Chapter Text
As Maomao recovered from her injuries, she was kept confined to Jinshi's bedroom. The arrangement disturbed her to no end.
As a servant, she should have been healing in her own quarters, tucked away among the nameless, faceless crowd. Many times she had made the request to leave, insisting she needed no special care.
Her wounds, sustained while protecting Jinshi from the falling shrine ornament, were moderately serious—deep bruising, stitches in her leg, and lingering aches—but hardly dire enough to necessitate constant supervision.
Yet Suiren, under their Master’s orders, ensured Maomao remained on strict bed rest. She hovered with uncanny precision, offering her charge warm meals and a rotation of books for company. The wizened lady-in-waiting had an almost supernatural sense for any movement toward the door.
Whenever Maomao so much as shifted her weight in that direction, Suiren appeared, her expression gentle but unyielding. With a firm smile, she would ease Maomao back into bed, tucking the covers in place with a thinly veiled warning to stay put. There was no malice in her actions, but the hidden steel in her tone allowed for no argument.
What unsettled Maomao most was not confinement itself, but the shift in how people treated her. Suiren and the others no longer called her “Xiaomao.” The playful shoulder pats and reassuring hand squeezes—little gestures she had grown accustomed to—were gone.
Now, when Suiren helped her bathe or dress, her touch was restrained, almost spectral. Towels were always positioned as barriers; fingertips ghosted over fabric and hair but rarely brushed her skin. When brushing Maomao’s long dark-green strands, Suiren’s fingers seemed to hover, never quite daring to touch flesh.
Her meals changed too. Gone were the sparse trays of day-old rice, one small side, and the occasional scrap of meat.
Now, bowls of steaming, tender rice appeared—so soft and fragrant they nearly made her weep. The single side dish was replaced by several, each aromatic enough to tease her senses long before the first bite. Herbs and spices perfumed the air—ginger, star anise, clove—making her mouth water. Every flavor burst with richness, far surpassing anything she had known outside Lady Gyokuyou’s table as a poison tester.
And the meat. Maomao had never received so much meat. Chicken roasted golden, pork simmered until meltingly soft, beef seared and dripping with juice, duck lacquered with glaze, venison grilled to savory perfection. Succulent, tangy, greasy, decadent—the flavors made love to her tongue.
And all of it terrified her.
Every indulgence felt like a collar tightening. The more respect and luxury she received, the more desperate she became to flee. She tried once, slipping quietly from her room when she thought Suiren might be at rest—only to find guards posted at every exit. Their expressions were carved of stone, their vigilance absolute.
There was no escape.
So Maomao endured, anxiety clinging to her like a second skin even as she forced calm across her face. Her thoughts raced endlessly. Why was she being confined here?
The Emperor himself had praised her for saving Jinshi, even offering a reward she had refused. Jinshi had been distressed at her injuries, but not angry with her. Though he had not visited her in a week, Suiren carried his daily inquiries about her health with dutiful consistency.
At first she worried that the missing culprit might somehow have implicated her, but the conduct of those around her made that impossible.
Instead, the change in behavior—the respect, the distance, the careful formality—pushed her toward darker conclusions. It mirrored the treatment given to a palace servant elevated into the position of concubine.
But that was impossible. Jinshi was a eunuch. Eunuchs were forbidden from marriage, forbidden from any form of intimate relationship. Even if he weren’t, she was technically one of the Emperor’s women, bound by service unless formally dismissed.
The contradictions gnawed at her until she paced her chamber like a caged animal, worrying at the stitches in her leg, her thoughts in constant turmoil. Sleep eluded her more often than not.
When Master Jinshi finally visited, she nearly wilted at the sight of him. His usual ethereal presence had dimmed; his pale face was drawn and almost defeated. Shadows hollowed his eyes, his silken clothes were rumpled, and even his sleek hair bore the sheen of oil, disheveled and unkempt.
The Apothecary had never seen him look so human—so broken.
Gaoshun followed behind, equally weathered, though his expression carried resignation rather than despair. He offered Maomao a small, genuine smile before bowing low.
“I will take my leave now, Master Jinshi.”
Jinshi nodded without turning, too tired for courtesy. He closed his eyes with a heavy sigh before fixing them on Maomao, his gaze filled with a sadness that seemed to weigh him to the earth itself.
Maomao, who had been sitting at the small table, shot to her feet and rushed to his side, blue eyes wide with concern.
“Master Jinshi.”
Her hand rose instinctively to steady him, but he caught it gently, squeezing.
“I’m all right, Apothecary,” he murmured. “It has simply been a very long week—and we need to talk.”
Trepidation coiled in her chest, her heart pounding at his weariness. She swallowed, nodded, and led him to the table. To occupy her trembling hands, she poured water for them both, but her shaking was so obvious that Jinshi quietly took the pot from her, finishing the task himself. He said nothing, but his sympathetic expression made it clear he understood her nerves.
They drank in silence, letting dry throats ease, until Jinshi finally broke it.
“I know you must have many questions about why you are still confined here,” he began. “I want you to understand—you are in no trouble whatsoever. The Emperor found no fault in your actions. Nor did I, nor those responsible for the ritual.”
Her tight chest loosened at his reassurance.
“Part of my absence,” he continued, “was to resolve the investigation and deal with the guard who struck you.”
Anger flickered across his usually composed face.
“As you will likely hear regardless, I will tell you directly—the guard has been tried and executed. He was beheaded at dawn yesterday.”
Maomao’s heart leapt, her pulse roaring in her ears. The guard had only been doing his duty too zealously—yet now he was dead. The reality of palace life pressed cold against her: a single action, a single mistake, and your head could roll.
“His death,” Jinshi said, compassion lacing his tone, “was an inevitable consequence of his actions.”
She swallowed hard but nodded. “I understand. He almost caused tragedy during an important ceremony. That crime alone warrants death.”
“No, Apothecary. That alone would not have sealed his fate.”
Jinshi leaned back with a weary sigh.
“I had no idea you were the daughter of Ka Lakan.”
The name struck like a curse. Maomao’s face darkened, nausea twisting her stomach. She loathed the connection.
“That guard died for two reasons,” Jinshi continued. “First, because he ignored a credible threat to my life, dismissing your warning when your position made your words carry weight. That delay nearly cost me dearly. Unacceptable to the courts, to myself, and most importantly, to the Emperor.”
“Second—because he laid hands on the daughter of Ka Lakan, Grand Commandant of our nation. He was most vocal in his fury that his only daughter, his most precious child, was struck in the heart of our empire.”
Each word was a hammer blow. The “Old Bastard” had spent years trying to claim her, and though he had failed, the thought of him loudly declaring his parentage to the Emperor and the entire court chilled her. If they acknowledged him, she had no defense.
“Seeing your expression,” Jinshi said gently, “I take it this isn’t an affectionate relationship?”
Maomao shook her head. “No. I was born in a brothel. My mother—infected with disease before I was old enough to ask—never told me about him. He appeared one day, claiming to be my sire, and tried to take me away. Tell me, Master Jinshi—if that monocled freak appeared before you as a child and said, ‘I’m your father, come live with me,’ how would you react?”
Jinshi gave a full-body shudder, groaning in disgust.
“I see your point.”
He sighed. “But it doesn’t change the fact that he has now made his claim public—and the Emperor accepted it. Which has led to another complication. One that is… my fault.”
Maomao exhaled sharply. “Just tell me, Master Jinshi. Don’t let this sword of uncertainty hang over my head any longer.”
He hesitated, then straightened, his face resolute.
“My name is not Jinshi. It is Ka Zuigetsu. I am the Emperor’s brother.”
Her mind went blank. Puzzle pieces she had long collected snapped into place—the unrestricted access to the harem, the authority over both religious and civil matters, the muscular build no eunuch should have.
He was no ordinary man. He was the Moon Prince. Heir to the throne until the Emperor produced a son.
“Maomao?” His voice broke her reverie.
“Yes, your Highness.”
“Don’t you have anything to say?” His tone was almost desperate.
Her throat tightened. She was a servant. He was royalty. Words were dangerous. “I’m fine, your Highness.”
His face fell. He dropped to his knees before her, clasping her hands.
Alarm jolted through her. “Your Highness—please don’t. You mustn’t kneel!”
But he held firm. “Do not put up that wall. Please. I cannot endure it. I’m begging you.”
His eyes shone with desperation, and her resistance cracked.
“All right. Not in private, Master Jinshi.”
Relief coursed through him, his body slumping until he nearly collapsed against her. His warmth startled her, yet she found she did not mind it as much as she expected. Perhaps her distaste had softened.
He lingered only a moment before drawing back, brushing a strand of her hair behind her ear. Heat coiled in her belly at the unfamiliar intimacy.
“My position complicates matters,” he said at last. “When you were injured, I carried you here. It was revealed that you have been living in my residence for months. To protect your reputation, Lakan and the Emperor… formally announced your marriage to me.”
His grim smile confirmed what her racing heart already knew.
“At this moment, the nobility considers you my concubine.”