MaoMao and Jinshi Set - The Apothecary Diaries: The Great Imperial Inch-vestigation - Part 3 (Patreon)

Picture 7

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MaoMao perched on a wooden stool in her cluttered workshop, tapping a ruler against her palm like a conductor’s baton, her grin widening with each passing second.

Jinshi shuffled in, his face already pink. “This is highly improper,” he announced to no one in particular.

“Nonsense! Science is never improper,” MaoMo declared, patting the examination table. “Now, lie down. Legs apart.”

He hesitated, clutching his robes like a shield. “Last night, I… glowed. Literally. And my socks no longer fit—”

“Fascinating!” she interrupted, snapping on leather gloves with unnecessary flair. “But we need data, not anecdotes. Down.”

With a dramatic sigh, Jinshi flopped onto the table, arms crossed over his eyes. “If you laugh, I’ll disband the entire apothecary.”

MaoMao leaned in, ruler poised. “Relax—I’ve seen radishes more impressive than whatever you’re hiding,” she lied smoothly.

“Radishes?!” he squawked, bolting upright, only to be shoved back down by her foot on his chest.

“Hush. Imperial decree: Hold still or I’ll test the ‘Enlargement Elixir II: Electric Boogaloo’ on your eyebrows next.”

As she hummed a jaunty tune and measured, Jinshi vowed to burn every biology textbook in the empire—starting with hers.

Picture 8

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MaoMao squinted at her notes, then at Jinshi’s nether region, tapping the ruler. “Statistically significant… though aesthetically mid.” Jinshi sat up, gaping. “Mid?! After turning my kidneys into lanterns?!”.

“Science isn’t art,” she shrugged, but froze when he gripped her wrist, his usual coyness replaced by steely resolve.“If measurements disappoint,” he said lowly, “perhaps… hands-on analysis?”. His gaze dared her to laugh.

MaoMao blinked. “You mean… taste tes—” “Yes,” he interrupted, cheeks blazing but voice firm. “Unless your ‘research’ fears practical data.”

Panic flashed in her eyes—a first—as she stammered, “W-Wait! What if it’s toxic?!”

“Well then…” Jinshi trailed off with a smirk.

Pciture 9

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Maomao’s scientific bravado wavered for a heartbeat—her cheeks flushed a rare pink—before she steeled herself. For the sake of empirical data, she rationalized, kneeling with the gravitas of a scholar dissecting a rare specimen. Jinshi’s breath hitched as her fingers traced the hem of his robe, her clinical tone belying the feverish curiosity in her eyes. “D-Documenting… texture,” she muttered, more to herself than him.

Maomao paused, squinting. “Hm. Increased vascularity, but elasticity remains…” She prodded the tip with her tongue, scribbling notes blindly on a scroll. “Salinity nominal. No detectable toxicity—”

“M-Maomao—!” Jinshi choked, thighs trembling as he fisted the cushions. She leaned back, wiping her mouth with academic detachment. “Subject exhibits… heightened sensitivity. Potion efficacy confirmed, though structural growth remains… modest.”

“Modest?!” Jinshi croaked, torn between indignation and breathless desperation. “If modesty disappoints,” he purred, voice low and honeyed, “perhaps it’s time to… stress-test your hypothesis.”