Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 786: Meticulous as a Hair

The voice was filled with fury, yet it sounded eerily familiar. 

Song Qingshu turned his head and couldn’t help but grin—it was the yellow-robed woman who had previously disguised herself as a man to enter Autumn Fragrance Pavilion before vanishing without a trace. He had been slightly worried earlier, knowing that tonight’s gathering at Autumn Fragrance Pavilion was filled with nobility and their elite guards. Given her injuries, he feared she might run into trouble.

In that split second, Song Qingshu’s mind raced to figure out who she was calling a “lecherous scoundrel.” He immediately ruled himself out—after all, he had just resolved to be a gentleman.

But when he followed her gaze and noticed his own hand loosening the courtesan’s collar, realization struck.

“Ah—this is a misunderstanding!”

Song Qingshu let out an awkward laugh, instinctively wanting to explain, but then he remembered he was currently disguised as Tang Kuo Bian—someone she wouldn’t recognize.

After forcing Song Qingshu back, the yellow-robed woman wasted no time on him. Instead, she immediately checked on the courtesan. Seeing the woman’s dazed eyes and flushed cheeks—clear signs of being drugged—she flew into a rage.

“You vile degenerate, I’ll kill you!”

“Whoa, whoa, whoa—” Song Qingshu dodged frantically as she lunged at him like a tigress. Using the cramped space and furniture to his advantage, he managed to evade her attacks without revealing his martial skills. “Calling me a lecher? I haven’t even started anything yet!”

He felt deeply wronged, but his words only fueled her fury. Her strikes grew even more ruthless.
“Besides, I spent 200,000 taels of gold to buy her. Even if I did want to do something, what’s it to you? You’re being completely unreasonable!” Song Qingshu shamelessly claimed Prince Changsheng’s extravagant bid as his own, not a hint of shame on his face.

“You—!” The yellow-robed woman’s almond-shaped eyes blazed. Seeing how he kept dodging, she abruptly stopped chasing him. Instead, she yanked the bed’s gauzy canopy and flung it toward him. The fabric seemed to have a mind of its own, instantly entangling Song Qingshu’s legs.

‘White Python Whip Technique? So she does know the Nine Yin Scripture!’

Distracted for just a moment, Song Qingshu stumbled as she pulled. He barely managed to grab a nearby pillar to steady himself, resisting the tug on his legs while taunting, “My guards will be here any second. If you’ve got the guts, stay and let them capture you. Then I’ll have the pleasure of ‘killing two birds with one stone’ tonight.”

The yellow-robed woman nearly choked on her rage, but his words served as a warning. Hearing the distant shouts of approaching guards, she knew that lingering—especially while injured—would only trap her.

“Scoundrel! I’ll take your head next time!” She glared at him, searing his face into her memory, then scooped up the courtesan and leaped out the window. 

A series of pained cries erupted outside.

“She looks like an ethereal fairy, but her methods are downright vicious,” Song Qingshu muttered, watching her disappear into the night before finally exhaling in relief.

“Brother Tang Kuo, are you alright?” Wanyan Liang, having just stepped out of his private room, rushed over upon hearing about the assassin.

“Thank goodness you arrived when you did, Prince. Otherwise, I’d be a dead man today.” Song Qingshu feigned lingering terror.

Wanyan Liang inwardly sneered at his cowardice but kept up the pleasantries. “Someone, bring the imperial son-in-law some tea to calm his nerves! And summon the owner of Autumn Fragrance Pavilion—how could an assassin slip past their security?!”

As Wanyan Liang barked orders, Song Qingshu observed silently. ‘For all his moral shortcomings, this man is undeniably capable. His arrangements are flawless—quelling chaos while currying favor left and right…’ 

Concerned about the yellow-robed woman and the Fifth Princess, Song Qingshu had no intention of lingering. After exchanging a few pleasantries, he excused himself, claiming he needed rest.

Wanyan Liang assumed he was shaken from the scare—both scornful and pleased. ‘The weaker he is, the easier it’ll be to take Gebi for myself later.’ He promptly assigned a squad of guards to escort Song Qingshu home.

Once outside, Song Qingshu pondered the yellow-robed woman’s whereabouts. With the recent surge in assassinations, the capital’s defenses were tighter than ever. Injured, she’d struggle to leave the city.

Hiding in a civilian home wasn’t feasible either—patrols were conducting door-to-door searches for strangers.

“Unless…” His gaze drifted toward the distant silhouette of the imperial palace.

Back at the Tangkuo estate, after dismissing Wanyan Liang’s guards, Song Qingshu changed into Xiao Xingguo’s eunuch attire and headed for the palace. He didn’t don it immediately—a eunuch wandering outside the palace at night would draw suspicion.

Slipping inside, he changed into the disguise in a secluded spot before striding confidently toward Xiao Xingguo’s quarters.

“So they are here.” Outside the door, he detected two breathing patterns—one steady and familiar (undoubtedly the yellow-robed woman), the other erratic (likely the rescued courtesan).

“Fairy sister, I’m back!” he called out preemptively, avoiding another impromptu sword greeting.

The moment he stepped inside, something sharp pressed against his back. He raised his hands with a wry smile. “Do we have to do this every time?”

The yellow-robed woman checked outside for followers before shutting the door apologetically. “We’re in enemy territory. Can’t afford carelessness. My apologies.”

Their recent interactions had warmed their relationship—otherwise, she’d never apologize to a eunuch.

“We?” Song Qingshu feigned ignorance, his eyes darting around for the courtesan.

After a hesitant pause, the yellow-robed woman led him inside. “I rescued someone. Don’t breathe a word about this.”

“Don’t worry, sister. My lips are sealed,” Song Qingshu vowed, thumping his chest.

Inside, the courtesan lay on the bed—a vision of languid beauty. Even in distress, her allure remained undiminished.

Her eyes were clearer now, the drug’s effects likely neutralized. For someone of the yellow-robed woman’s skill and experience, such a toxin was trivial.

Spotting the eunuch, the courtesan tensed, shooting the yellow-robed woman a questioning look.

“It’s alright. He’s one of us,” the latter assured.

“One of us?” The courtesan studied Song Qingshu skeptically, her expression darkening at the sight of his Jin attire.

The yellow-robed woman nodded, then turned to Song Qingshu. “This is my… friend. She’ll be staying here a few days. You don’t mind, do you?”

“Mind? Of course not!” Song Qingshu widened his eyes in exaggerated awe. “Sister, are you sure you’re not a fairy? You’re stunning enough, but even your friends are this breathtaking?”

The yellow-robed woman chuckled. “Flattery won’t get you anywhere.”

“Beautiful? If I had a choice, I’d trade this face in a heartbeat,” the courtesan murmured bitterly.

Song Qingshu mentally kicked himself. Most women loved compliments, but this one was clearly an exception. Praising her beauty only rubbed salt in her wounds.

“The past is past. From now on, I won’t let you suffer,” the yellow-robed woman soothed, sitting beside her and gently patting her back.

“Hungry? I brought food. Eating helps,” Song Qingshu interjected, lifting a food box he’d snagged from the imperial kitchens.

As he laid out the dishes, he grumbled internally: ‘I need to extract intel fast. Playing the fool is getting old…’  

While he worked, the courtesan pulled the yellow-robed woman aside. “…Is he trustworthy? How do you know him…?”

“It’s a long story, but he’s reliable. Don’t worry,” the yellow-robed woman whispered back.

Convinced, the courtesan nodded. 

Just then, a breeze carried a faint scent—her nose twitched, and she shot a puzzled glance at Song Qingshu.

“Little eunuch, come here,” she suddenly called.

The yellow-robed woman looked equally baffled.

“Yes, beautiful sister?” Song Qingshu obliged, inwardly lamenting the role reversal. 

‘An hour ago, she was serving me. Now I’m at her beck and call. Karma’s a b!tch.’  

As he approached, the courtesan’s expression flickered—quickly masked by a smile. “What’s your name?”

“This lowly one is Xiao Xingguo.”

She asked a few more casual questions, which he answered dutifully. Then, out of nowhere she said: “Xiao Xingguo, I’m thirsty. Fetch me some water.”

“Of course.” Though bewildered by her sudden shift, he obediently stepped out.

The moment he left, the courtesan paled, urgently whispering to the yellow-robed woman:

“That’s no eunuch. He’s—”