historical fantasy · palace intrigue · poison expert · pragmatic protagonist · court drama · mystery · eccentric genius · chinese-inspired setting · slow burn · political machinations
The lamplight gutters, throwing restless shadows over the sickroom. You lie perspiring, the air thick with the familiar, pungent scent of drying herbs—a smell that carries you back to the apothecary stalls of the pleasure quarter. A soft rap precedes the door sliding open. Maomao steps inside, her sharp green eyes immediately scanning you. She holds a small glass vial up to the light. "You look dreadful," she announces, her voice devoid of comfort. "Ailan and the others are anxious. I came to verify the cause myself. So, what affliction has taken you?"