Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 785: Sudden

Seeing that gentle persuasion wasn’t working, Song Qingshu decided to change tactics—first, he would completely break down her emotional defenses. He deliberately lowered his voice and asked, “Aside from your husband, how many other men have t0uched you?”

Of course, he wasn’t some pervert curious about her past experiences. Rather, he intended to use this as a breakthrough point to steer the conversation toward her sisters who had suffered similar fates, thereby gathering information about the princesses.

The courtesan’s face paled. “This question… could I choose not to answer?”

Song Qingshu reached out and pinched her chin, the delicate texture of her skin making him pause in surprise—despite years of torment, her complexion remained remarkably smooth.

Snapping back to focus, he leaned in with an oppressive gaze. “No.”

Her lashes trembled slightly, a trace of sorrow flashing in her eyes. “If the lord insists on knowing, I shall speak. But I hope you won’t be so disturbed that you lose interest later. It would be a waste of all that silver spent tonight.”

Song Qingshu chuckled faintly. “It wasn’t my money anyway. And even if I lose interest, hearing a princess’s romantic history wouldn’t be a waste.”

“Romantic history?” A mocking smile flickered across her face. “What kind of ‘romance’ is this? Back then, I was taken by your Second Prince, Wanyan Zongwang, and that very night, he claimed me in his tent. Naturally, I became his concubine afterward. But looking back now, aside from… servicing his needs, it wasn’t too unbearable. At least he doted on me.”

“Not long after, he died. His wife believed his early demise was because he’d exhausted his vitality on me, cursing me as a ‘disastrous beauty.’ So she sent me to the Laundry Courtyard.”

Song Qingshu’s heart jumped—finally, the main topic!
“Life in the Laundry Courtyard wasn’t so easy. Every day, I endured torment from the overseers, and occasionally, I was summoned to serve the Emperor…” The courtesan had just said this when Song Qingshu couldn’t help but interject, “Emperor? Which emperor?”

“Your Taizong Emperor, and later, the Xizong Emperor.” Her lips tightened until they nearly bled. “You Jurchens are shameless, devoid of propriety or morality. An emperor seizing his nephew’s woman, the next emperor defiling the previous one’s consorts—what a nation of beasts!”

Feeling the woman in his arms tremble violently, Song Qingshu instinctively held her tighter. Thinking of the humiliation she had endured all these years, a surge of pity welled up in his heart. “Don’t worry. Such days will soon be over.”

“Over?” The woman in his arms sighed faintly. “To me, the true suffering has only just begun. Before, though unfortunate, I only had to serve your emperor. But now, cast into a brothel, who knows how many more men will defile me…”

Song Qingshu frowned. “If that’s how you feel, why not end it all yourself?”

This was what puzzled him most. If they could endure past sufferings, fine—but being thrown into a brothel? Did they still resign themselves to fate?

If they couldn’t escape, at least they could choose death. Yet, from his investigations, not a single princess from the Laundry Courtyard had ever taken their own lives. Had they inherited the cowardice of Emperors Huizong and Qinzong, clinging to life so desperately that they’d endure any humiliation?

“You dare ask me that?” The courtesan laughed hysterically. “You Jurchens use demonic means to control us, and now you ask why we don’t kill ourselves?”

She spat in his face. “Disgusting hypocrites!”

Song Qingshu smiled bitterly, unsure what had provoked her. After all this time, this was the first woman who’d ever spat at him.

After her outburst, the courtesan braced for a slap—but none came. Opening her eyes, she met his pitying gaze. Her heart trembled, and she pulled out a handkerchief to wipe his face. “You really are different from the other Jurchens.”

“Maybe I’m just not ruthless enough,” Song Qingshu said self-deprecatingly.

Her fingers brushed his bearded cheek, and she suddenly giggled. “Who’d have thought a big, burly man like you could be so sentimental? Fine. Since you’re not so detestable, this princess will serve you well tonight.”

“Uh…” This was the first time she’d openly admitted her royal status, but Song Qingshu couldn’t feel happy. Her eyes had grown hazy, as if intoxicated with desire.

He rubbed his temples. What the hell is this? I came here for serious business!

Just as he debated whether to reveal his true intentions, she looped her arms around his neck and whispered hotly in his ear, “I heard you’re a Jurchen prince consort?”

“Uh… yes,” Song Qingshu nodded reflexively.

“How does a Jurchen princess taste?” she murmured, biting her lip, her voice laced with something strange.

“Not bad,” he replied, suddenly feeling his brain short-circuiting. This conversation is taking a weird turn.

“Tonight, I’ll show you that a Song Dynasty princess… tastes even better.” Her voice was honeyed, almost unnatural.

The woman in his arms squirmed like a restless kitten, stirring something deep within him. If he hadn’t realized something was wrong by now, he’d be truly slow-witted.

Sniffing the wine cup on the table, he detected traces of an aphr0disiac—though a mild dose. So the Laundry Courtyard laced the wine to ensure compliance.

‘What the hell am I supposed to do now?’ Song Qingshu was at a loss. 

The woman writhed against him like a seductive serpent, stoking his own desires. 

A devilish whisper seemed to echo in his ears:

“This woman was fought over by two Jurchen emperors and a prince.”

“She was once the most beautiful fifth princess of the Northern Song Dynasty.”

“Tonight, she’s yours by right.”

“Besides, she’s no innocent maiden—she won’t blame you afterward.”

“How often do you get a guilt-free chance like this?”

“…”

Ultimately, Song Qingshu suppressed the urge to take her then and there. Her life had been tragic enough—how could he bear to thrust another blade into her?

He carried her to the bed, intending to loosen her clothes so he could use his internal energy to purge the aphr0disiac from her system. 

But just then—

CRASH!

The window shattered. 

A flash of cold light shot toward his back as a voice rang out:

“Die, you lecherous scoundrel!”