Dreams of Her Can Make you Insane

Jinshi sat at his desk, his chin resting on his hand as he stared blankly at the mountain of paperwork before him. The flickering light of the oil lamp cast long shadows across the room, and the faint scent of incense filled the air. It was late—far too late to still be working—but sleep had been elusive lately. Every time he closed his eyes, his thoughts drifted to *her*.    Maomao.   The apothecary girl with the sharp tongue and even sharper mind. The one who could unravel the most complex mysteries with a single glance but remained utterly oblivious to the effect she had on him. Jinshi sighed, running a hand through his hair. Why did she have to be so infuriatingly fascinating?   Eventually, exhaustion won out, and Jinshi’s head drooped onto the desk. As sleep claimed him, his dreams took him to a place far removed from the cold reality of his office.   --- In his dream, Jinshi found himself in a sunlit garden, the air filled with the sweet scent of blooming flowers. Maomao was there, sitting on a stone bench, her nose buried in a thick old book as usual. Her dark-green hair was loose, cascading over her shoulders like a waterfall of ink, and the sunlight caught the faint blush on her cheeks.   Jinshi approached her with a smirk, his heart light and carefree. “Maomao,” he called, his voice teasing. “Are you ignoring me again?”   Maomao looked up, her blue eyes narrowing in that familiar way that made his chest tighten. “I’m busy,” she said flatly, turning back to her book.   But Jinshi wasn’t deterred. He sat beside her, leaning in close enough to catch the faint scent of herbs and something uniquely *her*. “You’re always busy,” he said, his voice low and playful. “But surely you can spare a moment for me?”   Maomao glanced at him, her expression unimpressed. “What do you want now?”   Jinshi grinned, his fingers brushing a strand of hair from her face. “Just this,” he murmured before leaning in to press his lips to her earlobe, nipping it gently.   Maomao stiffened, her book slipping from her hands. “J-Jinshi-san!” she stammered, her voice trembling in a way he’d never heard before.   Encouraged, Jinshi kissed the spot he’d bitten, his breath warm against her skin. “You’re always so composed,” he whispered. “It’s refreshing to see you flustered for once.”   To his surprise, Maomao didn’t push him away. Instead, she turned to face him, her cheeks flushed and her eyes blazing with something he couldn’t quite place. Before he could react, she grabbed the front of his robe and pulled him into a deep, searing kiss.   Jinshi’s mind went blank, his heart pounding as he kissed her back. It was everything he’d ever imagined and more—her lips were soft, her touch electric, and the way she melted against him made him dizzy with happiness.   But then, as quickly as the moment had begun, something shifted. Jinshi pulled back, his brow furrowing as he studied her face. This wasn’t right. The Maomao he knew would never willingly respond to his advances like this. She’d scold him, maybe even throw a book at his head, but she wouldn’t kiss him with such abandon.   “You’re not real,” he said, his voice tinged with regret.   Maomao’s expression softened, and she placed a hand on his cheek. “Does it matter?” she asked, her voice echoing strangely. “Isn’t this what you wanted?”   --- Jinshi woke with a start, his heart racing and his cheeks burning. The cold reality of his office greeted him, the oil lamp flickering weakly on his desk. He groaned, burying his face in his hands.   “Just a dream,” he muttered, his voice thick with frustration. “Of course it was just a dream.”   The memory of the kiss lingered, taunting him with its sweetness. He’d never felt so elated—or so utterly defeated. How could he make Maomao look at him the way she had in his dream? How could he make her see him as more than just an annoying nobleman?   Jinshi sighed, leaning back in his chair. “Why do you have to be so difficult, Maomao?” he grumbled to the empty room.   As if in response, a faint knock sounded at the door. Jinshi straightened, his heart skipping a beat. “Come in,” he called, trying to sound composed.   The door creaked open, and there she was—Maomao, holding a small vial of medicine. Her expression was as impassive as ever, but there was a faint blush on her cheeks.   “You’ve been overworking yourself again,” she said, stepping inside. “I brought you something to help you sleep.”   Jinshi stared at her, his dream still fresh in his mind. For a moment, he was tempted to reach out and pull her into his arms, to see if she would kiss him the way she had in his dream. But he knew better.   “Thank you, Maomao,” he said instead, taking the vial from her. “You’re always looking out for me.”   Maomao shrugged, her gaze flickering to the mountain of paperwork on his desk. “Someone has to,” she said dryly. “You’d work yourself to death otherwise.”   Jinshi chuckled, his mood lifting slightly. “Maybe I just need someone to keep me in line.”   Maomao raised an eyebrow. “Don’t get any ideas,” she warned, though there was a hint of amusement in her voice.   As she turned to leave, Jinshi couldn’t help but smile. Maybe his dream was just that—a dream. But as long as Maomao was by his side, even in her usual prickly way, he had hope. And for now, that was enough.