Flower Stealing Master

Song Qingshu wore a peculiar expression. Could it be that Tang Kuo Bian was having an affair with his wife’s younger sister? Just the thought of that bearded, rough fellow Tang Kuo Bian—not only having married the most beautiful woman in the Jin Empire but possibly secretly h0oking up with her own younger sister—made him frown.

‘Wanyan Ping has quite a unique sense of beauty,’ Song Qingshu muttered under his breath. Yet he quickly dismissed the suspicion; after all, there wasn’t the slightest trace of anything amiss on Wanyan Gebi’s face. No matter how magnanimous a woman might be, she would never tolerate her husband and her own sister engaging in such dalliance.

“Ping’er is just that kind of headstrong, willful sort. Don’t take it to heart,” Wanyan Gebi said as she re-seated herself by the bedside, all the while tucking Song Qingshu in.

As Wanyan Gebi sat beside him, a delicate, refined fragrance wafted over. 

For a moment, Song Qingshu was distracted as he thought, ‘How delightful it is to be so headstrong—it shows she lives without a care.’ Recalling the original work’s girl burdened with hatred, he couldn’t help but sigh wistfully.

Noticing the few yawns Song Qingshu deliberately feigned, Wanyan Gebi smiled as she finished tucking him in. “You’re not well now, so I won’t bother you. Just rest.”

“You should go back and rest as well. If I need anything, I’ll have the servants do it,” Song Qingshu replied, secretly eager for her to leave.

Wanyan Gebi shook her head. “No servant could be as considerate as I am—I’ll stay here with you.”

Song Qingshu silently cursed his predicament. With her constantly watching him, he worried that she might discover he wasn’t truly Tang Kuo Bian—and besides, he wouldn’t be able to get anything done. Was he doomed to lie in bed like a sick man?

Try as he might, however, he couldn’t devise a solution that would please all parties. Just as he was about to target her sleep-inducing acupoint, he opened his eyes to find that Wanyan Gebi—resting one hand lightly on her forehead—had already fallen asleep by the bedside.

For a moment he was stunned, then it all became clear. Wanyan Gebi had been so anxious ever since her husband’s mishap that she’d hardly rested at all; now that her husband had returned safely, the tension in her had finally eased. It was no wonder she had drifted off so quickly.

At last, he had the chance to closely admire his nominal “wife”—a flawlessly delicate face with long, slightly trembling lashes, and a trace of fatigue that only deepened her pitiable charm.

Stealthily, he climbed out of bed. Seeing that Wanyan Gebi showed no sign of waking, Song Qingshu sighed inwardly, ‘With a wife like this, no wonder Tang Kuo Bian, even on his deathbed, entrusted me with her protection.’

Judging by the steady rhythm of her breathing, she was in a deep sleep. Not wanting to wake her—nor leave her in that awkward position—he carefully carried her back onto the bed.

Perhaps sensing the movement, Wanyan Gebi stirred and twisted her body, casually wrapping her arm around Song Qingshu’s hand. The soft feel of her b0som was laid out for him without reservation.

Even though Song Qingshu was well acquainted with matters of the flesh, at that moment, with a peerless beauty lying defenseless beside him, the thought that a mere flick of his finger could easily peel away her garments—and that even if she woke, she wouldn’t resist—made his heart race wildly.

Yet he was no longer the naive youth who couldn’t tell right from wrong. Aware that his primary mission was to rescue Song Yuanqiao and the others, he quickly reined in his desires. Carefully, he extricated his arm from Gebi’s embrace, gave her a lingering glance, and then swiftly leapt off the bed.

After half a day of such turmoil, night had finally fallen—a perfect time to conceal his movements. Song Qingshu retrieved a set of prearranged night attire from his bundle and changed into it. He then stuffed some prepared tools into his bosom. When he reached the door, he hesitated for a moment and glanced back at Wanyan Gebi. Seeing that she was still sound asleep, he removed the mask from his face. After all, his mission was to infiltrate the palace at night; posing as Tang Kuo Bian, he was known to many in the palace. If someone recognized him as Tang Kuo Bian, that identity would be ruined.

With everything in place, his figure soon vanished into the thick darkness of the night.

Despite the palace being heavily guarded, with Song Qingshu’s current cultivation and ”Qinggong”, as long as he didn’t recklessly dash into the emperor’s or the empress dowager’s chambers, it was as if he had entered an unguarded realm. Before long, he had already made his way deep into the palace.

After wandering around for what felt like an eternity, Song Qingshu finally admitted with resignation that this mission was indeed too hasty. A nation’s palace was vast. He had once felt so at home in the Manchu Qing palace because he had served there for a long time; yet he had never been to the Jin Empire and knew nothing about the layout of its palace. Wandering about like a headless fly without being caught by the patrolling guards was nothing short of miraculous.

Originally, he had assumed that, being well acquainted with the Manchu palace—and since both the Jin Empire and the Qing were founded by Jurchens—their architectural styles would be similar. But after wandering for a while, he realized there wasn’t the slightest resemblance. It then dawned on him that the Manchu palace wasn’t built by his people but was a continuation of the Ming dynasty’s Forbidden City, while the Jin palace had been constructed by the Jin people by combining the best of various styles. Naturally, the two were completely different.

At this point, Song Qingshu couldn’t even tell apart the palaces where the emperor, the empress dowager, the empress, and the consorts resided—let alone the Laundry Court.

“Ah, it seems I’ll have to go back and deliberate further,” he murmured as he was about to leave. Suddenly, his ears picked up a sound, and he quickly darted into the shadows of a nearby rockery.

A man dressed as a eunuch hurried over from afar. Observing the man’s clothing, Song Qingshu instantly deduced that his status within the palace was rather high.

What surprised him even more was that the man was tall and burly—completely lacking the typically effeminate aura of an ordinary eunuch. 

Song Qingshu thought, ‘Could he be a fake eunuch?’ But there was no time to dwell on it; if nothing else, he might be able to glean some useful information. In a flash, Song Qingshu appeared before him.

Seeing Song Qingshu suddenly standing there, the eunuch’s pupils constricted. Just as he was about to shout, he caught sight of Song Qingshu’s inky, dark eyes and froze on the spot.

While performing the ”Soul Capture Technique”, Song Qingshu asked, “What is your name, and what position do you hold in the palace?”

The eunuch replied, “I am called Xiao Xingguo; I serve as the chief of the Laundry Courtyard.”

“Laundry Courtyard?” Song Qingshu mused. Although he wasn’t well acquainted with the internal structure of the palace eunuchs in the Jin Empire, the fact that this man was known as the chief suggested his position was significant. With a trace of nervousness, he then asked, “Do you know where the Laundry Courtyard is?”

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