Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 872: A Promise from the Past

Recalling the look in her mother’s eyes before her passing, Tang Sai’er felt a pang of sorrow in her heart. She picked up the two pills and swallowed them, then said coldly, “Now, can you tell me what these pills are?”  

“One is the Three Corpse Brain Holy Pill, and the other is the Leopard Embryo Tendon Severing Pill. As the Holy Maiden of the White Lotus Sect, you must be well-versed in their effects,” Song Qingshu replied.  

“To possess the treasured poisons of both the Sun Moon Holy Cult and the Mystic Dragon Cult—the Golden Serpent Camp’s leader truly has unparalleled means.” Though Tang Sai’er’s expression remained composed, her heart was anything but calm. Despite the White Lotus Sect’s formidable influence in the south, it held no overwhelming advantage over the Sun Moon Holy Cult or the Mystic Dragon Cult. And now, with the Golden Serpent Camp added to the mix, even seeking help from the Ethereal Peak might not guarantee victory.  

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Song Qingshu said with a smile, casually lifting the restraints on her. “Come to me for the antidote in a year. You may leave now. Oh, and as an intelligent woman, I trust you know what to say—and what not to say—once you return to the White Lotus Sect.”  

Tang Sai’er stretched slightly, feeling her true Qi circulating once more. She raised her head and cast a deep, lingering glance at Zhou Zhiruo before silently walking out of the cave and disappearing into the distance.  

“Zhou Zhiruo, the way she looked at you just now was practically devouring you alive. You’re in for some trouble,” Zhao Min remarked with a smirk.  

“That’s none of your concern,” Zhou Zhiruo replied indifferently.  

“Ungrateful wretch,” Zhao Min muttered, then suddenly exclaimed, “Wait! Why did you hit me earlier?”  

“Do you want the truth or a lie?” A faint smile played at the corners of Zhou Zhiruo’s lips.  

“The truth, of course,” Zhao Min snapped, glaring at her.  

“Because I’ve wanted to hit you for a long time, and I wasn’t about to pass up such a perfect opportunity,” Zhou Zhiruo answered calmly, as if stating the most ordinary fact.  

“Huh?!” Zhao Min was taken aback by her bluntness. 

In the past, Zhou Zhiruo would have hidden behind excuses, playing the delicate victim to win sympathy. But now, she was being shockingly direct—Zhao Min didn’t know how to react.  

“Are you angry that I hit you?” Zhou Zhiruo’s smile deepened as she watched Zhao Min’s stunned expression.  

“Hmph!” Zhao Min gritted her teeth in frustration. She knew the gap in their martial skills was now too wide—she was no longer a match for Zhou Zhiruo, and Song Qingshu certainly wouldn’t help her strike his own wife.  

Not satisfied with just this, Zhou Zhiruo wrapped her arm around Song Qingshu’s and said sweetly, “As Qingshu’s wife, it’s my duty to shoo away any shameless women buzzing around him.”  

Zhao Min’s face paled with rage. “Who are you calling shameless? And who’s a fly?”  

Zhou Zhiruo tilted her head, feigning innocence. “Oh? So you’re not one of those shameless women? Then you must be a proper lady intending to marry into the Song family. But since I’m already Song Qingshu’s wife, and the first wife at that, you can only be a concubine at best. And it’s only natural for a wife to discipline a concubine. You’d better get used to it—this might happen often from now on.”  

Zhao Min was seething. Back then, Zhou Zhiruo had always been constrained by her gentle, virtuous image, allowing Zhao Min to manipulate her repeatedly. But now, Zhou Zhiruo had become just as brazen as Zhao Min once was—how the tables had turned!  

“Song Qingshu,” Zhao Min suddenly turned to him, her voice sharp. “As a man of your word, do you honor your promises or not?”  

Watching their verbal sparring, Song Qingshu had been silently praying not to get dragged in. Unfortunately, the heavens ignored his plea.  

“O-of course I do,” he stammered, unsure of her intentions.  

“Good. Then slap her twenty times,” Zhao Min declared, pointing at Zhou Zhiruo.  

Zhou Zhiruo arched an eyebrow but remained silent, watching Song Qingshu with amusement.  

He glanced at her nervously before forcing a laugh. “Why?”  

“When she hit me earlier, you said you’d pay her back tenfold. She struck me twice—so twenty slaps it is,” Zhao Min retorted swiftly.  

Song Qingshu groaned inwardly. Even in that urgent moment, she had remembered every detail. “That… that was a misunderstanding. I didn’t know her identity back then! Besides, she was only using a ruse to deceive Tang Sai’er—a necessary sacrifice.” His voice grew weaker, knowing how flimsy his excuse sounded.  

“‘Sacrifice’?” Zhao Min scoffed. “So you’re going back on your word?”  

Song Qingshu rubbed his nose awkwardly. “That was just an offhand remark, not a formal promise.”  

“Fine. If that doesn’t count, then here’s a formal one,” Zhao Min said icily. “Didn’t you once promise to fulfill one condition for me?”  

His expression shifted. “I did, but you can’t possibly mean—”  

“I’ve decided,” Zhao Min cut in. “Slap Zhou Zhiruo twenty times, and we’re even.”  

“What?!” Song Qingshu was dumbfounded. “Th-that’s impossible!”  

“Why? Are you saying a man’s promise is worth nothing?” Zhao Min shot back, her pride stung. She had never been humiliated like this before.  

Just as Song Qingshu hesitated, Zhou Zhiruo spoke up. “Qingshu, agree to it.”  

“Huh?” He blinked in confusion.  

Zhou Zhiruo’s voice was cold. “This woman loves using promises to trap men. I don’t want you owing her anything, lest she demand something even worse—like what happened in Haozhou.”  

Song Qingshu understood her reference. Back then, Zhang Wuji had promised Zhao Min three conditions, leading to him abandoning his own wedding to leave with her—Zhou Zhiruo’s greatest humiliation.  

“Actually, I should thank Zhao Min for stealing Zhang Wuji in Haozhou,” Song Qingshu said tenderly, gazing at Zhou Zhiruo. “Otherwise, how would I have had the chance to marry you?” He harbored no resentment—the past was the past, and a true man embraced magnanimity and confidence.  

A faint blush colored Zhou Zhiruo’s cheeks. “I just don’t want her using this against you later. Compared to unknown troubles, twenty slaps are nothing.”  

“Ohhh, how touching,” Zhao Min sneered. “Don’t flatter yourself. I do as I please, and today, watching Song Qingshu slap you twenty times will bring me more than enough joy.” She lifted her chin, her usual radiant arrogance returning in full force.