Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 831: A Sudden Killing Intent

Da Xingguo kept his hands tucked in his sleeves, bowing his head as he asked, “What is it that Your Majesty wishes to inquire about?”  

“It’s just…” Emperor Xizong of Jin hesitated for a moment before continuing, “Given how absurd the Prince Wei acted tonight, could it be that someone was behind it?”  

“Based on the current intelligence, there are no signs that the Prince Wei was coerced by others. The guards outside Taihe Hall were also his trusted men. In this case, his fate could be considered self-inflicted,” Da Xingguo replied, then suddenly shifted his tone. “However…”  

“However what?” Emperor Xizong pressed.  

“However, there are still questionable aspects to this entire incident. First, no matter how outrageous the Prince Wei usually was, barging into the Empress’s bedchamber in the dead of night is beyond unreasonable. It’s possible someone was pulling the strings behind the scenes. Second, upon reflection, there are simply too many coincidences in this matter…” Da Xingguo left one thought unspoken—if the Prince of Wei were still alive, questioning him would reveal the truth. But he knew his master’s temperament all too well: weak-willed yet prone to rage, stubborn and intolerant of dissent. There was no need to court trouble over a dead prince.  

Emperor Xizong nodded. “Very well. I leave this matter to your Laundry Courtyard. Investigate thoroughly and determine whether someone was indeed manipulating events!”  

“As Your Majesty commands!”  

*****  

Meanwhile, inside Taihe Hall, the group had been discussing possible rescue plans, but each proposal was dismissed due to one flaw or another. In the end, no perfect strategy had been finalized.  

“This isn’t something we can rush. After tonight’s events, palace security will be at its tightest. There’s no need to act now,” Song Qingshu reasoned.  

Zhao Yingluo nodded in agreement. “A few days of lying low would be wise. We can use the time to refine our plans and ensure no loopholes remain.”  

“Lady Yang—” Empress Pei Man, now aware of the maiden’s surname, spoke up. “There’s something I must say in advance.”  

“What?” Zhao Yingluo’s tone was icy, her dislike for this alluring empress evident.  

“Our two Dynasties are currently at war. If you return to the Song and reveal tonight’s events to incite chaos within the Jin, I won’t hesitate to retaliate.” Though Empress Pei Man smiled, her words carried a clear threat.  

“Oh? And how exactly would you retaliate?” Zhao Yingluo sneered. She had indeed considered the idea—unlike her naïve younger sisters, she prioritized national interests over fleeting alliances.  

“You know full well what your sisters have endured these years in the Jin. The people of the Southern Song must already be speculating, but without proof, their suspicions remain just that—suspicions. But if you threaten me, I won’t hesitate to publish every detail of their experiences—which men they served, the specifics, even their reputations in the trade—and distribute pamphlets along the Song-Jin border. Once that happens, vast as the Song may be, where could your sisters possibly take refuge?” Empress Pei Man’s smile was sly, fox-like.  

“You—!” Zhao Yingluo’s eyes flashed with fury as she instinctively stepped forward.  

Unfazed, Empress Pei Man replied calmly, “As long as you keep tonight’s events secret, I will do the same regarding your princesses’ ordeals.”  

Zhao Yingluo’s expression darkened, but she finally sighed in resignation. “Fine. You win.” She had no choice—with the rise of Neo-Confucianism in the Southern Song, society had grown obsessively fixated on female chastity. If rumors spread, how could her sisters ever face the world again?  

With their uneasy truce established, the group parted ways. 

Zhao Yingluo, unwilling to leave her sisters unprotected, decided to remain in Xiao Xingguo’s quarters within the palace, keeping watch over them and the Laundry Courtyard captives. 

Song Qingshu, meanwhile, slipped out of the palace to resume his role as Tang Kuo Bian, ensuring future operations would proceed smoothly.  

‘Now that the rescue plan is taking shape, how much longer can I keep my identity from Gebi?’ Song Qingshu wrestled with guilt over the deception, yet he couldn’t deny his own desires. 

A wife as beautiful and gentle as Gebi was impossible for any man to resist—himself included. If the truth came out, he would lose her forever.  

The dilemma plagued him all the way back to the Tang Kuo residence, and even then, he remained undecided.  

“Let nature take its course,” he sighed, removing his outer robe. The knife wound on his back wasn’t serious, but it still needed tending.  

“Who’s there?” Suddenly alert, Song Qingshu fixed his gaze on the door.  

“It’s me.” The door creaked open, revealing a graceful, familiar figure—Gebi.  

“You’re still awake at this hour?” Song Qingshu was surprised. Most would be deep in slumber by now.  

“My mind was restless. I couldn’t sleep, so I waited for you in the next room.”  

Her words deepened Song Qingshu’s guilt. As her supposed husband, his constant disappearances and nightly absences were hardly commendable.  

As he began dressing again, Gebi’s eyes flickered, and she gasped. “You’re injured?”  

“Just a scratch. It’s nothing,” he replied awkwardly.  

“Let me see.” There was no refusing her—as his wife, her concern was only natural.  

Without waiting for permission, Gebi removed his robe again, her lips tightening at the sight of the bloodstain on his back. “How could you be so careless?” she chided, dabbing at the wound with a handkerchief.  

A warmth spread through Song Qingshu’s chest. Initially drawn to Gebi’s beauty, he had come to cherish her even more for the sense of home she embodied.  

“Pass me the wound medicine. I’ll bandage it for you.” Though elegant and delicate in demeanor, Gebi was a woman of the grasslands—such tasks were second nature to her.  

“Who did this to you?” Her fingers traced the skin near his injury, her voice laced with something unreadable.  

“Just some nobody. Don’t worry about it.” This had been his first encounter with the legendary top expert of the Jin—Da Xingguo’s reputation was well-earned. His martial prowess likely rivaled that of the Five Greats.  

‘Top-tier experts in this world are a dime a dozen,’ Song Qingshu mused bitterly. 

Whether it was the deathly assassin under the Empress’s command or the hidden guards around the Prince Wei, any of them could match the skills of major sect leaders in the martial world. 

And Da Xingguo? His abilities were on par with the Central Plains’ Five Greats.  

Then again, Song Qingshu reconsidered, Jin Yong’s original works focused more on the martial world, seldom delving into court affairs. It made sense that these state-affiliated experts were rarely documented.  

Just as he lost himself in thought, a sudden sense of danger prickled his skin—a cold, gleaming dagger now rested against his throat.

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