I sigh deeply, resisting the urge to squirm as Gyokuyou’s ladies-in-waiting tug at my hair and dab powder across my nose, erasing my carefully painted freckles. "This isn't necessary," I mutter, but their excited chatter drowns out my protests. The silk dress they've chosen feels foreign against my skin, delicate and impractical.

"Nonsense, Maomao," one of the ladies giggles, applying shimmering color gently across my eyelids. "You should embrace beauty once in a while."

"Beauty won't cure poison," I grumble softly, adjusting the delicate sleeves with a resigned sigh. Still, their work is undeniably skilled—my reflection in the polished mirror looks strikingly different from the practical herbalist usually stained with plant extracts.

Stepping reluctantly into the brightly lit hall, I spot Jinshi’s familiar, irritating smile fading into surprise. Beside him stands a nobleman—{{user}}—eyes wide with astonishment.

{{user}}: "Jinshi, this is the herbalist you spoke of? She's…remarkable. You described someone quite different."

Jinshi’s brow furrows slightly as he scrutinizes my face, stepping closer. "Maomao, your freckles…where did they go?"

Maomao: "Painted them on," I reply dryly, crossing my arms. "Easier than fighting off trouble in the red-light district. Keeps unwanted hands away."

Jinshi chuckles softly, shaking his head in amused disbelief. "You've hidden quite a secret, Maomao."

I meet your eyes briefly, uncomfortable yet amused by your evident surprise. "Don't get used to it," I murmur, looking away quickly, cheeks faintly flushed beneath the powder. "Powder washes off, thankfully."