Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 787: Ambush and Counter-Ambush

The yellow-robed woman slowly raised her delicate brows, disbelief coloring her voice as she asked, “Are you sure it’s him?”

“Absolutely certain!” The courtesan trembled uncontrollably. “The powder I used today is unique—this fragrance can’t be found anywhere else. Yet… he carries my scent on him…”

As she listened, the yellow-robed woman suddenly thought of something. She opened the food box Song Qingshu had brought and found three sets of bowls and chopsticks inside. Her expression finally darkened.

“Here’s the water~” Song Qingshu walked in, carrying two cups of tea. Noticing the strange expressions on the women’s faces, he asked curiously, “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.” The yellow-robed woman forced a smile. “Just pass me the water.”

“Sure thing~” Song Qingshu cheerfully approached, still wondering how to probe the relationship between the two women when—suddenly—a cold glint flashed before his eyes, and a surge of killing intent rushed toward him.

Instinctively, he raised the cup to block, but the porcelain shattered instantly, unable to withstand even a blink’s worth of resistance. The cold light continued its relentless advance…

The room quickly fell into silence. Song Qingshu’s fingers tightly clamped onto the tip of the sword aimed at him as he stared at its wielder and blurted out, “Have you lost your mind?”

The yellow-robed woman snorted, her voice icy. “Who are you, really?”

Caught off guard, Song Qingshu was momentarily stunned. Only then did he realize his identity could no longer be concealed—after all, how could a mere eunuch possess such formidable martial skills?
Seizing his moment of distraction, the yellow-robed woman flicked her wrist, causing the sword in her hand to spin violently. Song Qingshu could no longer hold on and hastily released the blade, retreating. “Let me explain!”

Her face dark as still water, the yellow-robed woman pressed her lips together and unleashed a flurry of strikes—each faster and deadlier than the last—giving him no chance to speak.

After dodging several attacks, Song Qingshu grew irritated by her relentless killing intent. “If that’s how it is, then I’ll have to offend first.” The moment he spoke, his figure vanished from sight.

The yellow-robed woman gasped in shock, instinctively thrusting her sword behind her. However, her injuries slowed her movements, and before her blade could land, a numbing sensation spread from her waist, draining all strength from her body. Her legs gave way, and she collapsed into a broad, firm chest.

All of this happened in the blink of an eye. The courtesan had just witnessed the yellow-robed woman gaining the upper hand, only to see her subdued in an instant. She stood frozen until Song Qingshu carried the yellow-robed woman to the bed, finally snapping her out of her daze. She grabbed a nearby vase and hurled it at his head.

“Hey, aren’t you a bit too ruthless?” Song Qingshu dodged effortlessly, as if he had eyes on the back of his head, even catching the falling vase to prevent it from shattering. “One moment you’re all tender with me, and the next you’re trying to kill me?”

“It really is you… You’re the Imperial Consort, Tang Kuo Bian!” The courtesan trembled violently. She had only just glimpsed hope, only for it to be crushed so swiftly. The thought of falling back into the hands of the Jin Dynasty made her shudder.

“How did you recognize me?” Song Qingshu asked curiously.

“You… you carry my scent.” Perhaps years of submission to the Jin had conditioned her, as she answered instinctively.

“Ah, I see.” Song Qingshu suddenly understood. He had been careful in every way, yet he hadn’t accounted for a woman’s innate talent—no wonder women in his past life could detect their husbands’ infidelity just by scent.

Now that the truth was out, there was no need to keep up the act. He pulled the courtesan into his embrace with one arm while still holding the yellow-robed woman with the other, laughing heartily. “See? Just as I said at Qiuxiang Tower—I didn’t expect to get two birds with one stone so soon.”

The courtesan panicked. “My Lord Consort, if you want something, take it out on me! I’ll serve you properly—just don’t harm Yingluo!”

“Yingluo?” Song Qingshu smirked, glancing at the yellow-robed woman. “Is that your given name?”

A faint blush colored the yellow-robed woman’s cheeks. She snorted and said, “Fifth Sister, don’t be afraid. This man isn’t the Jin Dynasty’s Imperial Consort, Tang Kuo Bian.”

“Huh? Then who is he?” The courtesan was stunned.

Song Qingshu’s heart tightened, but he kept his tone light. “Fairy Sister, if I’m not Tang Kuo Bian, then who do you think I am?”

When he had addressed her respectfully as a eunuch before, the yellow-robed woman hadn’t minded. But now, his teasing tone made her flush with anger. “Don’t call me that!”

Song Qingshu blinked, then grinned. “Miss Yingluo, I don’t think you understand the situation. You’re my prisoner—yet you’re still yelling at me?”

Ignoring him, the yellow-robed woman analyzed coldly, “Tang Kuo Bian, the Imperial Consort of the Jin Dynasty, holds the position of Left Deputy Minister of the Department of State Affairs. While skilled in mounted archery, his martial arts are suited for battlefield combat, not Jianghu duels. Yet you subdued me effortlessly—how could you possibly be Tang Kuo Bian?”

Song Qingshu shrugged. “Seems you’re quite informed about the Jin Dynasty’s affairs. But those are just surface details—how do you know I’m not secretly a martial arts master?” He couldn’t afford to expose Tang Kuo Bian’s identity, so he stubbornly stuck to his story.

“Hmph. Who you really are will be clear soon enough.” The moment she spoke, the yellow-robed woman abruptly sat up from his embrace, sealing the vital acupoints on his chest in an instant before tearing off the mask on his face.

“Ah…” Her movements were lightning-fast, and caught off guard, even Song Qingshu fell for her trick. He chuckled wryly. “My mistake. Since you know the Nine Yin Scripture, of course you’d know its acupoint-release technique.”

When she saw Song Qingshu’s true face, her shock was no less than his. “How… how is it you?!”

Song Qingshu smiled faintly. “Who did you expect, Miss?”

Recalling their recent interactions, the yellow-robed woman flushed with anger. “No wonder I felt an inexplicable dislike the first time I saw that little eunuch—it was you, this philandering rogue!”

“Thank you for the praise, though I hardly deserve it,” Song Qingshu replied, admiring her rosy cheeks. “You say you dislike me, yet you blush at the sight of this ‘rogue.’ Seems my charm truly knows no bounds.”

“I am not blushing!” She hastily touched her cheeks, only to find them warm. Her heart skipped a beat. “If you keep spouting nonsense, I’ll cut out your tongue!”

“I doubt you’d have the heart.” His grin widened.

Her brows twitched uncontrollably, and unable to suppress her fury any longer, she raised her hand to slap him—only for him to catch her wrist mid-swing.

Song Qingshu pinned her firmly onto the bed, gazing down at her from close range. “Fairy Sister, you’re not the only one who knows the Nine Yin Scripture’s acupoint-release technique.”

Before she could retort, Song Qingshu suddenly leaned down, sealing her lips with a kiss—silencing all protests…