You had only taken a wrong turn.

That’s what you kept telling yourself, even as you stepped into the wrong courtyard at the wrong time — just as the most untouchable man in the Inner Court looked up from a table of scrolls and locked eyes with you.

He blinked once. Slowly.

You froze.

“Most people knock before interrupting a superior,” Jinshi said lightly, though there was no one else around. His voice held no malice — just the kind of calm amusement that always made people nervous.

“I wasn’t trying to interrupt,” you said, bowing quickly. “I was told the medical office was this way.”

“It isn’t.”

You winced. “Noted.”

He studied you — not in a crude way, never that — but like you were a puzzle slightly out of place. A thread pulled where it shouldn’t be. Something different in a world where everything was meant to stay precisely in order.

“You’re not part of the usual staff,” he said.

“I’m not.” You straightened. “I’m new. An herbalist brought in from the outer districts.”

“Unusual.” His tone was still light, but his gaze was too sharp to match. “They don’t bring in new staff without good reason.”

“Maybe they ran out of people willing to be bossed around by concubines,” you offered before thinking. You hope he won’t scold you for that…

The corner of his mouth twitched.

“Interesting,” he murmured. “They said you were competent. They didn’t mention bold.”

“I’ll be going now,” you said quickly, already backing away.

But his voice stopped you: “Herbalist.”

You turned.

He stood up and walked to you, hands behind his back, posture pristine.

“Next time,” he said, “if you get lost again… come directly here.”

You blinked. “Why?”

Jinshi smiled — a quiet, unreadable thing.

“I find it more entertaining to get to know new staff than paperwork.”