Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

It was a joke.
It was supposed to be a joke.
And yet…

　That night had unfolded as any other night did.

　Jinshi summoned his wife to his chambers, as usual, thoroughly ravished every inch of her body as usual, and spent his moments basking in the afterglow with her warm body against his… as usual.

　A flushed cheek lay against his chest with eyes barely parted. Her breathing, ever so slightly ragged, tickled his moistened skin, and he could not resist the surging desire to tangle his fingers within her dishevelled hair. This action did not go unnoticed, as her eyelids fluttered open, her gaze meeting his.

　Even this… was the same as usual.

　A completely neutral, yet captivating, face.

　But it was moments like this that unearthed deep-rooted insecurities.

　It was a long and arduous journey to get to this point, where he could freely hold her in his arms and shroud her in the full weight of his cravings. She never rejected these acts, but she was not terribly excited either. She always purred splendidly whenever they connected, so he was convinced that she experienced the same pleasure as he did. It remained a delight to see her tiny body shiver, struggling to accept all of him, night after night.

　And yet…

　“Maomao,” Jinshi called the name of his beloved, trailing his palm along her cheeks, nestling his thumb against her lips.

　“Yes, Jinshi-sama?” How much longer was she going to refer to him by that name? Still, he did not mind it as much as he thought he would, as it was thanks to that identity that he could meet and fall in love with this stray cat. She nuzzled into his large palm and with clear, direct eyes, “Did you want to go for another round?”

　Her expression.

　Unflinching.

　“Do you really want that?” Jinshi could not hold back, bringing his anxieties to the surface. With how skilfully she slipped through his fingers throughout the years, he had difficulty accepting that their feelings were mutual. Despite having learnt the subtleties of her expression changes, he felt as if, in some small way, he was forcing her into it.

　As if one day, his fervour would suffocate her, and she would leave him forever.

　“I don’t mind either way,” she replied, unblinking. Jinshi, in turn, blinked excessively.

　“Do you enjoy it?”

　“I enjoy that I can get a decent amount of the exercise that I normally lack.”

　Right.

　She was that kind of woman.

　Jinshi exhaled deeply, sitting upright. Her body, seemingly as one flesh, was propped up in tandem. His wife remained seated on his lap with those clear eyes locked onto his face.

　“I meant, did you have something like, you know, a favourite position,” despite his rising embarrassment over being explicit like this, he had to make clear here. The woman he had pledged his life to, had a knack for avoiding the straight response.

　“There’s no such thing.”

　Her answer was resolute. Jinshi expected it, but it still stung to hear her say it out loud.

　Perhaps it was this feeling that motivated his next words. Perhaps he felt just a modicum of annoyance that she remained completely calm at his question while he was flustered simply to utter it. Perhaps, he wanted her to feel the same level of apprehension and restlessness that he felt. Perhaps… he wanted to disturb her composed countenance and fill her mind with nothing but thoughts of him.

　As he couldn’t escape his thoughts of her.

　Whatever his reason, Jinshi found his lips curling into a devious smile as he closed the gap between their faces. Leaning into her ear, making sure to add as much honey to his tone as he could, he whispered.

　“Then, shall we try them all and find out?”

　An obvious joke.

　But he couldn’t resist being cheeky. He pulled back, self-satisfaction plastered all over his lips, to gaze at his adorable sweetheart’s reaction.

　She was silent, but her pupils darted around restlessly, no longer fixated on his face.

　Was it successful?

　Maybe too successful.

　As her silence continued, he wondered if he was too impudent. Was she now mad at him for suggesting something so deviant? Was she plotting ways to poison him so that he would function similarly to his days as a eunuch? She would not hate him for this… right?

　She remained frozen in place, her fidgeting gaze was her only sign of life, and as Jinshi was about to apologize for his unfunny quip…

　“Actually, that’s not a bad idea at all.”

　“Hueeh?” All the energy Jinshi had mustered up to apologize, found a different outlet in the foolish sound that escaped his lips.

　His wife was now smiling. Subtly, but definitely present. Her lips moved rapidly, forming words that were imperceptible to his ears. Her hand rested on her small chin, as it so often did when she was deep in thought. Her eyes gained a sparkle typically only present when facing medicine or something intriguing.

　An altogether lovely appearance.

　But also, a dangerous one.

　His petite lover stood up dramatically, astonishing Jinshi momentarily, before darting from their bed to the nearest table. She began furiously writing something down, all while completely nude.

　“Maomao?”

　He called out to her, but there was no response.

　Instead, with her smile growing wider, she wiggled her hips around in what appeared to be a strange dance. Jinshi could hear eerie laughter emerging, interspersed with faint whispers of, “maybe this,” and, “definitely that,” as her hand glided the brush across the scrap of papers she found.

　How frightening.

　And arousing.

　Jinshi saw no use in asking that tiny, bare-assed beauty to assist with it, so he fell back into the bed, content to simply drift into slumber. Surely, she would return to bed when she completed whatever that was. In the first place, her statement was probably unrelated to his question. She most likely completely forgot about their conversation and was writing a list of rare medicine he should buy as an apology.

　After reassuring himself that the strange behaviour was nothing to worry about, Jinshi fell asleep.

Chapter Text

　Maomao placed the brush down and looked over her writing. Her modest chest puffed with pride.

　She may have lost herself for a moment, but she had finally sorted out her thoughts. In her hand was a piece of paper denoting every sexual position she could recall from her education. It was not exhaustive, as inevitably some were lost to time, but it should do nicely for tonight’s activities.

　“Jinshi-sama…? Ah, he’s asleep…” After a fleeting glance at the list and then at her husband, the sigh that escaped carried all of Maomao’s excitement away with it. She placed the paper on the table and returned to Jinshi’s side, resisting the urge to pinch his nose and wake him.

　Where did I go wrong?

　She thought she had made her intentions clear.

　When he asked her if she wanted it, she clearly told him that it was okay. As for her enjoyment level, certainly, regular exercise is best for staying healthy, so why would she not enjoy receiving it in this method? A favourite position… was honestly something that she did not have. Any time spent in Jinshi’s arms brought forth an indescribable feeling, no matter what position they took. She would not go so far as to call it “love”, but she deeply cherished that new emotion, and it would be a shame to lose one of the few she had.

　However, his suggestion to try them all indeed did take her by surprise, and yet when she thought about it further, she found it a good opportunity to put her theoretical knowledge into practice. She had no intentions of ever becoming a courtesan, so it felt a bit unfortunate to retain information that would never be utilized.

　I was honestly looking forward to it. Maomao brushed Jinshi’s bangs from his face and traced her fingertips along the scar on his right cheek. Even after all these years, it was still faintly present and still beautiful.

　She shivered slightly.

　Obviously, she’d be cold if she spent a decent amount of time completely threadbare.

　Maomao gently slipped under the covers and snuggled up to Jinshi, eager for warmth. As if it were a conditioned reflex, Jinshi’s arm immediately wrapped around her and drew her closer to him. His body heat was always strangely comforting, and his heartbeat was her own lullaby. It didn’t take long for her breathing to match his.

　In the next few days, Maomao had not forgotten about Jinshi’s suggestion from that night. In fact, she had been sending letters to the brothel and amassing quite the collection of “educational” material. The courtesans back home, especially the three princesses, seemed amused and willfully offered everything they knew in addition to the manuals lying around. Maomao was also taking the opportunity to concoct an aphrodisiac, more potent than she had ever made before, in hopes of working through the list more efficiently.

　When it was all said and done, Maomao had amassed forty-eight positions to test out. It was almost thrice the amount she had scribbled down when the idea was first brought up. It could prove impossible to get through them all in a single night, but she had no intentions of giving up here.

　With her notebook in hand, full of novel information, and a cup of laced tea in the other, Maomao entered the bedchamber wherein she found Jinshi, lounging on the couch. Upon noticing her arrival, his face broke into a smile that could rival a peony in full bloom.

　“What’s that book?” he asked as she drew closer.

　“I’ll explain in a bit. But first, please drink this.” Maomao presented him with the teacup while resting the book on the nearby table.

　“There’s nothing in here to put me to sleep, right?” Jinshi’s eyebrows furrowed in suspicion as he took the cup and brought it to his lips. He hesitated to drink, instead choosing to observe Maomao’s reaction.

　“Don’t be absurd,” she quickly denied it, but Jinshi’s eyes merely narrowed further.

　“Then why are you smiling?”

　“That’s just your imagination.” Maomao hurriedly pressed her hands to her cheeks in a desperate attempt to fix her expression. She stared intently at Jinshi as he apprehensively drank the liquid. After making sure that the cup was empty, she posed the question, “So how do you feel?”

　“I feel fine……” He gave a valid response. Most medicine of this type would not work without a “starter”.

　Maomao sat on the couch, tilted slightly towards him. With a delicate hand outstretched, she slid her fingertips along his collar, diving into his robe. As her hand trailed down his pectorals, she drew her face closer to his neck, brushing her nose against his jawline. By the time her hand had arrived at his navel, one leg had swung over Jinshi’s sturdy right thigh and her lips pursed against his earlobe.

　“How about now?” she whispered.

　“What are you…ah?” Before Jinshi could finish his question, Maomao bit gently on that earlobe, her hand skillfully loosening the sash on his nightrobe. As her tongue traced along the edge of his right ear, Jinshi let out a low growl, “Are you trying to turn me on?”

　“Yes. I’m checking the efficacy of the aphrodisiac you just took.”

　“WHY?” Jinshi exclaimed, immediately jolting backwards.

　“Why……?” Maomao tilted her head slightly, openly confused by his incomplete question.

　“I… don’t need……something like…” Jinshi’s voice trailed off. His eyes averted Maomao’s contrastingly direct gaze, causing her to let out a sigh.

　“Certainly, Jinshi-sama is still young, but it’d be foolish to try forty-eight sexual positions in one night without some help.”

　“F– forty…” he stammered, a slight fever rising.

　“You don’t want to?”

　“I do! I do but… why so many?”

　“Because you said to try them all,” Maomao declared matter-of-factly. He said “all” and she did her best to find them “all”. She was expecting praise for her initiative and dedication, but Jinshi’s eyes darted back to her face with his eyebrows furrowed.

　“That was a joke…” He appeared strangely apologetic.

　“Oh.”

　She suddenly realized her error. She was treating his words as a genuine suggestion when it was meant to be taken frivolously. With embarrassment rising, Maomao pulled away from Jinshi’s lap, content to simply forget that any of this occurred, but a firm grip held her waist in place.

　“Don’t go. I didn’t say we couldn’t…” Jinshi pulled her hips closer towards his and continued, “Maybe, merely once a day.”

　“Would you be satisfied with ‘merely once a day’?”

　“Don’t treat me like I’m some kind of lust demon…” he whined, but Maomao’s gaze unceremoniously lowered to where a certain “frog” was asserting its presence. Jinshi’s face donned a beet red hue, and he bellowed, “Ignore that!”

　Don’t ask the impossible, Maomao thought. Despite its current state at only a fraction of its true magnificence, it was still prominent enough to displace the fabric of his robe. This time, it was Jinshi’s turn to sigh.

　“I meant, let’s just take it slow,” he said, standing up with Maomao in his arms. He kissed the bridge of her nose and made strides towards the bed.

　“I understand.” Maomao wrapped her hands around his neck and placed her lips on his. If there was no rush, there would be no need to employ any of her courtesan-like techniques. Instead, Maomao parted her lips and allowed him to explore the inside as he saw fit.

　Jinshi gently lowered her to the covers, their lips fused together. His tongue quickly found hers, twisting and wrapping around it, caught in an intimate dance. She matched his tempo, only taking brief moments to separate and change angles before hungrily reconnecting and devouring his lips again.

　While Jinshi’s tongue was occupied with tracing along the roof of her mouth, his hand made quick work of opening and pushing aside her nightrobe. His hands groped her meagre breasts and pinched at the hardened tops. Maomao twitched at the new stimulation, breaking their connection, and breathing heavily. She twitched yet again, when his lips did not return to hers, but instead wrapped around her neck, sucking, licking, and occasionally biting.

　Just when she thought she had gotten used to the simultaneous assault on her neck and chest, Jinshi moved lower, brushing his teeth along her collarbone, flicking his tongue against the peaks of her twin hills, and leaving a trail of kisses down her thin abdomen. Maomao gripped the bedding tightly, bracing herself for the action she knew would come next, when suddenly, remembering her original objective, she shot upright.

　“Jinshi-sama, please allow me to borrow your face,” she declared emphatically, causing Jinshi to halt in his tracks, looking rather foolish with his tongue sticking out.

　“My face…” He blinked a few times, tilting his head.

　“So that I may sit on it. It’s the first position. Yan qingshui,” she clarified. Jinshi’s eyes widened for a moment before the corners of his lips gradually curled upwards. Witnessing this, Maomao’s face unintentionally contorted in disgust, adding, “Don’t look so happy!”

　 You damn masochist.

　“Well~ If my adorable wife needs a place to sit, then I must oblige.” Jinshi now sported a full grin, his eyes twinkling with the excitement of a young child. Maomao, in contrast, grimaced further, looking at him like he was scum in an uncleaned koi pond. As he lay on his back, chuckling to himself, smile unceasing, Jinshi instructed her to, “Go ahead.”

　Maomao was fully prepared to move forward. She knew what the list entailed, and yet, when confronted with that supreme gem of a face, staring at her with eyes full of anticipation and excitement, she lost her courage.

　“……As expected, this is too disrespectful,” she resigned.

　“I say it’s fine.”

　“But using the face of an imperial family member to…”

　“Sit.”

　“Please excuse me.” If he said it like that, Maomao felt compelled to comply. She got on her knees, her thighs on either side of his head, and slowly lowered her hips. She regretted choosing a facing position, as Jinshi’s eyes took on a darker colour, slowly taking in every inch of her body as if committing it to memory. She froze in place under that scrutiny, and with her reddened face cast aside to avoid his direct line of sight, she mumbled, “Can you stop staring at me?”

　“No.” Jinshi’s reply came instantaneously and perhaps fed up with her hesitation, he grabbed Maomao’s waist and drove it towards his face until she made unwilling contact with his waiting, hungry mouth.

　“Ahh~” a voice unlike her own escaped her lips as he dragged his tongue against her slightly exposed petals. She quickly pressed her palm to stifle it, an act that didn’t go unnoticed under his watchful eye. As a result, Jinshi buried his tongue in further, savouring the honey that flowed from within, like it was a spring of fresh water after months spent in an arid desert. He deftly found the source of this nectar of the gods and circled the opening.

　“Mmh.” Maomao clamped her lips together in futile endurance. With every soft whimper, Jinshi probed deeper, his hands simultaneously sliding up and down the sides of her waist. She felt every caress like a shock to her very foundation. When had she ever been this sensitive? Was it a build-up of the aphrodisiac testing she did earlier during the day? That should not have had any effect. Unless… she made something so potent that it had a lasting effect on her. Thinking such things, she could not help but giggle with joy.

　Perhaps sensing that her thoughts had gone astray, Jinshi roughly jabbed his tongue deeper, thrusting it in and out of the slippery opening. When she dared to look down, her fears were proven valid, as staring back up at her was a man wordlessly demanding her complete attention. The sight of the oft-described most beautiful man in the country’s treasured features, nestled firmly between her legs, pressed against her nethers, like a glorified dildo, was enough to make Maomao brutally aware of precisely what was happening. If anyone were to learn of what she was doing to the face that they adored the most, she would be lucky to get away with her life.

　And yet.

　That exclusivity made her insides throb.

　When she felt his lips brush against the hood that protected her now swollen jewel, Maomao shook her head frantically, burying her fingers in his hair in a last-ditch effort to pull herself away. However, Jinshi’s hold on her hips remained firm, squeezing her small behind and rocking them in sync with her unconscious grinding. She wanted to escape, but her lower half continued to seek the pleasure that it was denied, transmitting those pleasant feelings up her spine, and clouding her judgement. She persistently refused to acknowledge that she was feverish for something more than his tongue.

　By the time Jinshi’s tongue made unimpeded contact with the hidden jewel, her mind had already become distorted. She was convinced that his head was crafted solely to give her pleasure and gyrated wildly chasing it, squeezing his face tightly between her thighs. Could he breathe? It didn’t matter, and as she felt a strong sucking force against the source of her debauchery, Maomao’s vision flashed white and she spasmed uncontrollably. Her legs trembled, her breathing haggard, and losing strength, she fell sideways.

　Utterly shameful.

　In the corner of her hazy vision, Maomao could see Jinshi propping himself up with his face covered in the proof of her disgrace. He did not suffer the same humiliation as she did but instead, in what could only be described as “showing off”, he licked his lips and wiped the remnants with the back of his hand. Staring at her with eyes harbouring a deep, dark lust, his robe barely draped over his well-toned torso, and that-which-cannot-be-ignored, rather than “celestial”, it would be more accurate to describe this man as “demonic”.

　“Oy,” Jinshi’s voice had lost all of its usual sweetness. “What’s next?”

Chapter Text

　Adorable.

　Utterly adorable.

　Jinshi observed his dear wife’s limp, twitching figure with pride. It took months of unravelling the profound mysteries of her body to reach a point where he could render her incapacitated with only his mouth. Every time she reacted to his touch, he would feel an overwhelming desire to make her scream louder.

　The temptation to defile her neat expression proved unbearable.

　He wanted to drag his tongue up her spine, caress her slender, pale thighs, and bury himself in the moistened cavern between them. He wanted to thrust into her, bite into her exposed neck and squeeze her delicate breasts of which she seemed so ashamed. He wanted to leave bright red marks as proof of his dominion, all over her untarnished skin.

　His head was pounding. Every inch of him felt like an inferno and his only respite was her fluids. Was this the intended effect of her cat-branded aphrodisiac? Would her saliva quench his thirst if he indulged in her lips once more? Could her sweat soothe his skin if he drowned in her arms? Would she oust the fire in his loins if he dived into hers?

　If that clever woman knew a fraction of what he was thinking, she would surely glare at him with unbridled contempt.

　But that too would be fine.

　Jinshi never did get a response to his, “What’s next?” question, so he decided to leave his bed and obtain the answer himself. He lifted his feverish body and headed back to the couch where he last remembered seeing that notebook. Much to his surprise, on the table next to where the book was left, a jug of chilled water and two cups were newly placed. While mentally thanking his astute handmaiden, the young man poured himself some of the cooled liquid and slowly swallowed it, but it did little to kill the drought in his gullet. With an audible sigh, he began perusing the notebook while heading back to his lover’s side.

　The guide was quite thorough, even going so far as to include illustrations. As he compared the artwork for the subsequent position with the position in which that woman laid resting, with her knees bent and back curled, a malicious smile crept unto Jinshi’s face. He put down the book and knelt next to her thighs, lifting her hips onto his lap. His rigid masculinity pressed against the dripping lips between her shut thighs.

　“Maomao,” he groaned, dragging his teeth lightly against the dainty shoulder before him while peeling off her dishevelled nightrobe. With flushed cheeks and parted rosy lips, she twisted her head to look at him. Her large eyes, glistening and staring into his, seemed to pierce through his soul and set it ablaze. He managed to ignore the pounding in his chest, suppressing the urge to immediately sink into her, and instead choked out the question, “Fuqiao? Is it okay?”

　The mesmerizing woman beneath him drew her knees in closer, fighting to conceal her face. Her ears, however, betrayed her intentions, exposing her embarrassment and blazing bright red as she gave a slight nod. Jinshi took that as affirmation and drove the full length of his shaft deep into her positively sodden hollow. As he collided with her innermost depths, he was greeted with a familiar erratic spasm along with a hedonic cry. Except, it came at an unfamiliar time. Her tunnel’s warm walls gripped his manhood, pulsating greedily, urging him to release.

　“Maomao, did you just…” but before he could finish his question, his life-long companion shielded her ears. The scowl she shot him was overflowing with disdain as he expected. Yet regrettably, it garnered the opposite effect, merely fuelling the already rampant aphrodisia inside of him.

　He thrust his hips, pushing hers upwards, forcing her to prop herself up on unsteady arms. Cradling her soft thighs and waist, he drew his hips back and started with slow, deliberate strokes. The pressure from her tightly closed legs, as she writhed and shivered in front of him, made her already narrow insides feel all the more cramped. Was she enjoying it as much as he was?

　“Maomao.” Jinshi called her name again, stroking a long finger along her spine. Her back arched magnificently, a gasp leaking and still, he teased, “You’re tighter than usual.”

　The perverse pleasure Jinshi derived from watching her embarrassment was mind-numbing. Every time he pulled out, his yearning to slam back in overtook. He could see that his hardened rod was thoroughly coated in her love juices, pulling sticky threads, and creating a mess that oozed down their thighs. He gradually found himself speeding up, hypnotized by the swaying of her perky breasts and the trembling in her limbs.

　“Does it feel good?” His voice inadvertently dropped to a growl-like tone. Shifting his hips, he intentionally rubbed the bell-shaped tip against the area where he knew she enjoyed it most. “Me too… It feels so good… inside Maomao.”

　“Sh- shut…up……al, ahh…ready…ahhn~”

　Jinshi’s lips drew a smirk at his darling wife’s harsh words. What emerged from her cute little mouth was not very convincing, especially when her more sinful mouth gripped him tightly with every phrase he uttered. She remained endlessly captivating, squirming around in euphoria, slack-jawed and gasping for air. Her hands grasped at the sheets, her glossy hair flicking droplets of sweat. He could tell that she was growing unsteady under his intense thrusting. Leaning over, mildly apologetic, he mumbled, “It’ll be over soon.”

　He kissed her glistening forehead, lowering her hips to the bed before firmly pressing down on her thighs and pounding into her now completely flooded honeypot with devastating intensity. As he rammed against the entrance to her recessed chamber, her walls clamped down harder on him in response. Her cries could no longer be contained within her gritted teeth, choosing instead to cover up the obscene sound of water sloshing from where they repeatedly collided. She had lost all strength, careening head-first into the mattress, and she clung to the bedding to withstand Jinshi's wild movements, her chest heaving with disordered breaths.

　Why was she so erotic? Why was the pinkish hue brought to her light skin so enthralling? Even the glittering tears welling up in her cat-like eyes looked beautiful. He was undoubtedly possessed, single-mindedly pursuing self-gratification, but was that not her fault? Undeniably, there was no one else in existence who could drive him this mad. And she was his alone to hold. The accumulating ecstasy proved too much to endure, and the undulation of her warm fleshy folds took him to his limit.

　Jinshi clutched her waist, and plunging in all the way to the base, he released his precious seed into her molten core. Pouring in his favour, he leaned unto his lover’s tiny body, rocking his hips, compelled by an animalistic instinct to breed and subjugate her. As his bangs dripped with perspiration, his now calmer self pulled her in closer, embracing her from behind, and with her back against his chest, her heartbeat beside his, they beat as one.

　Laying there, still connected, he tenderly stroked her flat stomach, clinging to the vague hope that she had received his feelings and that they had begun to sprout a new life within her.

　“Maomao,” Jinshi sighed, his warm breath falling unto her cheek.

　“What is it?” Her voice sounded quiet and sweet. How rare.

　“Maomao, I…” he faltered. His fever had not completely dissipated, and just the familiar smell of her hair was making him erect again. There was no way she would not detect the formidable presence of something rapidly increasing in mass inside her, and as much as he desired to unleash his pent-up passion with reckless abandon, the sheer dread of breaking her was greater. He pressed his lips to her nape, sucking deeply, leaving evidence of their amorous affair.

　“Jinshi-sama.” He flinched at that obsolete name being called, preferring to mask his uneasiness by leaving another crimson mark on her shoulder. His hatred at how he lost himself to the effects of an aphrodisiac grew, and the abject fear that she would feel similarly overtook any potential wild thoughts. However, contrary to all his negative expectations, the words that cut the oppressive silence were, “Shall we try one more?”

Chapter Text

　One point must be clarified.

　Maomao did not have any untoward motives behind her request. She possessed no wanton desire to hurl herself into lust and cling to a lover all night, like the vulgar stories that certain courtesans passed off as romance.

　She was merely… concerned.

　Despite learning that it was okay to take it slow on the 48 positions, this fact remained—Jinshi was dosed with enough aphrodisiac to quadruple his already boundless stamina. One release would never satisfy this man, and as such, it would be tantamount to cruelty if she ended things here. Not to mention, she needed to discover exactly how long he could last on her amatory medicine.

　For research.

　“No.”

　A voice, almost a whisper, surfaced from the darkness as the heat that nestled inside and around her body vanished. When Maomao, confused, rolled over, she found herself faced with a broad back covered in sweat, shivering. She placed a palm on that nobleman’s torso, but he shrugged it off, saying, “It’s fine. I’m used to this. I’ll deal with it myself.”

　“That’s unnecessary,” she replied, withdrawing her hand but shifting closer to him. Undeniably, Jinshi was targeted for years by ambitious women (and even a few audacious men) who aimed for his beauty and status. He must have suffered in solitude, wrangling with the effects of whatever unsolicited substances had slipped through the cracks. Maomao tried to touch him once more, hesitating midair, the words bubbling up within her. “Just use me.”

　Quicker than her vision could track, her arms were caught and pinned to the bed by a dreadful beast. His hair fell, framing her face and creating a curtain that isolated them, forcing her focus towards the beauty mere inches in front of her. His warm sighs, faintly scented with jasmine, permeated the narrow space and became her gasps. Staring into his obsidian eyes was comparable to gazing into a bottomless abyss.

　Her heart pounded. All instincts were advising her to escape before he inevitably devoured her. Maybe he caught sight of the quivering in her lips or felt her limbs rattling in his hands. But for whatever reason, Jinshi lowered his face to hers and muttered, “Are you even up to the task?”

　“Of course. Am I not your apothecary?” Maomao said with a defiant smirk to mask her trepidation, before cheekily adding, “Or perhaps I should say, it is my duty as your consort.”

　“My consort, is it?” Jinshi returned her smirk with a roguish smile of his own. His face inched closer, his breath tickling her lips, but contrary to her expectations, he drifted aside, and his lips collided with her earlobe instead. “I won’t hold back,” he crooned before setting his teeth against the springy skin.

　Akin to a ravenous stray dog, he feasted on the bones set before him, making his way down her torso. Impressions of neatly formed teeth and crimson coloured petals were left in his wake. Curiously, he avoided her humble mounds and her dew-soaked petals below, preferring to bestow his kisses upon her inner thighs, imparting his mark against pallid flesh. Disquiet fell upon his striking visage when he noticed the unfading scar adorning her left leg, but nevertheless, he dragged the tip of his tongue along its raised surface. Maomao thrashed about, withstanding the ticklish sensation against her bent limb, whilst he teased her ankle, heel, and instep, taking care to savour every toe.

　The man she wed was nothing short of astoundingly clingy.

　This must end now, she thought. She had to swiftly regain the upper hand, lest his tormenting persist until dawn. Her subsequent actions bore the possibility of backfiring, but for the sake of time-efficient research, she would brave that danger. Dancing her fingertips along his forearm, destined for the large palm pressed against the sheets, she stifled her pudency and spoke.

　“Jinshi-sama…” Maomao’s bid for his attention, brought with it her come-hither eyes—an art perfected through years of unwanted discipline. And upon her lips, a courtesan’s smile that parted to say, “Why don’t you kiss me?”

　“Maomao…” Jinshi sighed, grasping her hand. He forsook her legs to approach her face, hovering so close that she could feel him panting. When she closed her eyes in both anticipation and self-preservation, he replied, “Not a chance.”

　“Huh?” An incomprehensible voice escaped her. Her eyes snapped wide. The nobleman pulled back and leered over her with wanton self-satisfaction. He strengthened his hold on her palm. His other hand grazed her cheek, his thumb finding a home against her lips, happy to stroke them.

　“Tempting, but I’ll decline,” he said, tugging lightly at the lower of the twin pink cushions. “You plan to use that enticing tongue of yours to weaken me, right?”

　Was it that obvious?

　Maomao’s jaw fell agape. Jinshi seized the opportunity to slip in two of his long fingers and tangle them around her “enticing tongue”. His fingers frolicked around, while the hand that restrained her added the other wrist to its grasp, pulling both over her head. His thigh split her legs apart, grinding against her hardened lovebud, and as she struggled for freedom, he said, “You’re trying to milk me dry.”

　When have I ever done that?! Her mind was reeling. Undoubtedly, she had teased him on occasion, but those were all jokes—playing around, so to say. She had never gone so far as to milk him dry. While unable to refute his accusations, seeing that his fingers still roamed as they pleased, her thoughts persisted. Is he going insane? Did I give him too large a dose?

　Well, perhaps all was not lost. Maomao snapped her lips shut around his fingers before slowly and deliberately sucking on them. Rather than allow him to have his way, she maneuvered her tongue from fingertip to base. She offered them the same attention and care she would offer to a certain exquisite body part of his… if only he would allow her to. She did not miss the rise and fall in Jinshi’s throat, and the wavering in his immoral gaze when he bit his lip.

　“Stop that.” The frustrated man wrenched his fingers out of her mouth, furrowing his brows. He alternated glances between her smug lips and the saliva dripping down his palm before tracing his index along her similarly dampened petals. The sudden stimulation inadvertently made her slender hips bounce off the mattress, much to the perpetrator’s delight. “See? Your body’s more than erotic enough.”

　Yep. Definitely insane. Perhaps even hallucinating. Otherwise, what nonsense was this man trying to claim about Maomao’s seedy-looking body? Meanwhile, he exuded enough sexual intensity to force everyone within a one-mile radius into a breeding frenzy.

　Jinshi released her hands and cast aside his barely draped robe. Unattired, he mounted her, sliding one hand under her right knee, slowly lifting her thigh. The familiarity of his actions gave rise to long-repressed memories, and she unconsciously wiped her palm on the pillow beneath.

　“Hmm? Why are you wiping your hand?” Jinshi leaned in, shifting her leg higher into what looked to be the song ye zhi cun position. His eyes narrowed, studying her expression.

　“…Old habit,” she finally replied while averting her gaze.

　“Old habit?” That detestable young man began rubbing his engorged member along the typically hidden but now fully exposed crevice between her thighs. The more he brushed against the swollen pearl, the more feverish—and the more drenched—that area became. And with his voice rising above the squelching, Jinshi said, “There’s something nostalgic about this, isn’t there?”

　“M-merely a coincidence.” Maomao's brow, neck, chest, and to be fair, her whole body dripped with sweat as she stammered out her reply.

　“I recall you saying something about being decently sized…” he continued, slightly penetrating into her centre. Her words stuck at the back of her throat. Apparently, this nobleman could hold a grudge for years. She regretted being so insistent at that time and loathed that he still remembered. “Were you able to verify your claims? Or do you need an even deeper understanding?”

　 As his queries reverberated through her ear, dripping in what she could only describe as malice, Jinshi gradually squeezed himself into her tight confines. The veritable girth of his “frog” pried her open with every push inward.

　It’s not decent at all! Maomao wanted to scream. His thrusts were slow and decisive. His mission seemed to be to meticulously carve the shape and size of his manhood into her very core.

　“You’re so quiet now,” Jinshi said as he pressed his right palm against her thin abdomen. The added pressure left her deprived of air and breathless in her delirium. She felt his deliberate movements down to the minutiae, while his thumb found her secret pearl and made quick work of kneading it.

　Her hips quivered.

　Her thighs trembled.

　She squirmed.

　She writhed.

　And while she desperately attempted to flee from the tingles crawling up her spine, Jinshi never sped up, merely prodding rhythmically at her sweet spot. Her breathing quickened, and she clutched onto his sturdy thighs. Despite this, he refused to indulge her, happy to lick along her raised calf as the intervals between her gasps shortened. Once he tightened the gap between their lower halves, grinding his hips in arcs against her lovebud, she dug her nails into his flesh. Frantically, she battled against the impending loss of control.

　“Go on. Climax.” Amongst such permissive words, Maomao’s resistance snapped, and like a broken dam, pleasure flowed through the breach, flooding her entire being. Her hips bucked violently, held fast only by Jinshi’s firm palm. “Ma………o, yo………s……”

　She felt like she heard his honeyed voice, but could not discern what he uttered. Furthermore, her vision was obscured. The uncontrollable spasms seemed never-ending, and the slightest stir of his firmly lodged rod made her waist shake. Through her muddled view, she could almost recognize the silhouette of his flawlessly constructed face, save for a solitary scar, closing in. His lips fell gently against hers.

　Oh sure, now he kisses me. It bore some plausibility that retaliation would be impossible so long as Maomao stayed in that euphoric trance. Ordinarily, this would be a logical conclusion, but unfortunately for Jinshi, her techniques were more instinctual than that. It would require conscious effort to switch them off.

　Without thought, she returned what was given to her, tenfold. Her arms draped around his shoulders, and her hands pinned his head in place. She could sense his torso stiffening as she laid waste to his orifice, before his hips began thrusting erratically, powerless to resist the rousing assault.

　In the end, Jinshi’s warm liquid gushed forth into Maomao’s depths, while his mouth remained held where it was. That toasty feeling seemed to spread to places it should have been incapable of spreading to. She clung tighter onto his silken locks, luring him in closer, deepening their kiss, desperately fighting to latch on to the prickling emotions coursing through her extremities.

　Sure enough, this man’s existence is…

Chapter Text

　Poisonous.

　A certain brothel-born apothecary had once told him that there was a fine line between medicine and poison. The ability to harm or heal depended solely on the one who wielded it. And when he saw that same apothecary’s smile bloom after their lips parted ways, Jinshi could not help but wonder if his medicine had become his poison.

　“I swear, you’ll be the death of me,” he said as an unseen force compelled him into her kiss, yet again. It was greed. As simple as that. An unquenchable thirst that kept him connected, kept him drowning, kept him desperate for her love and attention.

　The taste of her tongue.

　The scent of her breath.

　The touch of her lips.

　The sound of her whimpers.

　Even when he managed to break free from her embrace to fill his lungs with air, her flushed cheeks and sultry stare maintained their hold on him. The small fingertips dislodged from his hair, brushing across his skin, sliding along his shoulders down to his biceps. His chest was on the verge of bursting at a mere touch from this curious creature he called his wife.

　“What on earth are you thinking?” Jinshi’s thoughts inadvertently slipped out.

　“……It’s still hard.” She seemed hesitant to reply, but sure enough, something rigid, pulsating even, was firmly nestled inside her. And honestly, he felt disinclined to pull it out.

　“Isn’t that your fault?”

　“That goes without saying.” She averted her gaze. Her glistening lips, now robbed of their smile, were stitched tightly together. It was likely cruel of him to say something like that out loud, but his current insatiability was, by and large, entirely her fault.

　“Right? So, take responsibility, Maomao,” he said, twirling one of the two beaded locks framing her face. “To the bitter end.”

　A resentful glare through narrowed eyes shot back at him. It would be best to stare into those glittering jewels and observe her adorable face as it warped with every climax. However, if he were to continue treading that path, he would lose what little rationality remained.

　Opting to avoid that outcome at all costs, Jinshi grasped the leg that hooked round his waist and flipped his wife over. She may have picked up on his intentions, as she angled her hips to align with his. Unfortunately, the sight of where they interlocked peeking from between her ripened peach proved as fuelling as her expressions. His palms, unable to resist the peach’s call, reached for the tender surface, a certain indescribable bounciness sucking him in. The feeling of rubbing, pushing, squeezing her flesh, enthralled him. It was possible that he heard muffled protests from beneath him, but they were of no importance. He slid one hand up her waist, dancing along her curves, reaching over for her—

　“Enough already.” A grumble emerged from the pillow, and his ill-mannered hand’s advances were hindered by one of a considerably smaller size. Those knitted brows, heavy breathing, and dewy eyelashes, all prominent on the face turned towards him, insisted he curb his antics.

　“And if I refuse?” Jinshi shook off that insubstantial grip, and groped at the supple mounds on her chest, as he had set out to do. While rolling the cherry-like peak between his fingertips, a mischievous grin emerged in response to her increasingly sour demeanour. But she too refused to back down, and began rocking her rear against him, bouncing atop the mattress. The wanton shaking allowed generous amounts of their mutual love juices to seep out, staining the sheets, covering his manhood in the proof of his favour—proof that she was his.

　It looked… Incredibly perverse.

　“Fine. I get it.” He hoisted her right leg, putting an end to that hypnotic swaying. His wife’s body curved as beautifully as any swallow, matching the position’s name, Yan fan. Her hands now clutched at the pillow, her features completely concealed from his view. But despite this, her heaving chest revealed her rising excitement.

　Jinshi resolved to satisfy those expectations, drilling into her, ramming inside that dripping wet cavern, but unfortunately, his sensitivity was heightened. He could sense her inner walls’ subtle contours, and his instinct to flood her with his lust rose to an unmanageable level. As such, in the vain hopes of regaining the last vestiges of his restraint, he took a moment of rest, briefly vacating that cavern. But then.

　“Mm, don’t… stop.”

　Those rose-tinted lips uttered words rarely heard in such a coquettish tone, and although muffled by the pillow’s fabric, the implication pierced his psyche. He started to notice how, at this exact moment, her hips were shaking, begging him to fill the void he had created. Was this also a part of her so-called “duty” as his consort? Or was that a pretense, glossing over a more indulgent, self-serving goal?

　He bit his lip before yielding to her demands, muttering swears under his breath. Holding on to her raised ankle, he pushed back on her leg and sank into her once more, grinding in as far as her petite frame would allow. All that pent-up frustration was unleashed in the assault he waged on her hidden chamber. Those slender shoulders trembled every time he prodded at her deepest parts. But inside? Inside, she only grew more drenched, permeating the room with sounds of their intimate union.

　“Maomao likes it when it’s deep inside, right?” Jinshi said, stroking her sweat-laden tresses with his free hand. The woman beneath him instantly resumed her protests. She thrashed about wildly, any squeals she made dampened by the pillow pressed to her face.

　How cute.

　Although she likely sought otherwise, her reckless squirming aroused him to no end. Her hips twisted from side to side, bringing forth a unique sensation that obscured the line between where he ended and she began. He released her ankle, straddled both legs, and put his full attention into ravishing that tiny wriggling body. Pinning both of her flailing arms to the bed, interlocking their fingers, he leaned over and shoved his hips against her, relishing in her defiled visage. Each thrust he made submerged him deeper into the abyss—an abyss exclusively devoted to her. The yearning. The craving. The longing. How could he live without her after savouring such ecstasy? If he could not pull himself out of the throes of pleasure, he would rather drag her down with him.

　Their bodies rocked in unison, sweat mingling, temperatures rising. She had taken to biting into the pillow, suppressing all of her delectable cries, much to Jinshi’s chagrin. But maybe that was for the best, since his resistance to her grip, no, her stranglehold on his manhood was already waning.

　He was close. He had been for a while, but now, he had company, and her movements were growing more frantic by the second. As he kissed her nape, he poured out his seed, pumping her womb full of the culmination of his passion. It seemed impossible for him to stop thrusting, even as his wife trembled underneath him, jolting sporadically, before losing all strength.

　“Maomao?”

　Silence.

　Concerned, he dismounted her prostrate figure and examined her face. The light breathing tickling his fingers indicated she was, indeed, asleep. All the tension from within him dissipated upon witnessing such a restful appearance. Mindful not to wake her, he brushed aside the wet strands of hair stuck to her cheek, wishing to admire her features for a bit longer.

　“I really do love you…” he whispered, despite knowing the likelihood of receiving a response. In all fairness, even if she were conscious, he would not receive one.

　After wiping off both their bodies, Jinshi stretched out on a pillow next to his dear wife, gazing at her fondly. He thought he knew her well, but she still continued to find new ways of surprising him. Who could have guessed that she would go to such lengths over some drivel he said in passing? Frankly speaking, it filled him with immense joy. He could kiss those soft lips, but he should refrain… for now. She went through a lot tonight, and she deserved as much rest as she could get.

　And he could use some too.

　Pulling the covers over them both, he joined her in slumber.

Chapter Text

　Maomao opened her eyes to a room still shrouded in darkness, save for the faint flickers of lamplight. In her immediate surroundings, she found a sleeping celestial, his face lacking any traces of lust, as if their earlier tryst were a sham. A part of her felt guilty. Besides lacing his tea with an aphrodisiac, she deliberately spoke words meant to agitate him. In some ways, she acted no differently from the court ladies who vied for the Imperial Brother’s attention. Her goal was to push his limits (and nothing more at that), but something about the entire affair left her feeling uneasy.  

　Lifting her body off the bed, she clothed herself once more. She needed to jot down her findings as soon as possible, but unfortunately, the only items brought into Jinshi’s chambers were the collection of positions and that tea. What she required now were her notes on the tea’s medicinal ingredients, but such things were better left in  her  room.  

　Leaving in the middle of the night should pose no issues. Guards were typically posted outside and frequently patrolled the corridors. It may surprise them to find her roaming about at this hour, but someone should be willing to escort her back. Maomao ousted the lights, leaving one lit near the exit, but the moment she approached the door…  

　“Where are you going?” A broad shadow emerged, dimming her surroundings. Little could be seen in such poor lighting, but she could discern a familiar arm barring her way out. “Are you leaving me?” the voice, pregnant with despair, asked her.  

　“Only temporarily. Jinshi-sama needn’t be concerned.” Maomao tugged at the latch, but a second arm joined the first, securing her in place.  

　“Don’t,” he pleaded, and through the fabric of her clothes, a recognizable mass of heat pressed against her rear. It would seem that, unlike herself, her husband had neglected to don his nightclothes before leaving the bed. His arms slid around her torso, drawing her nearer. “I need you,” he said, kissing the top of her head, brushing against her. “You know I can’t sleep alone.” The words came like a whisper. Soft, but deep.  

　This is bad.  Maomao wriggled in her confines, her robe sliding off her shoulders. He seemed insatiable, mindlessly sucking, licking, nibbling at the fair skin before him. His warm breath tickled the tiny hairs at her neck, his hands slipping into her clothes, caressing where they pleased. And although he violated her body at every turn, that feather-like touch of his only brought pleasure, much unlike the crimes committed in dark alleyways. Be it conditioning or be it anticipation, whatever the culprit, she was gradually succumbing to the tongue flicking at her nape. Near-breathless, a question escaped: “Aren’t you cold?”  

　“Hm? Maomao’s warm enough.” Jinshi’s palm trailed up her inner thighs, seeking the source of her warmth. That tickled too. The sensation of his calloused fingertips grazing her tender skin made her shiver. But a tingle of a different sort shot up her spine the moment he slid one such finger into her sodden cavern. His other hand squeezed her subtle breasts as he continued his profane rambling. “Here’s especially warm.”  

　Maomao unintentionally tightened up when that lustful voice moaned directly into her ear, causing some honey to trickle down his finger. This undoubtedly delighted her husband, considering how he yanked her hips towards his and slipped in another finger. The full length of both digits was swallowed sans resistance, and his palm pressed firmly against her nethers. Jinshi twisted his fingers slightly, accurately targeting a particular point that made her knees weak. Rhythmically rubbing, the pleasure pushing through, her breathing growing more staggered, but honestly?  

　It was not enough.  

　She had spent most of the night with something far more substantial defiling her recesses, so a finger or two, regardless of length, could not satisfy her. Overwhelming emptiness and frustration brewed deep within her, and yet, Maomao dared not vocalize such feelings.  

　“Maomao~ You’re so warm… and wet.” Jinshi’s words of provocation continued, and the speed with which he thrust his fingers in and out grew frantic. Buckling under the rising stimulation, her knees finally gave out. She leaned against the door, the surface cooling her flushed cheek as the hem of her robe hiked upwards. “Mm, makes me want to put something else in there.” No longer impeded by fabric, that hot appendage (the one she was intentionally ignoring) made direct contact with the small of her back.  

　“Wouldn’t you rather go to bed?” she begged through beleaguered breaths. She was running low on options. Perhaps the notion of returning to her own bed had to be abandoned completely. Her memory was good enough to last until morning, was it not? She would merely note it all down then.  

　Jinshi’s indecent assault stopped, and with one arm firmly wrapped around her waist, Maomao’s legs now dangled in midair. “I’d rather you come with me,” the man said.  

　“O-of course. We’ll head back together.”   

　This was good. This was compromise.  

　“That’s not what I meant.”  

　What else could he have meant? Unless…  

　Oh no.  

　Oh no no no.  

　“Maomao…  Come  with me.” That accursed meatstick of his had somehow wedged itself in between her legs, and now rubbed along the crevice, messily smearing her juices. Her toes could barely touch ground, leaving her with only two options for stability—Jinshi’s arms, or the cold, hard door. Maomao preferred the latter, supporting herself with her palms against it, when her husband bit down on her earlobe. “If you don’t want it, you can always say no.”  

　How can I say no?!  The situation was beyond salvaging. Jinshi’s hips had taken up a unique rhythm, presumably meant to coax her over. Every so often, he would rub his manhood directly against her lovebud; other times he would briefly dip the tip in, further agitating her frustration. She begged him, “Just put it in.”  

　“Hmmm? Not sure what you mean,” he said, prodding her once more. Her thighs, slick with obscene fluids, squeezed together tightly, but he continued rubbing against them. “Put what in where?”  

　Maomao’s patience was at its limit. Pounding her fist on the door, “You know what I mean!” she shouted, while Jinshi simply snickered behind her. But she would soon regret this outburst.  

　“Your Highness, is something wrong?”   

　The question came from the other side of the door. Her heart lodged in her throat, sweat trickling down her skin; she froze. Jinshi had stopped moving as well, only clutching her tightly in his arms.   

　“Your Highness?” The guard spoke once more.  

　This would typically be the point where her husband would assure the guard that nothing was amiss, and that he should calmly resume his duties.  Yes, hurry up and do that.  The longer they stayed frozen, the worse the situation could become. What if he suspected danger? What if he wanted to come inside and check? What if—  

　“Ah, ahhhn~ ♡ ”  

　A lone voice echoed, one not unlike that of a woman being pleasured—one distinctly her own.  

　Maomao’s cavern had been filled to the hilt without warning. The sudden impact his filthy meatstick had made with her cervix rendered any previous attempts to stifle her voice useless. But perhaps the guard didn't hear. There was a chance…  

　“Ah! Um, ah… S-so sorry, Your Highness. Please pardon my rudeness!”  

　There was no chance.  

　Her husband renewed his attack with reckless abandon, callous to any sounds that may leak. Maomao had no intention of letting whoever stood outside the door hear her voice, but Jinshi? Jinshi had other plans.   

　The force of his hips repeatedly slamming against her posterior produced a noise so obscene that it put her prior squeal to shame. Was it because of her notebook? Or did he just instinctively end up in one of the positions, hòu lū. His left hand explored the gentle slopes of her figure; his right stayed gripping her hips. Clammy skin stuck to her back; a frenetic rhythm transmitted through their contact. Her senses picked up every minutia of his actions: every strand of his hair that brushed against her shoulders, every breath shifting her hair out of place, and every slight angle change he made while plunging inside her.  

　“You can suck on my fingers like you did before.” Her husband, hand now cradling her jaw, rubbed those fingers against her lips. While the left attempted to bypass her clenched teeth, the right moved between her thighs, pinching her ripened lovebud.  

　“Mmh… nngh, ahh!” Jinshi’s fingers encircled her tongue for the second time that night, and Maomao gave up on suppressing her voice. What use was it now?  

　To be honest, she enjoyed having him back inside her. She liked the tingly feeling that built with each insertion, and the floaty light-headedness that came when she was brought to the edge. Those waves of pleasure; she rode them, as Jinshi planted his kisses on her neck. “You’re tightening up again,” he whispered, reuniting Maomao with reality. That bastard had a way of keeping her painfully aware of exactly what (and whom) she was doing at the moment. He likely wanted to make sure they climaxed together.  

　From her mouth to her throat, Jinshi’s hand pulled Maomao in closer, tilting her head back. It was unbearable, locking eyes with the crazed beast pounding upward into her. From throat to chest, kneading her breasts, still abusing her swollen bud, he violated her—devoured her.  

　He moaned her name.  

　He moaned it again.  

　Each iteration more broken than the last.    

　Just how desperate is he? Maomao surrendered herself to his licentious desires, her insides writhing,  burning  around him. Incapable of enduring and verbally incoherent, her eyes pleaded: “End. This.” So, with a bite of his lip plus a few decisive thrusts, Jinshi did as she asked, releasing his seed to the beat of Maomao’s ecstasy-filled twitches. The inferno engulfed her, but the beast’s eyes never shifted their gaze.  

　How long did her climax last? Her body had grown limp and her stomach molten.  I can’t walk, she thought. The strength to hold herself up was no longer in her limbs, sending her toppling into Jinshi’s arms. He supported her while staying eerily silent, carrying her away from the door to their place of rest.  

　“See? We made it to bed.” There was a hint of sarcasm in his tone, but she’d overlook it for now.  

　“Good.” With a heavy sigh, Maomao collapsed onto the mattress, trying to regain her composure. The sheets felt cold against her overheated skin, as Jinshi stroked her hair, murmuring gentle words of adoration. But she instead grew more troubled by the object stiffening inside her. Breath laboured and shoulders heaving, she spoke, “Jinshi-sama, hurry up… and pull out.”  

　“Hmm.” He traced the shape of her hips, moving his palms along its gentle curves. The moment he squeezed her thighs, her legs, dangling over the edge, trembled. “Sure,” he replied.  

　And he did pull out.  

　Before slamming right back in.  

　Maomao’s screams could be heard throughout the Imperial Brother’s palace for the next several hours.  

Chapter Text

　Jinshi awoke the next morning, unusually refreshed. His mind was clear, his energy levels high, and his darling, adorable Maomao lay sleeping next to him, snug under the covers. Even if he had awoken in the foulest of moods, the mere sight of her was enough to tug at the corners of his mouth. In a slumber so deep, the palace could be under siege, and she would remain oblivious. But considering what they did last night, he expected as much.

　Last night…?

　With trembling hands, he peeled his sleeping wife’s shroud away, setting off a whirlwind of conflicting emotions. As more of her body came into view, his breath refused to leave his lungs. Her milky skin, now marred by deep crimson love bites along her back, glistened in contrast to the black strands of hair strewn across the mattress. His wife, his lovely wife, never felt more his, but the glimpses he caught of purple bruising around her waist brought forth insurmountable guilt.

　Jinshi, of course, didn’t sincerely think he owned her. So long as her heart remained out of reach, he could only have her body with her consent. And those marks on her body, ‘the proof of his ownership,’ would also fade with time. But none of that mattered; nothing could change the fact that he had hurt her, and some dark, twisted, selfish side of him derived immense pleasure in doing so. That broken part, however small, implied she was the one to blame.

　She had drugged him (with an aphrodisiac) and brought in that vulgar notebook (one he would prefer to peruse more thoroughly). She asked, nay, begged him for it. (She did no such thing.)

　She…

　She didn’t deserve to be tormented for hours on end.

　Behind the curtain stood a handmaiden nearing her twilight years, with a change of clothing in her hand. “I am well aware of the follies of youth, young master,” Suiren’s voice sounded gentle as she spoke, “but it would serve you well to remember: Everything in moderation.” Her words, however, were anything but.

　“Prince of the Moon, your meal has arrived!” Chue’s voice rang from outside his office door. Most of the room’s nuisances, thinly veiled as court officials, had already been ushered out.

　“Ahh, just set it on the table,” Jinshi replied, clearing a spot among the documents.

　He had expected the quirkish handmaiden to approach, but delivering his packaged meal was none other than his wife—soberly dressed and bespeckled as demanded. “Good day, Jinshi-sama.” It was a courteous greeting, dripping in a discourteous tone, along with a gaze he hadn’t had the pleasure of receiving in quite some time. The look his wife levied upon him hearkened to a time when she found a cockroach crushed underneath her sole.

　He deserved that.

　Hesitant, Jinshi began asking, “How’s your body…?”

　“It hurts.”

　“Are you–”

　“I am upset.”

　“Is there–”

　“I won’t accept anything less than bezoar.”

　This shrewd wench… Her temper was warranted, though when given her condition.

　Jinshi’s laden sigh filled the entire office. “I don’t have bezoar,” he said, “but I did acquire a unique spice of sorts that a merchant insisted had medicinal properties. The name went something like nut–”

　“Nutmeg?” Maomao’s eyes lit up.

　“Yeah, nutmeg. It’s–” Wait. Had she not claimed to be in pain? He’d sworn she had, and yet, his wife had just leapt over his desk, bringing her face a mere sun from his. His lunch remained undisturbed, but numerous sheets of parchment were now strewn about the floor, eliciting a rogue groan from behind the nearby curtain.

　“I can have it, right?” she begged. “You’ll give it to me… right?”

　“I mean, if you w–”

　“I want it!” The conversation had taken a dangerous turn. With each cut-off sentence, she drifted closer until she sat squarely on his knees. He could see the excitement in her eyes as her wild breathing tickled his lips.

　Forced to bury any inappropriate thoughts, Jinshi said, “Second drawer from the left,” while pointing to a cabinet close by. Maomao moved nimbly for an ‘injured’ woman once she had her prize in hand. Amidst the peculiar giggling and strange wiggling, he heard another drawer open. “There’s nothing in the others,” he advised, only to be met with a tongue click, followed by a faint mutter of the word ‘stingy.’ Such insolence, but he’d let it slide.

　“I’m grateful for your ongoing support,” she said, beaming and sniffing her parcel of nutmeg. “I’d best be off now.” But just as he thought that would be all, Maomao paused at the doorway. “I’ll see you tonight.”

　And with that, she left.

　Sure enough, Jinshi’s wife sauntered into his bedchamber that evening, humming to herself.

　“You seem chipper,” he said sarcastically.

　“Anyone would be in a good mood with a generous husband like you around.” He’d be delighted if she sincerely meant those words. However, he knew all too well that her recent experiments with nutmeg had a more significant impact on her vivacious demeanour. “Now then, Jinshi-sama,” she continued, “please remove your clothing.”

　“Eh? Um, but…” She had caught him off guard. He wanted to say, ‘Aren’t you rushing things?!’ Not that he would ever refuse her, but should there not be a bit more build-up to these things? Like kissing, and touching… No, before that, what about her bruises?

　“I’d like to examine your body for any negative side-effects. Specifically, your pelvic region.”

　Jinshi stared at Maomao in silence.

　Of course, it’s a check-up, he reasoned, while removing his lower garments and pelting them to the floor.

　His wife always approached her work methodically, so nothing about her palpation was inherently erotic. She spoke to him in a tender, calming tone. “Sometimes, there can be minor abrasions in the skin tissue,” she said while cupping his sack. “I’ve also observed a few cases of friction burns forming from overuse.” Should she not be concerned about that as well? Jinshi lacked the courage to ask as Maomao’s fingertips deftly handled his shaft, gliding along its skin in a clearly professional manner. “Does this hurt?”

　“No,” Jinshi responded to what was an unmistakably clinical squeeze.

　“Any numbness?”

　“… No.” He had endured every single one of her light touches, but they were undeniably that: light touches. Her current position, kneeling between his legs as he sat on the edge of the bed, was not erotic in the slightest either. This skinny, nondescript woman, whose body he savoured for over two dual hours last night and whose face was perched less than a half shaku from his loins, was not erotic at all.

　“…… Jinshi-sama,” Maomao said, glaring at him past her half-lowered lids, “perhaps you should consider taking in another consort.” Or five, she added under her breath.

　“At least you know it still works.”

　“I suggest you lie down.” Her glare sharpened.

　That seemed sensible. If he shut his eyes and relaxed, perhaps he could keep a tighter rein on his thoughts. Her dull, light touches soon resumed, although firmer this time. Was she having difficulty examining him while erect? Had he not known better, he would have assumed she was pleasuring him, and this soft, moist sensation was her…

　“Oy!” Jinshi bolted upright to discover his wife kneeling at his side, her hands steadily squeezing along his shaft and her lips resting exactly where he had envisioned them. “Wh-what are you doing?!”

　“Service,” she replied. “For my uselessly frisky husband.” A sardonic smile accompanied her words.

　“There’s no need to—hngh!” Despite his protests, her lips enveloped his cock once more, pushing back on the foreskin. The second her tongue made unimpeded contact with the bell-shaped crown, Jinshi shivered, unable to withstand the sudden surge of stimulation. It left him knitting his eyebrows and clawing at the sheets.

　“My apologies,” she said, freeing him from her mouth. “I’m not very good at this.” Her hands, however, kept on stroking.

　Maomao’s comment was correct; she was indeed ‘not very good’ at it, but not for lack of technique. What this woman did was go through the act as though she were sprinting to the finish. On both occasions, when he was curious enough to allow her near his nethers, he could only hold out for a couple of minutes. After such unbearable humiliation, Jinshi made sure to avoid it.

　“But you know,” she said, brushing the tip of his prick against her lips, staining them in a sheen of their combined fluids, “if I sit here, it also counts as one of the positions: Qiān niǎo zhī qū.”

　Who cares about that now?! He should have figured she had ulterior motives the instant he detected that malicious gleam in her eyes. With her gaze locked on to his, his wife kept on rubbing him. Then she returned his rigid manhood to her warm, open mouth, taking him in bit by bit. The way her tongue danced around his rod felt more ticklish than anything else. But the noises she made—the obscene slurping, smacking, sucking noises—kept pushing him closer to the edge. What did she call this? Service? Jinshi scoffed, growing more convinced that her ‘service’ was nothing but a flimsy excuse to punish him for what had occurred the night prior. Whenever pleasure built, she would stop for some unfathomable reason and release him from her lips, squeezing at the base. It was as if she sought to forcibly prevent him from spilling seed.

　“Does it feel good?” With a coy smirk, she’d ask him something to that effect each time her mouth was empty, but that only garnered his irritation. He desired nothing more than to seize her by the head and ram full tilt into her throat. Her mouth was so tiny; she’d probably gag if he filled it up. No, filling up her other hole would undoubtedly feel better. Yet, with his most sensitive parts literally in her hands (and that bothersome guilt stabbing at the back of his mind), he had no choice but to comply.

　Until…

　One of Maomao’s hands crept up his chest, landing on his nipple.

　“Don’t. You. Dare.” In between the waves of pleasure, he tried to admonish her, taking hold of her slender wrist, despite his weakened grasp. But in a show of bold-faced defiance, she pinched his nipple instead, twisting it between her fingertips while simultaneously devouring more of his hardened prick. Jinshi bit his lip; far be it for him to moan now. His body, however, betrayed him—his hips quivered, legs buckled, and as she swallowed his rod to the hilt, a whimper escaped. He could feel himself at the back of her throat, her lips squished against his base, and the drivel seeping out the edges of her stuffed orifice. Up and down, his wife’s head bobbed, in and out, sliding along his throbbing cock, smearing it in increasing amounts of saliva.

　“Mmm, Mao… Mao,” he groaned. “This isn’t, hngh, ahh… a checkup anymore.” His breathing became laboured. He needed to touch her, hold her, anything. Jinshi extended his arm, just to stroke her hair, entangling his fingers in the ebony strands, settling his palm on her nape. From that point onward, her technique softened. She caressed his chest and thighs and resumed stroking his rod in between her sucking.

　“You’re mistaken,” the tender voice informed him. Even her breath felt erotic as she traced the underside of his manhood with her tongue. “I need to make sure you’re capable of release.” She tapped on its nearly purple-hued head, drawing thin threads of liquid excitement. “So, will you?” The following words were whispered after bestowing a solitary kiss at the very tip. “Will you come for me?”

　Despite Jinshi’s refusal to answer, his lower half did on his behalf, twitching and leaking clear fluid onto her lips. Once Maomao resumed her ‘service’, the overwhelming pleasure rebounded. The urge to release was nigh, and yet, this time, she refused to stop, instead speeding up and further coaxing his climax. “Hey, slow down for a, aah–” Jinshi tried pulling out. He had learnt before that a man’s emission did not taste pleasant, so he simply wished to be courteous. Except, at this point, he was so close to an orgasm that his hips spasmed, unconsciously thrusting his engorged prick further into her mouth. “Maomao, nngh, I-I can’t…!” She refused to budge, latching on like a leech, sucking him until he sprayed his issue where she’d intended—deep down her throat.

　She had swallowed it. All of it.

　“Thank you for the meal,” Maomao said, wiping her mouth with a nearby scrap of waste paper. “It was delicious.”

　“Ugh.” Jinshi rolled over, unwilling to face her for the time being. A myriad of complex emotions swirled within him, including deep-seated inadequacy. Naturally, he was sulking.

　“Was it that bad?”

　“No.”

　“Are you upset?”

　“……… No.” A warmth sneaked up behind him, and thin arms wrapped around his body, ones belonging to his wife who enjoyed nestling her head against his back. Jinshi sighed, releasing what little tension he had left. “I’m guessing that’s it for the night.”

　“That’ll be all for the next five nights,” she said. “At the minimum.”

　Well, that was to be expected.

　This bears mentioning: Jinshi was no monk.

　Let’s make that doubly clear: Jinshi did not possess the disposition required to enjoy a life of celibacy. Not since he left the inner palace, and especially not since he had a taste of her. And after that night, his latent longing only grew in severity.

　‘At least five days’—that was how long he’d been advised to avoid night-time activities. He understood the healing process, but contrary to good sense, he flirted with the idea of ruining her even more. Maomao had not forbidden sharing a bed, but she had a nasty habit of rolling towards him as she slept. Due to this quirk, their chaste nights together involved her body pressing against his and her limbs wrapping around his waist. Maintaining abstinence became aggravating, and by the fourth day, he had taken to refusing her presence entirely.

　Initially, he hoped to let her recuperate. As the five days apart turned into ten, he squandered the opportunity to ask her back. Before he knew it, fifteen days had passed since he last held his wife. He still saw her at meals, and they did share the odd conversation or two in passing, but outside of those encounters, Jinshi made a concerted effort to avoid being alone with Maomao.

　Yes.

　This was for the best.

　She likely found him a chore to deal with, anyway. While he may have loved her, that did not mean the same applied to her. Quite the calculating woman, Maomao must have had her own reasons for accepting him after all those years, none of which denoted mutual feelings.

　Jinshi knew all this, but despite harbouring those feelings, he found himself pacing outside his wife’s chambers late one evening.

　Like some kind of perverted prowler.

　It didn’t take long to spot her, idly grinding up the herbs she adored, a towel draped over her shoulders. Her eyes seemed vacant, and her hands acted on muscle memory. Even with her dampened hair, she was irresistible, and as she gazed absentmindedly out the window, her eyes struck the ones gazing in. If not for the tenuous fetters of self-restraint, Jinshi would have jumped through the narrow opening and devoured her right there and then.

　But he dared not hold her while harbouring such wicked thoughts.

　“Good evening, Jinshi-sama.” No matter how often he heard her speak, he never tired of that dry cadence. “What brings you here?”

　“I’m just…” Finding a plausible answer proved challenging. “Taking a stroll.”

　“Ehhh? At this hour? Aren’t you cold?”

　“Yeah. A bit.”

　Maomao put her yagen aside and glanced around. “Would you like to come inside then?” She had invited him into a space indisputably her own, albeit still within his residence. Even so, was there room for him amid her hobbies? And more importantly…

　“Are you aware of the implications?” He tried searching for a motive behind the invite in her expression, but he perceived nothing in the calm face staring at him. Should he be more explicit? “You’re inviting a man… into your room… at night.”

　“No, I’m inviting Jinshi-sama into my room… at night. But,” she said, narrowing her gaze, “you’re free to interpret it however you like.” And there it was again—that slight smirk—the one that felt like she was taunting him, and he could only roll around in her palm. Was he not also a man, or did their recent time apart preclude her from considering that fact?

　This sort of idle chatter continued for quite some time. It was pleasant. If he could keep a tight-fitting lid on his lechery, maybe the couple could co-exist like this, sharing each other’s company, as close friends do. Neither he nor his wife would need to worry about his carnal desires if he could satiate his needs with pleasant conversation. Alas, Jinshi was greedy and grew weary of speaking to her through a window. “I think I'll take you up on that offer.”

　Her eyes briefly widened in confusion before returning to their default half-closed state.

　“Understood,” she replied.

　After marriage, one’s residence typically sees an increase in serving staff brought in to accommodate the new spouse. For Maomao’s chambers, in particular, the newly hired personnel consisted of married (or soon-to-be-married) women. It was these women who began scurrying to tidy up upon realizing the Imperial Brother’s arrival.

　Jinshi seldom visited. Why would he when calling Maomao over was just as effective? Because of this rarity, her abode may as well have been another apothecary, what with how the scent of medicinal herbs permeated throughout the building.

　The maidservants ushered him into an antechamber where he was urged to wait in a chair. Despite informing them that there was no need for all the fuss, the women heeded no such remarks. They likely viewed Maomao’s appearance as unfit for receiving a member of the imperial family. All the same, it wasn’t long before they scurried back out, one saying, “Please feel free to enter now,” before rejoining the others in waiting outside the bedchamber.

　Inside her room, the medicinal scents mingled with incense to create a heady, almost noxious aroma. Herbs, hung out to dry, lined her walls, contributing to the otherworldly atmosphere. Maomao herself sat on a modest-sized bed at the far end of the room, visible only as a silhouette beyond the simple décor.

　“I told them it wasn’t necessary,” she said, pushing the bed’s curtain aside. “Can’t make a silk purse out of a sow's ear, after all.”

　What nonsense is she spouting now?

　His wife’s attire was nothing short of erotic. Illuminated by the wavering candlelight, the swell of her breasts pushed taut against the thin front covering. A sheer robe dangled off her pale shoulders, alluding to her narrow waist and subtle hips. All in all, tantalizing. He may as well have imagined it, but her cheeks looked a tad flushed. She wasn’t one to feel embarrassed in such apparel, but perhaps the attention her handmaidens paid to her made her uncomfortable.

　As Jinshi stood transfixed at the doorway, Maomao arose and moved towards him. With every step forward, her garment shifted, tempting the man with what lay hidden just further up, where her exposed legs met. At a closer distance, he noticed the rouge applied to the corners of her downcast eyes, as well as her lips—lips that resembled a legendary fruit forbidden to taste. She never looked up at him. Was she wary of how his eyes traced every inch of her body? After all, one need not have special proclivities to be ensnared by her appearance.

　“Um,” she spoke up, breaking his trance, “would you like some tea?” She then gestured over to a table near her bed, whereupon a teapot and two cups were placed.

　“Is this…?” Jinshi picked up a cup, eyeing the contents. With this sort of mood, it wouldn’t surprise him if she tried to drug him with stimulants again.

　“It’s not an aphrodisiac,” Maomao said, taking a sip herself. “I barely escaped Suiren-sama’s punishment last time.” To refer to a handmaiden so respectfully, let alone the notion of one punishing his lawful wife, would be absurd in any other scenario. But this was Jinshi’s palace, and even if it were his wife, his elderly handmaiden would be strict in such matters. “It’s just the usual. For a restful sleep.”

　“Do you drink it often?” Jinshi asked, sipping from his own cup.

　“As of late, yes. Seems like I, too, cannot sleep alone.” Those words were uttered without sparing a glance in his direction.

　How unfair. He was trying to hold back (for her sake), and yet, she lured him into her room, seated him on her bed, dressed like that, saying things like that. “Maomao,” he had to ask. “Why did you invite me here?”

　‘Do you want to be with me?’ was what he wanted to inquire but felt unable to.

　“… We didn’t finish,” she mumbled.

　“Finish what?”

　“… Every trick in the book.” Somehow, her voice was even fainter than before. “We’re ten days behind.”

　Completely unfair.

　Jinshi took another swig of tea, and a familiar, slightly bitter taste flooded his mouth.