Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 1107: Joy Turns to Sorrow

Li Kexiu felt a jolt of alarm. He replied with studied casualness: “What would I be scheming about?” 

‘Does he know everything? Does his reach extend even to our plans?’

Song Qingshu smiled. “Shouldn’t Uncle Li be giving some thought to how the Green Standard Army and the Golden Serpent Camp are going to merge?”

Li Kexiu blinked — then let out a long, quiet breath of relief, followed by a genuine laugh. “Of course, of course — naturally.”

Song Qingshu glanced easily in the direction of the Southern Song delegation’s quarters and continued: “Uncle Li was previously concerned that aligning with us might provoke a strong reaction from Southern Song. I’ve now put all of that to rest — not only do we have Song’s formal recognition, we have Mongolia’s backing as well. Add to that my ability to influence court decisions in both Jin and Qing to some degree, and our position could hardly be stronger. This is the moment to consolidate the Golden Serpent Camp and your Green Standard Army into a single unified force. When the world shifts — and it will — we move with it.”

A flicker of something like guilt crossed Li Kexiu’s eyes, quickly suppressed. “My nephew speaks with great wisdom. We must absolutely prepare before the storm arrives.”

Song Qingshu glanced around — no one nearby. “Would it be possible to speak privately, Uncle Li? With the two households joining, certain matters are rather sensitive.”

“Of course, of course.” Li Kexiu shifted aside. “Come with me, nephew.”

He led Song Qingshu to his study, and the two settled in for a detailed discussion of the terms of their future cooperation.

Song Qingshu had taken care to frame his proposals generously — he understood the importance of not making Li Kexiu feel slighted, and had designed each condition around mutual benefit. He had expected the older man to push back, to bargain for more, and had left himself room to yield on several points. Instead, Li Kexiu raised almost no objections at all, accepting the proposals wholesale with barely a word of negotiation. Song Qingshu found himself slightly embarrassed by how favorable the outcome was — he had the uncomfortable sense of having taken unreasonable advantage.

He could not help feeling something was off. Li Kexiu was not behaving like himself. This was not the nature of a seasoned old fox.

But Song Qingshu let the thought dissolve almost as quickly as it formed. The two families were to be joined by marriage — they were practically one household already. Their fundamental interests were aligned. Perhaps, he thought with some self-reproach, he was measuring a generous man by a petty standard. An elder like this might simply see further than he did.

After several hours of close discussion, they had arrived at preliminary agreement on nearly every point. The pace of it genuinely surprised him.

When evening came around, Li Kexiu led Song Qingshu to join Han Dingxiao and the rest of the Southern Song delegation for dinner. Their appearance together drew no particular surprise — by the terms already agreed, they were effectively family, and Song Qingshu was half a host here already.

The midday warmth carried naturally into the evening, and the banquet became lively before long. Song Qingshu was seated just below Li Kexiu, and something occurred to him. He leaned over and asked: “Uncle Li — where is Yuanzhi? I haven’t seen her at all.”

Li Kexiu had moved his entire household to the military compound to avoid the Jin and Qing envoys, which explained the absence — and Song Qingshu had been occupied with too much else to think about her until now. But with the larger situation settled, his thoughts drifted to that spirited, unpredictable girl. They had gotten along well in Yanjing and again in Shengjing — he wondered how she would feel about the forthcoming marriage, and whether she might be angry.

He knew perfectly well that Li Yuanzhi’s heart had always belonged to Yu Yutong of the Red Flower Society. But Yu Yutong’s own affections had apparently run in a different direction — toward Luo Bing, wife of Wen Tailai— and he had regarded the bright-eyed, vivacious Yuanzhi as nothing more than a younger sister.

Yuanzhi had loved him anyway, without complaint or expectation. Then in the Shengjing campaign, Yu Yutong had stumbled upon Yu Wanting’s secret and been killed for it.

I wonder if the girl has found her way through that heartbreak. Song Qingshu let out a quiet sigh. Li Yuanzhi’s particular brand of irreverent, mercurial charm had real appeal — he had no wish to see her diminished, joyless, changed by loss.

Li Kexiu’s expression shifted uncomfortably. “Nephew — given that there is already a betrothal between you, wouldn’t it be somewhat improper to meet at a moment like this?”

What Li Kexiu was actually thinking was rather different: he had no intention of letting his daughter near Song Qingshu — not now that he planned to deliver her to the Song imperial palace as Empress. With so many Song court officials present, any whisper of impropriety between Li Yuanzhi and another man could reach the capital and ruin her prospects entirely.

Song Qingshu’s brow creased with mild irritation. The marriage itself was not something that could be arranged overnight — was he going to be kept from seeing her for a long stretch of time?

He understood, of course, that this world had its proprieties. An unmarried man and woman meeting privately before the wedding carried its own awkwardness, and the girl’s own father had spoken. There was nothing graceful he could say.

He drank through the rest of the evening in a mildly deflated humor. When the banquet ended and he made his way back to his pavilion, the vague sense of restlessness clung to him — too many nights alone in an empty bed, and no obvious remedy.

Cheng Yaojia was too proper to slip away under the eyes of elders and guests. Song Qingshu’s oblique inquiry to Li Kexiu had been partly genuine concern for Yuanzhi, and partly — he admitted to himself — a hope of learning something about Luo Bing, who had accompanied Li Yuanzhi south to Jiangnan after the Shengjing affair. But with Li Kexiu forbidding the meeting, there was no natural opening to ask about another woman from his future father-in-law, and Song Qingshu had retreated in mild defeat.

Perhaps I should go find Jiao Wan’er. He stopped just outside his door, hovering with uncharacteristic indecision.

About time she’d be back by now…

He stood there a moment longer — and then did not move.

‘No. The important things come first. If I go sneaking around and Li Kexiu finds out, I’ll have made a fool of myself — and right after we’ve agreed to join the families.’ 

That particular embarrassment he could live without.

He talked himself down, pushed open the door, and stepped inside.

“Hmm — where did this flower come from?”

The moment he entered, his eyes fell on the low table — a pot of brilliant golden blossoms he had not seen before.

“Rather fragrant.” He gave it no further thought. The households of wealthy officials changed their flowers daily — no doubt a serving maid had come and refreshed the arrangement while he was at dinner.

He closed the door, lay down on the bed, and found his thoughts drifting again almost immediately — wondering whether he might risk the night air and slip over to Cheng Yaojia’s quarters after all. Lu Guanying surely wouldn’t object — the man would cover for them without being asked…

The image took shape in his mind, and he found himself sitting up before he had quite decided to. He stood — and then talked himself back down again. The risk was too great. If it came out, both Han Dingxiao and Li Kexiu would be looking at him very differently in the morning.

He was settling himself back toward sleep when a slow wave of dizziness rolled through his head.

‘Strange — why is the wine hitting me this hard?’

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