Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 1103: Trouble from Within

The lure of Sichuan was simply too powerful. Han Dingxiao was certain: if Sichuan could truly be recovered, the court would not begrudge this price for a single moment.

Song Qingshu’s expression shifted in a way he could not entirely conceal. The other terms had all been within his expectations — but King of Qi was a genuine surprise, and a welcome one.

Right now, his title of Golden Serpent King was known across the world for exactly what it was: a bandit chief’s self-styled honorific that no one took seriously. A royal investiture was an entirely different matter. In the Chinese system of noble ranks, a single-character princely title outranked a two-character title by a wide margin, and among the single-character titles, the four most illustrious were traditionally Qin, Jin, Qi, and Chu. The Song court, for historical reasons, would never bestow the titles of Song, Zhao, Liang, or Shou upon any subject — which made Qi the most prestigious title available to grant.

The choice of Qi over Qin was natural: Song Qingshu’s current domain covered Shandong and the Jianghuai region, territory that roughly corresponded to the ancient state of Qi during the Spring and Autumn period. The title fit.

In this world, legitimacy was worth more than almost anything else. With the title of King of Qi, Song Qingshu would hold a formal mandate — no longer a bandit chieftain operating outside the law, but a recognized power. The advantage in drawing talented Han subjects to his banner would be immeasurable.

As for accepting investiture from the Song court and whether that might cast him as a Song subject — that was not a concern for the present stage. Once his strength grew sufficient, the relationship between patron and dependent had a way of reversing itself naturally.

What did require more thought was whether accepting Song investiture might invite hostility from Qing, Jin, and Mongolia. But Qing and Jin were already effectively within his sphere of influence, and Mongolia had been brought into relation through Zhao Min. What had once been a thorny problem had quietly dissolved.

“Agreed. We have a deal.” Song Qingshu’s voice was calm and decisive.

He summoned Wang Baobao in. The three of them negotiated the details at length, and at last arrived at the final terms:

Mongolia would release Han Dingxiao and his entire party, and return Sichuan to Southern Song.

Southern Song would formally sever its tributary relationship with its century-old suzerain Jin, transferring that arrangement to Mongolia instead, along with a full year’s military provisions for the Golden Serpent Camp.

Mongolia and Southern Song would both recognize the Golden Serpent Camp’s lawful authority over the Jianghuai region. Song Qingshu would be invested as King of Qi. All three parties would sign a mutual non-aggression compact.

The precise details would require formal envoys and state documents — but with this framework in place, the rest was ceremony.

When it was done, all three parties were satisfied:

Mongolia had already been considering withdrawing from Sichuan to consolidate its forces, and here it had gained the additional benefit of leaving Southern Song once again bordering its century-old rival, Western Xia, ensuring the two would grind away at each other. More importantly, Mongolia had supplanted Jin as Southern Song’s suzerain — and gained the Golden Serpent Camp as an ally.

Southern Song had recovered Sichuan, arguably the most strategically vital territory it had lost. The tribute to Mongolia and the year of military provisions for the Golden Serpent Camp were trivial expenditures compared to what Sichuan’s recovery was worth — Southern Song had been paying tribute to Jin all along; now the same money simply went to Mongolia instead. And the change in diplomatic language was itself a gift: the old relationship with Jin had cast the Song emperor as a nephew paying deference to an uncle, whereas the new arrangement with Mongolia used the language of brotherly equals. The Emperor would be delighted.

As for Song Qingshu’s gains — they spoke for themselves. In every respect, it was an outcome that left all three parties deeply content.

Where there is universal satisfaction, there is always someone who has been left out. Wang Baobao suddenly thought of something. A savage smile crossed his face as he glanced toward the courtyard. “The Mount Song people — what do you say we join forces and finish them off?”

The earlier battle had cost Ruyang Palace dearly — nearly half of Wang Baobao’s elite fighters were dead or wounded. The accommodation with Mount Song had been forced by circumstance. Now that he had Song Qingshu and Han Dingxiao as backing, it was time to settle the account.

“Agreed.” Han Dingxiao answered without hesitation. He didn’t know the precise nature of the relationship between Jia Sidao and Mount Song, but Mount Song had clearly been deployed as one of Jia Sidao’s blades — and any chance to blunt an enemy’s weapon was not one he would pass up.

“I have no objection either.” Song Qingshu offered a mild smile, though inwardly he sighed. Mount Song had already gone.

Zuo Lengchan was, in the end, a man of extraordinary intelligence. Watching Song Qingshu hold one private meeting after another — first with Wang Baobao, then with Han Dingxiao, and finally the three of them together — he had no way of knowing what was being discussed behind that closed door. But a sharp instinct told him that something dangerous was taking shape. He had made the decision then and there, without hesitation, and quietly led his people out.

Outside, neither Ruyang Palace’s fighters nor Su Shidan’s group had received any instruction from their respective principals, and no one dared act unilaterally. Everyone had been quietly relieved to watch Mount Song slip away — it reduced the pressure on all sides.

Song Qingshu had tracked Zuo Lengchan’s withdrawal through the subtle emanations of qi, but after weighing the situation he had chosen to let it happen without remark. He had larger plans in mind for Mount Song, and keeping that faction intact suited him.

When Wang Baobao came out and found the Mount Song contingent had vanished without a trace, he was furious enough to stamp his feet. Han Dingxiao was visibly annoyed as well. Only Song Qingshu stood there with a faint smile.

With the agreement concluded, Wang Baobao released Han Dingxiao and his people immediately. Su Shidan and the others crowded around their principal at once, expressing concern and relief in equal measure. Seeing those loyal faces, Han Dingxiao’s complexion gradually recovered.

At that moment a mounted force came thundering toward them, torches blazing — and at their head rode Li Kexiu himself.

“I received word that the temple had been attacked — is everyone—” Li Kexiu took one look at the scene before him and, for all his years and experience, found himself genuinely bewildered. What exactly was he looking at? The Mongols and the Southern Song delegation were standing together in apparent harmony?

“The Commander-in-Chief’s timing is remarkably convenient.” Wang Baobao could not resist the jab. Yangzhou was the man’s own territory — with all of Mount Song’s activity tonight, his prolonged absence could only have been deliberate.

Han Dingxiao was equally cold. They had been close to an agreement before he was captured, and through all the time since, Li Kexiu had made no move to extract them. His visits to Yuqing Temple had been private meetings with Wang Baobao, nothing more. And now it emerged he had quietly thrown in with the Golden Serpent Camp all along. In Han Dingxiao’s estimation, the character of a man who played all sides was written plainly across Li Kexiu’s record — and he offered no warmth in his face.

Song Qingshu had no wish to see his future father-in-law and ally left floundering in the cold, and walked over to give him a summary of the night’s events. When he reached the three-party agreement that had been concluded, Li Kexiu’s expression changed sharply.

He masked it almost immediately, let out an easy laugh, and extended a warm invitation to all three parties to rest at his residence. Han Dingxiao’s group had been kept captive for weeks and were genuinely in need of comfort and a chance to recover; Ruyang Palace’s people were all carrying wounds and required a safe place to recuperate; and Song Qingshu still had many details of their cooperation to work through with Li Kexiu directly. All three parties accepted without prompting.

The agreement was fresh, the goodwill between them at its peak. Conversation flowed easily as they made their way together — and no one noticed the uncertain, calculating light that flickered in Li Kexiu’s eyes.

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