The Apothecary Diaries: Volume 8 (Light Novel)

I can’t even ask my lady-in-waiting to help me change my clothes now, let alone allow a doctor to see me. And above all...” He got to his feet, wrapping one arm around Maomao’s torso and pulling her with him. The cloth that had been cooling his midriff slid off.
“W-Wait! Master Jinshi!” Maomao tried to fight him, but with his wound right there, she couldn’t struggle too hard.
“My wife will have to be a woman I can trust implicitly.”

had all the physical prowess of a limp bean sprout,

Then she heard a long exhalation, and Jinshi said, “You don’t have to worry. I understand.” Then he stroked her bangs. “Anyhow, I’m told I’m only decently sized...”

Empress Gyokuyou was woozy, but still conscious. Jinshi looked at her. “Empress, I know you were hoping Maomao could be your serving woman forever, but perhaps I could ask you to relinquish that dream. Now that I have this mark, I can’t let just anyone see my body.”

Well, whose fault is that? The salve was ready; Maomao rubbed some on Jinshi’s skin.

“I can’t even ask my lady-in-waiting to help me change my clothes now, let alone allow a doctor to see me. And above all...” He got to his feet, wrapping one arm around Maomao’s torso and pulling her with him. The cloth that had been cooling his midriff slid off.

“W-Wait! Master Jinshi!” Maomao tried to fight him, but with his wound right there, she couldn’t struggle too hard.

“My wife will have to be a woman I can trust implicitly.”

That made Maomao go pale in a hurry. She looked up; from her place in the crook of Jinshi’s arm, she could see he was wearing a fine smile.

“Is—Is that what you were really after?” Gyokuyou asked, scowling.

“Is this the path you’ve chosen?”
“It is.”
“And you won’t regret it?”
“I won’t.”

might have been quicker to leave the room and ask somebody to get burn medicine, but that would expose Jinshi’s injury. Even though they had a room full of witnesses who knew that the brand was self-inflicted, it could only be dangerous for anyone in the wider world to be aware of the mark.

“You damned masochist!” Maomao grumbled as she prepared the oil-and-beeswax concoction. Nobody rebuked her. She was probably just saying what they were all thinking—perhaps including Jinshi.

Maomao heard a distinct thump, and discovered that it was the Emperor sitting down on the couch. “Did you really hate it that much? The idea of becoming emperor?” he mumbled.

“I always said I did, didn’t I?” Jinshi replied, grimacing. “If you still insist on my remaining in the line of succession, I’ll just have to make a nice, big wound in my left cheek too.”

Maomao immediately clapped her hands onto the sides of Jinshi’s face, but he smiled: “That was a joke.”

She let go of his cheeks, but she couldn’t let down her guard. There was no telling what he might do.

“My wife will have to be a woman I can trust implicitly.”

She wished she could ask someone what in the world had happened today. Some of it might have been downright funny under other circumstances, but any humor was far outweighed by shock.
Part of her certainly sympathized with Maomao, and at the same time, part of her was jealous.

“You needn’t worry, Empress,” Jinshi said.
The hell she needn’t! Maomao thought as she wiped the blood from Jinshi’s lip with a handkerchief. Had they called her here just so she could watch two brothers fight? If so, she wished they would have left her and Empress Gyokuyou out of it.
“I knew what I was walking into here. I’m prepared for much more than a bloody lip.” Jinshi stood, removing another layer of clothing and walking step by step over to the brazier. “Rest assured, Empress Gyokuyou: your enemy I shall never be.”
Jinshi smiled and loosened his belt, revealing his midriff, his belly button. No sooner had the belt come loose than he was picking up a poker from the fire. And then he did something none of them had expected, something none of them had even imagined.
There was a collective gasp and the stench of burning flesh. Even the stouthearted Gyokuyou swooned, and Maomao rushed over to catch her. The Emperor looked on aghast; he didn’t even try to cover his open mouth.
Jinshi fought the pain, forcing himself to smile. He returned the poker to the fire.
Maomao rested Empress Gyokuyou on a couch, then stared at Jinshi’s abdomen. He’d avoided his stomach, but on his flank, just above his pelvis, there was a burn. She recognized the shape: it was the crest Empress Gyokuyou had been given.

“A military man ought to want a little more,” Jinshi grumbled. Someone who would make any pretext to have more pawns at his disposal would be easy to understand, easy to work with. But if Lakan had his board games, his family, and some sweet treat to enjoy, then he was satisfied. In fact, he wanted very little out of life, but he was irrepressible in action, and that was what made him such a thorn in the side of those around him.