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“There are plenty of good things here besides the turtle. You’re really not going to eat any of it?”
“...May I?”
“Be my guest.”
“You’re absolutely sure?”
“Yes.”
“I REALLY AM GOING TO EAT IT.”
“Okay?”
Jinshi’s intent stare is boring a hole through Maomao’s head, and she can only assume that the heat has reached his brain. Once again, she wonders why they couldn't have just cracked a window hours ago. They didn't have to throw it wide open for all those passing by to see the indecently lounging eunuch, just enough to catch a breeze. Sure, the frogs outside are awfully loud, but it would be a small price to pay for some airflow.
For some reason, Gaoshun shakes his head ‘no’ but Jinshi’s attention is entirely fixed on Maomao, either not seeing or simply ignoring his aide. Maomao elects to follow Jinshi’s lead, so she picks an oyster out of its shell and offers it to him on her chopsticks. Gaoshun lunges toward them, but Jinshi is faster and quickly closes his lips around the mollusk. His eyes widen as he slowly chews, and Gaoshun gives a silent but long-suffering sigh.
“See? It's perfectly fine,” Maomao reassures everyone as she takes a bite of oyster for herself and hands Jinshi a set of chopsticks. “Master Jinshi, try the sea cucumber. It has a very flavorful ginger and garlic sauce,” she suggests as Jinshi ponders the spread. He shrugs and takes her advice, leaning slightly into Maomao’s space to reach the dish.
“You're right, that's delicious,” he replies, and this time his eyes close as he savors the slice. Maomao makes a mental note that his already flushed complexion has become just a hint darker, but she doesn't believe it's cause to worry yet. She's quite aware of what these foods are meant to do, but the effects shouldn't be too strong. This should be nothing like the chocolate the Jade pavilion ladies sampled, or so Pairin and Meimei have told her.
Should she take into account the source of that knowledge and their tolerance…? No, it's probably fine. Maomao never heard any distasteful rumors about a beautiful eunuch running amok after she provided him with those chocolate-covered fruits, so Jinshi shouldn’t be too affected by some energy-inducing and qi-tonifying foods, right? Yes, Maomao will go with that logic.
“Basen, Xiaomao, it may be best if you both retire for the evening,” says Gaoshun in an oddly clipped voice.
Maomao wants to protest, but Jinshi beats her to the punch. “Nonsense, this is far too much for one person,” he says, and he offers Basen a cup of the juice-and-mostly-spirits.
Basen drinks slowly, but he finishes the entire cup. He “mmm”s in appreciation, but freezes before he can take the chopsticks Jinshi is offering. His head slowly turns to Jinshi, a look of shock written across his wide eyes and drooping jaw. “How… how are you both unaffected?” he asks as his body sways, the empty cup falling from his hand.
Maomao raises an eyebrow; firstly, at Basen, because she's never met anyone so susceptible to drink, but also at Jinshi, who makes no attempt to mitigate Basen’s collision with the floor. This is the same man who deigned to carry a serving girl (twice) and allowed her blood to stain his ceremonial robes, so his somewhat callous manner toward a man he's apparently known since childhood strikes Maomao as odd. But then again, Gaoshun doesn't look worried either, so if even Basen’s father is unconcerned, then maybe his physical constitution is stronger than his alcohol tolerance.
Speaking of Gaoshun, he takes the opportunity to beckon to Maomao while Jinshi is preoccupied with choosing his next dish to sample. She complies and joins him near the door to the hallway.
“Xiaomao…” he begins hesitantly, “this isn't how you were meant to find out, but given Master Kousen’s current disposition…”
Maomao senses she's about to learn something that will complicate matters, and she tries to head it off before it brings her more trouble. “Master Gaoshun, it’s quite alright, I'm only a maid and a taster, and I don't need to know the details of my employer’s business,” she replies, her body and arms sinking into a bow out of habit.
“If it were only business, your discretion would be welcomed, but unfortunately that is not the case,” Gaoshun replies.
Maomao tries to swallow her grimace as Gaoshun continues.
“Surely, you've noticed that Master Jinshi’s responsibilities extend beyond a typical eunuch’s,” he says, and Maomao nods reluctantly. “His positions–both of them–are the result of an agreement he made with His Majesty–”
“That's enough, Gaoshun.”
Looking over her shoulder, Maomao sees that Jinshi is watching them with an unamused pout on his face. He doesn't look angry, per say, but it's enough to cut off Gaoshun’s explanation.
“Basen and I shall retire for the evening,” Gaoshun sighs, a weary hand on his forehead.
“I'll help you,” says Jinshi, and between the two men, they manage to lift Basen to his feet, and he rouses enough to stumble out of the room with his father’s assistance.
Which leaves Maomao alone with an unmarried, disgustingly beautiful, disheveled-looking nobleman of obscure high rank, whose powerful connections apparently include the emperor himself. And a table full of aphrodisiacs to share between the two of them.
“Perhaps I should leave you to enjoy your meal in peace, sir,” says Maomao, still standing where Gaoshun left her near the door.
“You said yourself that leftovers would look suspicious.”
Damn him for using her own logic against her.
“I meant there would be leftovers if the only one eating was me,” she grouses. “I'm sure this is an appropriate amount to serve to a noble.”
Jinshi grimaces at her. “Just sit,” he says. “Eat. You could stand to eat a little more in general, you know. You still haven't gained back all the weight you lost while tending to the roses,” he instructs.
Maomao rolls her eyes but does as she is told. It's not worth telling him that she used to be even skinnier over some winters; almost every time she tells him something about her life before the palace, he either responds with shock and horror, the way he did to the snapping turtle story, or he makes that strange, serious face like when he gave her his hair stick. That serious expression always makes Maomao feel like some insect is crawling across her skin, but not in an unpleasant way, which doesn't make any sense (and she's slightly concerned that Shisui is rubbing off on her). Jinshi's shock is at least amusing, but sometimes it just reminds her how out of her depth she is in these settings.
Oh well. Maomao tried to maintain propriety, but who is she to contradict her employer? Besides, the fresh figs appear to be served on a bed of their own leaves which, while not directly poisonous, can induce a skin reaction if the affected area is exposed to sunlight! Seeing as this hunt will likely have them outside all day, perhaps Maomao could experiment with the exposure time, and later test some remedies for inflammation. She’ll have to make sure Jinshi avoids touching the leaves; hopefully, he'll be so satisfied from the meal that he won't notice her pocketing them.
They pass most of the meal without further conversation aside from brief commentary on the food, which is truly exquisite. Even Jinshi, who enjoys Suiren’s cooking daily, is clearly impressed. He savors a bite of saffron rice and even tries the turtle afterall, and it seems to be to his liking. The enjoyment shows in his face as he smiles and sways, the color in his cheeks becoming a darker pink. His arm brushes against his loosened robes as he dives into the spread for more, once again leaning into Maomao’s space as he reaches for the figs that caught her eye earlier.
In close proximity, Maomao notices that his body seems warmer than usual. Sure, the room is still overly hot, but he seems even warmer than before, despite his robes being almost entirely open across the chest. Jinshi also seems to take his time returning to his seat, and Maomao could swear he casts a quick sidelong glance at her face before retracting his arm, the fig on the end of his chopsticks.
“Would you like one, apothecary?” he asks, and why does his voice sound like pure, warm honey?
Despite her usual preference for salt and spice, the fig doesn't sound half bad right now.
“If you insist, Master Jinshi.”
Isn't there a different name she's supposed to use while they're here? Well, he said his usual name was fine in his chambers, although wasn't it rather odd that he'd said his “usual” one instead of just “my name”?
Maomao’s thoughts are cut off by Jinshi holding out the fig in front of her face. The scene reminds her of a certain incident with some honey back in the Jade pavilion, but at least the fig is on his chopsticks instead of his fingers. She wraps her lips around the slice of fruit and slowly pulls it into her mouth.
She glances at Jinshi to see him gaping at her, his hand with the now-empty chopsticks frozen in front of her face.
Oops, I forgot, that’s how Pairin eats treats with her customers. Why did I do that?
That thought prompts Maomao to reevaluate Jinshi’s current condition. She watches him as she savors the fruit; flushed skin on his face and neck, a light sheen of sweat across what she can see of his chest, pupils dilated more than usual. Maomao sets down her utensils and takes his left wrist in her hand to check his pulse.
“Ah… Apothecary?”
She doesn't look up at the debaucherous sight she knows she will find.
“Master Jinshi, I believe you've had enough,” she says as she releases his wrist. “You are showing signs of an elevated pulse and body temperature, so the meal appears to be having its intended effect.”
“Is it now?” he asks with a lilt in his voice.
Maomao expected displeasure or frustration, so she glances up at him to gauge her error. “You're not upset?” she asks.
Jinshi leans through her space again to reach another fig, but instead of settling back in his place, he leans an elbow on the table as he imitates Maomao’s method of consuming the fruit.
No man’s mouth has any right to look that supple, eunuch or not.
“I can think of worse ways to spend an evening than indulging in such a meal with my favorite apothecary,” he replies, and he fixes his slightly hooded eyes on Maomao.
“I'm probably the only apothecary you know,” she grumbles as she tries to wiggle his chopsticks out of his hand.
Instead of complying (Maomao doesn't know why she thought he would), he extends his arm upward and holds his chopsticks above Maomao’s head. The shit-eating grin on his face alerts Maomao that she's probably glaring at him again, and she tries to quickly relax her face back into a neutral expression.
“What's the harm in having a little more, if the damage is already done?” Jinshi asks through a smirk.
Maomao shuts her eyes briefly to contain her frustration before she gets to her feet. She takes advantage of Jinshi’s slowed reaction time to pluck the chopsticks out of his hand.
Undaunted, he reaches past her with his left hand to grab a fig with his fingers.
Maomao briefly debates if she should flee the scene, but decides against it. If Jinshi is going to act like a little brat, she probably shouldn't leave him unsupervised… There's also a challenge in his eyes, and even without knowing the competition or the winnings, Maomao can't allow herself to back down.
“You are not feeding me that fig, so don't even think about it,” she informs him as she crosses her arms across her chest.
Jinshi sighs and plops the fruit into his own mouth instead. “Fine, have it your way. I suppose you'd rather have something more savory, anyway,” he says, eyeing the sea cucumber. “Too bad someone took away my chopsticks…” he adds, while reaching with his free hand.
“I said you've had enough!” Maomao reiterates as she tries to push his chair away from the table before he can grab something else.
Jinshi holds his hands up in surrender as he relents and allows Maomao to shove him backward, but his weight combined with the chair is too much for her to budge. Changing tactics, Maomao grabs one of his hands and tries to pull him out of the chair instead. Jinshi doesn’t fight it, but he doesn’t go peacefully either, and the next thing Maomao knows, there’s a hand gripping her waist. As she loses her balance, Maomao refuses to believe that the undignified yelp comes from her own mouth. Jinshi, on the other hand, just smiles as he adjusts to cushion her fall.
Maomao ends up with her cheek in the gap of his open robes, a hand caught in his belt, and her knee somewhere around his groin. She supposes it's a good thing he's a eunuch, or else her landing would have caused him a bit of trouble. A sigh escapes between her lips, but she realizes too late that her landing position makes it so that she is essentially blowing on his nipple.
“Mmmmm,” she hears (and feels) from beneath her.
“Pervert,” Maomao mumbles under her breath, ignoring that every word she utters is prolonging the sensation Jinshi seems to be enjoying. She tries to adjust her position so that she can get off of him, but her knee encounters something unexpected as she shifts her weight.
“Oh!- Ooooohhhhhhhh…”
Maomao pauses her movement. “Huh?”
Her mind is working double-time to figure out what she just bumped against. The object isn't exactly soft, though it seems to move and shift as she gently nudges it again with her knee.
Jinshi moans in his throat as his arm tightens around Maomao.
This cannot be happening, and therefore Maomao decides it is not happening. She'll have to take responsibility for allowing Jinshi to eat this cursed meal and accept her punishment in the morning.
Somehow.
For now, though, she needs to deflect. “Sir, it seems that one of the frogs from outside has found its way into your quarters,” she says in what she hopes is a flat and unaffected tone of voice.
Jinshi cracks an eye open and gives her an unimpressed look. “If you honestly think that's a frog, then there's a lot lacking in the Verdigris House’s training,” he replies.
Maomao returns his volley with a red-faced glare (she can feel the heat in her cheeks and refuses to think about it). “Perhaps you should ask Master Lihaku about that,” she snaps.
Jinshi glares back at her with a touch of panic on his face. “But… you… said… I thought…” he stammers.
I guess that hit below the belt, Maomao muses to herself.
“He never has any complaints after a night with Big Sis Pairin, and she was a very thorough teacher,” she clarifies, and Jinshi lets his head fall back onto the soft carpet.
Maomao isn't sure if this counts as a victory or not; she appears to have gotten the last word, but she is still trapped in the eunuch’s arms, and he–
As the “frog” twitches against her lower thigh, Maomao is reminded that her master is no eunuch at all. And here she is alone with him, his robes practically melting off his shoulders, and both of them hopped up on a banquet spread fit for the most debaucherous houses in the Pleasure District.
“I should really go…” she says in a small voice, but she makes no move to do so for fear of waking his “frog” further.
Jinshi sighs and at last sits himself up. His arms loosen enough for Maomao to readjust, but not enough for her to leave his lap. “No, there's… there's something I need to tell you,” he says.
Maomao can't help the unpleasant twinge she feels in her limbs. She may have failed spectacularly at keeping her head down and quietly serving out her contract without causing trouble, but trouble of this magnitude is beyond her wildest nightmares. An uncut man has been masquerading as the highest ranked eunuch in the rear palace. As if working directly under him isn't bad enough, he's about to make her his knowing accomplice.
It's been a few minutes when Maomao realizes that Jinshi hasn't tried to speak yet. “Sir, I'm just a maid and a food taster,” she offers. “I have no need or right to know more than required to do my duties.”
He shakes his head, refusing the escape route she gave him. “You’re much more than that, and telling you is part of the reason I brought you on this trip,” he admits, and his hand begins to move in a slow circle on her lower back. “How much did Gaoshun already say?” he asks.
In an effort to avoid his eyes (and exposed pectorals), Maomao looks down at her hands as she answers. “He said you have an agreement with the emperor,” she replies quietly.
Jinshi doesn't say anything else at first, though his hand continues caressing her back. Maomao doesn't want to admit that it’s starting to relax her nerves.
“That’s correct,” he affirms. “The emperor knows what I am. He doesn't approve of the path I've chosen, and he expects I’ll change my mind someday, but that's not the point,” he adds.
Maomao stays silent as the pieces fall into place. An uncut man allowed in the rear palace. A man involved in approving laws. A man who can perform rituals. A man qualified to attempt the trial that used to select the ruler. A man who displayed a downright familial relationship with the emperor.
A hand brushes against her neck and tilts her chin upward until Jinshi’s face fills her view. He doesn't exactly look happy, but there's a soft vulnerability in his eyes. “You're mumbling again, but you're on the right track,” he hints.
Maomao scrunches her eyes shut as she shakes her head almost violently. “The ages don't line up, and they say he's terribly burned, and even so, such a man would never need an insignificant girl in his confidence–”
“I disagree.”
Jinshi’s arm on her back wraps tightly around her, and the hand under her chin moves to tuck her head against his chest. She feels his cheek resting against her hair, and his fingers sink into one of her buns.
“Sir, this is inappropriate. I'm far too low born for y–”
“You’re not, but even so it doesn't matter,” he cuts her off in a husky voice. “You may be willfully obtuse, but you're not blind to my regard for you.”
Grasping for any excuse she can find, Maomao tries again to dissuade him. “This is clearly the aphrodisiacs and the alcohol talking,” she whines as she tries to push him away without success.
“And who insisted I eat such food, knowing exactly what it was intended to do?” asks Jinshi. It's so clearly rhetorical, and she can hear the smile in his voice.
That makes Maomao pause; why did she encourage him to eat the meal? Jinshi is perfectly capable of being a menace and a pest without any help, so why did she tell him it was safe to eat? Even the Verdigris House didn't usually pack so much energy-enhancing food into one meal. What could she have been thinking? Had she even been thinking?
Jinshi hums contentedly into her scalp. “Perhaps you should take responsibility,” he says, the lilt back in his voice.
Maomao gulps almost audibly, but she finds herself considering Jinshi’s words… if he really is the imperial brother, then even a mere suggestion is as good as an order. Right? That's why her hands are finding their way to the knot in his belt, right?
“M-Maomao? What are you doing?”
Her fingers have loosened the knot already as his words hit her ears. Jinshi may have a point, why is she starting this on the floor? That can't possibly be acceptable for a royal. His arms have finally loosened enough for Maomao to stand, and his face relaxes slightly when she does. Jinshi also rises to his feet, though he shifts his weight from one foot to the other as though he isn't sure what to do next.
He tenses again when Maomao takes his hand and starts to lead him away from the table.
“Maomao?!”
She plops Jinshi down to sit on the bed before she answers: “Would you prefer to sit or lie down?”
Jinshi’s head tilts to the side as his eyebrows furrow in confusion. “Sit or lie down for what?” he asks stupidly.
Maomao pushes her shoulders back and gathers her resolve. “Once I begin an endeavor, I prefer to finish what I start, sir,” she replies in the most business-like tone she can muster.
She places her left hand on his shoulder while her right hand reaches down to squeeze his “frog” through the skirt of his robes.
“I was only teasing!” Jinshi chokes out, his voice breaking slightly as he fights the urge to moan again under Maomao’s fingers.
“I incited this, it's only right I take responsibility,” says Maomao. Her voice wavers a bit, though she refuses to consider whether it's from hesitation or anticipation.
“I didn't bring you into my household to be a courtesan!” Jinshi sputters. He grips her upper arms as if to push her away, but instead he ends up gently holding her in place and lightly squeezing her while he tries to explain himself: “This isn't in your contract, you don't have to–”
“No need to worry, sir,” Maomao cuts him off. “The Verdigris House taught me plenty of techniques that will keep your chastity intact.”
“WHAT?!”
By now, her left hand has pushed his robes completely open, and her right hand is pulling the proof of his non-eunuch status out of his undergarment. A satisfied sigh escapes his lips, and Jinshi drops sideways onto the bed.
Maomao takes this as a positive sign and begins to lightly brush her thumb over the moistened tip, and she earns a deep groan from the general direction of Jinshi’s face. With a gentle push on his shoulder, she guides the prince (the prince!) to his back and kneels on the bed next to him. Muscle memory from her training begins to kick in as she glides her hand along his shaft, and her hand on his shoulder drags slowly down his exposed pectorals. He shivers wordlessly as she brushes close to a nipple without actually touching it, and he sighs contentedly as her lower hand squeezes him firmly at the base.
The revulsion Maomao expected from such acts and responses doesn't come.
Whenever Pairin or Meimei taught her about the intricacies of intimate touch, Maomao would feel an uncomfortable stiffness across her chest and down to her stomach, like her skin was stretched too tight over her lungs, and her last meal, meager as it probably was, wanted to crawl up her throat. Eventually Joka would usually intervene and insist on teaching other useful things such as tea ceremony etiquette, but both Maomao and her youngest big sister knew what kind of future awaited a courtesan with Maomao’s build and temperament. Joka’s path of scholarship and intelligent conversation would not be open to Maomao, and if she paid attention to Pairin and Meimei’s lessons, she might at least have some say in which customers invaded her bed. So, she tolerated the training and absorbed as much as she could, all while furiously trying to prove to the Madame that she would be much more useful and profitable as an apothecary.
But now, as she lightly cups Jinshi’s very much still present crown family jewels, Maomao finds herself intrigued. The lightest stimulation brings forth such alluring sounds from Jinshi’s lips, and she can't help feeling slightly powerful. Every perfect muscle on Jinshi’s body is taught, his breathing heavy and uneven, his long limbs thrown about the bed. His cock in Maomao’s palm is stiff and red, and judging by his uneven breath, he won't last much longer.
Maomao brought him to such a state. Maomao, the scowling, freckle-faced, flat-as-a-board street cat of a woman managed to use her hard-won skills to turn the prince of a nation into a groaning puddle of a man with only a few well-placed strokes of her fingers. Maybe it's the reactions, or the effect of the aphrodisiacs she also consumed (maybe because it's him), but for the first time in her 18 years, Maomao feels a courtesan’s pride as she turns the man beneath her touch to puddy.
“Maomao, I can't– I'm going to–”
In a split second, Maomao decides to finish this properly (and also avoid changing the sheets), and she bends down to take Jinshi into her mouth. One quick swish of her tongue is all it takes for the dam to break, and his seed gushes past her lips. A guttural groan of satisfaction rings out near the head of the bed as Maomao lightly sucks and swallows, determined not to spill a drop. She squeezes the shaft gently a few times to make sure she's caught everything before releasing his cock and wiping her mouth. Maomao would love to rinse her mouth out (the flavor wasn't bad, but it would likely be an acquired taste), but there were more important matters to handle first.
Jinshi whines as Maomao departs the bed and kneels before him. She hears the rustling of fabric as he puts himself away and pulls at least some of his robes across his body.
“That… that was…” he begins, eyes closed as he searches for the word, but his demeanor sharpens when he opens them to see Maomao on the floor. “What are you doing down there?” he asks, his words slurring slightly.
Maomao bows her head to the ground, her hands in front of her in supplication. “I am awaiting my punishment, your highness,” she answers, satisfied that she manages to answer without her voice wavering.
Jinshi doesn't reply right away, but he almost shouts when he processes her statement. “Why on earth do you think you deserve punishment?”
“I encouraged the crown prince to consume an inappropriate meal,” Maomao responds calmly. “Considering the content, any reasonable person would assume I did that intentionally to take advantage,” she says into the carpet.
Sure, he's amused now, but once the haze clears, Jinshi–or whatever his true name is–will realize that this is Maomao’s fault. She gave her word as a food taster and an apothecary that the meal was safe to eat, even knowing that her master was concerned enough about exactly this situation that he’d sequestered in a self-inflicted sauna all afternoon and planned to wear a mask for the duration of the trip. All Maomao had to do was let him eat the rations he'd already planned to eat, but instead she'd convinced him to eat a meal potent enough that it might even knock Pairin on her ass.
Maybe Jinshi the eunuch would be annoyed and amused, but without knowing what is real and what is part of the mask, Maomao doesn't know if the crown prince will be so forgiving.
She hears the smack of skin on skin and glances up to see Jinshi’s head in his hand. “This is exactly why I didn't want to say anything,” he groaned. “Maomao, stop being ridiculous and get up.”
“Of course, your highness.”
“No– wait– That’s not an order! And don't call me that!” he sputters as Maomao rises.
Hm, maybe that childish side of him isn't part of the mask afterall, Maomao thinks to herself as she bows, standing this time. “Is that the wrong title, sir? What form of address should–”
“Just Jinshi!” he shouts in frustration. Catching his temper before it goes any further, he pinches the bridge of his nose and tries to calm his breathing.
Maybe it's the relief that comes from Jinshi acting the same as he always does when he's flustered around her, but Maomao feels it would be alright to tease him just a little bit. “If I'm to be given capital punishment, I noticed several suitable plants near to entrance to this villa–”
Jinshi’s hands close around her wrists and he tugs her toward him (maybe he meant to position her between his legs, maybe it’s just chance that she landed there).
“Please stop assuming I'm out to kill you,” Jinshi says in a pained voice as he squeezes her hands. “I'm sorry I put you in that position,” he continues. “Wonderful as that was, I didn't think it through when I teased you about taking responsibility. I shouldn't have done that, especially right after you figured out I– I’m–”
“The crown prince.”
He winces when she finishes the sentence for him. “With any luck, that won't be my title anymore after Lady Gyokuyou gives birth,” he says with a sigh. “I've never wanted the position. The whole point of ‘Jinshi’ is to make sure my brother has a proper heir, ideally several… then hopefully the sickly imperial brother can fade into the background.”
One of his hands is on Maomao’s lower back again, and the heat from his touch is somehow radiating through her robes, quelling her knee-jerk panic reaction to the crown prince spilling his dreams for the future to her. She can't relax fully, because she's once again encircled in the crown prince’s light embrace, and he's still gorgeous and even more disheveled than he was before and why is she thinking like that–
“Without you and your knowledge of everyday toxins, I wouldn't even have a prayer of escaping this life, so that's yet another thing I have to thank you for,” says Jinshi, finally looking up from where her fingertips peek over his palm, and the warmth of his gaze dwarfs the heat of his hands. “I have to ask, though… I know you didn't intend to seduce me, but why did you insist I eat that dinner?” he asks.
Maomao scrunches her face as she tries to figure out her reasoning. Nothing comes to mind, at least nothing that makes sense. “I’m… not really certain myself, Master Jinshi,” she says when he squeezes her hands.
“Are you blushing?” he asks, and she can hear the smirk in his voice.
“NO. Definitely not.”
“Hmmmmm,” Jinshi responds, and he pulls her close enough to touch her cheek to his. “Then why does your face feel so warm?” he whispers in her ear. “Perhaps that meal is affecting you as well.”
“No, I… I have a much higher tolerance…” Maomao mutters, but she knows he doesn't believe her. She doesn't believe herself, not when they're chest-to-chest, and she can feel it through her robes as her heavier breathing drags her now-perky nipples across his bare skin. Maomao’s own robes have shifted just like his did, and only two thin layers of fabric separate the two of them.
Based on Jinshi’s quick inhale, he notices too. He tentatively releases her hands and trails his fingers up her arm, stopping on her small bicep. He looks away from his hand and tries to meet her eyes, but that's more than Maomao can handle, and she looks away at the carpet again.
She does, however, lean her body toward his hand, the side of her breast brushing against his knuckles.
The loud sigh is out of her mouth before Maomao realizes she shifted that way on purpose.
The moan from deep in her chest also escapes without her notice when Jinshi takes her breast in hand and squeezes, with perhaps more force than either of them would have expected.
“Let me return the favor,” he rasps in ear again.
“I was just doing my job,” Maomao argues weakly as his hand starts to knead her gently.
“No, that was not your job, even if you're damn good at it,” Jinshi argues back. “Please, let me help you like you helped me, Maomao.”
The hand on her back is holding her tighter, and his breath is ghosting across her neck. Maomao notices that she's rubbing her thighs together, and she wonders briefly how long she's been doing that and if Jinshi noticed. She wavers, and one of her hands finds its way to Jinshi’s shoulder to support herself.
Maomao knows a losing battle when she sees one. “OK,” she whispers. A small, shrinking but not yet gone, part of her hopes he doesn't hear.
Jinshi immediately lifts Maomao onto his lap and brings her face to his for a heated kiss. Her mouth was already open before their lips met, and he takes the opportunity to roughly push his way inside. Maomao tries to respond, but his tongue is so deep inside her mouth that all she can really do is stroke the sides of his tongue with hers. Both his arms encircle her waist, pulling her body so close that her legs are forced to straddle him to keep her balance. Maomao finds her hands gripping his shoulders as he leaves her mouth to cover the rest of her face in needy kisses. He works his way down her jaw to her neck, where a tingling sensation from his lips and tongue set the rest of her body on fire.
It's not exactly what Maomao did for him, but she supposes he's always been a hopeless romantic, and her body doesn't seem to mind his affection. The small corner of her mind that protested earlier decides this situation is fine. Pleasant, even.
One of Jinshi’s hands tentatively returns to Maomao’s small breast, and she finds she likes this as well. Her clothing has loosened from their activities, and Maomao shrugs out of the sleeves, letting the entire top portion flop over and hang from the belt. The dudou remains to cover her breasts, but it does a poor job of hiding her state of arousal. Jinshi’s fingers press against the uncovered skin on her side, and his hand follows the tie around to her back.
He drags his mouth back up her neck to whisper in Maomao’s ear, “May I?” as he tugs lightly at the loose end of the bow.
Maomao answers by reaching up to tug apart the tie at the back of her neck. Jinshi unties the remaining bow and pulls the dudou away.
Not quite ready to be seen, she presses herself into Jinshi and hides her warm face in his neck. She hears him chuckle as he runs his hand across her exposed back. Shivers run up her spine as he finds her ticklish points, and Maomao tries to muffle her reaction in Jinshi’s shoulder. He seems to get the message, and his hand slows to gently press against her shoulder blades. Jinshi’s other hand has been wandering near his thigh where her leg is folded. His hand inches its way under her skirts to find her calf, and he caresses his way toward her knee. From her knee, to her thigh. From her thigh to her hip. His fingers fumble, probably with the ties to her liangdang, because his other hand tosses the small scraps of fabric away moments later (maybe she should be annoyed but… it was fairly damp, and it would become a hindrance soon anyway).
Maomao gasps when Jinshi's thumb reaches over to brush against her clitoris. She's mildly impressed that he even knows to aim for it and that he locates the nub on his first try. There's something on her mind about how her current state probably makes it easier to find, but she's also too far gone to put words to thoughts, not when Jinshi is rubbing slow circles around the most pleasurable point on her body, and his hand is large enough to maintain a hold on her hip while he does so. She's thankful that her skirts are still in place; even though Jinshi can surely feel how wet she's become, she doesn't think she could handle it if he saw.
A particularly well-placed swipe of his thumb makes Maomao jolt almost violently. Jinshi takes notice and focuses his efforts on that spot. Maomao buries her face in the juncture between his neck and shoulder as her legs tense, and her upper body seems to move on its own while she clings to Jinshi. It's almost too intense, and all Maomao can think is that she should have paid more attention to her lessons with Pairin and Meimei. Even though the customer’s experience takes priority for a courtesan, apprentices were supposed to learn their own bodies and their own pleasure in order to avoid unfortunate surprises or unattractive reactions… such as the strangled grunts and whines Maomao is making right now.
Lucky for her, Jinshi doesn't seem to mind; if anything, her noises are spurring him on, as he holds her tighter and kisses wherever he can reach each time she moans into his skin.
Her hips rock against his hand of their own accord, knocking his grip loose. Jinshi readjusts her in his embrace, lifting her just an inch or two higher, leaving enough space for his palm to squeeze in between her thighs. One long finger slides its way down her dripping lower lips, dipping in just slightly. The pad of his finger finds her opening and traces it lightly, his thumb continuing to work her clit all the while. The intensity that has been building below her stomach, the sweet tension spreading down her legs and up her sternum, makes her feel as though she is about burst, until–
Maomao shrieks as the release washes over her body. Fireworks explode behind her eyes, erupting from some deep place inside of her as her muscles go limp. She doesn't realize that her entire torso is arched backward until she feels Jinshi’s breath wafting across her breasts. Being seen by him doesn't feel so mortifying right now, so she ignores it and keeps her eyes closed while she basks in the moment.
The overstimulation hits when she feels a tongue and a set of lips on a nipple.
“Aaaaah! Too much too much too much!” she squeals as she wriggles herself free of Jinshi’s mouth.
“Sorry, sorry,” he says as he backs off. “I– you just looked so… I couldn't help myself.”
Maomao cracks her eyes open as she straightens up, and she sees the utterly lovedrunk grin on his face as his eyes rove over her exposed chest.
“I should… um…” Maomao starts, but what exactly is proper protocol following a fingering by the crown prince?
“You should stay right here,” Jinshi says as he pulls them fully onto the bed and leans back against the wall. Maomao doesn't fight it. Now that conscious thought returns, she feels exposed again, but she also doesn't have the will to pull her sleeves back up, so she compromises by pressing her front against Jinshi. She'll ponder later why touch seems to bother her less than sight. For now, she lets herself relax against him, and his hand traces lightly up and down her exposed back with just enough pressure to avoid tickling her.
After a few minutes of peace, Maomao breaks the silence. “This was a bad idea,” she mutters, almost under her breath.
“Hm, I disagree, but how do you figure?” Jinshi asks lazily as he nuzzles the top of her head.
“I’m not–”
“You are.”
“You don't know what I was going to say!” Maomao grumbles with a pout.
“You were going to disparage yourself in one way or another, and I simply won't tolerate any slander toward my lady,” Jinshi says into her hair. She can hear the smile in his voice, can feel the firm corners of his mouth as he presses her close.
His LADY?
“The rear palace is open to the crown prince as well, isn't it? Once you have proper consorts, you'll likely regret doing this with–”
Jinshi raises her chin with his finger and cuts her off with another kiss. Now that the aphrodisiacs have burned through her system, Maomao can recognize that he has more enthusiasm than skill, but the one makes up for the other.
“I don't want the flowers in that garden,” he says when his mouth finally retreats, “and I would never regret anything that brings me closer to my Maomao.”
HIS Maomao?! Well, he bought my contract, so in a sense he isn't wrong…
Maomao lets them lapse into silence once more, and for once Jinshi takes the win without pushing for total victory. Perhaps there’s hope for him yet.
As she lies in his arms, Maomao’s brain won't allow her to rest completely. At this point, she can acknowledge that whatever relationship they had prior to this evening was definitely not master and servant, not with all the privileges he granted her both in and out of the rear palace. Nominally, she is just his maid, but he seeks her opinion on national matters and brings her to places far beyond her rank, to fulfill roles she doesn't fully understand. Maomao also can't deny his affection for her, not anymore, but she’s left wondering what it means.
“Sir?” she asks tentatively.
“Please, just call me ‘Jinshi’ when it's just the two of us,” he requests again in return.
Maomao nods against his chest. “What do you want with me?”
Jinshi takes a deep inhale and lets it out in a slow sigh. “I can't ask you for anything more while I'm still ‘Jinshi,’ but that role won't last forever,” he says. Maomao glances up at him, and he's biting the side of his lower lip, seemingly deep in thought. “For now… let's say that eventually I'd like for you to be part of my household, but not as a servant or someone I merely employ.”
A part of Maomao feels slightly victorious now that Jinshi is the one who can't meet her eyes, but a larger part of her mind screeches to a halt all together.
“Sir, I would need some excuse to be in your home if you plan to make me a mistress,” she warbles. True, she'd hoped to avoid the pitfalls of courtesan life, but she supposes being a mistress to Jinshi wouldn't be too bad. Recent experience has Maomao wondering what else they could try… and perhaps she could convince him to let her keep making medicine since she'll need something to occupy herself while he's working–
“Mistress?” Jinshi croaks as he finally processes what Maomao said. “No, you misunderstand, I– you're not just… how is it that you always manage to assume the worst of me?” he asks, and his arms hold her tighter.
Maomao doesn't think it's such a bad prospect, and she tells him so. “It’s true that I’d hoped I'd avoided becoming an actual courtesan when you bought my contract, but… I guess I wouldn't mind so much… since it's you,” she explains, her voice fading to almost nothing as she makes her small confession.
Jinshi turns her head to face him. “You will not be a mistress,” he says firmly.
A slight sinking feeling makes itself known in her chest, and Maomao tries to ignore it. “Oh, well, that's fine. You can't be seen settling for an ugly skin-and-bones apothecary afterall,” she replies.
“I'm not ‘settling’,” Jinshi groans. “I was lucky beyond reason to find such an intelligent and beautiful woman hiding in plain sight.”
Maomao scrunches her face in confusion. “So, part of your household, but not an employee, nor a mistress…” A picture starts to form in her mind, but he can't– “You can't possibly want to make me your con–”
A knock on the door cuts her off. Maomao decides this is for the best. There's no use worrying about the future when she doesn't even know how long the “Jinshi” mask will remain.
“One moment!” Jinshi calls to the door. He releases Maomao, and she hops off the bed while she yanks her clothing back into place. Her dudou is still missing (hopefully out of sight along with her liangdang), but at least her chest isn't large enough to need the support. Jinshi drops a kiss on her forehead as he passes her on the way to the door.
As expected, Gaoshun is on the other side. “Master Kousen, is everything alright?” he asks. Maomao detects a pointed edge to the question, not unlike the times when he’d needed to corral her various shenanigans (she is still put out over the confiscated books, but maybe she could convince Jinshi to at least reimburse her costs…)
“Yes, Gaoshun, everything is fine,” Jinshi answers, breaking Maomao out of her mental tangent. She thinks the way he crosses his arms and leans against the door frame is just a little bit too forced to be truly casual. He hadn't done much to straighten his robes before opening the door, but then again, he’d been quite disheveled since before dinner, so perhaps he’s simply going for continuity. At least he keeps his right hand concealed in his sleeves, since gods know how much of Maomao’s slick is still on his fingers.
“You've told her?” Gaoshun asks. Maybe it's because he just had to put his grown son to bed, but there's some fatherly scolding in his tone. Maomao thinks that's not fair, considering this whole dinner debacle was her fault, but Jinshi doesn't seem to mind and nods his head in the affirmative.
Gaoshun’s expression doesn't change as he steps past Jinshi into the room. Maomao realizes she probably should have stood farther away from the bed when Gaoshun’s gaze lingers on her for a moment longer than usual, but what's done is done, and whatever Jinshi is planning for them after this trip, hiding anything from Gaoshun (or worse, Suiren) would be futile. Instead, she tries to relax her face into her usual neutral expression, as though no improper, embarrassing, exhilarating, paradigm shattering thing had occurred.
Gaoshun’s eyebrows rise almost imperceptibly, likely due to the heat Maomao feels in her cheeks.
“Xiaomao, would you like to retire for the evening?” Gaoshun asks, and the edge in his voice isn't there this time.
Before Maomao can answer, Jinshi interrupts as he strides back toward the table of half-finished dinner. “If she's amenable to the idea, I'd prefer if Maomao stayed here,” he says lightly as he chooses a fig with his left hand.
Gaoshun’s eyebrows almost disappear under his hat.
Maomao, for her part, feels like her higher brain functions stopped working again. Did he really just say that?! How utterly mortifying, but then again, does she really have a say–
“That's not an order,” Jinshi clarifies, as though he could read her thoughts and knew she was defaulting again to his status.
Gaoshun looks over to Maomao again, prompting her for an answer.
She doesn't have long to make a choice, and surprisingly she finds that there actually is a choice to make. The Maomao of an hour ago would have high-tailed it out of the room at the first opportunity, but now… having done what they'd done and Jinshi sharing what he shared, and Maomao not feeling disgusted or panicky the way she thought such words and acts would make her feel… Well, maybe it's the residual aphrodisiac in her system (It's not and you know it, she thinks to herself), but Maomao finds herself nodding to Jinshi’s request.
“I'll stay,” she says in a voice barely above a whisper.
The fig falls out of Jinshi’s hand with a soft thud on the table. “You will?” he asks.
Maomao nods and makes eye contact with the wall on her left. She hears Gaoshun sigh again, but something about it makes her think it's a sigh of relief instead of exasperation. He offers a bow and sees himself out of the room.
Jinshi stares at Maomao in the silence left behind. “You’ll really stay with me tonight?” he asks, a waver in his voice.
“Do I need to check your hearing, sir?” Maomao snarks at him. She will not be repeating herself.
“I told you, I prefer ‘Jinshi’ when possible,” he grumbles.
Deciding to abort this conversation before it gets weirder, Maomao makes her way across the room toward the traveling trunk that contains Jinshi’s things. She quickly finds his sleeping robes along with the loose, white overrobe, and she sets them neatly next to the trunk. Her own things are in a small bag nearby, but when she extracts her simple sleep attire, she remembers one (well, two) small issues.
“I hope Master Gaoshun didn't see my underclothes, wherever you threw them,” Maomao groans as she returns to the bed with Jinshi’s things, where Jinshi is now sitting once more.
“Oh, these?” Jinshi asks, and he pulls her dudou and liangdang from his sleeve.
Maomao feels her face heat up yet again as she grabs the dudou out of his hand, but he’s somehow switched her liangdang to his other hand and is rubbing his fingers on a damp spot.
“Pervert,” she snaps as she snatches the garment away from him. Shame apparently forgotten, he brings his hand to his nose and sniffs.
“Mmmm,” he sighs happily, and he lightly licks his fingers. “Perhaps next time you'll allow me a proper taste.”
Maomao hisses her exasperation and stomps back to the corner of the room. These underthings won't be wearable without at least a cursory rinse. For now, she turns away from Jinshi to remove her top and jacket, replacing them with her sleepwear top. Trusting the long garment to cover her hips as she changes, she unties her skirts and steps out of the fabric (and ignores the feel of the night air against her upper thighs). She quickly pulls on her sleeping pants, and she lays her clothes across a table to air out. She'll need them again tomorrow, and hopefully by then they won't smell of everything she and Jinshi had been doing less than an hour ago.
When she turns around, Jinshi is staring slack-jawed at her, still fully dressed, his nightclothes sitting by his feet.
“Do you need assistance?” Maomao asks, only half teasing.
“No!” Jinshi protests, and he starts untying and disrobing at lightning speed.
“Slow down, you'll damage it,” says Maomao, and she swats his hands away so she can take over. When she finishes, Jinshi hesitates a moment before he lets the robes drop. Maomao is ready with the sleeves of his sleep attire and slides them up his arms. She ties the loose robe closed, then turns to the pile on the floor, proud that she managed the task without getting distracted. Afterall, now that she knows everything that he hides under his robe, maybe ignorance isn't quite as blissful as letting Jinshi have his way once in a while. Or more often. Or–
“I assume you have different attire for tomorrow?” she asks, breaking herself out of her thoughts.
“Yes, don't worry about those,” he says, his cheeks a bright crimson.
Maomao shoves his discarded robes farther away. It wouldn't do for them to slip on the silks when getting out of bed. “I assume you don't want any more layers in this heat?” she asks, holding the white overrobe. Jinshi nods, and Maomao places the robe on a nearby chair in the event it is needed for propriety in the morning.
The moment her arms are empty, Maomao finds herself scooped into the air and cuddled against Jinshi’s chest, not unlike the night they'd met at the top of the wall. “Sir, it's only five steps to the bed,” she half-heartedly complains.
“Jinshi,” he corrects with a pout on his face as he places Maomao in the center of the mattress. She starts to edge her way toward the wall, but Jinshi is quicker and stops her with his knee. Maomao looks up to see him hovering above her on all fours, a wicked look in his eyes. “Perhaps, given that we have all night, we could pick up where we left off?”
Maomao feels pleasant chills run down her spine, and as Jinshi recaptures her lips, she decides that one night without much sleep will be worth it.