Flower Stealing Master

After sighing, Jia Sidao waved his hand at Chen Jian. “You’re injured. Go and recover properly. Someone, escort him back.”

Chen Jian could barely stand anymore, holding on by sheer willpower alone. Hearing these words, he was granted a reprieve. As he was helped out, he turned back with tears of gratitude. “Thank you, Master.”

Jia Sidao nodded. Only after the servants had closed the door did he speak to Song Qingshu. “Your aunt has been sent to the Cold Palace because of you.”

“Ah?” Song Qingshu feigned surprise, though it was more or less what he had expected.

“Ah, ah, ah—what are you ‘ah’ing about? If you weren’t my only son, I’d slap you to death.” Jia Sidao would never normally be so undignified, but today’s events had him overwhelmed.

“This is already the best possible outcome. If she were an ordinary consort, the Emperor would have sent her a white silk cord long ago.” After cursing for a bit, Jia Sidao gradually calmed down. He fixed his gaze on Song Qingshu. “As for you…”

“What about me?” Song Qingshu’s heart jumped. *His expression is so grave. Could things be taking an unexpected turn?*

“I used every connection I have to try to protect you. But what you did this time…” He paused, tempted to start cursing again, but then thought better of it. *Someone was pulling strings behind the scenes—he’s not entirely to blame.* He continued, “Besides, Wan Qili and Han Dingxiao have been fanning the flames before the Emperor. His Majesty has wanted you dead several times. I exhausted every ounce of my strength just to save your life. But though you’re spared the death penalty, you can’t escape punishment altogether. The court has decided to send you back to the Mongols with Commandery Princess Shao Min. You’ll explain the breach of agreement and appease their wrath.”

Song Qingshu was taken aback. “Acting as an envoy doesn’t seem so terrible.”

“What do you know!” Jia Sidao roared. “On the surface, you’re an envoy. In reality, you’re a hostage. The Mongols may be focused on their western campaigns now, but sooner or later, their armies will turn south. Once war breaks out between the Mongols and the Great Song, you’ll be the first one they use to sanctify their banners!”

Listening to Jia Sidao describe the Mongols’ greed, brutality, and shamelessness, Song Qingshu gradually understood. *Going as an envoy to the Mongols truly is a journey from which few return alive.* No wonder Wan Qili and Han Dingxiao had agreed—it was probably their suggestion in the first place. Still, it was better than immediate execution, which was why Jia Sidao had reluctantly accepted.

Seeing Song Qingshu’s blank expression, Jia Sidao assumed he was terrified. He softened his tone. “But don’t be too afraid. I won’t just sit back and let anything happen to you. Don’t worry—I have my arrangements.”

Song Qingshu’s heart stirred. He couldn’t resist probing. “What arrangements?” *If I know his plan in advance, I can prepare accordingly.*

Jia Sidao shot him an exasperated glare. “Hmph! You’re someone who can’t accomplish anything but can sure mess things up. Telling you would only invite complications. Just know that I have it handled. Don’t ask further questions.”

“Oh.” From Song Qingshu’s investigations, Jia Baoyu was like a mouse before a cat when it came to Jia Sidao. Pressing further would only invite suspicion.

“Go have Xiren pack your things. You’ll leave tomorrow with the Mongol envoy delegation.” Jia Sidao rubbed his temples. “Say goodbye to your mother. As for the Old Lady—don’t go to her. She’s advanced in years; there’s no need to frighten her.”

“Tomorrow?” Song Qingshu was inwardly overjoyed—he would have left that very night if he could—but reason told him this was somewhat rushed.

“The longer we wait, the more complications arise. Who knows what poisonous schemes Wan Qili and Han Dingxiao will come up with if we delay? What if the Emperor changes his mind? Then you won’t be able to leave at all.” Jia Sidao snorted. *Truth be told, even if the Emperor truly wanted him dead, I have ways to get Baoyu out of the city. But that would be too blunt and humiliating for the imperial family—then the Jia family’s days would be difficult.* Sending him away under the pretext of an envoy to Mongolia was more face-saving for everyone.

After all, going to Mongolia as a hostage could still be framed as risking one’s life in service to the court—enough to silence the gossip of the civil and military officials.

*****

At the Mongol delegation’s inn, Zhao Min had already received the news. She burst out angrily, “What? I’ve spent all these days applying pressure in every way I can think of, and the Southern Song court thinks they can fob me off with some rich second-generation wastrel? Do they take me, Minmin Temur, for such an easy fool?”

The two Xuanming Elders tried to reason with her. “Commandery Princess, you did sneak away this time, without the Great Khan’s decree. Before this blows up in our faces, wouldn’t it be wise to quit while we’re ahead?”

*Crack!* Zhao Min smashed her teacup on the floor. “I don’t need the two of you to teach me how to do things! Until I find out where Song Qingshu is, I’m not taking a single step out of Lin’an.”

The Xuanming Elders, having gotten nowhere, exchanged a knowing glance. Having been brothers for decades, they could communicate without words:

*”Brother, they say women are fickle, but this one takes the cake. First she almost cut ties with her family over Zhang Wuji. Now she’s thrown herself headlong into chasing after that Song kid.”*

*”Tell me about it. A woman’s heart is like a needle at the bottom of the sea. We men can never understand what they’re thinking. Fortunately, I’m smart—I’ve only ever loved women’s bodies, never their hearts.”*

*”Wise brother. I, on the other hand, only love fine food and wine…”*

Just as they were exchanging glances, laughter came from outside the door. “Who’s made our Commandery Princess so angry?”

Zhao Min looked up and was momentarily surprised. “Master of the Vajra Sect, what brings you here?” The Vajra Sect Master’s martial arts and seniority were both extraordinarily high, so she didn’t address him as casually as she did the Xuanming Elders.

The Vajra Sect Master sighed. “The Prince is ill.”

Zhao Min started. “Is it serious?” She already had the answer in her heart—if it were a minor illness, they wouldn’t have sent someone specially to inform her.

“Yes.” The Vajra Sect Master nodded. “The Prince wishes to see you.”

Zhao Min’s eyes reddened instantly. She bit her lip, forcing herself not to let tears fall before her subordinates. After composing herself slightly, she said immediately, “Pack our things. We leave now!”

“Now?” Lu Zhangke looked out the window in surprise. “It’s already dark. The city gates are closed. Getting out of the city won’t be easy.”

“What’s so difficult? We can just climb over the wall,” Zhao Min said coldly.

“That might disturb the city guards,” He Biweng advised. “Dawn isn’t far off. And since the Southern Song were supposed to send a hostage tomorrow anyway, it would be more convenient for us to leave together then.”

By now, Zhao Min had calmed down from her initial impulse. She understood that haste makes waste. If they tried to force their way out at night and alerted the Song guards, it would only cause more delays.

“Fine. Someone!” Zhao Min delegated tasks swiftly—someone to handle the hostage transfer paperwork with the relevant Song officials (even if they had to wake them from sleep), someone to wait outside the palace gates to request an audience with Zhao Gou at first light, someone to notify the Jia mansion in advance, someone to remain in Lin’an to continue gathering information on Song Qingshu…

She organized everything with perfect efficiency. The Vajra Sect Master and the two Xuanming Elders watched in admiration.

*****

At dawn the next day, Song Qingshu was roused by Xiren. Learning that the Mongol delegation was already waiting outside the mansion, he was astonished. “So soon?”

“The Mongols came to inform us in the middle of the night, but you were sleeping so soundly, young master, I couldn’t bear to wake you.” Xiren answered with red-rimmed eyes—she had clearly been weeping all night, having learned that Jia Baoyu was being sent as a hostage to the northern wastes.

Song Qingshu hurriedly said a few comforting words to her. Then he remembered how he’d spent the previous evening—dealing with the weeping Jia household, barely managing to escape, sneaking out to inform Zhou Zhiruo and the others, returning to his room, and collapsing into bed, utterly exhausted.

After helping him dress, Xiren gazed at him with tearful eyes. “Young master… Xiren will wait for you to come back.”

Seeing her on the verge of tears, Song Qingshu sighed inwardly. *In *Dream of the Red Chamber*, Xiren might have been somewhat calculating, but her feelings for Jia Baoyu were genuine. She has no idea that the real Jia Baoyu will never return.*

Hearing that the ladies of the Jia household were coming to see him off, Song Qingshu’s head began to ache. He didn’t wait for them—quickly slipping out with only light baggage.

The moment he stepped outside, he was taken aback. A group of Mongols on tall horses waited at the mansion gate. The most striking among them was a girl as radiant as a rose—who else could it be but Zhao Min!

He had expected the Mongol delegation to send some underling to fetch him. He never imagined Zhao Min would come herself.

Previously, Song Qingshu had mostly seen Zhao Min’s glamorous, coquettish side. Today, in Mongol riding attire, her tall boots accentuating her long, straight legs, she revealed a completely different side—gallant and heroic.

But what caught Song Qingshu’s attention even more was that Zhao Min’s starry eyes, like Xiren’s, were slightly red-rimmed—as if she, too, had been crying all night.

*What could have made her so sad?* A thought stirred in Song Qingshu. *Could it be… for me?* At the pleasant thought, a smile unconsciously crept to his lips.

Zhao Min was already in a foul mood. Seeing him stand there gawking foolishly, her disgust swelled. “What are you standing there dumb for? Get on your horse!”

She had long heard of Jia Baoyu’s reputation. Nor was she ignorant of what had happened in the palace last night. Being a woman herself, she certainly had no goodwill toward him.

Song Qingshu smiled faintly, unbothered, and was about to move when a voice came from behind. “Baoyu, wait a moment.”

Surrounded by guards, Jia Sidao emerged. He didn’t look at Song Qingshu at first, but walked straight up to Zhao Min. “My son is a foolish brat. I trust you’ll look after him along the way, Commandery Princess.”

Zhao Min replied coolly, “He’s a grown man. He knows how to take care of himself.” She sat proudly on her horse, looking down at him, making no move to dismount and return the courtesy.

A flash of suppressed anger passed through Jia Sidao’s eyes. At his current status, even chief ministers like Wan Qili and Han Dingxiao wouldn’t be so rude—not even Emperor Zhao Gou himself. But with the Southern Song so weakened, envoys from the Liao and Jin dynasties had behaved this arrogantly for over a century. Though furious, he had no choice but to swallow it.

Having met a soft rebuff from Zhao Min, Jia Sidao couldn’t be bothered to humiliate himself further. He pulled Song Qingshu aside and said quietly, “Don’t offend her these next few days, or you’ll suffer for it. Bear with it—it’ll only be a couple of days. I’ve arranged everything.”

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