The Apothecary Diaries: Volume 11

Maomao.” She heard Jinshi from the other side of the curtain. “I think things are going to get tiring. I need a charge.” His hand poked through the drapes.

“A charge?” Maomao asked.

She studied the shelf Chue had indicated. She took a mooncake wrapped in paper from a basket on the shelf and pressed it into Jinshi’s hand.

“Huh?!”

The mooncake dropped to the ground. The paper came off and, sadly, it touched the floor. Maomao moved to pick it up, but her right hand was caught by Jinshi’s. She felt his fingers slide between hers as if to make sure she was there. The fact they were both using their right hands made it oddly awkward.

Jinshi’s long fingers pressed into the back of Maomao’s hand, while his palm pressed against hers. She could

There was one reason, and one reason only, that Rikuson wanted to destroy the family register—and that was because he felt a duty to Gyokuen

“By the way, Lahan’s Little Sister...”

“I’m sorry, what did you call me?” Maomao looked like she was ready to spit in his face.

Under the present circumstances, I think that it would be safest to return to the central region.”
Safest for whom to return, Maomao wondered, but then she realized—he meant her.

A high wall, however, appeared in front of Maomao. Thoom. Jinshi had risen from his seat and was standing smack in front of her.

“Yes, sir?” she asked. Jinshi continued to look less than pleased.

“It has come to my attention that this man with whom you claim not to be especially close recently proposed marriage to you.”

At least he was to the point.

She had a naughty little thought that maybe she should have put a sign on it: For Imperial use only.

I’ll make it my business not to see Maomao again after this.” The thought saddened Rikuson, but there was no avoiding it

“They brand each potato to identify it as coming from His Majesty’s younger brother.”
Maomao spat out her tea so hard that it got into her nose and threatened to fly up into her eyes.

Maomao breathed slowly, trying to keep her heart rate down, trying to keep the flush out of her cheeks and hands.

“Sir? What are you doing?” she asked.
“I told you. Charging.”
“Charging.”
Dammit, so he hadn’t been talking about getting some extra sugar?