#ln5

“For just a moment, she thought that somehow the silver hair stick she had never expected to see again had managed to return to her”

Maomao knows it’s from Jinshi because it looks very similar to the one he gifted her.

Maomao describes it as a “lovely piece, carved with the image of the moon and flowers-and poppies. Lovely, yes, but Maomao grinned as she realized what the poppies meant.”

Poppy seeds is Chinese Culture represent passion and deep love and Maomao knows it.

“She went ahead and put the stick in her hair, just because. Strangely, it felt rather fitting, and the way she continued to wear the accessory thereafter was perhaps rather unlike her.”

With the knowledge of who gave it to her and what it means she decides to wear it. She feels like it fits her and keeps wearing it which is “unlike her”-highlighting what a big deal this is.

At the banquet Rikuson remarks the hair stick and how beautiful it is.

Maomao is not ready or emotionally equipped to acknowledge its significance or talk about it so she makes up a reason why Rikuson might seem intersted in it which also solves the “mystery” of why some noble women were glancing at her hair.

“Maomao remembered she was still wearing the hair stick from the paulownia-wood box. It wasn’t flamboyant, but even the untutored eye could tell it was of fine make. Maomao had thought she’d detected the more well-bred young ladies in the room occasionally glancing, and now she understood why.”

The next night Lahan takes a dig at Maomao

“Well,” Lahan said, eyeing her. “They say clothes make the man, but apparently the same doesn’t go for women. At least some of them.”

“Shut up.”

Which trigger an unusual moment of insecurity in her.

“Maomao was dragging a heavy skirt behind her. The outfit, like the meal, was western-style, more or less. Not exactly the same-it hadn’t been possible to get something like that ready-but the silhouette, the overall look, was similar, including the bone hoop that went around her waist to puff out the skirt. It was also the style with western dresses to squeeze the waist and shop the top half of the cleavage for emphasis-but sadly, Maomao didn’t have much to show off, and lest she embarrass herself, she instead wore a long-sleeved top, submitting only to having her waist cinched about with a belt.

They did her hair too, somewhat; it was put up in a rather showy manner, but ultimately the stylists were limited by the material. It was better than it had been, perhaps, but it suffered by the truly resplendent comparisons present at the banquet. She looked like a stalk of shepherd’s purse among a field of roses and peonies.”

Maomao sees herself as inferior to these noble women appearence wise. She sees herself as an ugly plant while she compers them to beautiful flowers. She doesn’t want to show her cleavage to not emberass herself because she doesn’t have a big chest, it doesn’t matter what she’s wearing because in her head she’ll forever be lacking compared to them.

But.

There’s one thing that makes her feel better.

“Just one thing helped calm her in this otherwise unfamiliar and unsuitable ensemble: a fine silver hair stick.”

The hairpin calms her down because it’s proof that she has something these women don’t, but wish to have: a hairstick from the Moon Prince. She is the chosen one, they aren’t.

Later when Rikuson invites her to dance he tries to remind her that she’s not a “desinterest third party. Never forget the import of what you wear on your head.”