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There's a question that Maomao refuses to answer. She hasn't heard it spoken out loud - or rather, she refuses to understand exactly what it means - but it hangs over her head like an executioner's blade, always ready and willing to sever her from the rest of her entire life.
But calling it just a "question" is an understatement - when the man who insists that Maomao will be his wife is the Moon Prince himself, even something so impossible becomes as true and inevitable as how the sun rises every morning.
Hearing these impassioned words in such a lovely voice should be a dream anyone wouldn't want to wake up from.
And yet, Maomao still keeps digging her nails into her palm, hoping and begrudgingly praying that she can still open her eyes and find her way back to reality.
Master Jinshi - she refuses to call him any other name, even if it's just in her head - Master Jinshi, he sits in front of her, in the Moon Prince's quarters. He's keeping his hands busy with the metal cup Maomao had gone out of her way to convince him to use, a while back, but his eyes are still trained stubbornly on her face.
Not like there's anything particularly special for him to see there, she sighs, hands reaching down to take a swig of her own cup. A drier wine than the one Jinshi had been drinking.
She'd had to take a small sample of Jinshi's cup earlier, obviously to test for poison and not just because of the unfettered joy spreading across his face when he'd continue drinking from a cup she'd sipped from.
When this all started, she'd protested - surely the most eligible bachelor in this kingdom shouldn't be debasing himself by swapping spit with a lowly, brothel-born apothecary - but he'd only leveled her with those sparkling eyes, a sheepish flush on his face as he'd muttered something about it being too late to worry about that, and she'd decided to give up and just stop thinking too much about it.
"Sometimes when you look at me like that I can almost hear the gears turning in your brain, do you know that?" Jinshi says, breaking the silence between them with such a musical voice. "It makes me feel content, somehow. Like I'm some sort of puzzle for you to solve. And we both know how you feel about puzzles."
When he smiles at her like that, eyes crinkling in delight, Maomao feels like she should gouge her own eyeballs out for daring to imprint such a lovely sight behind her eyelids, but she doesn't know what to do with that thought, either.
He's pouting, now, that perfect bottom lip of his jutting out. It's a perfect specimen, as perfect as the rest of him, the inside of his lip a glossy pink. Maomao is not thinking about the noises he might make if she leans into his personal space right now and graze her teeth against that --
"Hey, don't you have anything to say to that? Heeeeeey. Apothecaryyyy."
That's not my name.
"I don't know what you mean." Maomao says, deciding to go on the defensive route, again. Parrying his damned sparkly shooting star eyes with a cold glare. It's been working particularly well thus far.
Case in point: her mundane everyday life hasn't been intruded upon by something as inane as a royal engagement, yet.
Yet.
Jinshi frowns. "You always say that, but you never mean it. You always know what I mean, don't you?"
"If that's how you think, then that's what it must be. Whatever helps you sleep at night." Maomao sets her own cup down on the table in front of them without the satisfying clink that glass would have made, eyes half-lidded and trained faithfully on the alcohol left in her cup.
Jinshi sighs, as he's prone to doing whenever Maomao steps back and washes her hands of responsibility off of...whatever this "this" that hangs heavy in the space between them is. Even such a mundane, ordinary sound feels like it should have musical accompaniment, when it comes from his lips.
Maomao thinks that isn't an original thought and neither would it add anything to any conversation, so she's never going to say that, either.
"Did you finally take a look through the portraits they sent you?" Maomao says, and regrets just as soon as the words come out of her mouth. Here she is stubbornly saying she wanted to draw Jinshi's mind away from marriage proposals...only to talk about more marriage proposals.
But the words are already out there, in the space between them, so all she can do is tilt her head back and finish her cup down to the bottom.
"I did, but just so nobody could say I didn't." Jinshi says, voice as pleasantly polite as it always is, when he talks about something he does not want to talk about. Maomao's eyes are focused on how the alcohol in her bottle flows down into the cup she's refilling, so she can't dare confirm if those puppy dog eyes are as sad as his voice seems to be. "I don't need a portrait to figure out who I want to marry. I just need a certain someone to say yes. So...won't you?"
Sheer desperation colors such terrifying words.
Maomao allows herself a peek.
And there it is again, that same adoring gaze, those same expectant hands reaching out for hers - any other woman, any other person would think this moment, this affection was a gift from the heavens, the culmination of lifetime upon lifetimes worth of pristinely perfect karma.
To be completely honest: there is a part of Maomao, frozen though she may seem, that yearns to lean into that warm touch, to accept the honey-sweet yearning flowing through those obsidian eyes. But there is also the part of her that is so much like her namesake that claws at her chest and pierces through her bones, begging her to do anything but take a step forward.
So she takes two steps back.
"Interrogating me, again. And here I thought you'd finally called me over to ply me with alcohol before you take me."
"...!"
It should be a crime to still look so good while choking on one's own drink, Maomao thinks then, as she refills Jinshi's cup with water as he takes a fist to his chest and strikes against the breastbone, hard. But Jinshi has always been a fluke of nature, eyes glittering with unshed tears, hair flowing like water in the wind as he rocks back and forth, coughing into his other hand. Even at what he might call his "worst", cheeks scarlet from the implications, he still looks like the same damned celestial beauty Maomao tries and fails to tear her eyes away from.
Maomao thinks he's overreacting - of all the things either of them have said and implied over the years, surely this isn't what's worth taking a spit-take over?
"Cough! You! Cough, cough! Don't say it like that!"
Still not my name.
"Oh, but isn't it the truth? Unfortunately for the both of us, the one who said they wanted to bite, kiss and lick was most definitely not me." Maomao's face is perfectly still, those placid eyes of hers a perfect mask to hide behind the memories of how, in the cloak of darkness, she had took to imagining how those goddamned perfect lips would close around her skin, how those slender fingers would run down the barest whispers of her curves. "We're going to end up with me in your bed, anyway. I fail to see the logic behind you waiting for this long."
"You...you know that's not what this is about." Jinshi says, finally drinking his water. He clears his throat, pink flush still spreading across his cheeks like comets crossing the sky. "I didn't want you just for your body. This isn't a carnal impulse, no matter how much you inspire that in me. I want you as my wife."
"It would be much better if you wanted me for my body, but I understand these chicken bones don't do much to stir up blind desire." Maomao deadpans, stubbornly ignoring the last half of his words. "One of your stature needs not say such sweet words to grace himself with this lowly one's presence. Think of me as nothing but a warm hole to use at will."
As soon as the faraway words finish slipping though her lips, Jinshi freezes, and Maomao knows she's said the wrong thing, again. She doesn't know why - it's only right to put that talent of hers forward. She has been trained since her youth what best to do to tend to a man. Not how to love one, but how to serve one.
Courtesans never fuck around with love, after all - all it does is tear them apart.
Case in point, the woman who bore her.
"You - my apothecary really should be careful with how her words are construed."
Something about the casual possession that always wraps around that my apothecary always makes Maomao fight back the flutter of something deep in her bones. She ignores it anyway, as per always.
"My apologies. But still, I mean what I said."
"Trust me when I say that every time I say 'no' something in me weeps." Jinshi grumbles, still flushed that same pretty shade of pink. Does he know the innuendo in his words? Somehow it's kind of adorable if he doesn't. "My reckless cat. So blasé about...copulation, but so evasive when it comes to matrimony."
"Well, you did buy me out as a courtesan. Won't it be a disservice to all that coin if I didn't do what I'm expected to?"
"Wait, do you mean all your sisters always give me those knowing winks because they always think we're already--" One beautiful hand reaches up to pinch the bridge of an equally perfect nose. "...you know what, don't answer that, I already don't want to know."
That flush only deepens as he hides his eyes from view - is Jinshi imagining those scenes again? The generic bodies in the reading material he'd once requested for the consorts, scrubbed out and replaced with his body over hers? Does he imagine being surrounded by her as he pushes in, how her eyes would squeeze shut as pleasure rushes through them both?
If that's so, he'd better share those imaginings with her.
For scientific reasons.
Totally not because she would jump at the first chance to enact them with him for reasons she refuses to admit are beyond her insistence on duty.
"Stop looking at me like that."
With his eyes still covered, he doesn't even see how intently she's looking at him, so what is he even talking about? Maomao leans back and realizes how closely she had been leaning forward in anticipation.
"Any other day you would say I'm not looking at you enough." Maomao sighs. "And I should stop looking at you like what, exactly?"
"Don't make me say it."
Now, Maomao knows better than to question the command of an Imperial, but sometimes she just can't resist the allure of pretending to be obtuse. "Why shouldn't I?"
Jinshi mutters something under his breath. It just might be a few choice curse words that would make Suiren wash his mouth out with soap.
"I can't hear you, Sir."
"I said you look at me like I'm a piece of meat, sometimes." Jinshi forces out through gritted teeth. "Not that I don't...enjoy it, but it makes me hard to hold so many things back."
One of those things just might be that impressive frog that Maomao once had the good and bad luck to accidentally splay her fingers around.
"Don't look at it!!"
"But of course, Master Jinshi is capable of knowing where my eyes go, in spite of blocking his physical sight. My congratulations on reaching this level of skill."
"I've grown to become hyperaware of your gaze and where it falls upon, there I said it, are you happy now?" Jinshi huffs, eyes still squeezed shut, and Maomao thinks that maybe she took this too far because with his closed eyes and flushed cheeks this would be exactly the right time to cross the distance between them and dare to drop a kiss against those pink lips.
Uh, someone else would do that if faced with this expression, she means. Yeah.
Maomao clears her throat. "And I tell you, you don't need to hold back. Marriage is an order too kind for someone like me."
She doesn't know how to become a noble's wife, after all, especially doesn't know how to become wife to the second-noblest man in the kingdom. Now, she doesn't completely know how to become a noble's mistress, either - it's just that same goddamned tenacity of hers, the same irresponsible urge that drives her to do stupid things like warn consorts with flowers or stab snakes with hairpins, it tells her that her courtesan training has taught her enough for that.
"If I was thinking with my other head, trust me, you'd have been spending every night in my sheets by now." There is something about the way Jinshi grudgingly admits to this that pierces right through Maomao's gut, and she doesn't know how to feel about such an obvious reaction. "Yes, I want you as my lover. Yes, I want you as my wife. But more than that, I want you to continue your profession. Unfortunately for my Esteemed Brother and his wishes, making sure you're ready and able to complete your work takes first priority for me."
Maomao decides to ignore how apparently, the Son of Heaven himself has been waiting for them to hurry up and take each other to bed already. "I'm sure that something can be arranged if my work is the only reason why. You always find a way. So why is it a problem this time?"
"Ugh."
Jinshi, his eyes trembling but finally back open, hunches over himself in a way that tells her their impressive friend just might have made its appearance for tonight. Maomao's eyes wander down. If getting her with child is the problem hence the insistence on marriage, she could just walk around this damned table and sink to her knees, open her mouth wide before she can bury her face into his lap and play that majestic flute.
"I didn't call you for that. I swear to every deity that exists, I just got that wine and thought you would enjoy it. I admit I had wanted to see you, too, because as you must know by now, I...adore you, and I miss your presence." Jinshi flushes even redder, lips pressed tightly together as he thinks the words aloud in his head. I adore you, I miss you, I love you...
Damn, that's way more embarrassing than imagining us in bed, for sure. Maomao's cheeks feel warm, too, but she hopes he won't notice the barest hints of red in her cheeks. Jinshi's still flushing that pretty color that brings out the warmth of his endlessly black eyes and Maomao wants to excuse it away by saying he's probably drunk and completely out of his mind. Never mind how Jinshi had always, always only ever told the truth when he got drunk.
Maomao has to excuse herself before he tells her more embarrassing heart-related bullshit. Before she has to admit that whenever Jinshi evades every one of her raunchy propositions, it's disappointment that takes over the annoying thump-thump-thump of her heart.
"I think I must take my leave before they notice I still haven't returned to the dorm." Maomao says then, her eyes trained to a spot above Jinshi's shoulder. "Shouldn't I?"
Take it or leave it, my master --
"Ehrm, yes, if you say so." Jinshi coughs, casually but pointedly blocking his lap from her view with the billowing sleeves of his robes. "Yes, that will be all."
Maomao bows quickly, hiding behind her sleeves. She has to pass by the sulking beauty before she can reach the doors. She hadn't thought of this as much as she probably should have, when she was asking him why he'd been taking so long to devour her. It's also not thought that guides her to step closer, lean down, and wrap two of her fingers around one of his.
Jinshi is, instantly, a mess.
The sounds coming out of his mouth don't appear to be words. He's looking at Maomao with alarm even as she refuses to look his way, her bland expression laser-focused on what she had chosen to hold onto. It's the middle finger of his right hand, her thumb and index finger squeezing mildly as she goes from the base of his finger, to the first knuckle, the second one, going back up to the base between his fingers. Seriously, why the hell are his fingers so needlessly long and slender, it all feels like such a waste somehow.
Also, if she puts his ring finger beside the middle finger, this would be the perfect width to test out how much she would need to --
...right. Right. Maomao was going to leave.
"Until the next time, then." Maomao mutters as she lets go and walks away, making sure to fully ignore the hunger her touch had awakened in Jinshi's unfocused eyes.
This time, she thinks, something wild and improbable hammering through her chest as she walks briskly down the hallway, I really should mean it.