He dipped his head—tiny nod, no more—and turned slight, gesturing the path with an open palm. "This way.
The maids fell in a step behind, their chatter dying to murmurs—"Should we fetch tea? Or the physician?"—but Gao-shun waved them off gentle, a flick of his fingers that sent them hovering at a distance. Moon fell into step beside him, her boots—wait, no, these soft slippers—scuffing the gravel, out of sync with his even stride. The path curved gentle past the lanterns, stone warm underfoot now from the sun climbing higher, petals crunching soft like fresh snow.
She tried to match him—straight back, hands loose at her sides—but the robe sleeves slipped long, tangling her arms, and her steps caught on a loose pebble. "Uhh—slow down a little?" she whispered, breath short, cheeks heating as she stumbled half a pace.
Gao-shun glanced back over his shoulder—quick, but his eyes softened at the edges, like he'd caught himself mid-rush. "My apologies. I forget that this courtyard is unfamiliar to you." He eased his pace without making a show of it, falling into her rhythm, the gap between them closing natural.
Moon huffed a laugh—small, bitter thing, rubbing her arm where the silk bunched wrong. "Unfamiliar? I don't even know where the hell I am." The word slipped out flat, no filter, her voice pitching with the frustration bubbling up. Palace? Garden? These women in silk who look at me like I'm a ghost?
He paused for a heartbeat—brow furrowing faint, the word "hell" hanging odd in the air between them, like a stone skipped on still water. "...Hell?" It came out curious, not sharp, his head tilting just enough to show he was listening, really listening, without the judgment she'd braced for.
Moon waved her hands—quick flap, cheeks burning hotter. "Uh—ignore that. I talk weird." Great. Now he thinks I'm nuts. Or drunk. Which... fair, after five cans. She tucked a petal from her hair, fingers fumbling the silk, the garden's beauty mocking her mess.
Gao-shun didn't comment—didn't laugh, didn't frown. Just nodded once, like weird was the most normal thing, and continued walking, posture straight but pace matched to hers now. "I will arrange temporary quarters for you," he said after a beat, voice calm as the pond's surface. "Until we understand your situation."
Moon blinked—staring at his back, the blue robes shifting smooth with each step. "Temporary what?"
He glanced back again, a ghost of amusement in his eyes—faint crinkle at the corners. "A room. A safe place to rest."
"Oh." Relief washed her, small wave. "You could've just said that." She let out a breathy laugh, rubbing her neck, the tension easing a notch. The path opened to a side building—simple wooden walls weathered soft, sliding doors papered thin, tucked away like a forgotten corner of the garden. No grand halls. Just quiet.
Gao-shun slowed at the entrance, gesturing the door with an open hand—palm up again, that same invitation. "This servant lodging is unused at the moment. You may rest here while we inquire further."
Moon stepped inside—hesitant push on the door, wood cool under her palm. The room unfolded simple: tatami floor woven tight, giving soft under her slippers; low table scarred from years of use but polished clean; folded blanket in wool Gray, thick as a hug; single lamp on a stand, wick trimmed neat, casting warm puddle of light. Air smelled of cedar faint and rice steam from somewhere distant—old, clean, minimal. No frills. No fuss. Just a space that breathed safe.
She turned slow, taking it in—the way the light slanted through the paper screen, painting the wall in gold stripes; the quiet hum of the garden outside, muffled like a blanket over the world. "This is... simple," she said, voice dropping honest, fingers tracing the table's edge.
Gaoshun's brow lifted slightly—subtle arch, no offense taken. "Simple... but safe." He paused at the threshold, watching her settle on the mat, knees folding awkward. "I hope it is adequate?"
Moon sank down, the floor giving soft, blanket tugged close like an old friend. She looked up—meeting his eyes, the Gray holding steady, no pity there, just question. "It's... better than most rooms I've had in my life," she whispered, the truth slipping out raw, her fingers twisting the wool. Mom's apartment couch, dorm bunk with the leaky roof—cramped, cold, never mine. A lump rose, quick and hot, but she swallowed it, forcing a small smile. "Thanks. Really."
Gao-shun didn't comment—didn't pry the hurt from her voice like she half-expected. Something softened in his expression though—a faint thaw in the calm, like ice cracking under spring sun.
Disclaimer
This work is a fan-made story inspired by The Apothecary Diaries. The world, its canon characters, and original setting belong to their creators.
Moon, her journey, and all new scenes written here are entirely my own creations. This story is shared purely for love of the universe and for personal enjoyment. No copyright infringement is intended.