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Soulmarks were a medical marvel.
Pigments suddenly blooming into shapes precise enough to spell out entire phrases and vibrant enough to depict a bouquet of brilliant flowers... Words or images each perfectly spelling out and symbolizing the bond only two could share. There was even a too cruel to test theory that the torn off skin of a soulmark could heal a stranger's heart problems.
Maomao didn't want to gain a soulmark and was satisfied every year to find none had appeared. She was in the middle of the likeliest years for the affliction to manifest; it's said that once the teenage years were done the window for fate to press her fingertips into you was gone.
Still... Maomao couldn't help but be curious, and she was always a touch too observant for her own good.
Despite showing off the brilliant branch of plum blossoms trailing up her arm that wasn't Parin's soulmark if you observed closely, you could see the colors fade and refresh over the years and once or twice delicate lines almost wobbled when too close to bone. It was a tattoo. Expertly done and good enough to fool the average observer but still a tattoo.
It was an unexpected move. With how much of a romantic Parin was, Maomao didn't expect her to have a tattoo at all. While there was less of a stigma of tattoos as of late, tattoos still spoke shamefully of a lady's prospects of having to alter, hide, or even fake a soulmark.
Still these services were valuable, so artisans still found work especially around the red-light district where women had far less hope of a stable match and were far more desperate.
Parin giggled as she caught Maomao staring one too many times in the bath.
"Figured me out didn't you."
Maomao averted her eyes; this really wasn't any of her business. It was too personal, "I have no idea what you are talking about."
"Oh, I don't mind if you ask dear." There was a shift in the water as Parin moved away, "This is my soulmark."
Maomao looked back and right there on the soul of Parin's right foot was a simple two character name, at least in theory. In practice, it was nearly impossible to tell. Maomao's best guess for the second character was Bai, white, but even that simple character... The first was a complete mystery and Maomao could swear it was written upside down and maybe even sideways. The lines were uneven and accompanied but literal ink splotches.
All in all, it looked like someone's first attempt at writing their name.
"Any idea Maomao? Or can I finally put my leg down?"
Maomao gently put Parin's foot back down abruptly realizing what an uncomfortable position that was to hold. "Your soulmate has terrible handwriting."
"Nope afraid that one's on me." Parin sighed, "No matter what the old madam tried, I never could get my letters right, and I kept writing sideways. My only hope is that my soulmate has better handwriting."
Or that they could write at all.
Maomao kept those thoughts to herself, and Parin sank into the water trying to enjoy the warmth while it lasted. Despite how she sometimes acted, Parin was a romantic and clever and far too aware of her position, so, she gave customers something obvious and beautiful to wonder about, and they'd never look for another mark, especially one so easily hidden even when otherwise bare.
This was vital when Parin was such an obvious romantic and a matching pair to her mark was so easy to fake.
It made sense now why Parin never lowered her price for buyer with a branch of ripe plums trailing across his shoulders. She wasn't going to be swept off her feet by anything but the real thing.
"Maomao if you ever want to take customers you should get something to distract them with too, they can be so weird about it, while he was in me Lee-"
Maomao splashed her and left the bath. She didn't need to know about that.
Joka's soulmark was harder to hide not that any customers saw anything but fractions of it. Even Maomao had never seen the full picture, but she knew it was a phrase of poetry, presumably her soulmate would complete the poem.
It wasn't strange for Joka to avoid certain gatherings; in fact, it was expected by both her position and nature. Still Maomao had never once seen her attend the New Year's celebrations even when those parties at the Verdigris House were typically an all hands on deck affair. Even Maomao ending up serving drinks for a group of rowdy palace officials celebrating a friend's promotion and awed by Parin's dance.
It was strange but bureaucrats partied harder than the soldiers.
Her jug was steadied before it could slip out of her grasp by a young man Maomao vaguely recognized as a regular for these celebrations even if his attire was on the shabbier side. He had the pale complexion of someone who didn't get much sun.
"Please be careful, young lady." He had a decent smile.
Maomao thanked him but paused longer than she should have, and it was a moment before she attended other tables. Stamped on his arm was a phrase; the start of the first poem Joka tried to teach her. The only one that stuck in Maomao's mind.
Amidst the sound of firecrackers, the old year is gone,
Spring breezes carry warmth into the wine.
And Maomao was absolutely certain that she knew what Joka's arm read in response.
Bright sun shines on a myriad of homes,
Everyone replaces the old with new peach branches.
When Maomao found Joka, she was nursing a drink late into the night staring at the moon rising above them, the sky occasionally interrupted the bright crack of blinding fireworks as the new year started. Joka rubbed her arm tracing characters that she didn’t have to see to feel.
Even if it was too much trouble, she should at least get to know.
"... There is a bureaucrat that-"
"I know." Joka took another swig, "He doesn't, and I don't want to even know his name. That's just asking for misfortune."
Maomao nodded even as she neatly filed away an overheard name and title almost despite herself and every lesson life has given her. It was strange. At one-point Luomen's soulmark was the coolest thing Maomao had ever seen; she wanted one like his.
The foolishness of youth.
His mark was an anatomically correct human heart just below his bad knee; Maomao used to trace it with absolute wonder on the rare occasions it wasn't covered by bandages. One day she asked how he would ever know who his soulmate was, after all everyone had a heart like that.
"No." Luomen stated, "No, that heart can only possibly belong to one person, the veins are usually-"
Luomen stopped realizing what he was saying and left before he could say more, but Maomao was later treated to an explanation about dissection and why she really shouldn't ever do it unlike Luomen who had and by chance confirmed who his soulmate was.
Maomao hoped it was a stranger, a criminal, but her father was never lucky. So few people are.
There is a courtesan that hasn't left the sick room in years.
Maomao stood outside her door even as the bucket of warm soapy water cooled, and the weight was increasingly unpleasant. No one else was free to do this. Luomen had a client that would actually pay well for once, and her sisters were always busy. The courtesan was too weak to chase Maomao away anymore.
It was her duty as an apothecary.
Slowly Maomao pushed the door open and without speaking began the process of washing the courtesan, redoing bandages and ensuring everything was clean. Her patient was silent; her head hung low as she arranged a pattern of go stones on the bed.
Maomao had no hope of making sense of the patterns even if she cared about the game.
The patient no longer flinched as Maomao passed over the sores; her gaze was no longer fierce, giving no response even as Maomao touched the diamond mark on her back.
It was a life-sized shogi board dotted with precisely placed go stones creating a beautiful pattern depicting a strategy that was useless for the board it was played on. It spanned almost the entirety of her back and was remarkably free of the disease that festered everywhere else.
Perhaps there was reason for people to wonder about the medicinal qualities of soulmates, but there were far more reasons to avoid the entire doomed desperate affair.
The monocled weirdo kept showing up, kept trying to tear her away from who and where she was. Maomao wasn't his daughter anymore. There was no point in thinking about what could have been if things went according to plan if fate were perhaps a bit kinder. It was what it was.
As Maomao set her washcloth down to soak, her other hand lingered on a game she didn't understand.
The freak had a go board and shogi pieces. Meimei mentioned that much one day as she felt a bit too nostalgic, not that anyone knew the arrangement of course; she seemed a bit sad at that perhaps because Meimei never had a soulmark of her own.
Maomao's hand fell away. It was foolish to linger here.
Instead, she walked back to the apothecary shop. There was a snake venom she wanted to test, and nothing about today was going to ruin that.
Maomao hummed excited as she unwrapped her bandages and screamed as they fell away.
Her soulmark stated a name she would be killed for saying.
Maomao took a deep breath just because the name Ka Zuigetsu was stamped into her arm didn't mean her soulmate was the prince, maybe it was just an attendant. Yes. That was it. Maomao moved to wrap back up her arm which unfortunately meant looking at it again which meant facing the interlaced blossoms of wood sorrel and moonflower circling the name.
Fuck.
Why did her mark have to leave so little room for doubt?! Why couldn't it have just been a moon flower?! Why! Why! Why!
Maomao groaned as she collapsed onto the workbench, hitting her head on the table repeatedly. Of course she would have the most troublesome soulmate in the empire. Just her luck.
By most people's estimates a fortune from the heavens fell into her lap and she was regarding it as if it was the lowest of sewage instead, but most people were shortsighted fools who believe that soulmates were destined to succeed. Maomao knew better.
If the wrong eyes saw this mark at best, she would be dismissed as a girl with more ambition than sense trying to fake her way into the imperial bedchambers. At worst she could be made into the pawn of someone else's ambitions.
But chances were that Maomao would never meet her soulmate at all. The imperial brother was infamously a recluse and in poor health; he would never run into her in the streets of the pleasure district, and she would never walk the halls of the imperial palace. That was that.
It was ridiculous to think of any other possibilities, Maomao's life would not change because of this. She was going to wrap her arm back up and continue her day except....
Maomao snuck another peak at her mark feeling how smooth it was even when it should be scarred. It was like someone cut out and stuck on a fresh layer of skin. How fascinating. An enlightening thirty minutes later Maomao determined that fresh damage would stick, and now it was up to time to see how quickly she would heal.
She kept the cuts small, for convivences sake of course, and they likely wouldn't scar. This was just an initial test. She was just being sensible.
Over the years Maomao observed her mark as it remained unchanging smooth on her skin and below suspicion. Even as she was kidnapped to the rear palace no one noticed anything was amiss at all and Maomao did her best not to attract attention until matters forced her hand.
Every symptom pointed towards lead poisoning, and Maomao warned the consorts the best and as subtly she could, but not subtly enough. As Maomao was dragged along by a beautiful eunuch she struggled not to sigh and tune out the man.
"-and might I ask what your name is?" Jinshi asked, smiling and practically sparkling as they walked towards Jade Pavilion.
What did he want from her?!
"Maomao, sir." Even bowing Maomao could see as Jinshi tripped over absolutely nothing landing flat on his face.
She didn't understand why but at least the rest of the walk was silent.
The newly minted Jinshi sighed in lovelorn despair as another day went past, and he still didn't have a soulmark.
Gaoshun would probably tell him to be patient that it would come in time and that he needed to get back to memorizing the concubine's records if he wanted to truly succeed on his gamble. Which was right and easy to say and annoying when you were already married to your soulmate.
Once when he was younger, Gaoshun had given into Jinshi's demands and shown him his soul mark: a terrifying tiger tearing through a pile of scrolls. It’s a mark many men would be jealous of, but Gaoshun always seemed to prefer his wife’s mark an adorable tiger cub sleeping amongst a pile of weapons.
Once or twice Jinshi caught him rubbing Taomei’s mark as they read together at least until Taomei noticed him watching and pushed her husband aside acting like nothing romantic was ever happening between them.
It was sweet.
Of course, not all soulmates had a perfect or even good relationship. Jinshi was only starting to understand that as he took tea with the Emperor's first (and still favorite) consort, Ah-duo.
Peeking through her robes was a map of Li. It was said to be a good omen, that the Emperor's soulmate would have the best interests of the country in mind.
Ah-duo didn't like it.
"Yoh has all the luck!" Ah-duo complained two drinks in, "Seriously he gets the entire known world. How amazing is that!!! Especially when it's precise enough to be used as a map! Meanwhile, I'm here stuck in his empire."
Jinshi nodded and slowly sipped his drink, not knowing what to do as Ah-duo kept talking or maybe complaining, certainly restless all the while.
The walls of Garnet palace were stuffed with books, records, and reports even from the farthest reaches of the Empire. Perhaps that was the reason the Emperor so often consulted with her. Perhaps it was a simple tell of her own interests. Perhaps it was an apology.
It wasn't a situation Jinshi wanted to ever be in.
He didn't want his soulmate to be stuck in the walls of the rear palace; he wanted them to be happy beside him. He didn't want to be their cage. He really didn't want to be the emperor at all, so he needed to make sure the rear palace worked and produced another male heir.
Jinshi turned the page and reviewed the list of consorts with soul marks.
It was considered extremely unlucky for consorts to have soul marks, and ladies were selected without one whenever possible, but soul marks sometimes appeared late. Once found they were required to be reported otherwise, at best, the lady would be dismissed from the palace.
Soul marks represented a conflict of interest for a consort and made it unlikely for them to stay loyal or stay put. Still. They happened.
Of the four high consorts, only lady Lishu had a competing soulmark. Jinshi turned the page and smiled.
What a coincidence. Her soulmark was a duck charging forward to defend her. It reminded Jinshi of his friend Basen's soulmark a duck sleeping peacefully in a bed of flowers. It was probably just a coincidence; it was too cruel for fate to separate two soulmates.
There was a sprinkling of soul marks among the middle and lower consorts.
Lady Fuyou had a sword across her back; its hilt engraved with a cotton rose. Lady Jin had oyster mushrooms on her arm, a fact that she was reluctant to mention and by all accounts deeply disliked. Jinshi could swear that two lower consorts had matching soul marks, and it was really sweet to see reports that the two often took tea with each other.
It was nice to see that people could find love and happiness here even if that was entirely against the purpose of the rear palace.
His mother wasn't so lucky. No girl the previous Emperor touched was fortunate.
Still perhaps Anshi was a bit happy to know that the previous Emperor died without a soulmark and there was no chance that they were ever soulmates. Jinshi always thought that his mother's mark was beautiful. It was a sunrise, brilliant pinks and gold rising to her neck.
He'd never seen a match. Well. Almost never. There was one time he came close and even then, it was impossible to be certain given who it belonged to.
It was when he was establishing himself as Jinshi and trying to memorize the layout of the rear palace. Rather foolishly, he had decided to do this without Gaoshun. Jinshi had never quite realized what safety or at least distance his position ensured until he had to avoid being flirted with and dragged off by a consort that should know better.
Jinshi wanted to forget her face but forced himself to remember. He had to report it later when he knew where he was.
"Are you lost kid."
"I'm not a kid or lost." Jinshi said before he could catch himself. He wasn't supposed to be his age. He had to be older. He tried for a blinding charming smile. "Though I wouldn't mind if you helped me get to the administrative office. I can find my way from there."
The serving woman he'd later learn was named Taihou shrugged and set down her basket, "Follow me."
As he instinctively passed by her to walk in front, Jinshi noticed the tattoos scrawled across her arms that Taihou made no effort to hide keeping her sleeves tied back.
There was a serpent, a mask, an approximation of a skull, dark clouds, and a drowned ghost.
Jinshi had never seen anything like it. Sure, there were occasions when courtesans would perform, and he saw a few tattoos then, but those were flowers and things that were supposed to look pretty. The occasional tattoo on a soldier wasn’t very notable. These were creepy and imperfect and kinda cool...
"If you keep staring, you'll trip." Taihou said nudging him towards the center of the path before he could run into a serving girl that was staring at him.
"Thank you."
Taihou nodded, looking around at the odd attention Jinshi was getting, "It might get better when you get a soulmark. There is a certain weak, terrible, kind of person that only backs off when they think you belong to someone else."
Jinshi blinked and looked ahead. He never got that kind of response. Most people were jealous and most nobles tended not to broadcast their soul marks treating them like a weakness waiting to be taken advantage of not as a shield against other's affections. Bands to cover up marks were rather common.
But wouldn't it be nice to be considered as each other's strength instead? Jinshi smiled.
Taihou scratched her tattoos her gaze far away as she did not look at Jinshi's face. The resemblance was just a coincidence, "This is it. You can find your way back from here."
Jinshi turned back about to say something and stopped. Peeking out of Taihou's robes was a sunset painted with brilliant purple and gold against a dark blue sky. It almost matched his mother's mark, or perhaps it was another tattoo. He never knew for sure.
Presently, Jinshi sighed. He mentioned this to his mother, but he doubted Taihou and Anshi ever actually ended up meeting, there was a gulf between their positions that would make any conversation difficult.
Jinshi pulled his sleeves back before they could dip into the ink and tried not to scream or get his hopes up. As he turned his forearm towards the candle light it was official. He had a soulmate!!!
The name Maomao was stamped into his arm surrounded by flowers!
He was glad to have such a direct soulmark that allowed for so little confusion. The name was odd and unconnected from all major clans Jinshi could think of which would make it difficult to find her, but it was better to meet naturally anyway.
Jinshi smiled.
What would she be like? He had no idea and couldn't wait to find out.
As the years passed Jinshi covered his mark with a leather band (better safe than sorry especially with the way some people acted) and continued his role as the palace manager. Only occasionally taking off the band and staring longingly at the mark.
He was too busy to think about it much especially with his niece and nephew sick from something the doctor was hopeless at treating, but luckily a serving girl identified the cause and Jinshi could now kill a flock of birds with one stone. It was only on the way to the Jade Pavilion that Jinshi realized that he forgot to ask her name.
He put on his most charming smile and asked
"Maomao, sir."
Jinshi lost the ability to speak as he tripped over his own two feet.