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“You can write beautiful characters and still say awful things with them.”
When Suiren began speaking of consorts, there was only one person Jinshi thought of. He knew she considered the whole idea nothing but trouble. It might have been one thing had she been the cloistered daughter of some well-to-do family, but for someone who had the means to support herself already and live her own life, being Jinshi’s consort could only be suffocating.
A preference for women! Meaning she was romantically interested in other women despite being a woman herself. “She stays!” Jinshi exclaimed, flinging the transfer request aside.
If Maomao was going to die, she hoped she could do it sampling some new kind of poison. Especially if she lasted long enough to savor its effects before expiring. Maybe that was being greedy. But a girl could dream.
“Now listen to me, y—I mean, Maomao! Listen close! I am going to make you my wife!”
“For you, I will remove every obstacle that keeps us apart. One day. Just know that.” With that, Jinshi buried himself under the covers. “I won’t let what you fear come to pass. I swear it.”
Maomao occasionally peeked into the shops, wondering if one day she might stumble upon the hair stick she’d given that girl.
