Flower Stealing Master

Song Qingshu had been listening to the serving girls lavish praise on this so-called Young Lord, and was thoroughly amused — and curious to see what manner of person warranted such enthusiasm.

A young lord in fine brocade strolled in at his leisure. Around his waist he wore a sash of coloured silk twined with floral knots and long tassels; over that, a stone-blue jacket of raised-pattern satin trimmed with hanging fringe; on his feet, pale-soled boots of blue satin. 

The short hair around his head was braided into small plaits tied off with red silk, all gathered at the crown where they joined a single great braid — black and glossy as lacquer, hanging from the crown to its tip, strung with four large pearls and finished with a golden eight-treasure pendant. His body was dressed in a silver-red robe scattered with flowers, somewhat worn; around his neck he still wore a collar, a piece of jade, a name-lock charm, a protective talisman and other such things; below, the legs of his pine-green floral satin trousers showed beneath the hem, with embroidered-bordered ink-spattered stockings and thick-soled crimson shoes. 

All of this only served to heighten the impression of a face like powdered jade, lips like touched-on rouge; glances full of feeling, words that seemed to carry a smile. His natural charm lived entirely in the arch of his brows; ten thousand tender thoughts were piled in the corners of his eyes. His outward appearance was as fine as could be — what lay within was another matter.

‘What a… a jade-carved, powder-painted young lord,’ Song Qingshu thought, staring, and could not come up with a better description even after a long moment’s effort.

He had to admit the young lord was extraordinarily handsome — though he carried about him a rather heavy air of powder and rouge. With Song Qingshu’s current discernment, he could tell at once the man was genuinely male and not a woman in disguise. A man who smelled of cosmetics was usually either effeminate or unsettling — one thought of Dongfang Muxue from years ago. Yet on this young lord, the powdered quality sat naturally, as though it simply suited him, and produced no sense of wrongness whatsoever.

Looking at the wealth of precious ornaments hanging from him, Song Qingshu could easily imagine how cherished this young man must be at home — the sort one holds in the palm for fear of dropping and keeps in the mouth for fear of melting.

‘Still,’ Song Qingshu thought, for all that he acknowledged the man’s looks, ‘a man ought to have a bit more backbone about him.’

The handsome young lord caught sight of Zhou Zhiruo and his eyes lit up at once. “Elder Sister is truly heaven-sent in her beauty. The Diaochan and Xi Shi of antiquity would surely hang their heads in shame before you…”

A torrent of honeyed flattery that made Song Qingshu’s skin crawl. ‘I thought I was reasonably good at sweet-talking women, but beside this young man I’m an amateur.’ His mouth wasn’t merely coated in honey — he was spouting the most shameless confections without a flicker of conscience. 

Zhou Zhiruo was beautiful, certainly — but claiming she surpassed the Four Great Beauties of antiquity was a stretch by any measure.

The serving girls, being tactful, read the atmosphere and exchanged glances among themselves. With a few quiet smiles, they withdrew one by one, pulling the door considerately closed behind them.

Those insufferable girls, Song Qingshu thought darkly from his beam.

“Diaochan and Xi Shi?” Zhou Zhiruo gave a light, contemptuous sound. “Is this the line you use on every girl, Young Lord?”

“Heaven is my witness — if Elder Sister did not truly possess such matchless beauty, I would never say such things!” The young lord raised his hand in a solemn oath. “If a single word of what I just said was false, let me die a foul death!”

Song Qingshu narrowed his eyes. ‘Swear away, swear away. If you try anything improper, I’ll personally see that oath fulfilled.’

“How utterly frivolous,” Zhou Zhiruo said, her brow faintly furrowed.

The young lord, far from taking offence, only laughed and leaned forward with a cheerful shamelessness: “Elder Sister — do you know, my elders at home say exactly the same thing about me? We must truly be fated.”

Zhou Zhiruo’s skirts swirled as she shifted, maintaining the distance between them without making it obvious, and tested the ground: “It sounds as though the Young Lord is rather afraid of his family’s elders?”

Seeing Zhou Zhiruo handle herself well, Song Qingshu relaxed his hand. She was drawing the young lord out — there was no need to interrupt yet.

At the mention of his family elders, a brief flicker of genuine unease crossed the young lord’s eyes, quickly buried under laughter. “Filial piety is the first of all virtues. Respecting one’s elders is only natural.”

“Everyone on this island seems rather in awe of you,” Zhou Zhiruo pressed. “Your standing must be quite exceptional?”

“This moonlit evening is hardly the occasion for such talk,” the young lord said, losing patience with her questions. He opened his arms and moved to embrace her. “Let me first enjoy Elder Sister’s charms — if Elder Sister sees to my comfort properly, I promise to answer every question you have, one by one.”

Song Qingshu smiled coldly. ‘So the fine young lord of distinguished virtue turns out to be as base as the rest. He’s shown his true colours rather quickly.’ He began to channel what qi he could and prepared to act.

As the young lord lunged forward with outstretched arms, a cold light flashed in Zhou Zhiruo’s eyes. Beneath her sleeve, her index finger flexed — she had evidently been pushed to genuine anger, and was on the verge of striking with the Nine Yin White Bone Claw.

Then — crack — a figure in black shot through the window like a bolt of lightning, slammed a palm into the young lord’s back with precise force, and the young lord — smile still fixed on his face — folded and dropped to the floor like a sack of wet sand.

The black-robed figure did not linger for a single breath. It vanished back through the window like a ghost, silent as it had come, leaving the two occupants of the room staring in blank disbelief.

Both Song Qingshu and Zhou Zhiruo had been on the point of moving against the young lord themselves. When the figure in black burst in and struck him, their first instinct was to treat it as an ally’s intervention — but the blow had been lethal, the young lord’s life snuffed out in an instant. By the time either of them had processed what they’d seen, the figure was already gone.

Zhou Zhiruo’s expression changed sharply. She turned to give chase — then from outside in the courtyard came the sound of uproar.

“An assassin! There’s been an assassin!”

“Someone go check on the Young Lord — now!”

The sound of feet coming at a run. Zhou Zhiruo’s heart plummeted. She knew who the young lord was and what his death meant — with him lying dead in her room, no explanation in the world would wash. Even if she told the truth, the people of the Isle of Heroes would never believe her. They would seize her first and ask questions under torture later.

She had no intention of sitting there and waiting for that. Her teeth came together and she was about to fight her way out regardless of the odds — when a hand settled lightly on her shoulder.

Her face went white. She spun, ready to strike — and heard a familiar voice.

“Zhiruo. It’s me.”

Zhou Zhiruo turned, disbelieving, and stared at the familiar smile of the man before her. Her whole body gave an involuntary tremor. “Qingshu?”

“Save the rest for later.” Song Qingshu pressed a finger gently to her lips, swept his sleeve to shut the open window, then crossed quickly to where the young lord’s body lay and crouched beside it. He pressed the mask of his own face-impression flat and smoothed it over the dead man’s features with a burst of focused energy.

At the door, the Isle of Heroes’ people had already arrived. Fists hammered against the wood. “Young Lord? Young Lord?”

Song Qingshu turned urgently to Zhou Zhiruo. “Get into bed — quickly!”

“What?” Zhou Zhiruo’s pale face flushed scarlet in an instant.

Related← Previous ChapterChapter 1147: Reunion After Long Parting☰Table of ContentsNext Chapter →Chapter 1149: Destined by Fate