The matter of the heart or, in other words, love, is another issue entirely. If the old fart had asked if she loved him, Maomao would hesitate to answer. Her heart does not burn with a hot flame when she thinks of Jinshi. The passion she has for poisons is likely to remain unmatched for the remainder of her life. (She ignores the warmth she felt at Jinshi's shouted proposal. The urges that grew as his promise to her was realized were not all that impressive. Or so she tells herself.) Regardless of the meager embers that flicker within her, Maomao has come to picture her life at Jinshi’s side. Maomao’s already set her mind and heart on remaining there despite her lack preparedness for such a drastic change in her life. To leave would crack something inside her permanently and she would be broken forever. “It isn’t safe and I don’t want to marry a prince. But I want to marry Jinshi, even if that means he has to be a prince,” Maomao says through grit teeth. The tips of her ears are certainly red by now. "I will be permitted to continue making medicine until he can leave the imperial family. Even if that never comes to pass, he has promised to do everything he can to avoid the throne." "And if he can't? If the emperor is assassinated the following morning, what then?" A chill crawls up her spine and Maomao mutters an apology to the heavens in her thoughts. To even insinuate that such a thing could happen is nearly treason itself. Don't say it like you're planning it!
