Flower Stealing Master

Husband and wife talked openly the whole way back, and the last traces of the distance that had lingered between them seemed to dissolve entirely. Even Zhou Zhiruo’s habitually cool expression gave way to something genuine.

Having been out so long, Song Qingshu saw Zhou Zhiruo back to the Hongxiu House and hurried to the Jia household.

Watching him go, Zhou Zhiruo found her thoughts drifting to that formidable woman in the Forbidden City, and felt a faint headache coming on. A real rival, that one. Dongfang Muxue had Lan Fenghuang and Qu Feiyan. Ah Jiu had Xia Qingqing. In any serious contest, she was at a disadvantage.

Thinking of Ah Jiu and Qingqing’s closeness made her quietly envious. They had begun as bitter rivals — and now they were inseparable. She began to wonder which of the women around her husband might become that kind of ally for her. Zhao Min’s name surfaced without invitation, and her expression went deeply peculiar at once. “Absolutely not,” she muttered, and went inside, her mood thoroughly deflated.

*****

Song Qingshu put Jia Baoyu’s face back on and made it to the Jia household at speed, finding Xiren and the maidservants still asleep. He exhaled with relief and lay down — turning over in his mind how he might return to the Golden Serpent Camp without his identity being discovered — until exhaustion from the long night finally pulled him under.

Dawn came. He opened his eyes the moment he sensed someone near the bed. Xiren was standing at the bedside, smiling.

“The Young Master is awake?” She moved to help him dress.

“No need, I’ll manage.” He waved her off. Her attentiveness was exactly what he feared — she knew Baoyu’s body too well to miss inconsistencies.

A flicker of puzzlement crossed her face, but she recovered. “Hot water is ready. I’ll bring it.”

He was washing his face — keeping his back to her and barely wetting it, careful not to disturb the disguise — when Xiren said: “Something about the Young Master seems different since he came back.”

His pulse jumped. “Different how?” He was still hesitating about using the Soul Capture Technique on her — the Jia household had capable people, and Jia Sidao himself was clearly more than he appeared. If anyone noticed something off in Xiren’s behaviour, it would draw attention.

“Before — the Young Master always wanted to…” Xiren went pink. “To bite the m@idservants’ ch*eks for a taste of their rouge before he was properly awake.”

Song Qingshu felt a wave of resigned astonishment. The stories weren’t exaggerated. He really did grow up entirely surrounded by women.

He deflected vaguely and moved toward the door, knowing the longer he stayed, the higher the risk of exposure. Xiren went pale at once. “You cannot go out, Young Master — the Master gave strict instructions. If you leave and something happens to the maidservants, I won’t be responsible.”

Song Qingshu suppressed a groan. He had forgotten Jia Sidao’s warning the night before — until whoever had sent the assassin was identified, Baoyu was to remain inside.

The prospect of being confined to the garden and managing a houseful of women who all knew Baoyu intimately was even less appealing. But he couldn’t simply force his way out — too conspicuous, and he had no desire to bring punishment down on a group of innocent maidservants.

He was still trying to find a solution when a loud voice boomed from the garden entrance: “Baoyu! Baoyu! Your brother’s here to drag you out and have some fun!”

The voice was enormous and entirely without refinement. The maidservants inside all startled. Xiren couldn’t suppress a small grimace and murmured something too quietly for ordinary ears.

Song Qingshu, whose hearing had sharpened well beyond ordinary since mastering the Supreme Mysteries Scripture, caught it clearly: “The Stupid Bully.”

The Stupid Bully — Xue Pan, Xue Baochai’s elder brother. Spoiled by his widowed mother from childhood, he’d spent his life on cockfights, horses, and pleasure trips. He’d had some schooling but retained almost nothing. His most famous moment in Dream of the Red Chamber was developing an ill-advised infatuation with the handsome Liu Xianglian and being beaten thoroughly for his trouble — Liu Xianglian’s name might sound delicate, but the man himself was very much not.

Xue Pan walked in and immediately grabbed Song Qingshu’s arm to haul him out. “Come on, there’s a gathering and you’re the only one missing.”

Song Qingshu took a quick measure of him — fine brows and bright eyes, a decent face, which made sense given his sister. But the overall impression was somehow coarse and dissolute, as though the good looks were entirely wasted.

Xiren hurried forward in alarm. “Young Master Xue — the Master has forbidden the Young Master from going out. Please don’t put us all in a difficult position.”

Xue Pan’s eyes made a circuit of Xiren that made her instinctively pull back, then he laughed. “Relax, I’ve already spoken with Aunt Wang. She agreed.”

[G: Xue Pan’s mother and Baoyu’s mother Lady Wang are sisters from the Wang family of Linchuan — hence Xue Pan’s addressing her as “Aunt Wang.”]

Song Qingshu felt a private surge of relief. He had been wondering how to get out. Without waiting to verify whether this was true, he immediately fell into step beside Xue Pan with easy familiarity, throwing an arm around his shoulder as they headed for the gate — leaving Xiren staring after them.

As it happened, Song Qingshu had done Xue Pan an injustice. He really had asked Lady Wang, and she really had agreed — she wanted Baoyu to cultivate connections among the sons of important officials.

Once outside the Jia compound, Song Qingshu was considering how to shake Xue Pan loose when he found a small group already waiting. Two of them came forward as he and Xue Pan appeared.

“Brother Jia, Brother Xue.”

Song Qingshu looked them over. One was powerfully built and striking; the other had soft, almost feminine features — so pretty it was remarkable. Song Qingshu, with his experience, identified him as male at once, but without that experience he might genuinely have wondered.

Not knowing either of them, he stayed cautious and let the conversation lead. His years of navigating unfamiliar situations had made him adept at reading the room, and before long he had worked out who both men were.

The imposing one was Feng Ziying — son of General Feng Tang, commander of the Imperial Guard’s elite units, a real power within the Palace Guards command.

The soft-featured one was Liu Xianglian — the very man who had beaten Xue Pan senseless in the original novel. His father was Liu Chengda, head of the Censorate’s investigating office. Despite his delicate appearance and his father’s literary career, Liu Xianglian had loved swords and martial arts since childhood, and moved primarily in military circles. Song Qingshu assessed his martial arts with a practised eye and found them genuinely capable — more than adequate for the wulin.

‘Jia Sidao’s reach really is extensive.’ It was plain that these young men’s families all sat in the same political camp — no coincidence had put them in each other’s company.

Jia Baoyu’s father controlled the Bureau of Military Affairs; Xue Pan’s father Xue Ji was Deputy Prime Minister; Feng Ziying’s father commanded the Guard; Liu Xianglian’s father ran the Censorate. Military, political, and oversight functions — all covered.

“I’ve reserved a table at the Louwailou,” Feng Ziying said with a broad laugh. “Let’s drink and talk.” And the group headed noisily off toward the famous restaurant.

*****

At that same moment, somewhere in Lin’an, a strikingly beautiful young woman was looking out at the city with wide eyes. “Lin’an is even more prosperous than the most magnificent city in the Jin empire,” she said admiringly.

Beside her, a tall, imposing old man with a high nose and deep-set eyes twitched an eyelid. “My little ancestor — the Song people loathe the Jin with everything they have. One more ‘Jin empire’ out of you and we’ll have trouble.”

The girl tossed her head. “What is there to be afraid of? Song people are soft as sheep. They wouldn’t dare touch me if you gave them ten times the courage.”

The old man gave a low chuckle. “Yue Fei was a Song man. He had your people crying for their mothers, if I recall.”

The girl was briefly at a loss. After a moment she sniffed. “Xiang Yu had a Fan Zeng and threw him away, and died surrounded at Gaixia. The Song had a Yue Fei and threw him away, and undermined their own wall. It only proves how useless they are. One day all these fine lands will belong to the Great Jin.”

The old man’s cheek twitched. “You really do have no worries about anything. Song Qingshu’s life is still in the balance — why are you so completely calm about it?”

The girl smiled. “Because I trust him. He’s too clever and too capable. He’ll come through this.”

The old man did not look reassured. “I’m not as optimistic as you are. The Heavenly Devil Flower’s toxin — I’m genuinely not certain I could neutralise it.”

The girl looked surprised. “Even the Western Venom can’t deal with it?”

The old man said with measured pride: “There is no poison in this world that I cannot resolve. But I have only heard of the Heavenly Devil Flower — I need to examine it myself before I can say anything useful.” He paused. “I’ll go and gather some information. You wait for me at the Louwailou by the West Lake.” A flash of white — and he was gone.

The girl stared after the empty space with quiet admiration. ‘The Western Venom really is unfathomable.’ Then a shadow of genuine worry crossed her bright face at last. “Don’t you dare actually be dead, Song Qingshu. My mother and I are counting on you for everything.”

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