Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 814: Soft Outside, Strong Within

Wanyan Liang frowned slightly, thought for a moment, and then sighed. “You’re right. Tonight is indeed too rushed.” Though consumed by lust, he was no fool. 

Whether it was Gebi or Tudan Jing, neither was an easy target to deceive. If he didn’t carefully plan his scheme, acting recklessly would only alert the two women.

Given their special status, the consequences of either discovering the truth would be unbearable. 

In the end, Wanyan Liang suppressed his desires and whispered, “Let’s find another time to plan this thoroughly. We must ensure nothing goes wrong. Tonight is off.”

“I was thinking the same,” Song Qingshu nodded slightly, though inwardly he sneered. ‘This Wanyan Liang is truly depraved—willing to sacrifice his own wife just to possess another man’s. What kind of madness drives him?’

As the banquet neared its end, Wanyan Liang exchanged a few more words with him before taking his leave. 

Seizing the opportunity, Gebi approached, her expression puzzled. “It seems Prince of Hailing has taken quite a liking to you lately. But the two of you never had much of a relationship before.”

“Perhaps surviving the hardships in Kaifeng together brought us closer,” Song Qingshu replied with an internal sigh. He doesn’t value me—he covets you.

“Maybe,” Gebi nodded. “The banquet is almost over. I’ve already spoken to the Pucha family. Should we leave now?”

“Good idea.” The place was crowded, and Song Qingshu worried about running into someone who knew Tang Kuo Bian well—he couldn’t afford to be exposed. There was also another, more private reason: after last night’s intimacy with Gebi, the intoxicating memory lingered in his mind. He couldn’t wait to return home and indulge in marital bliss with her again.
Outside the Pucha residence, the Tang Kuo family carriage was already waiting. After two assassination attempts involving substituted carriages, Song Qingshu refused to ride the luxurious one Wanyan Liang had gifted—no matter how extravagant it was. To reassure Gebi, he had even doubled the number of guards escorting them.

Once inside the carriage, Gebi deliberately sat near the window, lifting the curtain to gaze outside. Unbothered by her distance, Song Qingshu leaned against the opposite wall, admiring the flawless contours of her profile—soft yet striking, as if painted with a single brushstroke.

For a while, silence lingered between them. Though Gebi avoided his gaze, she could feel his eyes on her, their intensity almost tangible, heating wherever they lingered.

Her earlobes reddened, and she could no longer endure it. Turning, she shot him a reproachful glance. “Why are you staring at me like that?”

“You’re so beautiful,” Song Qingshu said sincerely.

“After all these years…” Gebi paused, then sighed softly. “After all these years, haven’t you had your fill?”

“Someone as beautiful as you—I could never tire of looking, even after a lifetime…” he replied without hesitation.

“A lifetime?” she murmured before shaking her head. “When I’m old and wrinkled, I doubt you’ll still look at me this way.”

Song Qingshu chuckled. “Even as an old woman, you’d be the most beautiful one alive.”

Gebi rolled her eyes. “Since when do old women come in ‘beautiful’ and ‘ugly’?”

“For others, no. But you’re the exception.” He continued smiling at her.

Unable to withstand his gaze any longer, Gebi finally relented. “Alright, alright. Wogula never flattered me like this.” But Song Qingshu, too captivated by her beauty, missed the deeper meaning in her words.

They soon arrived at the Tang Kuo residence. Helping her out of the carriage, Song Qingshu deliberately held onto her hand. When she tried to pull away, he tightened his grip. 

After a few attempts, Gebi, not wanting to draw the servants’ attention, reluctantly let him lead her inside, her cheeks flushed.

By the time they reached the bedroom, her composure began to crack. “W-what are you doing?” she asked nervously.

Song Qingshu leaned in with a grin. “Sleeping, of course.”

Her face paled, and she pushed against him. “But… it’s still so early.”

“It’s already dark. How is it early?” He swept her into his arms. “We were woken up so early this morning—we need to make up for lost sleep.”

Before she could react, the world spun, and she found herself in his embrace. Panicking, she struggled. “N-no, put me down!”

Assuming she was just shy, Song Qingshu ignored her protests and pressed his lips to hers.

After what felt like an eternity, Gebi finally broke free, her hair disheveled, her breath uneven. “No… not today.”

“Why not?” Song Qingshu frowned.

“Just… not today!” she snapped, then quickly softened at his startled expression. “I… I’m not feeling well.”

“You’re sick? I’ll call a physician!” He moved to stand.

“N-no need,” she said, touched by his concern. “It’s… that time.”

Realization dawned. Of all the luck—her period? Last night was fine! But there was nothing to be done. He wasn’t so depraved as to force himself on her now.

“I should rest,” she said abruptly, not waiting for a response before hurrying out, leaving only a faint trace of her fragrance behind.

Song Qingshu reached out but didn’t stop her. Left alone, he flopped onto the bed in frustration.

*****

Once in her room, Gebi’s tears finally fell. “Wogula… how could you abandon me? We promised to grow old together…”

That afternoon, when Song Qingshu effortlessly blocked the assassin’s sword, her heart had sunk. She knew her husband too well—he could never wield such skill.

His strange behavior since his return, which she had dismissed due to their strained relationship, now seemed glaringly suspicious. The unfamiliarity she felt during their intimacy last night confirmed it: this man was not her husband!

And if he wasn’t Wogula, yet the real Tang Kuo Bian hadn’t appeared… he was likely dead.

“Who… is he?” she whispered, wiping her tears. “Did he kill Wogula?”

The thought of surrendering to her husband’s possible murderer made her skin crawl.

“Wait… he had Wogula’s personal seal. No outsider could know of its existence unless Wogula revealed it himself.” And his appearance—identical to her husband’s. How?

Her mind spun in confusion, but one thing was clear: she couldn’t let him know she suspected.

“But how long can I keep pretending?” She bit her lip. Today, she had used her condition as an excuse. But what about next time? Constant refusals would only raise his suspicions.

“I must find out if he killed Wogula.” Opening a drawer, she retrieved a small dagger—her “Chastity Guard,” unused since her marriage. She never thought she’d need it again.

Her resolve hardened. If he was the murderer, she would avenge her husband. His martial prowess didn’t intimidate her—no man expected betrayal in the throes of passion.

But if he wasn’t the killer… if he was that man she suspected, then perhaps this was fate’s twisted mercy. 

As she had considered at the banquet, she might pretend forever, even bearing his child. As long as the child carried the Tang Kuo name, did blood truly matter?

*****

Had Song Qingshu known her thoughts, he would have been stunned. He had always seen Gebi as gentle and fragile, yet here she was, calmly weighing life-altering decisions in the face of betrayal.

But Song Qingshu was no longer in his room. 

Frustrated by Gebi’s rejection, he had tossed and turned before finally rising. Gazing at the palace lights in the distance, an idea struck him: If Gebi’s unavailable, Empress Pei Man is still there!

The thought consumed him. Donning Xiao Xingguo’s disguise, he activated Qinggong and vanished into the night.

Familiar with the palace’s layout, he easily evaded the guards and soon reached Xiao Xingguo’s quarters, intending to check on the Zhao sisters. 

But as he approached, he spotted a eunuch impatiently knocking on the door.

“Eunuch Xing! I know you’re in there—I saw the light! Open up!”