Flower Stealing Master

Across the tub, Qi Fang’s expression went through several remarkable phases. ‘Can he not see I’m sitting right here?’

Song Qingshu gave a wicked smile, used his body to block Zhou Zhiruo’s line of sight, and murmured: “She can’t see.”

Zhou Zhiruo was drowsy and soft with exhaustion, and her several attempts to push him away came to nothing. She gave up, bit her lip, and let a sweet, helpless sound escape her throat. “You… hurry up~”

Given his wife’s permission, Song Qingshu required no further encouragement.

Qi Fang stared at what was unfolding before her, wholly at a loss. ‘How can he — has he forgotten there’s someone else here?’

It was obvious Zhou Zhiruo was making every effort to keep quiet — only the occasional soft sound escaped her. Qi Fang’s face grew redder and redder. She finished washing as quickly as she could and moved to climb out of the tub — only to find Song Qingshu’s hand close around her wrist without him even turning around. All the strength went out of her at once, and she found she couldn’t go anywhere.

She sat there she didn’t know how long, until Zhou Zhiruo finally murmured in a small, exhausted voice: “Qingshu, I’m truly so tired. If you still want more, go to Elder Sister Qi.”

Beside her, Qi Fang bit back a scornful thought. ‘You’re his legitimate wife, encouraging your husband toward another man’s wife. What kind of arrangement is this?’

Song Qingshu took in Zhou Zhiruo’s wan, worn face and pressed a light kiss to her forehead. “I won’t trouble you any more. Rest properly.”

“Mm~ carry me back when you’re done.” The flush of exertion still lingered on her face, and a drowsy, contented smile curved her lips — but her eyelids were already growing heavy, and she sank back into sleep almost immediately.

When Song Qingshu turned, Qi Fang’s heart gave a nervous leap. “What… what are you —”

“What does my lady think?” He didn’t wait for her to answer, and kissed her.

“Mmm~” Qi Fang finally broke free enough to catch her breath, her voice unsteady. “This isn’t right. This is… this is too absurd.”

She had always been a woman of propriety at heart. Even after Song Qingshu had taken advantage of her while delirious, she had not abandoned her principles — not until her husband had revealed himself to be willing to arrange her death in exchange for a politically advantageous marriage. That was when she had finally lost heart.

Her subsequent yielding to Song Qingshu owed something to his considerable charm, but a great deal more to the bitterness and self-abandonment that had swept through her in the aftermath. At her core she was still a woman of traditional virtue, and while she had managed to find justifications for their private moments together, doing this in front of a man’s own wife was something she simply could not reconcile herself to.

“If you wake Zhiruo, you’ll only make things more awkward for yourself,” Song Qingshu murmured against her ear.

Qi Fang glanced involuntarily at Zhou Zhiruo. Those beautiful eyes were closed, her breathing soft and even, deep in peaceful sleep.

While she was still hesitating, her whole body gave a shiver. “You… you’ve already —~”

“If my lady truly didn’t want this, it wouldn’t have been quite so easy,” Song Qingshu said quickly, reading the rising indignation in her flushed face. “Please don’t misunderstand — this is detoxification.”

Qi Fang bit her lip and endured it, making a sound of resigned exasperation. “What kind of detoxification is this~”

“Exactly this kind,” Song Qingshu said with a smile, and bent his head.

“What a torment you are,” Qi Fang sighed — and bore it, half her attention on the strange sensations moving through her body, the other half fixed on Zhou Zhiruo’s sleeping form across the tub, ready to push him off the instant there was any sign of the other woman stirring.

And so passed a dozen or more days of indolent contentment — until the ship finally made land. A fine carriage was already waiting on the dock.

“This way, Young Lord!” Zhang San gestured toward it with a cheerful smile.

Song Qingshu nodded and moved to help the two women board — and found Li Si step into his path.

“What is it?” Song Qingshu produced a look of imperious displeasure.

Zhang San hurried to smooth things over. “You know how strictly the master watches over you, Young Lord. Letting you bring the two ladies along was already an enormous risk for us. If you bring outside women into the household, the whole place will be in uproar, and my brother and I will have no end of trouble.”

“You’re the ones who brought them all this way,” Song Qingshu said sharply. “Are you going to send them back now?”

“Please don’t misunderstand — of course we won’t send them back. What if we arranged lodgings for them somewhere nearby? Then whenever the Young Lord feels a longing, he could slip away for a quiet visit.” Zhang San wiped the sweat from his face, privately puzzled. ‘Since when does this pampered young idiot carry himself with this kind of authority?’

Song Qingshu frowned, but knew that insisting on keeping them at his side was no longer realistic. “All right. Let me speak with them a moment.”

Zhang San, Li Si, and the others tactfully withdrew to a distance. Song Qingshu quickly explained the situation to Zhou Zhiruo and Qi Fang, then said quietly: “Go with their arrangements for now. Once you’re settled in the house they find, wait until deep in the night and slip away. The Isle of Heroes’ people will have their attention on me — with your martial arts, Zhiruo, getting clear shouldn’t be difficult.”

“But you’ll be walking in alone…” Zhou Zhiruo’s worry was plain.

Song Qingshu smiled. “Don’t worry. My cultivation has been restored.”

“When did that happen?” Zhou Zhiruo was startled and relieved at once.

Song Qingshu laughed with some awkwardness, unable to explain the real story, and said only: “Thanks largely to Elder Sister Qi’s help these past days.”

Qi Fang’s face immediately coloured beside him. “What… what does that have to do with me?”

Song Qingshu and Zhou Zhiruo’s gazes moved, without quite meaning to, to the same general area of Qi Fang’s figure — which only deepened her embarrassment considerably.

Zhou Zhiruo gave a quiet sound. “All right then. We’ll wait for you at the Red Sleeve Courtyard in the city. You can give me a full account of exactly how you recovered when you get there.”

“The Red Sleeve Courtyard?” Song Qingshu blinked.

Zhou Zhiruo looked faintly self-conscious. “It’s the most famous… pleasure house in Lin’an.”

“What?” Even Song Qingshu’s expression went strange at that — and Qi Fang let out an audible gasp. She had lived in Lin’an for some time, but a woman of her gentle and domestic nature had certainly never had occasion to know a place like that.

“Establishments of that kind attract all sorts,” Zhou Zhiruo explained quickly. “They’re ideal for concealment.”

“All right. I’ll come find you both as soon as I can. Take care of yourselves.” Song Qingshu said a reluctant farewell to the two women, and the carriage began to roll.

He sat inside, peering discreetly through the gap in the curtain to track the route, turning over the question that had been sitting at the back of his mind all these days.

‘What on earth is this young lord’s real identity?’

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