Flower Stealing Master

At this point, Song Qingshu had no choice but to brazen it out. “My lady flatters me. I’ve always had considerable charm — which only goes to show what excellent taste you have in men.”

Zhou Zhiruo let out a quiet, forlorn sigh. “I suddenly find myself missing the Qingshu who only had eyes for me.”

Song Qingshu had hinted vaguely at his true origins before. Since Zhou Zhiruo had never felt any particular attachment to the original Song Qingshu, the matter hadn’t weighed heavily on her. But raised again now, it left a momentary awkwardness hanging in the air.

Song Qingshu smiled and drew her soft, warm body into his arms. “Tell me, Zhiruo — do you prefer the old me or the one you have now?”

“The one I have now would be perfect if he were a little more faithful — aiyo!” Zhou Zhiruo let out a startled cry. “You scoundrel — don’t put your hand in there!”

The tide rose again. Another bout, long and thorough. When it finally subsided, Zhou Zhiruo lay flushed and languid, and pushed the man on top of her away with a look of faint grievance. “You utterly shameless creature… there’s a corpse in this bed and you’re still in the mood for that.”

Song Qingshu only then remembered he’d stowed the young lord in the far corner of the bed, and glanced over at the unfortunate man. “I wonder who he actually was. And who was that figure in black who killed him?”

Zhou Zhiruo frowned as she dressed. “This isle is full of secrets. What do we do now?”

“The Isle of Heroes is crawling with top-level fighters — if our identities are exposed, leaving alive won’t be easy. Since this young lord clearly commanded significant status here, the best move is for me to impersonate him. The island’s people don’t know he’s dead yet, and as long as I’m careful, it shouldn’t raise suspicion. Then I’ll look for an opportunity to get you off the island.” Song Qingshu’s mind was already moving quickly, and the plan took shape within moments.

“But we don’t even know who he is. Won’t we be caught out almost immediately?” Zhou Zhiruo worried.

Song Qingshu smiled. “Have a little faith. Over the years I’ve disguised myself as the Kangxi Emperor, Tang Kuobian, and Wanyan — every one of those was dancing on a knife’s edge. If I’ve survived all of that, a mere isle of Heroes shouldn’t be beyond me.”

Thinking of her husband’s long-proven talent for adapting on the fly, Zhou Zhiruo felt some of her worry ease. “But what about the body? If someone finds it, everything falls apart.”

“That’s what this is for.” Song Qingshu pulled a small porcelain vial from inside his robe and held it up. “Ouyang Feng’s Corpse-Dissolving Powder is the finest tool for making evidence disappear that has ever existed.”

Song Qingshu began stripping the young lord of his fine robes. Zhou Zhiruo’s face went pink and she turned her back with great determination. Song Qingshu laughed. “I’m not bothered — you can look if you want.”

“Pfft. Who would want to look at that revolting thing,” Zhou Zhiruo muttered.

“A bit of comparison never hurt anyone — helps you appreciate what you have at home,” Song Qingshu said airily, knowing perfectly well that no woman of this era would do any such thing. He glanced down. “Hm. He looks all powder and silk on the outside — turns out he’s rather more impressive underneath. Almost in my league.”

“Would you please deal with the body and stop saying outrageous things!” Zhou Zhiruo’s voice had taken on a genuine edge.

Hearing that she was truly irritated, Song Qingshu stopped stalling. He took a careful impression of the young lord’s face, committed his physical details to memory to ensure he would not slip up later, then carried him to a dark corner of the courtyard.

He checked that no one was watching, then tipped the Corpse-Dissolving Powder over the body. He found himself sighing quietly, and murmured: “Young friend, you and I had no quarrel. I can only apologise for borrowing your identity. In return — if I ever get the chance, I’ll try to find out who killed you and see justice done. Call it even.” Ouyang Feng’s concoction was as ruthless as its maker. Before long, the young lord had dissolved into nothing but a dark stain on the earth.

Song Qingshu scattered some soil over the residue and thought, with a touch of self-mockery: I really am too soft. Feeling sentimental over a total stranger.

He composed himself and went back inside.

Zhou Zhiruo walked a slow circle around him, studying the face that was now the young lord’s. “Your disguise arts get better every time. If I didn’t know the truth, I wouldn’t see a single flaw.”

“Naturally. My qinggong is the best in the world, and my disguise arts are probably second to none as well.” Song Qingshu smiled with satisfaction, then reached out to pull his wife into his arms.

Zhou Zhiruo sidestepped instinctively, her cheeks colouring. “You’re wearing his face. I… I’m not comfortable with it.”

Song Qingshu laughed and caught her anyway. “You’d better get comfortable — if the people on this island notice us acting strangely, that’s the end of everything. Your current role is a woman who has been completely won over by this young lord’s charms and is now utterly devoted to him.”

“Ugh. What a horrible way to put it.” Zhou Zhiruo squirmed half-heartedly, her brow creased. “I can’t explain it — I just feel deeply wrong, like I’m being held by someone else.”

Song Qingshu made a thoughtful sound. “Actually, this raises a serious problem. The same way a confident swimmer is the one most likely to drown — I’ve spent so long disguising myself as other people that it occurs to me: what if there’s another disguise expert out there who does the same thing to me? Impersonates me and takes advantage of you?”

Zhou Zhiruo gave him a scornful look. “What sort of nonsense is your brain producing now? Ah Jiu, Qingqing, and I are not fools. We’re not going to mistake someone else for our own husband.”

“But what if the disguise were perfect? Indistinguishable from me?”

Zhou Zhiruo’s face coloured slightly. “Stop asking. The point is, we’d know.”

Song Qingshu blinked at her, genuinely perplexed. “How, though? If someone disguised themselves as one of you, I’m honestly not sure I could tell. Not at first.”

“Hmph. Another woman disguised as one of us? Even if you got it wrong, you’d just go along with it and come out ahead regardless — and you know it.” Zhou Zhiruo hit the mark squarely.

Song Qingshu laughed with some embarrassment. “Well. Fair point.”

“As for how we’d know —” Zhou Zhiruo relented and explained. “No woman knows anyone as thoroughly as she knows the man closest to her. The reason your disguises have fooled so many people over the years is that those people never imagined the art could be this good — so even when something felt slightly off, it never crossed their minds that they were looking at a completely different person. Ah Jiu and the others are different. We already know this technique exists. If anyone tried to impersonate you, the slightest wrong note would put us on guard at once. And we’re close to you in ways that… that mean a woman’s instincts would simply know.”

She was willing to say that much and no more. The specific method of detection, she refused to name — only said, with a red face, that it was a woman’s secret. Song Qingshu gave up pressing her and said: “All the same, instinct alone isn’t foolproof. Let’s set a private signal between us — something I have to confirm before we’re intimate, so no one can catch you off guard.”

Zhou Zhiruo dissolved into helpless laughter. “You’re only worried about this because you’ve spent so long sneaking into other people’s beds yourself, and now you’re terrified someone will do it back to you.”

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