Flower Stealing Master

Wan Qili rose and looked toward the distant palace. “Song Qingshu’s fate has become the focal point of every faction at play right now. All of them are positioning themselves around whether he is dead or alive. At this critical juncture, the news that he has survived cannot be allowed to spread — not yet. If it does, it will ruin everything we have been building.”

Wan Gui was close to tears. He had been brought to this state, and he could not even avenge himself openly. In a few moments he nearly gave in to the impulse to tell the whole truth — but one thought of Wan Qili’s habitually cold and calculating nature made him choke it back.

In Wan Qili’s mind, power was the only thing that mattered. Nothing else came close.

What had happened in Yangzhou had created serious turbulence. At court, Han Tuozhou had led the charge to impeach him. The imperial princesses from the Laundry Courtyard whom Song Qingshu had once aided were making noise in the inner palace. The Golden Serpent Camp was stirring in the north, and several neighbouring states had sent envoys to apply pressure on the Southern Song. Wan Qili’s position was genuinely precarious.

His one saving advantage was his long-standing relationship with Emperor Zhao Gou. Li Kexiu had not only brought the Jianghuai region under the court’s umbrella, he had also sent his daughter to Lin’an as a consort candidate — concrete gains that could not be dismissed. On the strength of those, Zhao Gou had tacitly endorsed Wan Qili’s actions, and no matter how furiously the political enemies attacked, he had held firm.

But all of that rested on one assumption: that Song Qingshu was dead.

However formidable the Golden Serpent King had been in life, the dead could be weathered. Few people would keep pressing hard for the sake of a man already gone. But if Song Qingshu was alive — the entire landscape shifted. His enemies would have solid grounds to persist; the neutral factions would waver. And Song Qingshu himself was the most dangerous opponent imaginable. When it came to that point, whether Zhao Gou would continue to absorb the pressure on Wan Qili’s behalf was something he could not count on.

After years in the currents of court politics, Wan Qili’s mind was working even as the shock registered. Suppress the news for a short time — just long enough for Li Kexiu’s daughter to formally enter the palace in the next few days. Once that happened, the matter was decided. Zhao Gou would be bound to him irrevocably: the marriage alliance would signal Li Kexiu’s complete submission to the court — submission that had been torn from Song Qingshu and the Golden Serpent Camp’s grasp. This would create an irreconcilable conflict between the Southern Song and the Camp.

And there was one further angle. Li Yuanzhi had sacrificed her reputation in public to save Song Qingshu — the two of them had obviously been entangled. When Song Qingshu learned that she had been sent into the palace, would he simply accept it? And even if he, weighing everything, chose to let it pass — could the soldiers and commanders who followed him swallow that humiliation? What authority would he have left over them?

If Song Qingshu himself, as a regional power, was thus cornered, how much more so Emperor Zhao Gou?

An emperor could not be seen to be wrong. Even when he was wrong, he could never admit it. For the dignity of the imperial house, Zhao Gou would commit to his course no matter how plainly he knew it was mistaken — just as he had with Yue Fei.

Looking at Wan Gui’s miserable state, Wan Qili offered a few words of reassurance: “Don’t worry. I’ll quietly dispatch capable men to track Song Qingshu down and deal with him. Your humiliation will be answered.”

Wan Gui smiled bitterly to himself. Song Qingshu’s martial arts were beyond anyone the Minister’s household could send after him — without bringing the full weight of the court’s apparatus to bear, a few assassins would be nothing but a gesture. But this was not something he could say aloud, so he manufactured an expression of touched gratitude. “Thank you, Grandfather.”

*****

Song Qingshu meanwhile brought Qi Fang and Lan Fenghuang out of the Minister’s estate and met Zhou Zhiruo where she was waiting. At the sight of the new woman at her husband’s side, Zhou Zhiruo blinked.

Song Qingshu made the introductions quickly. Lan Fenghuang smiled her charming smile. “The name of Sect Master Zhou of Emei has long reached us — the woman who stood against the assembled martial world at the Shaolin Temple and came out on top. You’ve done all of us women proud.” Even as she said it, her eyes moved almost involuntarily to the infant in Zhou Zhiruo’s arms, and a flicker of private alarm went through her. ‘He and she have a child already? I need to tell my lady the moment I’m back.’

Zhou Zhiruo was too perceptive to miss the glance. She read its meaning immediately, and passed Kongxincai back to Qi Fang before answering with an easy smile. “The honoured leader of the Five Immortals Sect — I had not imagined she would be quite such a picture.”

Lan Fenghuang only then registered that the baby belonged to Qi Fang, and felt a quiet internal relief on Dongfang Muxue’s behalf.

Qi Fang looked at her daughter’s sleeping face, and tears slid down her cheeks before she could stop them. “Kongxincai — your poor, ill-fated Uncle Di met such a terrible end, and it was all your mother’s fault…”

Song Qingshu’s expression was dark. “Di Yun. I will make Wan Gui wish he could die and be denied even that — to bring some measure of peace to your spirit.”

“What the Wan family’s boy said may not have been entirely truthful.” Lan Fenghuang spoke up quietly.

Song Qingshu and Qi Fang both looked at her. She continued: “The Heavenly Devil Flower’s toxin is so potent that even the body of a victim remains poisonous afterward — touching it carelessly would be enough to infect someone. Who would dare hack it to pieces and feed it to dogs?”

“Could it be that my senior brother is still alive?” Qi Fang looked up through her tears, hope and shock mingling on her face.

Lan Fenghuang shook her head gently. “From how Wan Gui reacted, I believe Di Yun did not survive. But the body may still be intact.”

Song Qingshu’s brow creased. “Wait here.” He turned and went back into the Minister’s estate.

Lan Fenghuang stared after him, quietly astonished. “Song Qingshu’s qinggong now — even my lady at her peak would have been hard pressed to match it.”

The thought of that incomparable woman in the Forbidden City made Zhou Zhiruo’s brow furrow faintly.

Not long after, Song Qingshu reappeared, a man in the livery of a household guard held firmly in hand. “When they were done with Di Yun, they left him in a grove outside the city. This man knows where.”

He had not gone back to Wan Gui. Wan Gui was vile to the core, but he had a certain resilience — extracting the location of Di Yun’s body from him directly would not be simple, and Song Qingshu had no intention of breaking Wan Gui so quickly. The art of destroying a person was to keep feeding them hope and then taking it away — only that could hollow someone out completely. So instead he had found one of Wan Gui’s trusted subordinates, applied the Soul Capture Technique, learned what he needed, and brought the man out as insurance.

From within the estate came the growing sound of commotion — Wan Gui’s screams had fully roused the guards, and the compound was now on high alert. Lan Fenghuang’s admiration deepened. That Song Qingshu had gone back in, extracted a man, and come out again as though walking through empty space — even Dongfang Muxue in her prime would have been hard put to match that.

With their guide, the group found the place quickly. Within a radius of one zhang, the grass and plants were yellowed and dead, and not an insect or creature moved in the surrounding earth. Song Qingshu let out a quiet sigh.

Qi Fang looked at the patch of pale, dead ground and seemed to feel something in it, because she bit her lip and moved to dig with her bare hands.

Song Qingshu stopped her. “The Heavenly Devil Flower’s toxin has already leached into the surrounding soil. None of you should touch anything here. Let me.” He swept his sleeve. A wave of invisible force surged outward, pushing back several feet of earth in a single motion — and slowly, Di Yun’s face emerged from the ground.

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