really does look lighter like this. It 's odd to see him without the charismatic mask he seems to wear around everyone but a select few.

It 's certainly preferable to the smarm, is all Maomao can think.

Maomao (the cat)

mrrrps

when Jinshi 's laughter shakes her makeshift bed and stretches out her front paws, rolls over, and yawns widely. Her mouth is full of needle-sharp teeth, which looks all the more dangerous when Jinshi 's fingers drift across the cat 's back to her belly.

She 's going to bite you

, Maomao thinks. Cats, in her experience, will occasionally show trust by showing their most vulnerable areas, but it does not mean they take kindly to being pet there. Pairin learned that the hard way when a stray kitten got into the Verdigris House, and Maomao had to clean up the bite wound.

Jinshi 's fingers scratch at the soft white fur of her belly, and to Maomao 's surprise, the creature simply flops over willingly, allowing him to stroke her.

At her staring, Maomao (the cat) blinks up at her, as if to say,

What? Am I supposed to do something different?

Yes

, Maomao thinks bluntly. If Jinshi were a predator, his claws would be firmly lodged in her belly by now. Being so trusting that some big creature won 't hurt you is more than Maomao can ever be.

'Do you want to hold her for a while? ' comes Jinshi 's soft voice.

Maomao starts and realizes she 's been staring. The man across from her is looking at her, leaning his chin on his hand. A gentle smile plays at his lips.

You 'll mess up your scar, touching it like that

! Maomao thinks.

'not that it 's doing much right now. The makeup cannot hide how the afternoon sunlight plays in his dark eyes, or how the gentle smile playing on his lips could melt the heart of any fair maiden.

Good thing Maomao is not so delicate. Maomao turns back to the window. 'No, ' she replies bluntly.

Jinshi 's replying laughter rings like a bell in the enclosed carriage.

They stop in the quack doctor 's village after a few days of the carriage ride. Maomao did not imagine anything in particular of interest to be happening in the quack 's hometown, especially when it 's famed for making paper. The paper itself is very nice, but it doesn 't seem like the type of place to have much excitement.

She turns out to be quite wrong.

'It 's not like you can read or write, after all, ' Maomao taunts. Farmer Number One only grips at her shirt tighter. She grins, high on something like flying, foolish courage. 'You couldn 't even use that paper if you tried.

Want someone to teach you?

'

'You

bitch

, ' the farmer snarls, swinging his fist back.

Well, this should have been expected. She shuts her eyes and braces for impact, and '

The punch doesn 't come. But a clinking of metal does, and Maomao opens her eyes just in time to see the man with the scarred face and familiar eyes step in between them. He throws a sack onto the table and upends it, spilling a waterfall of silver coins onto the table and floor with a clatter loud enough to get the attention of even the drunkest patrons.

Jinshi 's eyes flash cold like an obsidian knife. Voice low and dangerous, he says, 'Three hundred silver would be

cheap

for her. '

Not true. And don 't go flashing your silver like that!

Jinshi brushes the hand of the farmer away from her and steps behind her, arms crossed. Free from Farmer Number One 's grasp, Maomao sees she has no choice but to roll with the situation. She plants a foot on the chair and a hand on her chest and crows,

'

See? He

knows the value of what he 's looking at. '

Farmer Number One growls in frustration as the both of them give him the cockiest smirks they can muster. Bluster is everything in games like this. Maomao tosses a glance behind her shoulder, and Jinshi catches her eye.

Even if he 's smiling like the best courtesan in the pleasure district, his eyes say something very, very different. She knows that look well enough by now:

Apothecary, what the fuck are you doing?

Maomao grins even wider, heart pounding with adrenaline. But there 's something more, too 'drunk on that breathless, flying courage that makes her shoot back a look that says something like:

You 've got my back, don 't you?

Trust me.

She drinks all the farmers under the table, of course. Every single one.

'Just three hundred silver? ' Jinshi whispers in her ear when it 's all over, leaning in close enough that only she can hear him. His smooth, deep voice is laced with a grin so wicked that she doesn 't even need to look at his face 'she can hear how it tinges his words. 'Not a bad bargain. '

He truly doesn 't know the value of anything, Maomao thinks, and drains her last glass.

Their journey continues on, through the paper-making village and far beyond. The landscape slowly changes to the scenery her father described to her, arid and mountainous. The boredom stays the same.

Occasionally they make camp in the wilderness, but more often than not they stay at various inns along the road.the route was meticulously planned to prevent the Imperial Brother from 'roughing it ' as much as possible.

Sometimes, though, they don 't get so lucky.

Basen comes over to their carriage, scowling. 'Only two rooms left, one large and one small. We 'll have to split it up one way or another. ' He scowls. 'Sir, you should take one, and the three of us can split ' '

'

No

, ' Jinshi blurts out in protest. He glances quickly at Maomao, licks his lips, and says, 'No, it 'll look too suspicious if a 'servant ' takes a room by himself. '

'Do you have a better suggestion? '

Jinshi glances at her again, opens his mouth, closes it again, then says, 'Maomao should take the smaller room. The three of us can split the suite. '

Maomao doesn 't really understand why she should get a whole room all to herself, but who is she to protest?

Their rooms at this particular inn aren 't too shabby, Maomao thinks 'though it may not live up to the standards of the Imperial Brother, especially given that the three men of their expedition share a suite with two rooms and a common area. Maomao 's own quarters are a little more humble, with only a bedroom. It 's furnished decently enough, but it 's clearly intended for a passing commoner, not a noble 's lodgings.

Maomao rises early, when golden light is just barely starting to spill into her rooms. Mist still hangs in the mountains out her window, not yet burned off. With nothing better to do, Maomao ties her hair back, gets dressed, and crosses the hall. She is here as a servant(?), after all 'she may as well do the work of one.

She doubts any of the three of them are awake yet, given the early hour, but she knocks on the door thrice anyway. To her surprise, a voice answers, 'Come in. '

'Excuse me, ' she murmurs, bowing her head, and steps into the room.

Jinshi sits near the window, backlit by the golden morning sun. He 's had the decency to dress himself in day clothes (so he

can

dress himself!), but his long hair isn 't tied back yet, flowing down his back like black silk. Papers are spread out on the table in front of him. It seems not even a trip like this can keep him away from work.

He turns to her and smiles a heartbreakingly beautiful smile. 'Good morning, ' he says. His voice is deeper than usual and just a bit rougher with sleep.

Maomao was hoping no one would be awake so she could prepare tea in peace. Alas. She bows. 'Good morning, sir. '

'Did you sleep well? ' he asks as she sets about preparing tea.

'Well enough. Though I never sleep much away from home. '

'You 're telling me, ' Jinshi groans, running a hand through his hair. 'I would have slept better if Basen didn 't

snore

. '

That 's quite rich, given that Jinshi himself snores as well 'quietly, like a little kitten. It 's good that he 's not louder, or she wouldn 't be able to focus on her apothecary work whenever he decides to take a nap in her shop.

They fall into silence as Maomao spoons leaves into the teapot and waits for the water to boil. She doesn 't have much to talk about, and the other two are sleeping just beyond the door. Better to keep quiet.

Jinshi doesn 't push conversation, either 'even in the morning sunlight, his eyelids seem heavy, like he 's not quite managing to blink sleep from his eyes. She can feel those eyes on her, how they haven 't drifted back to his paperwork once after she entered the room. Whatever 's in those papers must really be boring him.

She sets the tea down in front of him and Jinshi waves a hand at her. 'Just sit across the table, ' he orders. 'Suiren 's not here, there 's no need to be formal. '

Maomao does as she 's told and takes a sip of her tea. The jasmine tea is fragrant and smooth. The lack of bitterness speaks both to the quality of the tea leaves and the lack of tampering. 'It 's safe, ' she assures him after she swallows.

'I 'd hope so, ' Jinshi replies with a chuckle. 'You 're not planning on poisoning me, are you? '

'I wouldn 't dream of it, sir. '

Jinshi frowns. 'I can never tell if you 're joking, ' he says, though he takes a sip anyways.

Maomao busies herself with polishing a nonexistent smudge off her own cup. The inn provided cups in the room, but even on the road, they only ever use pure silver dishes that they brought themselves. 'Rest assured. I haven 't seen any of the poisonous plants native to this region that my father taught me about. '

Yet.

'I 'm not sure if that 's reassuring as you want it to be, apothecary. ' His voice is tinged with a laugh, smooth and deep.

Staring at her own reflection in her cup, Maomao realizes that this is quite similar to the few months she spent serving him. The mornings would always pass just like this, with simple banter. At least he 's learned not to try to force conversation with her like he used to.

One thing that has not changed, even here, far from the capital, is how lethal he is this time of day.

Maomao glances up at him through her eyelashes. Even if he 's not in sleeping robes like she used to see him in, his voice is deeper than usual with the remnants of sleep, and his hair flows down around his shoulders. He leans an elbow heavily on the table, holding his teacup with long, elegant fingers. His eyes are downcast, and the golden sunlight streaming through the window catches on his downturned eyelashes.

Still lethal. It 's pure luck that no one else is around to see this.

Jinshi slides one of the papers on the table towards her. 'We should be meeting with Ah-Duo today. It 's yet a few days ' journey to the Western Capital, though. '

Maomao nods, scanning over the letter. It 's from Ah-Duo, listing her location, route, and the plans for meeting. There 's a teasing tone laced throughout it, especially towards the end when she mentions Lishu is with her. Weird. 'And what will we do when we arrive, sir? You haven 't said yet. '

Jinshi opens his mouth, closes it, and opens it again. He looks quite like a fish. Finally, he sighs, eyes downcast. 'I 'll 'tell you when we get there, ' he says, waving a hand. He glances at her. 'But 'given that it 's still a few days ' journey, I was wondering if I need to touch up the disguise again. '

Great. This is his way of saying he wants

her

to do it for him. There goes her hope of relaxing for an hour before they go off again. Maomao rises from her seat and rounds the table.

'Please excuse me, ' she says, and takes Jinshi 's chin in her hand.

He blinks up at her in surprise as she tilts his face one way, then the other. It 's still convincing from a distance, but this close, it clearly needs a touch-up. 'The red is rubbing off again, ' she says, poking at the underside of the raised scar.

Jinshi pouts. 'Did I miss the same spot again? '

'Yes. '

He sighs. 'The supplies are over there, ' he grumbles, gesturing to the other side of the room. Maomao retrieves them and gets to work.

It 's a quick fix, all things considered. She smears a little more glue onto the scar to make the powder stick, then taps the red onto it. His skin is warm beneath her fingers as she lifts his chin and dusts powder over his scar with her other hand. Their faces are close, but for some reason, Jinshi stares straight at her shoulder and doesn 't meet her eye once. His eyelashes are very long. Courtesans pay a lot of money and use a lot of product to look the way he does without even trying.

She thinks briefly of her sisters, back in the pleasure district, and the conversation they had. Whoever ends up marrying this man will be lucky, at least in looks. Even setting status aside, he could have anyone he wanted.

Maomao taps the last bit of red off her fingers. 'Finished. '

'Already? '

'Even redoing the whole thing doesn 't take that long, sir. '

'Maybe I should have you redo it anyway. '

Is he not satisfied with her work? Maomao frowns. 'That 's not necessary, ' she says, tilting his chin in her hands. 'The disguise will still hold until we get to the capital. ' And do whatever it is they need to do there, but she 'll learn about it when she needs to.

Jinshi glances up at her through his eyelashes. 'Only a few days ' journey left, ' he murmurs, more to himself than her.

Suddenly, his arms come around her waist. Maomao 's knees knock painfully against the edge of his chair as he pulls her to his chest, burying his face in her shoulder.

'Sir, please unhand me. '

'I don 't want to, ' Jinshi whines. 'Why should I? '

Because the others are about to wake up and see us!

She shoves at his shoulder, but his arms only circle tighter around her waist, and he breathes in deep. Is he

sniffing

her?

'Besides, we haven 't had much time alone recently, ' he murmurs. The tips of his ears are pink, and she 's not sure if he meant to say it loud enough for her to hear.

Maomao lets her arms drop with a huff. There 's no use trying to push him away. 'Why is that a problem? ' she asks bluntly. 'We 'll get to the Western Capital, do whatever needs to be done, and go home, won 't we? ' They 'll just go back to their old lives after.

It 's not like anything will change.

Jinshi stills. He sighs into her shoulder, squeezes her one last time, and pulls away just enough to look at her face. He still rests his cheek on her shoulder, and their faces are inches apart.

'I ' ' His eyes dart down and he licks his lips. 'Maomao, I need to ' '

The door behind them starts to slide open.

Maomao shoves violently against Jinshi 's shoulder and leaps out of the ring of his arms just as Basen lumbers his way through the door, yawning and scratching at his bare stomach: 'Mornin ', sir, d 'you know when ' ' Basen stops in his tracks. He blinks once, twice, and then his sleep-addled mind catches up with reality.

He shrieks.

'What are

you

doing in here? ' Basen demands, covering his chest with one hand and his loincloth-wrapped groin with the other.

'What 's all this commotion? ' mumbles the quack, rubbing sleep from his eyes. He bumps into Basen 's bare back, and Jinshi sighs into his hands.

Maomao takes this as her cue to leave as quickly as can be considered polite.

Basen can 't quite meet Maomao 's eyes for the rest of the day, which is fine by her. Jinshi glances at her frequently, but his eyes always dart away as soon as she notices. He doesn 't try to bring up whatever he was going to say.

It must not have been that important.

They rendezvous with Ah-Duo and Lishu as planned without much issue 'besides the bandit attack, at least. It 's only after Maomao has washed her hands of the blood from treating the injured guards that Ah-Duo beckons her into her tent with a crooked finger and an amicable smile. Consort Lishu sits with her in the shaded tent, still looking rather queasy from the entire affair.

'Well, ' Ah-Duo says, plopping into a chair and crossing her legs. She 's dressed in men 's fashion today, and the sturdy clothes look much more practical than the finer garments Lishu wears. 'I 'm sure you 're wondering why the consort is with us on such a journey. '

Lishu shrinks into her chair, still looking rather green. Maomao bows. 'Yes, ma 'am. '

The consort still looks terribly frightened from the bandit attack, but at least the former consort appears to be in good humor. Still smiling, Ah-Duo continues, 'And I 'm sure you 've heard why Master Basen is going westward as well. '

'I understand there are important discussions taking place in the Western Capital, ' Maomao replies, which is all she knows. Jinshi hasn 't told her yet why they 're going west, but it 's not important for a simple apothecary. She doesn 't need to know the affairs of nobility. If it 's diplomatic talks, then it makes sense that Basen would be in attendance both as Jinshi 's guard and to represent the various interests of Li.

This talk is awfully boring. Maomao 's mind is still stuck on the tufts of grass she saw outside the consort 's tent. They could be patches of herbs that her father has taught her about, ones he learned about during his time in the West. Hopefully this talk wraps up soon so she can go examine them.

'That 's certainly a part of it, ' Ah-Duo says. 'And we 'll be taking part as well. '

Makes sense, Maomao thinks, nodding along. Ah-Duo is still talking 'something about another task to attend to. The tufts of dry brush outside drift in her mind. No one would notice if some plants around their camp went missing, right?

So raptured in her own fantasies, Maomao almost misses the consort 's next words:

'We 're also tasked with finding the Moon Prince a wife. '

Maomao goes still. Her head is still bowed, and to the lady before her, she does not dare raise her head. Suddenly, many coincidences click into place at once 'but she still wonders:

Then, why is she here?