Jinshi, Maomao, Empress Gyokuyou, and the Emperor are seated around a four top table. The four share a late dinner tucked away in a lavish windowless room within the Emperor’s palace.

Jinshi is unsure why the Emperor invited this specific group when he already knows what the Emperor wishes to discuss. Perhaps he just wishes to stir the pot as some cruel payback to Jinshi for branding himself in the three’s presence? Jinshi had completed his duty in the Western Capital. So why does the Emperor feel the need to continue punishing him?

Throughout the meal Jinshi is on edge, watching his elder brother from the corner of his eye. Waiting for the moment that the room goes sour. He barely eats. Maomao, who is sitting beside him, notices his lack of appetite and nudges him under the table while the servers are busy swapping courses and dishes. He ignores the nudge in an effort to keep his mask in place.

“Are you not hungry?” She whispers out of earshot of the others.

With a shake of his head Jinshi answers just as quietly, “not particularly.”

In fact he feels as if he might throw up.

Wait. That might work.

If he can cause a big enough scene, he may be able to prevent what is about to happen. The worst part of it is he doesn’t know when the Emperor intends to strike.

“Zuigetsu.”

Nevermind, the moment is now.

Ever attentive, with his best ‘Jinshi’ smile he glances up from his uneaten plate to meet the unreadable eyes of the Emperor.

“Sir?”

“There have been talks as of late.” Jinshi’s eyes flit to Gyokuyou who is flanked on the Emperor’s right side, and watches as her face shifts into a look of discomfort. Her gaze falls to the hands in her lap. He does not dare to look at Maomao right now.

“The royal bloodline must continue. As the Moon Prince it is your duty to create heirs.”

“Are there not enough as of the present moment?” Jinshi interjects, he knows he should not have but he can’t help it. He wants to get this conversation as off track as possible.

Of course the Emperor must know what he had been attempting to do, for in the next moment he produces a sheet of thick paper and hands it to Jinshi. Jinshi takes it and reads the top of the elegant paper.

Eligible Consorts

Under the title there are twenty or so odd names from the rear palace. He recalls a few names, but cannot place the others.

“Here are a few candidates to get started.” The Emperor states coldly.

Jinshi’s tight grasp on the paper creases it and smudges some of the ink within his tight grip.

“And if I don’t take a consort?” Jinshi hears Maomao set down her dinnerware with a light clink against her plate.

“Then I will assign one to you.”

It’s uncomfortably quiet at the table, and the servants have vacated the room for now. Jinshi has nothing to say that will not end up with him shouting or embarrassing himself. After his years in the rear palace he has no energy to fake interactions with a woman who will not be his future wife, just for the sake of creating heirs.

“If you don’t wish to rule, the least you can do is strengthen the royal line.” The Emperor adds. Jinshi leans his head forward and pinches the bridge of his nose.

“Unless there is someone you have in mind already?”

Maomao is the only person on his mind for a wife, let alone a lover. In his personal opinion there is no need for another as long as he has Maomao. The Emperor knows it, Gyokuyou knows it, and Maomao seems to be getting the idea. She’s accepted his feelings and in turn he knows she has feelings for him. Though he’s a little confused on how strong hers are in comparison to his. At times, it feels like his love might burst from his very being. While her ways of showing affection may be different, he still is able to see and feel them.

Hyper aware of Maomao he almost misses the stuttered intake of air beside him. The other two don’t notice it, judging by their body language, but he does. Jinshi wants to make her feel secure in some way. She should know that she is the only one he desires,

right

? He thinks he’s made his intentions pretty clear.

“I have my heart set on someone already. There is no need for this list.” Jinshi states, and slides the now crumpled paper back across the table to the Emperor.

“I trust there are

efforts

being made to continue the royal line?”

Beside himself Jinshi’s face heats. Granted he had been the one to ensure the rear palace flowers were loyal to the Emperor. Along with assuring their loyalty, he was privy to the comings and goings of his brother with the different consorts. He may be a virgin himself, but he is not virginal.

“There are efforts being made to arrive at the main event

.”

Jinshi states, his hands fisting into the fabric of his robes, while keeping a mock collected face towards his brother. Jinshi watches with bated breath as the Emperor picks up his spoon and continues to eat his meal.

There is no sigh of relief and no moment to collect himself.

Of course there isn’t.

“Six months.” The Emperor states dryly, before bringing a bite of food to his mouth.

“Pardon?” Jinshi voices, he’s taken note that Maomao and Gyokuyou have picked up eating as well.

“I will give you six months to ensure the royal line has moved towards an heir. After six months pass, and there is no progress I will be sending a consort to complete the task.”

Jinshi thinks he’s going to throw up.

No, he’s definitely going to vomit.

He abruptly stands from the low table and rushes from the room. He’s been to the Emperor’s quarters enough times in his life to know where a bathroom is tucked away. He shuts the door and heaves into the bucket on the floor.

This is not happening.

Jinshi is mortified about everything concerning this dinner. As he heaves and waits for the acidic bile to climb his throat and out his body, his mind flashes to Maomao. She had sat beside him the whole time and remained calm and controlled. How was she able to do that? Was she not worried for her position in his heart? Jinshi knows he would be heartbroken if another man was forced to have a child with her. The thought of Rikuson proposing marriage to her alone was enough to send him into a tizzy.

A knock sounds from the other side of the door.

“Moon Prince?” It’s a maid, judging by the voice.

“Ah, yes. Just a moment.” Jinshi dabs at his sweat slicked forehead and pushes back the strands of hair that became loose.

He collects himself enough and opens the door.

“Lady Maomao and the rest of the dinner party have disbanded for the evening.” The maid remarks meekly as she bows before him.

“Do you know where Lad-Maomao went off to?”

“She made it known she would see you in your quarters to assure your well-being.” With a final bow the maid scurries away. Jinshi takes a moment to catch his breath and takes the least traveled hallways to escape this suffocating palace.

When he emerges outside he gulps down the fresh air and walks silently down the stone roads separating the royal family’s homes.

“Master Jinshi.” A voice cuts into his busy mind. He startles in a very unmanly way when he can’t immediately find the source of the voice. To be fair it’s a late hour and rather dark around the palace grounds.

“Maomao?”

“Over here.”

Jinshi squints around the vicinity and makes out Maomao off the stone path in a patch of trees, grass, and perfectly trimmed bushes. He walks towards her where she’s standing, hidden beside a tree.

“What are you doing over here? I thought you were going to my room?”

“Initially I was.” Maomao answers, her voice quivering ever so slightly. If he didn’t know her as well as he does now, he might have missed it.

“I apologize about the dinner. I didn’t know the Emperor was going to do that.” He did. He just didn't realize he would do it so publicly.

Jinshi can see Maomao a bit better now that he’s closer to her, along with the aid of lanterns hanging from buildings nearby.

Maomao looks like she’s about to speak. Jinshi hears the chatter of a distant group of men a ways off that sound like they are coming their way. Jinshi reaches for Maomao’s wrist and guides her deeper into the expanse of trees and bushes. He doesn’t want any onlookers getting the wrong idea. Especially after the dinner they just vacated.

“Where are we going?” Maomao asks from where she trails behind him.

“Away from onlookers.”

“Why?”

When he deems they are a safe distance away from the common walkway he leans against a tree to gather his bearings. Maomao drags behind him where she is huffing and puffing trying to catch her breath, until she stands only a few feet in front of him. They’re now hidden away well enough that someone would have to go out of their way to search them out. They can’t be away for long or else his guards will sound off an alarm of sorts.

“Master Jinshi, you really must slow down. My legs are not as long as yours.” Maomao says in her familiar monotone voice.

“Ah, sorry.” He pauses and studies her. His vision has adjusted to the dark enough now that he can read her perturbed expression more clearly. “Are you alright?”

Maomao’s eyebrows crease downward briefly, but she corrects them just as quickly.

“I will be.”

He’s confused about what that means. She has to know that he was referring to her when mentioning he has someone in mind. They both return feelings for the other, and he really hopes that is still true.

“What are your thoughts? Would you have me take a consort?” He asks the question before he can filter it.

Jinshi watches patiently as Maomao’s hands fist at her sides. How she looks down at her feet then back up to him. She has a look of determination. That queasy feeling from earlier has returned and he’s not sure what to do about it.

“No.”

“You don’t want me to take a consort?” He asks to clarify her clipped response.

“I do not.”

“Why is that?” His heart beats wildly in his chest, and bile burns up the back of this throat.

Her eyes pierce his. “You are always so concerned with my chastity.” She pauses and visibly steals herself. “Well, what about yours?”

Maomao is inches from his face and stares at him curiously, there is a moment of quiet between them. Where there are no other sounds around them. Just this moment between them, and the trees.

“What about my chastity?” Now he’s confused. Was she doubting him? She should know better than anyone he has not gotten into any untoward

business

with anyone

.

Well, besides her, on the rare occasion.

“I was under the impression we understood each other’s feelings. If anyone is to produce you an heir, shouldn't it be me?” Maomao’s voice has taken a menacing tone. She steps closer to him. He has nowhere to go. His back pushes farther against the tree. The bark digs into his back in a few odd places. But Maomao has a strange energy about her, he can’t get a read on her.

To his surprise she stops walking towards him and instead turns on her heel to pace in front of him. He watches, half terrified, half curious what is unfolding before him. Maomao appears deep in thought, with a thumb pressed to her bottom lip. His neck aches from watching her walk back and forth from one edge of grass to another. There is definitely something happening between them, and for once he doesn’t think he’s in control of whatever

moment

it may end up being.

For a brief moment it’s thrilling.

But that just may be the masochist in him.

He can’t take it anymore.

“Maomao.” She stops, her back to him. After a moment she turns to face him, only a few paces separate them.

“You’re always so concerned over my chastity. Well, what about my concern for yours?”

His heart races. He steps slowly toward her, closing the distance between them.

“Have I been unclear with my intentions towards you?” He questions, giving her no time to answer. “If I have, allow me to make myself clear.” Jinshi reaches out for her, gently placing his thumb and forefinger under her chin to angle her face towards him, assuring she was seeing

and

hearing him. With no fingers plugging her ears this time.

“I intend to marry you, Maomao. I do not desire nor want anyone other than you. That involves the process of heir making as well.” Thanks to the moon peeking through cloud cover above he’s able to notice the slightest flush adorned across her cheeks. He’s momentarily shocked that his words can have such an effect on her. He’s not thinking clearly, in the next moment he realizes he’s leaning lower, his forehead resting against hers.

“What seems to be the real question, is where

your

intentions lie.”

Maomao shakes her chin from his grasp and walks off, deeper into the patch of trees.

He may have the longer legs, but she scurries off rather fast despite what she seems to think. Jinshi manages to catch up to her. Maomao stops in her tracks and whirls on him, pushing a finger into his chest.

Jinshi is hyper aware of her, how harshly her finger has jammed into him, how it looks as if she’s about to say something, but changes her mind and fists the fabric of his robes and pulls. Their faces nearly bonk against each other. In the next instance he feels Maomao’s lips press against his own. He notices how her eyes are shut tightly while his are open wide.

He reaches for her hand that's fisting his robes, and gently places his fingers between hers, pulling her body closer to his. With his other hand he tangles his fingers into her hair, while deepening their kiss and slowly closing his eyes to savor the feeling of her. At first he’s nervous. It’s not a nauseating nervousness like at dinner, but a stomach fluttering sensation. Distantly it’s a feeling reminiscent to the first time he performed a ritual.

His body stiffens when Maomao leans into their kiss, her body molding against his. It’s almost unbearable how unreal this is. As he thinks it, Maomao’s fingers pinch at the skin of his forearm.

“Yes, this is happening.” She separates, enough from her to breathe against his lips.

A moan escapes him, as he urges her mouth back to his. The last time his tongue tasted the inside of her mouth, it had been a losing battle that left a bitter taste in his mouth for the days to follow.

Right now? He may be eating the sweetest fruit. He thinks he understands briefly why Maomao enjoys eating poison. If Maomao was poison, he too would do anything to get just a taste more.

A soft mewl sounds from her as they kiss. It stokes the flames of lust burning deep within him. Before they can go any farther, he stops himself with the thought of being respectful to Maomao - despite how his body rebels against him. He tugs on her hair to pull her delicious mouth away from his.

Leaning his forehead against hers he asks, “What do I do?”

“I thought I was clear, Master Jinshi.” He removes his sweat slicked forehead from her, and eyes her curiously. Her lipstick is a mess, and he’s positive he must have some smeared on his own lips. Maomao levels his gaze with her typical neutral expression.

“We make an heir.”