Chapter Text
It happened on Maomao's day off two weeks ago, when she had gone back to the Verdigris House for a visit.
She was now sitting on the edge of a bed, in a room that the old madam had had prepared for her in an emergency. The room was well lit, but outside, it was almost dark. Maomao stood up, opened the window and lit some incense, before going back to sit on the bed. She pulled her knees against her chest, and rested her chin on top of them. She stared at the cradle right in front of her.
The two-week-old thing in it was asleep. It looked like every other newborn — small, wrinkly, grumpy and so, so very fragile. She barely dared to touch it, every time she had to hold it, lest she broke it. She wasn’t indifferent to it, but she didn’t feel any kind of love or affection either — she didn’t know if she even could identify what she felt.
None of this mess had been planned. In fact, it was supposed to have been meticulously avoided. If you’re not being careful with a customer, all it takes is one time, her sisters had told her when she was younger — too young to worry about customers, or being “careful”, for that matter. But as her relationship with the Emperor’s brother intensified, not messing with the line of succession became quite important — even more so that Maomao still suspected said “brother” to actually be the Emperor’s son. And so, she became careful.
Maomao and Jinshi had done their best to stick to chaste touches, to avoid anything physical that could lead to a pregnancy—except for that one night, a little less than nine months ago. They hadn’t thought it through, that night — they hadn’t been thinking at all. And all it took was one time.
Still, Maomao had taken her precautions by ingesting various remedies with abortifacient and emmenagogue properties. Though she was aware that they sometimes did not work, the chances were low. She had experienced no amenorrhea, and her body had shown no sign of pregnancy at all —or so little that she had attributed them to something else. Naturally, she thought it had worked. It should've worked.
“And yet, you’re here”, she said bitterly to the sleeping baby, still baffled at its existence.
Her labor had been as fast and sudden as it had been intense. Or maybe it hadn’t been so sudden, maybe Maomao was just good at ignoring the pain, until it became unbearable. Her sisters and the other courtesans understood what was happening before she did. She barely registered the commotion and panic around her as her sisters helped her give birth.
All she remembered thinking in the moment was it can’t be, even as a screaming newborn was put on her chest. Even worse than the pain of childbirth, was the emotional shock she found herself in afterwards. It had been so strong that for the first few days following that event, Maomao could barely speak, or think clearly beyond how impossible this was. She could not look at the baby without feeling a wave of panic overtake her. The whole ordeal could have gone horribly wrong, for as well versed as the madam and the courtesans were in abortions, they were no midwives. Maomao’s father Luomen had been summoned in emergency, but as he worked in the rear palace, he obviously could not be there in time.
He did come to check on Maomao and the baby the day after, but she was catatonic then, and could barely answer his questions. She distantly remembered hearing his soft voice behind the door giving his diagnosis on what happened to her to her sisters and granny, and saying he would warn the palace that Maomao’s medical condition did not allow her to come back to work for now.
“Maomao…”
Luomen had sat by her bedside and heaved a long sigh. She also remembered the worry and sadness in his voice as he said her name, the comforting way his hand patted her hair as she drowsed, just like he would do when she'd get sick as a child. Does he still see me as an ailing kid? Maomao didn't know if it made her feel better or not. When she woke up, her father had already gone back to the imperial palace.
At night, when she wasn’t blessed with a dreamless sleep, she’d have nightmares of the woman that had birthed her, or dreams of waking up back in her dormitory at court months and months ago, when nothing had happened between her and Jinshi— those dreams were crueler than the nightmares, upon waking up. Eating, getting dressed, and washing herself were things she did mechanically.
It took Maomao a week to recover mentally.
She ran herself a much needed bath. When did that happen? she wondered when she saw that her chest wasn't as small as she remembered. Another change in her body she'd failed to notice. She washed her hair, tied it up and put on her usual green shirt. Her body still hurt, she was still exhausted and not in a state that allowed her to go back to work yet, but at least she felt like herself again and could think with a clearer mind.
The baby was here. As much as Maomao wanted to ignore it, there was no shrugging this off. She could have just abandoned it to her sisters’ care and left, but she knew from experience that the pleasure district was no place for a child to grow up in —however wealthy and well reputed the brothel was. This baby was Maomao’s responsibility, she had to care for it — more out of a strong sense of duty than any actual emotional attachment. The idea that in fifteen years from now, she could come across a syphilitic teenaged courtesan and wonder “is it her?”, knowing she could have prevented this fate, repulsed Maomao.
***
After her bath, she went to Pairin’s apartments, as the baby had been given to her care —when the courtesan wasn’t working— until Maomao had recovered. Thankfully, she was on her break. Maomao apprehensively asked if she could see the child. Her sister seemed to beam with joy to see her ask such a thing, even if she didn't ask to take the baby back. Pairin knew her enough to understand her intention anyway.
“The girls think you were keeping it a secret, you know,” Pairin said, putting the baby in Maomao’s arms.
So small…, she thought, sitting on her sister’s bed.
“I wasn’t,” she replied. “If anything, my body was keeping it a secret from me.”
But that’s definitely what it looks like. And what people at court will think… She couldn’t possibly bring it with her to her dormitory at the palace. Maomao swallowed thickly. It wasn’t too late to change her mind, and leave the child behind.
The baby whimpered, mouth opening and closing over air.
“Oh, she must be hungry,” Pairin said, reaching out for it— then abruptly stopped. “Or do you want to do it yourself? I could teach you how.”
Maomao hesitated. She wasn’t sure that her small breasts could produce as much milk as Pairin’s giant udders. However, if Maomao wanted to care for her child, she had to try. She nodded yes. Pairin showed her how to best hold the infant and how to place her nipple in its mouth. The baby suckled immediately. It works! The physical sensation was weird and rather off-putting. Maomao looked up at Pairin, who just smiled. Then, the courtesan pinched her lips, a slight line between her eyebrows, like she was about to say something indelicate, and asked Maomao:
“May I ask who the father is? If… you know who it is.”
“Of course I know who it is! But that, I would like to keep a secret.”
“Ooh, it's the masked nobleman who used to come visit you here, isn't it?”
How the fuck did she guess that?
“This guy only came here to talk and take naps, that’s it.”
It wasn’t a lie.
“What was his name… Jinka, right?”
“Pairin—”, Maomao warned.
She squinted her eyes at her sister, glaring. Pairin chuckled. Maomao knew she was only teasing, but still, it made her uncomfortable.
“Don’t worry, I won’t say anything.”
“Thanks.”
The baby let go of Maomao’s breast, moving its head away. A feeling of unease settled in her stomach.
***
“I’ll bring her bassinet to your room.” Pairin said with a gentle smile after Maomao’s visit. “You go get some rest.”
The new mother nodded a “thank you”, as she turned towards the door, feeling more grateful than ever for Pairin’s help.
“Oh and, Maomao?”
“Yes?”
“I’m proud of you”, Pairin added, her tender words carrying a lot of weight.
Maomao went back to her room — and sat down at the small desk there. She wrote a letter to her old man to let him know she was feeling better, and wrote another letter— to Jinshi. She urged him to come to the Verdigris House as soon as his work allowed him to, for a matter of the utmost importance —not caring to wrap the message under the usual layers of coded language. Even though she didn’t detail the nature of the issue in case the letter was intercepted by a third party —she wasn’t that careless, after all—, she was certain to get his attention. There was a possibility that he’d reject her for this. That he’d think she had lied to him, and that she had hidden the pregnancy from him, or that he wouldn’t reject Maomao, but the child, and she’d have to leave her behind anyway. Still, he had the right to know.
***
Five days had passed since she’d sent that letter and she had requested that her baby be given back to her. Maomao hadn’t heard back from Jinshi yet —should she have been more specific and mention the surprise baby in her letter?— but they had spent even longer without news from each other before— not recently, though… She could wait another week or two before she started to worry. She had no reason to worry now. And yet…
“I’m afraid it’ll just be you and me”, she said, realizing that she had forgotten to sign her letter.
The young mother leaned towards the cradle as the baby stirred. She approached a hesitant hand to stroke its bald head. Her bald head, Maomao reminded herself. It was her daughter in the bassinet. The infant opened her —still a little blind— eyes and made a noise.
Maomao swallowed thickly, breathing in the incense. She looked around the room, and sighed. She had been born in this very brothel to a woman who had planned to have her, but ended up not wanting her —to the point of hatred and harm— after not hearing back from her man. And now, Maomao had given birth in the same place, after a pregnancy she hadn’t planned and didn't really live, to an unwanted child she had decided she would care for anyway— even on her own.
“I hope you never understand the irony in this.” she told the clueless baby.
Maomao was about to pull back her hand, but her daughter grabbed her finger —as babies do— with her tiny fist. It was her crooked, scarred left little finger —the one thing the woman who’d birthed Maomao had given her. She didn’t often think about that woman, or what she’d done. It had happened, and didn’t impact her life. She knew it was a terrible thing to do to an infant. But right now, the horror of it truly hit her.
She wasn’t very expressive in her emotions, never had been. Even in the past couple of weeks, she hadn’t shed a single tear. They just won't come out. So when her breath got caught in her throat and her vision got blurry, she was grateful that no one else was in the room to see her kiss the little fist wrapped tightly around her crooked finger. She might not love this child, but at least she knew one thing:
“I’ll never do something like that to you.” she promised.
“Something like what?” asked a familiar, heavenly voice.
Maomao nearly jumped, letting go of the baby’s hand in the process. She turned around to find a man with a masked face standing in the doorway. She stood up, and motioned at him to come inside. After a second of hesitation, he closed the door behind him and walked in.
Jinshi took off his mask and smiled at Maomao, who couldn’t help but pity him a little — the poor man was completely unaware of the storm she was about to unleash upon him.