Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 837: As You Wish

Upon hearing his words, Gebi pinched him hard in frustration. “You’re so infuriating! You know I won’t kill you, yet you still say such things!”

Song Qingshu chuckled and pulled her into his arms. “I knew my wife couldn’t bear to kill me.”

Gebi stiffened and quickly retorted, “Don’t misunderstand! The only reason I’m not killing you is because I still need your help to avenge me—nothing more. Don’t get any strange ideas.”

“Relax, it’s all the same to me,” Song Qingshu said, hugging her tightly with a pleased grin.

“Hmph! Even if I don’t kill you, Ping’er will never forgive you once she learns the truth,” Gebi huffed, pounding his chest with her delicate fists. Unable to break free, she reluctantly let him hold her.

The mention of Wanyan Ping gave Song Qingshu a headache. “That really is a bit troublesome.”

“Now you realize that enjoying the blessings of two beauties isn’t so easy, huh?” Gebi snorted.

“As long as I get to enjoy them, a little difficulty is nothing,” Song Qingshu laughed, tightening his embrace. “Come on, call me ‘husband’.”

“Ugh, at most… at most I’ll call you ‘little Brother-in-law’. I refuse to call you… that. It just feels too… too weird,” Gebi muttered, her face flushing.

“Little Brother-in-law?” Song Qingshu frowned. “What’s ‘little’ about me?”
“You’re younger than me, you little rascal! At such a young age, you’re already so skilled at tormenting women—who knows what you’ll be like in the future?” Gebi knew his real age, and the thought that she, who had fended off countless suitors over the years, had fallen to a man younger than her left her with mixed emotions.

“But aside from my age, nothing else about me is ‘little’,” Song Qingshu teased, shifting slightly.

Gebi’s face turned even redder. “Shameless!”

*****

Since Wanyan Ping was nearby, Song Qingshu didn’t dare keep Gebi for too long. After a while, he made up an excuse to let her leave.

Gebi, feeling sticky all over, also wanted to freshen up—certainly not here, where she might give Song Qingshu another opportunity. She hurried back to her own quarters.

Watching Gebi disappear into the distance, Wanyan Ping frowned in confusion. ‘Why is my sister wearing… mourning robes? Does she already know about Prince Wei’s death? But she’s his elder—why would she wear mourning for him?’

Unable to make sense of it, she could only assume the man inside had some twisted fetish, forcing her sister to dress like this for his amusement.

“What an absolute scoundrel!” Unable to hold back any longer, Wanyan Ping stormed into the room in her riding boots, only to find the man sitting calmly, sipping tea as if he had been expecting her.

Startled but seeing he was prepared, she decided to question him first. “Who are you?”

“Song Qingshu, at your service, Miss Ping,” he replied with a slight nod.

“You know me?” Wanyan Ping froze, then her expression darkened. “You’re that rebel from the Golden Serpent Camp, Song Qingshu?” The Laundry Courtyard not only imprisoned Song Dynasty princesses but also served as the Jin Dynasty’s intelligence agency. Having worked there for years, she was well aware of his identity.

Song Qingshu shrugged. “I am indeed Song Qingshu, but being called a ‘rebel’ is a bit harsh.”

Wanyan Ping sneered. “I don’t care about your misdeeds in the Qing Dynasty, but you had no right to bully my sister—”

“Correction!” Song Qingshu interrupted, wagging a finger. “I didn’t bully her. As you saw earlier, did she look even slightly unwilling?”

“You knew I was there?” Wanyan Ping paled, suddenly recalling that intelligence reports ranked Song Qingshu among the world’s top martial artists.

“Of course. But since you chose to spare your sister’s dignity by not exposing us, I played along and kept it from her,” he said.

“What trick did you use to deceive her?” Wanyan Ping shuddered, replaying the scene in her mind—her sister had indeed seemed willing.

“How I won her over doesn’t matter. What matters is that she’s mine now,” Song Qingshu replied with a cryptic smile.

“You b*stard!” Wanyan Ping could no longer restrain herself. She whipped out her lash and struck at him.

Yet her fierce attack was effortlessly caught between his fingers.

“I’m not into S-M, but I appreciate the offer,” Song Qingshu said with a smirk. With a flick of his wrist, an overwhelming force traveled through the whip, sending Wanyan Ping stumbling straight into his arms.

“Careful, Miss Ping. Wouldn’t want you to fall,” he murmured, steadying her waist. The supple firmness of her body impressed him—it had been a while, and he’d almost forgotten how full of vitality she was.

Blushing furiously, Wanyan Ping twisted and stabbed at him with a dagger from an impossibly tricky angle. This move was vicious—even someone far stronger could easily be caught off guard.

But Song Qingshu had seen every inch of her in the cave that night. He knew exactly where she hid her weapons. Dodging effortlessly, he tapped a pressure point on her waist, draining her strength. She collapsed limply against him.

“Miss Ping, your figure is exquisite—not an ounce of excess fat. You must ride and hunt often to maintain such a form,” he teased, holding her close.

“Let me go, you lecher!” Wanyan Ping seethed, humiliated. She was one of the Jin Dynasty’s top young warriors, yet she had been subdued in a single move.

“Now, now, let’s be fair. You keep calling me a lecher, but have I ever actually done anything to you?” ‘Well, not as myself, anyway,’ he mentally added. “But if you insist on seeing me as one, I might as well oblige.” He raised a hand, feigning a grab toward her mounds.

“Don’t!” Wanyan Ping shrieked in panic.