The Apothecary Diaries: Volume 2 (Light Novel)

That costume, though: it made her by far the most conspicuous of the four high consorts. In particular, her makeup accented the corners of her eyes so emphatically that it was impossible to tell what they really looked like. Maomao could hardly picture how the consort must appear without cosmetics.
Not that it matters to me.

“My cat is most wary, yet not only was she willing to speak to you, she seems to be earnestly considering you as a possible match for a woman she thinks of as an older sister.”

As Maomao industriously polished another window frame, she reflected how life might be better if that eunuch were to wear a mask anytime he went out.

“My cat is most wary, yet not only was she willing to speak to you, she seems to be earnestly considering you as a possible match for a woman she thinks of as an older sister.”
The “cat” must have been Maomao—it was the meaning of her name—

sooner had he spoken than he hefted Maomao into his arms and made his way deftly down the wall without so much as a ladder. Maomao was so stunned she didn’t even think to struggle. When they reached the ground, she assumed he would put her down, but instead he continued to carry her, though he shifted her somewhat in his arms.
“What are you doing that for?” she asked.
“It was getting hard to hold you.”
“Then put me down.”
“And let you make it worse?” Jinshi pursed his lips. He had his arms around Maomao, and she found it most uncomfortable how close her face was to his.
How do I end up in these situations? she thought, but she said, “What if someone sees us, sir?”
“No one will see us. It’s too dark. Besides—” He lifted her slightly and adjusted his grip so she wouldn’t fall. “—this is the second time I’ve held you like this.”
The second time? she thought. Oh!
It must have been the day she’d injured her leg. She’d been unconscious; someone had carried her away from the scene. It would make a lot of sense if it had been Jinshi. Which would mean he had picked her up in front of an entire ceremony’s worth of people...
There was something more important, though, something she’d been forgetting. She’d meant to say it for so long, and she deeply regretted not having said it before. She pressed a handkerchief to the blood that dribbled down her calf.
“Master Jinshi,” she began. “I know this is hardly an ideal moment, but if I may, there’s something I’ve been meaning to say to you for quite a long time.”
“Why so formal all of a sudden?” Jinshi asked, somewhat perplexed.
“Sir, I simply must say it.”
“Well, then, out with it!” Jinshi responded.
“Very well,” Maomao said, looking Jinshi full in the face. “Sir... Please give me my ox bezoar.”
Jinshi’s head connected with Maomao’s with a thwack, and she saw stars.
A headbutt! Right out of the blue! It crossed her mind that perhaps he’d only been leading her on the entire time.
“Sir, don’t tell me... You don’t have it?”
“Please. Surely you have a little more respect for me than that.” As Maomao looked at him questioningly, the slightest of smiles crossed Jinshi’s face.
The rapid change in the eunuch’s expression from annoyance to amusement reminded her how immature he could seem. But then again, she found him easier to talk to that way, she thought, as she rocked in his arms.

“Huh, guess it opened up again...”
“You act like it did that on its own!”
“Don’t worry, I’ll sew it right back up.” Maomao rooted among her discarded overgarments and came up with some disinfectant alcohol and a needle and thread.
“Why are you so prepared for this exact situation?!”
“You never know.” Maomao was just about to make the first stitch when Jinshi grabbed the needle. “You can’t sew, sir,” she said.

“No woman he chose could be more gorgeous than you are, Master Jinshi.”

He fixed her with an exasperated look. She was safely away from the edge of the wall now, but for some reason he was still holding on to her hand. “Where else was I supposed to be? When I got word a strange woman was dancing on the wall again, I had to come deal with the matter.”

The scarf danced; the skirt rose in time; sleeves and hair fluttered together.
Didn’t think it would come back to me so easily, she mused, surprised to find the dance the old woman had taught her still within.
Her scarf billowed again—and then Maomao found herself looking directly at a very unwelcome companion. That was when she tripped on her skirt.
She fell face-first, and as she tried to protect herself from striking the ground with her nose, she tumbled—straight toward the edge of the wall. She just managed to stop herself, and someone pulled her up.
“Wh-What are you doing here?” the unexpected visitor asked, breathing hard. His hair, which had been carefully bound, was a mess now.
“I should ask you the same question, Master Jinshi,” Maomao said, brushing off her dress. “Why are you here?”

“I don’t know how you imagine the pleasure district works, but no courtesan has a child unless she wants to.”