Flower Stealing Master

Song Qingshu’s nerves tightened. He stopped and arranged his face into an expression of puzzled inquiry.

“Did you gain anything from the stone wall?” Jia Sidao asked, a faint thread of anticipation hidden in the depths of his eyes.

The question hit Song Qingshu like cold water. From Jia Sidao’s tone, it was he who had arranged for Baoyu to be brought to that wall. A man who could direct Zhang San and Li Si with such easy authority — what exactly was his relationship with the Dragon and Wood Island Masters? Or was he one of them?

“I’m speaking to you.” Seeing him standing there as though his mind had gone elsewhere, Jia Sidao made a displeased sound.

Song Qingshu shook his head. “I couldn’t make out a single character on that wall — it was like a book written in an alien script. What was there to understand?”

“Get out.” Jia Sidao’s expression said he had expected nothing better. He gave a heavy sniff. “And stay in the household until we’ve established who wanted you harmed. Stop wandering about.”

Song Qingshu suppressed a groan. Being confined to the Jia household day after day would be genuinely unbearable. He would have to learn everything he needed and get out as quickly as possible.

On the way back, he stopped a young manservant, applied a brief and careful touch of the Soul Capture Technique, and drew out a thorough picture of the Jia household.

Jia Sidao was the household’s current patriarch, serving as Commissioner of Military Affairs — the supreme commander of the Southern Song military. His elder sister was the Emperor’s favoured consort, a mutual arrangement that had brought the Jia family to its present peak of influence.

Within the inner household, the supreme authority was Grandmother Jia — the Old Ancestress herself. She came from the Shi family, and was the paternal aunt of the current Censor Shi Miyuan.

As Grandmother Jia’s age had advanced, she had transferred practical authority to her daughter-in-law Lady Wang, who came from the Wang family of Linchuan — her second elder brother being Wang Ziteng, Commander of the Palace Guard. Lady Wang had in turn delegated day-to-day management of the vast household to her niece Wang Xifeng, also of the Wang family, who had married Jia Lian — the son of Jia Sidao’s elder brother Jia She. Husband and wife between them, one managing outside affairs and one within, kept the Jia household running with admirable order. Jia Lian also had a younger sister, Jia Yingchun — the pleasingly rounded, creamy-complexioned young lady Song Qingshu had already met.

Jia Sidao had three sons and a daughter. The eldest, Jia Zhu, had married Li Wan, who came from a scholarly family — she was the second daughter of Li Shouzhong, Chancellor of the Imperial Academy. The marriage had been a well-matched one, but the husband had died young not long after the wedding, leaving Li Wan a widow with no support. The second son was Jia Baoyu — no need to elaborate. The third, Jia Huan, was the son of a concubine, and with his weasel-like looks, had never been favoured by Jia Sidao. The daughter, Jia Xichun, though she shared a mother with Jia Huan, had always been on poor terms with her birth mother and brother, and had instead drawn close to Lady Wang and Baoyu’s side of the family.

The Jia clan was extensive, but Jia Sidao’s closest connection within it was to the line of his cousin the Duke of Ningguo, Jia Jing. Jia Jing had given himself entirely to Daoist cultivation and immortal-seeking, long since retreating to a temple and turning his back on worldly affairs. He had one son and one daughter: the son was Jia Zhen, and the daughter was the young Jia Xichun — the smallest of the girls Song Qingshu had been introduced to earlier.

‘Daoist cultivation and immortal-seeking — turning his back on worldly affairs.’ The description snagged in Song Qingshu’s mind. ‘Why does that sound so much like what people say about the Isle of Heroes’ two Island Masters?’

‘I’ll need to find an opportunity to take a look inside the Ningguo residence.’ He glanced toward the estate next door, separated from the Rongguo side by a single wall. The Ningguo line was sparse — a single line of descent for generations. Jia Zhen’s son was Jia Rong — an otherwise unremarkable name, save that this man had a wife of extraordinary fame: Qin Keqing.

Qin Keqing occupied the last position among the Twelve Beauties of Jinling in Dream of the Red Chamber, but there were layers of concealment behind that placement. In terms of sheer fascination and popular imagination she could stand shoulder to shoulder with Lin Daiyu and Xue Baochai — and the particular quality of mystery that surrounded her stirred men’s imaginations even more than either of those two.

‘A pity I didn’t get to see her at Grandmother Jia’s today.’ He felt a genuine sense of regret at having missed the legendary figure.

He also confirmed with the servant that Lin Daiyu, Xue Baochai, and Shi Xiangyun had not yet moved into the Jia household. He felt a moment of mild disappointment followed quickly by quiet relief. With so many luminous and perceptive young women to navigate while impersonating Baoyu, he would almost certainly have been found out within the day.

He sent the servant away. He’d been on the verge of slipping out of the Jia household to rendezvous with Zhou Zhiruo — but thought better of it. Xiren was clearly devoted and conscientious; if Baoyu failed to come home, she would start looking, and stirring the whole household into motion was the last thing he needed. Better to go back and settle things quietly first.

“You’re finally back — the Master didn’t punish you, did he?” Xiren had been watching from the doorway, and rushed forward with a relieved smile.

“No,” Song Qingshu said, and moved past her without inviting further conversation. He knew she was sharp.

“I’ve prepared some refreshments for the Young Master —” He waved her off before she finished. “Not necessary. I’m exhausted — going straight to sleep. Don’t disturb me.”

“But without washing —” He had already walked away. Xiren swallowed the rest of the sentence with a rueful look. ‘He always does the unexpected.’

When she looked in a short while later to check, she found him already asleep under the covers, and was startled. “That quickly? He really must be worn out.” She tucked the quilt more securely, shooed the junior maidservants away, and settled herself in the outer room.

When the outer room had been quiet for some time, the figure in the bed opened his eyes. Song Qingshu rose without a sound, crossed to the outer room, and found Xiren already half-stirring — her instincts too sharp to entirely miss his presence. She was on the verge of opening her eyes when he sealed her sleep-acupoint in an instant.

He arranged the room to look undisturbed, and slipped silently out of the Jia household.

‘For all its outward calm, this household is riddled with hidden guards and watchers. Without qinggong at its current level, I’d have been discovered already.’ He glanced back once at the compound, then launched himself across the rooftops toward the Red Sleeve Courtyard where Zhou Zhiruo was waiting.

In a private room of the Red Sleeve Courtyard, a fair-skinned young lord pushed open the window a crack and looked out at the crowd of painted women below, a faint crease between his brows.

Compared to an ordinary man, this figure was slight — but the chest beneath the robe was considerably more generous than any man’s had reason to be, straining even against its bindings.

The figure spoke, and the voice was soft and delicate: “Zhiruo — he’s been so long. You don’t think something’s happened?”

Another young lord, seated nearby and rather too obviously studying the first one’s chest, thought privately: Is that what happens after having a child? Even bound like that, it’s impossible to hide.

Recalled to the moment, this second figure quickly looked away. “Don’t worry. As they say — the good die young while the wicked live forever. What trouble could he run into at some ducal household? He’s survived worse than this.”

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