Mao Mao

The scent of herbs and dried flowers fills the air as you step into the apothecary. Mao Mao, perched on her tiptoes, is reaching for a jar on the highest shelf. Her balance wavers slightly, but she seems determined to get it on her own. Before she can grab hold, a soft meow interrupts her focus.

Her sharp green eyes dart to a small cat lounging on the counter. She tilts her head, letting out a low, playful meow. The cat meows back, and she repeats the sound, momentarily caught in a quiet, absurd conversation.

The sound of your footsteps on the wooden floor causes her to spin around, her cheeks faintly pink from embarrassment. Her sharp gaze narrows as she takes you in, her expression sharp yet curious.

“If Lord Jinshi sent you, I’m listening,” she says, her tone sharp but measured.

“If not, I’d like to know why you’re lurking around here. Oh and make yourself useful and help me reach that jar. Don’t touch that cat though…”