Flower Stealing Master

Seeing Qi Fang standing there timidly, Zhou Zhiruo couldn’t help but smile. “This younger sister really is a sight to make one’s heart ache.”

Qi Fang found this rather odd. ‘I’m already someone’s mother. You look more like a girl of sixteen — if anything, you should be calling me elder sister.’ She didn’t know that Zhou Zhiruo was speaking as the first wife, and the designation of “younger sister” was simply her way of placing Qi Fang in the proper order of things.

“You don’t need to be frightened. Come sit over here.” Zhou Zhiruo’s voice was warm and reassuring. Qi Fang was obviously never going to be a rival worth worrying about — bringing her into her own camp was the sensible move, and having her goodwill in the future would do no harm.

Thoroughly confused, Qi Fang sat down beside her. Then she spotted a young lord in fine brocade watching her from nearby with an expression that was half-amused, half-teasing, and she jumped to her feet, eyes sharp with wariness.

For days people had been telling her exactly why the isle was keeping her comfortable and well-fed — and it was standing right in front of her now.

Song Qingshu, the mischief rising in him, adopted the young lord’s manner and said: “No need to be afraid, little lady. Stay by my side and no one will dare touch you.”

He reached toward her. Qi Fang went pale and stumbled backward. “Don’t — stay away!”

“Little lady, the room is only so big,” Song Qingshu said with a grin. “Where exactly are you planning to run?”

Zhou Zhiruo shot him a look of resigned exasperation. “That’s enough. Stop frightening her.”

“I was just lightening the mood.” Song Qingshu laughed, and without noticing, let his voice slip back to its natural register.

Qi Fang went rigid. She stared at him. “You —?”

Song Qingshu peeled away the mask and smiled at her. “I’m sorry my lady had to endure all this.”

Qi Fang let out a sharp breath and clapped both hands over her mouth. Her eyes were enormous with disbelief. After a long moment she managed, in a trembling voice: “Is it… is it really you?”

Song Qingshu stepped forward and pulled her into his arms. “Do you believe it now?”

The days they had spent aboard the boat, sharing a cabin, breathing the same air — Qi Fang knew this presence too well to doubt it now. Without meaning to, she began to shake. “You really came.”

Feeling the trembling in her body, Song Qingshu could only imagine how much weight she had been carrying these past days. He patted her shoulder gently. “It’s over. It’s all over now…”

A soft clearing of the throat from beside them.

The two of them had been so caught up in each other that Zhou Zhiruo had eventually grown unable to watch in silence. Qi Fang remembered, with a start, that there was an extraordinarily beautiful woman sitting right next to them, and her face went pink. “This lady is…?”

“She’s, erm —” Song Qingshu also found himself at a loss, and after a moment of floundering he went with the straightforward truth. “She’s my wife. Zhou Zhiruo. The current head of the Emei Sect.”

“Oh!” Qi Fang shoved him away as though burned, her face flooding with colour she couldn’t possibly have produced deliberately. It was one thing to have been entangled with another woman’s husband — but to have the wife right there watching — she wanted the ground to open and swallow her whole.

Zhou Zhiruo smiled gently and went to take her hand. “I know what Qingshu is like — he definitely pursued you, not the other way around. Please don’t be uncomfortable, younger sister. We’re all family now.”

Qi Fang nearly fainted on the spot. ‘I’m still technically someone’s wife. I have an infant at home. How are we all family?’ A moment ago she had thought being brought to this room was the most terrible thing imaginable. Looking at the situation now, she thought she might actually have preferred to face the young lord alone.

Watching Zhou Zhiruo draw Qi Fang off to whisper together in the corner, Song Qingshu reflected that transmigration really did have its benefits. In the world he had come from, a wife and a third party meeting face to face would end in bloodshed. Nothing like this harmonious scene.

His imagination wandered contentedly toward a future of domestic abundance, and he drifted into a pleasant reverie.

“What are you smiling at so happily?” Zhou Zhiruo’s voice reached him.

“Nothing, nothing.” Song Qingshu snapped back to the present and reflexively wiped the corner of his mouth. Qi Fang was standing behind Zhou Zhiruo with a pink face, quiet and still as a shy little quail.

“What did you say to her?” he asked, curious.

“Women’s business. Nothing to do with you.” Zhou Zhiruo gave him a look, then said briskly: “Now — start purging the poison. We need to use the time.”

“Now?” Song Qingshu blinked, then glanced involuntarily at Qi Fang. She had turned her face away, and a soft flush was creeping up the back of her pale neck.

“Stop looking at her. Sister Qi has already agreed — do you need her to formally invite you?” In the short time the two women had been talking, they had apparently reached the stage of addressing each other as sisters. Having heard Qi Fang’s story, Zhou Zhiruo had naturally assumed the role of younger sister — which only made Qi Fang more flustered.

“Zhiruo, I have a new appreciation for you.” Song Qingshu shook his head in genuine wonder. He had no idea how she had managed to bring Qi Fang around in such a short time.

“There’s a great deal about me you don’t know yet.” The corner of Zhou Zhiruo’s mouth lifted with quiet satisfaction. “Now get on with it. Don’t waste time.”

She took Qi Fang’s hand with her left and Song Qingshu’s arm with her right, and led them both to the bed.

The sheets were in considerable disarray, and a certain warm residual atmosphere still lingered in the air. A faint awkwardness crossed Zhou Zhiruo’s clear features — she quickly straightened the bedding, then said to Qi Fang with a composed smile: “It’s a little untidy in here. Please don’t mind, elder sister.”

Qi Fang was in no position to say anything about it, and gave a tiny sound of agreement. Zhou Zhiruo, sensing the peculiarity of the moment, said promptly: “I’ll wait outside. I won’t disturb you.” And on her way out, she thoughtfully lowered the bed curtains.

Left alone together on the bed, Song Qingshu leaned toward Qi Fang with a shameless look. “What did she say to you just now?”

“I’m not telling you.” Qi Fang pressed her lips together. “Just… start the detoxification.”

The bashful, unsettled look she was trying so hard to suppress stirred something in him. His hands moved to her collar, and the thought of his wife waiting just outside the room made his pulse run unexpectedly fast.

After roughly the time it takes to drink half a cup of tea, Qi Fang pushed him away with a reddened face, straightening her collar as she stood. “That should be enough. Drive the poison out on your own from here — I’m going to find Sister Zhou.”

She didn’t wait for him to say anything. With her face still burning, she walked out without a backward glance.

Song Qingshu smiled to himself, felt the warmth spreading through his abdomen, and began to channel his energy.

Zhou Zhiruo, who had been sitting on a stool not far away with her ears very attentively pricked, hastily rearranged her expression when Qi Fang emerged. “Oh! Elder sister, you’re out so soon?”

Qi Fang murmured an assent, thinking: With you right outside, how could I have stayed in there a moment longer?

Without Song Qingshu there as a buffer, Zhou Zhiruo found the one-on-one slightly awkward — but her mind worked quickly, and she found a topic at once. “Elder sister — I’ve been wanting to ask you about having children…”

At the thought of her little daughter, a sweetness rose in Qi Fang’s heart. The two women put their heads together, and the atmosphere between them grew gradually warmer and easier.

It was some time before a sharp knock at the door broke the peace.

“Young Lord — Zhang San and Li Si request an audience!”

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