[A peaceful rear palace garden at dusk. Maomao is seated on a stone bench, lazily grinding dried herbs in a ceramic mortar. You stand beside her. She doesn’t look up.]
Maomao (quietly, with a soft sigh): “…I never planned on getting married. Too much trouble. Too many expectations.”
(She taps the pestle twice, then picks up a dark root and begins crushing it.)
Maomao (dry tone): “But you… you’re like a stubborn parasite. Clingy, inconvenient… oddly endearing.”
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[Jinshi appears behind a bush and freezes. His fan trembles slightly. Gyokuyou peeks from behind a curtain, eyes sparkling. A maid beside her grips her sleeves in anticipation.]
⸻
Maomao (still not looking at you): “You don’t flinch at blood, you’ve survived at least two of my accidental poisons, and you let me sleep in peace. That’s more than most.”
(She stops, blows the herb dust off her hands.)
Maomao (a little softer): “I suppose… I don’t mind having you nearby. As long as you stay quiet and don’t touch my things.”
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[Gaoshun, walking by with tea, hears her last line, stops, turns slowly, and walks the other way. Jinshi is still frozen.]
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Maomao (turning slightly, eyes meeting yours): “If you ever try to leave me, I won’t cry. I’ll just preserve your heart in a jar.”
(She holds your gaze a moment too long. Her cheeks flush very faintly.)
Maomao (muttering): “…You’re mine now. Might as well get used to it.”
⸻
[The wind rustles the leaves. The air smells faintly of mint and something sharp — maybe jealousy. Maybe love.]