Flower Stealing Master

“The situation at the Golden Serpent Camp is not good.” Lan Fenghuang’s opening words made Song Qingshu’s heart tighten at once.

“Not long after you were struck down, Li Kexiu put the news out and pushed his forces north to try to absorb the Camp’s territory. Fortunately, the Ninth Princess and Qingqing had managed things well enough over the years that they responded in time and held off the first push. But as word of your situation spread, the troops’ morale began to waver.” She continued without pause.

Song Qingshu felt a surge of unease. His usual practice — when he needed to be elsewhere — was to have Ah Jiu disguise herself as him and hold the Camp’s centre. With everything that had happened, that arrangement was almost certainly close to unravelling.

“The Ninth Princess appeared as you to stabilise morale for a while, but the longer it went on, the harder it became to maintain. Anyone paying careful attention to the intelligence would eventually have doubts. The latest word is that she is close to losing her grip on the situation — she’s holding the lines but barely, under sustained pressure from Li Kexiu’s forces.” Lan Fenghuang, as Dongfang Muxue’s trusted confidante, had naturally known about the disguise arrangement.

“I need to get back there as soon as possible.” He hadn’t seen it with his own eyes, but he could picture exactly how gruelling these past weeks must have been for Ah Jiu and Xia Qingqing — worried for his life on one side, fighting off the veteran commander Li Kexiu on the other.

“What about the Jia Sidao problem?” Zhou Zhiruo had heard the full account from Song Qingshu during a quiet moment earlier — who the young lord was, and what he had seen and done inside the Jia household.

“It’s a real difficulty.” He frowned. If he simply left, the Jia household would discover Baoyu missing and turn the whole estate upside down. Before long they would establish that Baoyu had died, and whoever had been impersonating him would become the obvious suspect.

His disguise arts were skilful, but nothing stayed hidden forever. Jia Sidao was one of the three most powerful men in the Southern Song — he could call on the full apparatus of the state. And the Isle of Heroes functioned as an extraordinary intelligence organisation with eyes on almost everything in the wulin.

Song Qingshu never underestimated an enemy’s intelligence. Jia Sidao would trace it back to him eventually. He was already locked in an irreconcilable conflict with Minister Wan Qili. The Golden Serpent Camp was already at war with Li Kexiu. If he acquired Jia Sidao as a full enemy on top of all that, he would have effectively declared war on the entire Southern Song.

His restraint in not killing Wan Gui and Wan Qili outright had not been purely about making them suffer slowly — a large part of it was the political reality. Wan Qili was the Southern Song’s Chief Minister. Killing him directly would make the whole court treat it as a declaration of war. Better to use political means to push him from office first, and only then act.

But if Jia Sidao and Wan Qili combined forces against him, their influence together could steer the entire court’s policy. The enemy would no longer be Wan Qili — it would be the whole Southern Song.

His true priority was the existential threat of the Mongols. The last thing he wanted was a war of attrition between Han forces first, and the Golden Serpent Camp, fighting Li Kexiu and the Southern Song simultaneously, could simply not sustain it.

‘If only I’d never impersonated Jia Baoyu.’ He regretted it deeply — but at the time there had been no choice. Without that disguise to get him through the Isle of Heroes alive, he would never have learned the Supreme Mysteries Scripture, and would never have made it back to the Central Plains at all.

They arrived at the Five Immortals Sect’s hidden lodging, settled Di Yun’s coffin, and saw Qi Fang to bed. Then Song Qingshu laid out his thinking for Zhou Zhiruo.

She frowned. “You’re right — we need a solution that handles everything at once.”

Lan Fenghuang, listening from the side, smiled. “You two don’t have to look quite so gloomy. Every problem has its upside — yes, impersonating Baoyu carries enormous risk, but if that particular identity were used cleverly, the benefits could be considerable.”

“I know,” Song Qingshu said with a wry expression. “But the fighting at the Camp is urgent. I need to get back.”

“Let’s stay in Lin’an two more days,” Zhou Zhiruo said. “If we can find a proper solution in that time, good. If not — we disguise Baoyu as having run away from home, and leave it at that.”

“That may be the only option.” Song Qingshu nodded. Two more days — Ah Jiu and Qingqing should be able to hold that long.

“I’ve been out too long. I need to get back to the Jia household before anyone notices.” He glanced at the sleeping Qi Fang and spoke to Lan Fenghuang: “Fenghuang’er — can I leave Qi Fang in your hands? When there’s news, find Zhiruo at the Hongxiu House in the city.”

Lan Fenghuang gave a sweet smile. “Leave it to me. I’ll see your little sweetheart safely home.”

Song Qingshu felt his face go warm. “Don’t say things like that. She’s another man’s wife.”

Lan Fenghuang pressed her lips together — privately thinking that he hadn’t let that stop him when he pressed the woman against a table not two hours ago. She said nothing about it in Zhou Zhiruo’s presence, only smiled in a knowing way.

Song Qingshu beat a slightly awkward retreat with Zhou Zhiruo toward the city. Along the way Zhou Zhiruo said thoughtfully: “Did something happen back at the Minister’s estate? Everyone had the strangest expressions when you came out.”

Honesty means a harsh sentence; denial means a quiet life. Song Qingshu deflected as vaguely as he could manage.

Fortunately, Zhou Zhiruo didn’t press the question. Instead she sighed. “Ah Jiu and Qingqing — managing the Camp and fighting a war at the same time. It must have been exhausting.”

“It has.” Song Qingshu sighed as well. “Sometimes I wonder if I’m too irresponsible a leader. The tedious, grinding work falls to all of you, and I’m out wandering on my own.”

Zhou Zhiruo took his hand. “Don’t say that. We know, even if no one else does, how hard you’ve been working. Without you moving between courts — the Qing and the Jin, all the rest — would the Camp have the external environment it needs? Would we have the influence inside the Qing and Jin that we do? Yes — you do tend to become… entangled with women wherever you go. But considering that you’re always dancing on a razor’s edge, I’ve decided I can close one eye to it.”

Song Qingshu looked at her with pleased surprise. “Zhiruo — you’re really that magnanimous?”

“If I weren’t magnanimous, would you stop?” she said, giving him a look. “Better to be generous than to exhaust myself in jealousy and make everyone miserable. Though — I’ll say this clearly — if you were content to be the head of a single martial sect, I would tolerate nothing of the sort. But you’re competing for the world itself. That requires many kinds of support. If a few more sisters along the way provide that support — then so be it.” She paused. “I might as well be honest with you. I’ve had a dream of being Empress since I was small.”

Song Qingshu smiled and drew her in by the waist. “Aren’t you worried that saying what you want so plainly might put me off?”

Zhou Zhiruo laughed and settled comfortably against him. “Because I know my husband is an intelligent man. Playing games with you would only backfire. Of course —” she added lightly — “if you were the type Zhang Wuji was, I would never say any of this aloud.”

Related← Previous ChapterChapter 1174: A Dragon without a Head☰Table of ContentsNext Chapter →Latest Chapter