Chapter Text
Jinshi slumped back in his chair, trying to ignore the dull ache of the wood on his shoulder blades and the pressing headache that leadened the space behind his eyes. He had been reviewing memorials for what seemed like years, with seemingly no progress made to the endless mountain of tablets that Gaoshun had dutifully complied for him.
By now, his trembling fingers were stained thoroughly with ink; he had somehow managed to get through an entire inkstone in one sitting; how could so many problems, complaints and messes arise in such a short time?
Jinshi dropped his brush with a clatter and rubbed his forehead with a hoarse sigh, his vision swirling in vivid, psychedelic colours due to the pressure on his eyes. Suddenly, he remembered the state of his fingers and cursed silently, reaching for a handkerchief from within his sleeve to wipe up the inky mess on his face. Finding none such thing, he stood up abruptly, the heavy wooden chair streaking awkwardly on the floor and leaving ridges on the carpet.
He needed a break, anyway. Perhaps some cool water would do the trick.
Striding towards the door of his office, his hand found the handle and he yanked it slightly too hard, the heavy wooden frame hitting him squarely in the face.
BANG!
He stumbled back with a yelp, his hand instinctively flying to rub the sore area, before realising too late that this would mean even more ink on his face.
Good thing he was on his way to wash it, anyway. Jinshi exhaled, and gathered his wits. Stepping over the threshold, Jinshi’s voice rang out roughly, still coarse from hours of disuse.
'Suiren, would you come here for a second?'
Jinshi stood there, hand limply pressed on his forehead. His hair had fallen past his shoulders, still sleek as ever, yet he could feel a stringy, fuzzy heat on his head, no doubt a symptom of the humidity. His robes, although woven from the finest, breathable silks, hung loosely on his body, some areas wet and uncomfortable from where sweat had accumulated and seeped into the fabric. He was grateful for the shade of the veranda where he stood, but his eyes had yet to adjust to the bright sunlight from where he expected Suiren to come from.
Moving his hand away from his face, flexing some of his facial muscles to try and ignore the buzzing he still felt from hitting his face on the doorknob, he looked around for the person he had called for. None appeared; he heard no footsteps or even a faint reply from a far corner of the estate. A few plants rustled awkwardly in the courtyard, and the cicadas chirped louder than ever.
Jinshi would have to find her himself then, it seemed.
Striding brusquely along the covered walkway, he made his way over to the first place he expected Suiren to be; the kitchen. It was nearing sundown, and his dinner; which was usually an extensive and fine affair; was to be served in an hour or two.
Jinshi soon reached the door leading to the kitchen, reached down, and slid the door open.
‘Suiren, could you-’
‘Master Jinshi?’
Instead of the warm, gravelly tones of his housekeeper, Jinshi was instead met with a familiar, raspy voice. And the sight of a short, verdigris-haired girl standing over a steaming pot of… what was that herby smell?
‘Maomao? What are you..’, he began, hovering bewilderedly in the doorway.
Maomao looked at him quizzically. Her eyes flitted to his forehead, narrowed a little, then returned to their usual glassy sheen.
‘I am preparing a herbal tonic for your headaches, as requested by yourself, Master Jinshi.’
Her gaze returned to the pot, taking on an intense focus before she reached over and added some more ground herbs to the concoction.
Jinshi stood there dumbly. Had he asked her that? Sure, he was suffering from horrible headaches, on account of the inordinate amount of work he had to do, but he was sure that he hadn’t asked Maomao… In fact, didn’t he instead ask…
Aha. So Suiren was to blame for this. Admittedly, Jinshi didn’t hate her schemes that set up him and Maomao in these situations, and he definitely appreciated Suiren’s delegation of preparing medicine to Maomao instead of those weirdos at the medical office (on more than a few occasions, Jinshi had found an extra ingredient or two added to his prescriptions, or indeed his medicines swapped out entirely for an aphrodisiac.)
But still, he felt bad that she was seemingly the only one propping him up medical-wise, especially after his stunt with the branding iron.
Jinshi’s lips curled up into a small grin, and he crossed his arms as he sidled into the kitchen, swiftly closing the door behind with his foot. He approached the pot, steam billowing up into his face…
‘Be careful, Sir. The steam may burn you. Or irritate already tender skin’, Maomao said, not looking up from the conoction.
Jinshi took a small step back. Aside from her snarky remark about his burn, she had noticed the redness from his earlier bump. And she was right - the heat had left it somewhat prickling.
‘Aren’t you clever, Apothecary?’, he remarked, a proud glint in his voice.
‘Thank you, sir,’ Maomao replied, pursing her lips.
She gave the pot a final stir, then nodded quickly to herself before gently taking it off the heat. Wasting no time, she ladled most of the concoction, which had taken on an incredibly deep amber colour, yet a surprisingly sweet and musky smell, into a jar, and stirred the rest into a ceramic bowl which lay on a tray beside her.
‘What’s in this then?’, Jinshi probed, pointing a finger at the bowl. ‘It smells quite nice’.
Maomao still didn’t look up. ‘A syrup made from linden flowers and honey. A trader brought some in yesterday - It is said to help reduce headaches. I thought such a medicine would be suitable for you.’
Jinshi felt a swell of joy in his chest. She had thought of him? But - wait -
‘It is said, apothecary? I take this to mean this is yet another of your experiments?’ He mused, looking down at her with a knowing look.
Maomao looked straight up at him with one of her classic death glares. He felt the swell grow even greater.
‘While it has been reviewed in medicinal circles, I have yet to have personal experience with this medicine. I do hope you’ll indulge me, Master Jinshi.’
Jinshi smirked, his headache practically gone already.
‘Well, how can I say no to that?’
---
Maomao set the tray of medicine down on a side table, elegantly picking up the ceramic bowl and a spoon, before turning to face Jinshi.
He had reclined languidly on a sofa opposite, hair spilling like a split violet stream down either side of his pale, angled face, which was faced upwards towards the ceiling. His Adam's apple bobbed as he swallowed, trying to fend off the headache that was slowly returning. His arms were splayed out on either side of the backboard, and his legs were firmly planted into the floor yet spread wide, as if to anchor him fully to the sofa. Despite previously thinking Maomao’s surprise appearance had 'recharged' him, he really did have a horrible headache that he could not merely ignore.
Maomao approached, holding the still-steaming medicine, and put her hands out containing the bowl towards Jinshi.
‘You should have some, Master Jinshi. Even if I can only speculate about its effectiveness.’
Jinshi didn’t move to receive it, only shifting more deeply into the sofa.
Maomao took a singular step forward, peering at Jinshi more closely.
‘I suppose I can just leave it here. It is better taken hot, though.’
With that, she bowed and moved backwards to take the tray out. Maomao was a bit disappointed at losing Jinshi as a test subject, but she would just have to wait for another opportunity. Perhaps she could corner Lahan after a particularly grueling day with the Freak…
Just as she was about to return the medicine to the tray and leave, Maomao heard Jinshi’s voice from behind her.
‘Don’t- wait. I’ll have some.’
Maomao smiled greedily and turned back around with the tray. Jinshi’s head was upright now, strands of hair in wisps around his face. His eyes looked extremely dark and heavy, as though laden with countless burdens. He was breathing rather heavily, too. My, he really did look rough.
As she got near, Maomao could feel Jinshi’s eyes looking at her closely. She sat down on the sofa, Jinshi’s arm parallel to her shoulder, and picked up the bowl and the spoon.
With an expectant look on her face, she subtly shifted the bowl closer to him.
Jinshi made no effort to receive it.
‘If you’re not going to drink some, why say otherwise? I don’t want to waste good medicine’, Maomao said curtly. What would be the effects, she wondered, on someone without a headache? Perhaps an increase in blood pressure, or something akin to alcohol…
Jinshi looked more deeply at her.
‘I’m sorry, Maomao,’ he began, his voice more gravelly than before. ‘I’m not sure I can drink this by myself.’
Maomao, befuddled, replied, ‘Why, have you broken your arms? I think you would have exhibited various signs of pain or disuse by now. And you had perfect use of your limbs on the walk here.’
Jinshi looked a bit exasperated as she continued, ‘Ill, then? Oh, perhaps another symptom alongside your headache. Are you feeling muscle fatigue? In which case I know a medicine you can-’
‘Maomao, I want.. you.. to feed it to me.’
Maomao almost dropped the bowl onto the sofa. Luckily, she managed to avoid this (cleaning the stain would be such a hassle) and settled for a small splash and a clunk as the spoon landed in the centre of the bowl.
She knew Jinshi to be direct - but this? This was on another level. Perhaps the headache had addled his brain somehow. Surely this was just him being ill on account of being overworked - yes, this was it.
So she merely sighed and looked up at him - half-scowl, half resignation - and gently picked up the spoon.
---
Jinshi’s eyes widened, surprised at his success.
The spoon reached his lips before he knew it, the medicine trickling steadily trickling over his tongue into the space below. The medicine tasted expectedly floral, herbal yet very syrupy and sweet - obviously due to the honey it was sweetened with. It was only slightly warm by now; most of the heat had been lost to Jinshi’s timewasting.
Jinshi tilted his head up, causing the medicine to slide very easily down his throat. He swallowed softly, before his lips parted again with a quiet breath to receive the next dose.
Maomao looked closely at his reaction, before scooping another spoonful and lifting it up towards Jinshi’s expectant mouth. She lightly positioned the spoon onto his bottom lip, before tipping it upwards, allowing the liquid to cascade in a line directly down his throat.
‘How does it taste?’, she asked impassively.
‘Good. Very sweet’, Jinshi replied, smacking his damp lips tenderly. ‘Could I have some more?’
As she swirled the liquid in the bowl and dipped her spoon back in, Maomao’s eyes searched his face for a moment longer, before sweeping across his forehead.
‘You have ink on your face, Master Jinshi,’ she remarked.
Jinshi let out a small laugh. ‘I’m not at my best and brightest today.’
Maomao’s lips curled upwards in the corner. ‘It seems not.’
She lifted the spoon upwards again, feeding another spoonful of medicine to Jinshi. This time, however, a small drip fell from the corner of his lips down to his chin, resting in a small bead at the edge.
Maomao looked Jinshi in the eyes, then hers trailed ever-so-slowly down to where the golden droplet was. Her other hand, the one not holding the bowl, reached up, her fingers brushing his chin, and caught the bud on the tip of her index finger.
Jinshi shuddered at the touch, yet did not move a muscle, keeping his eyes locked on Maomao’s.
Then, Maomao did something Jinshi was not expecting. She, after looking at her finger briefly, brought it up and put it in her mouth, sucking the spot where the droplet had been. She very slowly swirled her finger inside her mouth, as if savoring, no - dissecting - the taste of the medicine, her eyes just barely open.
It was as if she was in her own world. Jinshi knew she was obsessed with medicine, but..!
Jinshi’s stomach buzzed, his heart quickening. Blood began to rush to his head, and he could feel an intense throbbing in his temple. The sight of Maomao’s lips slightly parted, tasting something that had been in his mouth all but 20 seconds ago, her savoring, considering its taste… it was all he could not to lose all control then and there. Surely this was just a side effect of the medicine, right? He could barely notice his headache anymore. All he could notice was her slightly damp lips, all he could hear was the the subtle swirling of her tongue in her-
‘You’re right…’ Maomao said, pulling him out of his thoughts, but the rest of her remark lost to the roiling mess inside of his ears.
‘Wh-what?’ Jinshi spluttered, swallowing the medicine hastily.
‘You’re right.. It is sweet,’ Maomao repeated, wiping her finger on her sleeve. ‘Perhaps I should dilute it some more, and add less honey next time.’
Jinshi coughed, the medicine evidently going down the wrong way. ‘Y-yeah, you should.. You should do that-’
Maomao looked up at him with her blankest of stares, seemingly oblivious to what had just happened.
‘Would you like the rest of your medicine now, Master Jinshi?’