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Maomao and Jinshi sat side by side on the same bench in a companionable silence, as the carriage ambled towards the La clan estate, on their way to check in on Zhizi, the young girl Jinshi had left in the strategist's care. Maomao had gone on occasion to note her recovery, but this was the first time Jinshi had been, let alone joined her. He was to bring Lady Anshi a personal report on her niece the following day, hence his personal appearance.
They hadn't spoken much since he had picked Maomao up, having been steadily exchanging letters over the past few weeks, and therefore having little of note to catch up on. Her letters were often short and underwhelming, but always signed with her tell-tale paw print, a voluntary action on her part that sent Jinshi's heart into a frenzy when he saw it. His cat was being playful.
Jinshi in turn wrote her back equally as insubstantial missives, forgoing a proper signature in favor of a slip of ink resembling a crescent moon. He often wondered, when Chue trotted off with the letters, if Maomao herself had any sort of reaction to the silly sign-off.
"Jinshi-sama?" Maomao's voice broke through the quiet, and he turned his head to follow the sound.
He expected a question out of her, but instead startled at her having scooted to the midway point of the bench, with her hand held out to him. Maomao's eyes were wide, a small smile on her face in a way that left his throat a bit dry. She looked on the cusp of excited, how she did when faced with a new ingredient.
Ingredient, huh? Jinshi narrowed his eyes at her little hand. "Don't tell me you managed to use up all that seahorse already."
"Of course not, sir." Maomao's nose twitched at the word seahorse but she otherwise maintained her composure. "I have no one to test its more potent effects on. It remains, sadly, untouched."
He ignored her enunciation of the word untouched, understanding well-enough her meaning. Jinshi hadn't been daft at the choice in reward, fully aware of the strange creatures use as an aphrodisiac. Though he didn't mean to act on his desire for her, he could still attempt to show it, preferably in a way she would understand. Still, he was empty handed at the moment. "Well, I'm afraid I didn't prepare anything for you today."
"That's not what I want, sir." Maomao sighed. "Your hand, please."
Bewildered, Jinshi placed his hand palm side down upon hers, feeling a thrill at he way her small fingers worked their way through his much longer ones. She really was so slight. Once they were intertwined, Maomao gave a satisfied nod, set their joined hands upon her lap, and turned back towards the window to watch the court pass by.
Jinshi could only stare at the knot their fingers made for a long moment, swallowing hard as he tried to dash off the idea of loosening his so they could graze the tops of her thigh, a woefully unhelpful thought in such close proximity. Shifting in his seat, Jinshi chose to turn his attention to the pattern carved into he carriage wall across from them, even as Maomao's thumb swept over top of his own.
That's not what I want, she had said, before requesting his hand to hold. In the privacy of the carriage, Jinshi felt his mouth lift at the corners, unable to keep his face impassable at her forwardness. Bravely, he squeezed her hand, and his damn heart started up again when she returned the gesture with a light press.
—
Following their examination of Zhizi, Jinshi and Maomao had parted ways, meaning he rode back alone, while Chue and Maomao detoured through the Capital. Maomao had made mention of needing to replace her shoe's soles before winter set in. Jinshi had wished he'd brought a mask or some other disguise, so he could've escorted her, as Chue had reminded him in her slow drawl of the report he had to write before promising to see Maomao home safely.
He must imagine the apologetic look in Maomao's eyes when she bids him farewell. Jinshi holds the carriage to watch her and Chue walk towards the market streets, until they're out of sight, before shutting the curtains with a sigh. All the way back to his office, Jinshi finds his hand closing around nothing.
That evening, while Jinshi stretches his arms high above his head after hours of paperwork, Chue appears, and sets a crudely wrapped bundle of oil paper upon his desk. "Huzzah!"
Jinshi scrunches his brow. "What's this?"
"A delivery from Miss Maomao!"
"Oh," Jinshi's palms itch. It was his turn to respond to her letter, but since he had just seen her that morning, he hadn't yet gotten the chance. It was unprecedented for her to send a follow up without word from him, so Jinshi surmised it would be some sort of clue to corroborate an unusual observation Maomao had made during her day in the city. She was usually good at relaying those sorts of things to him, when necessary. It was certainly nothing more.
He unfurled the paper, pining the corners with his thumb and forefingers, to expose the message scribbled inside.
Saw this and thought of you.
"Is it a frog?"
Jinshi blinked at the figurine which was currently covering up the paw-print which confirmed this had indeed been sent by Maomao. Whittled from a soft wood and painted a muted purple, was a rotund, blank faced little look-alike of the so-called slimy creature, about the size and color of a plum.
He's not so sensitive as he once was to take this in offense. Instead Jinshi choose to read into the fact that Maomao had seen the thing, thought of him, purchased it, and sent it off with Chue for a safe delivery. He held it up between two fingers, examining the craftsmanship from all sides with a chuckle. It was well-made, but ordinary. Just a trinket, something nominal, that she knew as well as him, was beneath his station. And yet, she had gotten it for him anyway.
Jinshi smiled and set it on his desk, straightening the little guy proudly. He would like to take it home and find a permanent place for it on the bare spaces of his bed's shelf. Suiren usually kept clear of his bedchambers aside from minding linens and basic cleaning, but still Jinshi would have to tuck it away to ensure she didn't take this. The reminder of other beloved toys lost in a similar manner made his mouth twitch downwards.
Chue spoke up at that moment, reminding Jinshi he wasn't alone. "Miss Maomao was quite pleased with this find!"
"I'm sure she was," he folded the paper with her short note, and tucked it into his chest pocket for safe keeping. Drumming his fingers upon the desk, he wondered if he should send thanks back to her now, or perhaps wait to see her in person again. It was a small gesture in the scheme of things, but from Maomao, for Jinshi, it felt monumental. Even if she was being a bit cheeky.
Chue folded her arms behind her back, steeping forward as she drew out the syllables. "She had quiet a time deciding."
"I have a hard time believing that," Jinshi looked up with a scoff. What else would she have picked if not a frog?
"Ah, well," Chue shrugged, "She was going to get the cat figure, until she saw that little guy and said he was just perfect. I didn't know the Moon Prince was such a fan of frogs!"
Jinshi coughed. "Er, no - look, don't go saying that …"
"Did you want the kitty, sir?"
Always, Jinshi rubs at his temples, though he mutters, "That's not it exactly."
Chue nodded sagely and said, "I am sure Miss Maomao would happily trade, if you asked. Though she did get really excited when she saw the frog…"
He sits still for a second, then can't help himself, "Oh, did she?"
"Yes!" Chue clapped her hands together and held them to her cheek. "She was nearly swooning with joy at the sight! She said she has never seen something so magnificent before and -"
Jinshi is almost certain Chue is messing with him, as much as her station allows it. That or Maomao's selective hearing has worn off on him, and he's merely hearing the words he wants, in the way he wants to hear them. Either way, he feels a sudden sense of anticipation, and sits up straighter to interrupt the clown.
"Miss Chue, can you arrange for Maomao to come over tonight?"
"Certainly!" Miss Chue chirps, looking as if she expected this exact request, before sliding out of the room.
As soon as she's gone, Jinshi plucks the frog back out of his pocket and holds it in front of his face for a closer inspection, as he leans back in his chair. It's big, dumb eyes look in opposite directions, and he can't help but laugh, certain Maomao had done the same when she had found it.
Magnificent, eh? This little thing...
—
Her arrival coincides with his evening tea, an event he is certain Chue and Suiren colluded on, though he doesn't mind. Seeing Maomao at both the beginning and end of his day is an unusual treat, even if he did sort of hope they could've shared a proper meal instead.
Eager to greet her, Jinshi pops up from the chaise he occupied in his parlor at the sound of her voice carrying down the hall. He slows as he approaches the turn she stands beyond and listens in.
"…I apologize for not laundering it myself, Lady Suiren, but I was worried about damaging the threads."
His lady-in-waiting's familiar chuckle responds, just as he looks upon the scene. "Now, Xiaomao, there's no need for apologies. I'm sure you took excellent care of the Young Master's garment while it was in your care. I can see to it from here."
Garment? Jinshi tilts his head, watching while Maomao hands off a neatly folded bundle of blue fabric to Suiren. It looks familiar. "Is that my coat?"
Maomao looks up, then away, as if she hadn't meant it to be seen by him with it, while Suiren covers her mouth with her sleeve as she laughs again. "Good evening, Jinshi-sama. Yes, I should have returned it much sooner. Thank you again for allowing me to borrow - "
"You should've just kept it," Jinshi blurted, only remembering Suiren and his guards were still there, when the former chided a soft Young Master to remind him of his audience.
Maomao glances back at the bundle still in Suiren's hands and says, "That's not necessary, sir."
"I know, but…" Jinshi trails off, and feels suddenly shy. But what? He isn't really sure, the thought of her keeping it merely entered his mind and exited his mouth. He hadn't thought hard about it, just as he hadn't thought hard about putting the coat over her shoulders that day or of what had become of it since. On one hand, this was a point against him in how out of touch he could be about ordinary things, but on the other - maybe he just didn't mind it so much if Maomao had something of his with her. At that thought, Jinshi put his hand to his chest pocket, over the frog, remembering why he'd called on her in the first place and gestured towards his chambers. "Nevermind. We should head inside. Er, for tea, if you would."
Maomao just nodded, and Suiren shooed them both down the hall, tucking the returned garment under her arm. She left them alone in his chambers, shutting the door in a way that felt pointed, after instructing Maomao to serve the tea and help the Young Master ready for bed, if she wouldn't mind.
Of course, Maomao had said yes, ma'am and moved to the table to do so. Jinshi had lingered near the door, fisting his sleeves. He hadn't meant for her to have to do all of that, and wishes Suiren wouldn't meddle in this way, knowing the old lady thought she was being clever in staging the privacy. Just as he starts to call her away, Maomao glances up as she carefully pours two cups. "Jinshi-sama, shall we sit?"
He nods. For some reason, just as he moves to do so, the memory from this morning of her holding his hand in the carriage barrels into his mind and sends a sudden rush of nerves throughout his chest. Jinshi practically trips over his own feet and lands ungracefully into his seat. Maomao side eyes him, but says nothing, making the moment more awkward than it already was. Knowing she is liable to say nothing without prodding, Jinshi breaks the ice rather lamely. "This tea smells interesting."
"Yes," Maomao says, holding the porcelain cup just under her little nose and wafting its aroma. "It does."
Jinshi pokes harder. "What is the blend, then?"
"It is made from sour jujube seeds. It's highly effective for those experiencing anxiety or insomnia. Miss Chue hadn't informed me as to the reasons for my summons, so I assumed you were feeling unwell. Apologies if I missed the mark, sir."
By this point Maomao had sipped the tea, nodded that it was unpoisoned - of course - and set her mug aside while Jinshi peered into his. He hadn't instructed Chue on an excuse, figuring one wasn't needed after receiving the frog totem, or that the strange bird would make something up anyways on his behalf. Slowly, Jinshi reads between Maomao's words, the things she doesn't say plainly, and hears her meaning. She received his unspecified summons, and had once again come prepared - but instead of anticipating another blunderous attempt at a night visit, Maomao had meant to tend to him, this time only in the medical sense.
"You didn't." Jinshi assured, as he brought the cup to his lips and drank, keen on not letting of her care go to waste. "Or rather, I didn't call on you for any sort of wellness check."
While he drinks, Maomao sits demurely at his side, watching him closely until he sets down the cup. It should not be such a farfetched thing to hear her say, after this morning and the frog trinket and, frankly, the last few months, but Jinshi nearly chokes when her subdued voice reaches his ears. "I worry about you, Jinshi-sama."
To hear her speak so plainly, simple words and forward meaning, after years of being illusive, sends the butterflies in his gut racing. Jinshi sees himself between one breath and the next reaching out for her hand, though he doesn't stop at linking their fingers. Instead he only realizes how he has pulled at her, when she comes to stand in front of his knees, hunching over as brings his other arm around her middle.
Embraced, Jinshi presses his face against her collar, holding Maomao close but not too tight. She offers no resistance, another unsubtle indication of how time, and maybe something less finite and more endearing, has softened her edges. For Maomao's thin arms don't hesitate to come around his shoulders, closing up the distance he had maintained. At this angle, she stands above him and he feels the soft pat of her hand upon the muscles of his back
Jinshi mumbles, "You shouldn't be the one worrying for me."
"Nonsense," Maomao scratches his scalp lightly. "You have much on your shoulders."
He doesn't know how to refute that, a shortcoming that has followed him around his entire life. Jinshi only exhales, curling his fist into her robe. Like the night she had come to his palace looking so downcast, or the one spent on his office floor in the Western Capital, he holds her as near as she allows, and not a fraction closer. Even the parts of him - the very pressing parts - that yearn for more than this feel satiated.
Maomao's hold is warm, comforting in a way Jinshi isn't used to, but desperately hopes he will come to be. He closes his eyes and tries to think of the last time someone had held him with anything that even neared the care of her quiet declaration or her simple touch, and comes up short. In two decades, he can't think of another person who has said they worried about him, and meant him, the man beneath the weight and not the title that haunted him, adding to his burden.
He drops her hand the one he had still held, and brings his other arm around her before leaning farther forward onto her. Maomao cannot take that weight from him - he hadn't meant her to, when he called upon her tonight - but he will lean on her while he can, just for a moment.
For such a slight creature, Maomao is not as weak as she puts off at times. Her returning embrace is steady, sure. Her petting turns to soothing scratches down his back, and he feels a pressure upon his hair that he cannot place, until it repeats against his forehead. Warm and soft, Jinshi's body recalls the sensation before his mind does, of feeling a featherlight kiss from Maomao. As much as she had calmed him with her embrace, his heart is now in a frenzy, far worse off than it had been this morning in the carriage.
Before Jinshi can properly react - what was the proper reaction to this? - Maomao stiffens in his arms. "Jinshi-sama."
"Y-yeah?"
"What is in your robe?"
"Huh?" Jinshi tilts his face up from where he had nuzzled himself, and just about leaps out of his seat with how close their faces come, his nose nearly brushing hers. Maomao must feel some pity for him, as she leans back farther with a grimace.
"Something is poking me…" Her hand comes around his front, patting at his chest before reaching within his robe. Jinshi nearly yelps, but her deft little fingers retreat quickly and produce none other than one innocent looking frog. "Ah, it's the frog again."
Again? Jinshi feels his brow furrow before he gets her joke. "Different frog."
"I'm well aware, sir." The pat to his shoulder is condescending at best.
The pair doesn't look at each other, instead staring at the frog in her hand, and Jinshi recalls why he called on her in the first place. "Thank you, by the way, for this."
Beyond the small purple trinket, her face remains impassive, even as her intelligent eyes flit to his. "You don't have to thank me for such a silly thing."
"I'm not," Jinshi winds his arms around her again, pulling her in farther until she has to perch on his knee. "I'm thanking you for thinking of me."
"Ah." Maomao settles in, turning over the toy. "You're welcome."
Whatever possesses Jinshi to bring his hand to cup her far cheek, and turn her face inwards is unknown to him. The hand to hold, the simple words, the warm embrace, he had thought that to be enough. A kind gesture and her reciprocation already beyond his expectations of her, fulfilling the loneliest parts of himself that he hadn't had to acknowledge before her. Yet, Jinshi knows only after seeing how Maomao's cheeks bloomed with blush and her eyes fell quickly shut, that this would be the thing he hadn't known he needed, or at the least thought he could last without.
This kiss is more than a press against skin, soft lips finding his and offering far more than she had any time before. Her hands return to his shoulders, frog and all, to anchor herself upon his lap. Warmth and pressure coax him to return the favor, subtly tilting her head to show him how. Her technique this time is far less aggressive than it had been years before; it feels as if she means to give, and not to take, a thought that makes his heart warm.
He has absolutely no clue how he fairs, only able to recognize how blissfully, terrifyingly good she is at this act, when her tongue traces his bottom lip. Jinshi clutches the fabric of her clothes in return, scared to let himself take more but not willing to let her go. It is Maomao who pulls back with a lazy look and a pat to his back, understanding he can't continue beyond this.
Again Jinshi leans into her, cheek pressing to her shoulder and closes his eyes, catching his breath. They sit there for another several minutes, and Maomao rests her head against his. He allows himself to once again be content with just this, feeling a bit less heavy for it, for now. As he opens his eyes, he sees the bit of purple in his periphery, of the frog she kept hold of, now back in her lap where she was idly toying with it, fittingly enough. A stray thought passes through his mind. "Chue mentioned you got another one for yourself."
"Mhmm."
"A cat."
"Yes, sir."
Jinshi lolls his head just enough to look at her in profile. "Would it happen to be in your robes, then too?"
Maomao narrows her eyes at nothing in particular, looking straight ahead. Like this, Jinshi can see her blush stains all down her neck, into the collar of her robe. Leaving the frog upon her lap, Maomao fishes into her sleeve and produces an unusually green cat figure, presenting it to him on her palm.
The little thing is sitting with one paw up, as if batting at an imaginary bug. Like the frog, it is also relatively unremarkable but not poorly made. Jinshi can't help but smile at the sight. "It's cute."
"Yes," She picks up the frog, setting it beside the cat. "They are."
—
She rises to depart not long after, and they make an almost painfully slow pilgrimage to his chamber door where he will call on Suiren to arrange her return. Much like the market trip, Jinshi can't do something as mundane as escort her home himself. Maddeningly, he considered suggesting she just stay but knows that's not an option, at least not a good one, as much as he wants it to be.
Instead, since he cannot ask her to stay, and he cannot go with her, Jinshi stills her at the wrist. "Maomao, before you go."
She does as he says, brow furrowing while watching him shrug out of his outer robe. Her face slips into something mildly more amused when he struggles to fold it, finally saying allow me, before making quick work of it and handing it back to him in a neat bundle.
"No, I mean," Jinshi returns it, feeling his face warm, "take this with you. Since you returned the other."
Maomao takes it with surprisingly little fight. Softly, she says, "This still isn't necessary."
"I know." He can't explain it himself, so he doesn't try.
Jinshi watches her back until she reaches the end of the hall, trailing dutifully behind Suiren, who only laughed behind her sleeve at the new-used robe in Maomao's arms. When she's gone, he returns to his chambers, slowing down at the table when he spots the little green cat waiting for him. Without a second thought, he plucks it as he passes by.
In his bed chambers, Jinshi takes care to straighten the cat on his bed shelf, just as he meant to do with the frog. Looking at the waving cat, Jinshi thinks, this is much better.
—
Just like Maomao had the last several weeks when readying herself for sleep in her dorm room, she shook out the too-fine robe and draped it over top her blanket.
This time, the fabric was different, softer, than the one she had grown accustomed to, though she didn't mind. The scent which had been fading steadily was strong once again, sandalwood and jasmine and a soft masculine heat, filled her senses once again and percolating memories of her evening. Maomao shuddered, though she could atleast admit to herself it was not in disgust.
Still, the day way done, and as she pulled the robe tighter around her, Maomao thought of how the extra weight overtop her would lend to a good night's rest. She had to shift around to settle in comfortably, stopping entirely when she felt a familiar poke.
Fishing around in the swimming fabric, Maomao found the pocket she was looking for, and removed its occupant. In her hand, she held up the chummy little frog. You again.
With little fanfare, Maomao set the frog on the floor beside her cot, and turned over to go to sleep.
How unnecessary, Maomao thought to herself as she burrowed beneath Jinshi's robe.