Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 805: Taking a Liking to the Princess Consort

Tudan Jing had never expected the man to dare take liberties with her right in front of her husband. 

Just as she was about to rebuke him, a strange, scorching Qi surged from his fingertips into her body. 

The moment she felt it, the energy instantly dispersed through her limbs, sending such an overwhelming wave of pleasure that she nearly m0aned aloud.

Fortunately, her noble upbringing as a princess consort allowed her to bite her lip in time. Yet, the peculiar sensation within her only grew more intense. It was as if her entire body was submerged in warm water, with invisible hands caressing every inch of her skin. Soon, she realized with embarrassment that a damp heat had gathered between her thighs, and her usually delicate face flushed a faint pink.

“My apologies, I accidentally touched you, Princess Consort.” Song Qingshu lowered his voice and spoke quickly, retracting his hand with perfect composure.

“It’s… it’s nothing.” When his hand withdrew, Tudan Jing even felt an inexplicable sense of loss. But she quickly composed herself, carefully studying Song Qingshu’s eyes—there was no trace of awkwardness or lewdness in them. 

‘Could he really have touched me by accident?’

Recalling the electrifying sensation from before, her heart fluttered. 

‘Could those rumors actually be true?’

Among the noblewomen of the capital, the princess consorts and aristocratic ladies often engaged in private conversations, occasionally touching upon intimate matters. Some had once claimed that if a woman met her destined man, even the slightest touch would make every inch of her body cry out in longing, yearning to throw herself into his arms.
‘Could it be that this Tang Kuo Bian is my fated man…’ Tudan Jing felt dazed. Her husband, Wanyan Liang, had never made her feel this way…

“Ah, how forgetful of me! Why are we still standing at the gate? Please, come in—I’ve already prepared a banquet.”

Wanyan Liang’s voice snapped Tudan Jing out of her trance. ‘Tudan Jing, how could you, a dignified princess consort, entertain such absurd thoughts?’

A mix of shame and anger flashed across her face as she turned to enter the estate. Yet, whether intentionally or not, Song Qingshu stepped forward just then, blocking her path. Unable to stop in time, she collided into his arms, her full mounds pressing against his arm, outlining an undeniably alluring curve.

Song Qingshu retreated a step with practiced subtlety and bowed respectfully. “After you, Princess Consort.”

Since he had strategically positioned himself to block Wanyan Liang’s line of sight, the prince remained oblivious. Hearing the commotion, he turned and asked, “Jing’er, what happened?”

Tudan Jing raised her chin, staring at the man before her. With so many “coincidences” in a row, even a three-year-old wouldn’t believe they were accidental. Yet, recalling that heart-pounding sensation, she found herself unwilling to tell her husband the truth. Smoothing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, she replied calmly, “Nothing.” Then she quickly moved to Wanyan Liang’s side, as though staying any longer would invite danger.

Watching her flustered retreat, Song Qingshu allowed a faint smile to curl his lips. The memory of the incredible softness against his arm lingered. Slender yet voluptuous—what a rare treasure! 

Earlier, while presenting the gift, he had deliberately brushed her fingers, seizing the chance to inject a trace of the Joyous Qi he had cultivated. The Joyful Meditation Method was, after all, a dual-cultivation technique, and the Qi it produced naturally carried a potent aphr0disiac effect. Though he seldom used it on his own women out of care, he had no such reservations when it came to Wanyan Liang’s wife.

This had merely been a small test—just a wisp of Joyous Qi. Had he unleashed it fully, he could have reduced Tudan Jing to a quivering, boneless sl0ppy mess on the spot. But he understood the principle of moderation. Instead, he had planted a seed in her heart, waiting for the right moment to nurture it and awaken the desires lying dormant within her.

That brief encounter at the gate left Tudan Jing visibly distracted. Wanyan Liang noticed his wife’s unusual behavior and, having his own matters to discuss privately with Tang Kuo Bian, the group swiftly concluded the banquet. The prince then suggested that his wife take Gebi for a stroll in the garden.

Song Qingshu was initially wary—given Wanyan Liang’s notorious reputation, who knew what schemes he might have in store? But since the garden was within sight, he could intervene if anything happened. After subtly signaling Gebi to stay alert, he allowed the two women to wander off and chat.

The Prince of Hailing’s estate boasted a vast artificial lake, around which the entire garden was designed. 

Following Wanyan Liang, Song Qingshu arrived at a pavilion atop a bridge in the lake’s center. From this vantage point, the garden’s water-side pavilions and towers sprawled beneath them, evoking a look of surprise from him.

Noticing his reaction, Wanyan Liang smiled. “Brother Tang Kuo, what do you think of my garden?”

“To recreate the charm of the Jiangnan water towns in this northern wasteland is nothing short of divine craftsmanship,” Song Qingshu remarked sincerely.

Wanyan Liang sighed. “No matter how exquisite, it still pales in comparison to the real Jiangnan. Brother Tang Kuo, do you know my greatest ambition in life?”

Song Qingshu’s expression turned odd. 

Of course, he knew Wanyan Liang’s infamous “Three Great Wishes” from history:

1. To wield absolute authority over all state affairs.

2. To lead armies in conquering nations, dragging their rulers before him to answer for their crimes.

3. To possess the most beautiful women in the world.

It was the unspoken dream of every man. Had their paths not been destined to diverge, Song Qingshu might have gripped his hand in excitement and declared, “A true kindred spirit!”

But now, he couldn’t possibly voice those ambitions. His gaze wandered until it landed on a poem inscribed on the pavilion’s pillar, and inspiration struck.

“‘Uniting all under one rule,

Should Jiangnan stand as a separate land?

Leading a million troops to West Lake’s shore,

Astride my steed upon Wu Mountain’s peak!’”

“A magnificent poem,” Song Qingshu praised. “I presume Your Highness’ greatest wish is to lead an army and conquer the Southern Song Dynasty?”

The poem’s opening line—”Uniting all under one rule”—echoed the First Emperor Qin Shi Huang’s decree of standardized scripts and cart tracks after unifying the six warring states. 

But Qin Shi Huang was an emperor. The mere mention of such ambition revealed Wanyan Liang’s rebellious intent. However, exposing this now would serve no purpose, so Song Qingshu pretended not to grasp the subtext.

“Brother Tang Kuo truly understands me!” Wanyan Liang laughed, though inwardly relieved. ‘Careless of me. I must have this poem erased from his mind before he leaves—it could bring disaster if left unchecked.’

Eager to shift the topic, Wanyan Liang grinned. “Brother Tang Kuo, do you recall my promise from last time? Now that you’ve toured my estate, has anyone caught your eye? Speak freely—if you fancy someone, she’s yours.”

Song Qingshu smiled faintly. “After seeing them all, I find the Princess Consort most to my liking.”