The Apothecary Diaries: Volume 3 (Light Novel)

Jinshi’s grip finally relaxed, and Maomao slithered out and tried to stand up—only to find herself pushed to the ground. She hadn’t been expecting it, and she collapsed, falling on her back. She looked down, and there was Jinshi. He shifted, crawling on top of her. A faint light, like a candle flame, danced in his eyes. “Very well.” He slowly set his hands behind her knees and lifted them up, putting the two of them in an even more compromising position than before. “Want to find out for yourself?” Jinshi was scowling.

Maomao got goosebumps all over and started sweating profusely. She realized belatedly that she’d pushed Jinshi too far.

And such a fine frog, no doubt.

Decently sized didn’t cover it, but that would do for now. Yes, “decently sized” would be enough.

“Hey, are you wiping your hand?”

see you’ve found yourself quite an interesting palace woman,” Anshi said in an attempt to change the subject.

“Someone who’s quite useful.”

It was true; she could hear it in his voice—but she could also tell it wasn’t everything. She’d fought and survived on this battlefield far longer than he. How many years did he think she had been watching him?

“I see.” She half-closed her eyes, feeling she had to communicate this much at least: “But if you don’t take care to hide your favorites, someone might hide them from you.”

And with that, Anshi returned to her own room.

“Very well.” He slowly set his hands behind her knees and lifted them up, putting the two of them in an even more compromising position than before. “Want to find out for yourself?” Jinshi was scowling.

“Hngh?!” Jinshi grunted. His heart rate shot up. Maomao looked up to find herself staring at Jinshi’s chin—she could see him biting his lip, hard. He seemed to be struggling, fighting with something.
The frog in his robe shifted as if it were alive.

“Who are you calling a frog?”

Time is a cruel thing: every woman’s looks fade with it, no matter how beautiful she once was; her heart grows desolate and she becomes obsessed with money.

Decently sized didn’t cover it

Footsteps echoed down the hall: clack, clack. His own steps and the sound of his ball bouncing were almost all he could hear. Maybe the yawning of the woman minding him. His usual wet nurse was away, and he had a new attendant. The owner of the footsteps came closer; it was someone very old.

His minder rose to her feet, stepping forward protectively. She spoke deferentially to the old man, but he ignored her and continued his tottering advance, reaching out toward the boy. His white hair was disheveled, his eyes sunken, yet there were only a few wrinkles on his hand, showing that he was in fact younger than he first seemed.

A woman appeared in the room, perhaps summoned by the sound of his minder’s voice. It