Flower Stealing Master

A faint flush spread across Dongfang Muxue’s skin. Though she was usually radiant with dominance, she was still a woman after all. She had never exposed her b0dy before any man. Thinking of what was to come, her heart was filled with both trepidation and a touch of shyness.

To hide her emotions, Dongfang Muxue snorted. “Couldn’t you have unfastened my belt properly? You’ve ruined a perfectly good robe. I didn’t bring a change of clothes.”

Song Qingshu reached out and lifted her chin, smiling faintly. “The mighty Cult Leader—suddenly worried about a single set of clothes? Are you nervous right now?”

Dongfang Muxue, stung by his accurate jab, spat, “Pah! I’ve played with more women than you’ve slept with. Why would I be nervous?”

“Too bad that no matter how many you’ve played with, in the end, I’ll be the one playing with you.” Song Qingshu leaned to her neck and ki$$ed her lightly.

“Hmph!” Dongfang Muxue turned her head away. The stubble on his chin raised goosebumps on her delicate skin.

Lan Fenghuang, watching from the side, blushed and seemed to be struggling to hold back a smile. *The mistress, always high and mighty as a queen, has finally met her match.*

“Lan Fenghuang, if you laugh again, I’ll blind you!” Dongfang Muxue sensed it, turned, and shot her a fierce glare.

Dongfang Muxue’s lingering authority was enough to make Lan Fenghuang flinch. She quickly stifled her smile.

“Why are you bullying her? Is she an easy target?” Song Qingshu asked.

“What, are you feeling sorry for her before she’s even gotten into your bed?” Dongfang Muxue sneered.

“Right now, you’re like a hedgehog covered in thorns, curled up tightly to hide your soft, fearful heart,” Song Qingshu said with a smile. “Relax.”

Dongfang Muxue’s willow brows arched, ready to flare up, but Song Qingshu ki$$ed her, stuffing her fury back into her mouth.

“Mmph—” Dongfang Muxue tried to push him away, but in her weakened state, she had no strength. Her pushes felt more like caresses.

Their t0ngues intertwined. Dongfang Muxue’s b0dy trembled. She felt something she had never experienced before—a tremor from the depths of her soul. Her b0dy gradually softened, no longer as rigid as before.

After a long while, their lips parted. Dongfang Muxue’s Fenghuang eyes had become watery, lacking their usual majesty and heroic spirit, replaced by a hint of seductiveness. Their faces were close, her orchid-like breath brushing against his face. 

Song Qingshu said tenderly, “You’re beautiful.”

Dongfang Muxue, her arms around his neck, bowed her head in an unprecedented display of shyness.

Song Qingshu took two dragon-and-Fenghuang red candles from his robe and handed them to Lan Fenghuang. “Fenghuang, light these.”

Lan Fenghuang took them and giggled. “The Young Master thinks of everything.”

A flicker of surprise showed in Dongfang Muxue’s eyes. “You brat, you had this all planned.”

“There was no time to hold a wedding ceremony. Let these two red candles represent my feelings,” Song Qingshu said with a gentle smile. “Today is our wedding night. I hope you don’t mind the simplicity.”

Dongfang Muxue snorted. “Who do you take me for? I’m not one of those common folk who care about all those formalities. The sky as our blanket, the earth as our mat—that befits my status.”

Song Qingshu silently thought, *The sky as blanket, earth as mat—though it sounds poetic, isn’t that just making love in the wild?* But he dared not say it aloud and spoil the mood.

“Stop calling yourself ‘this one’ all the time. From now on, before me, you should address yourself as ‘this humble wife’,” Song Qingshu said, exasperated. Her manner kept reminding him of Dongfang Bubai.

“In your dreams~” Dongfang Muxue tossed her head with a delicate snort. The slight upward curve of her lips showed she was quite pleased.

“You’ll be begging for mercy soon enough.” Song Qingshu was in no hurry. His palm slid down to her che$t. He frowned. “Don’t bind your che$t when you disguise yourself as a man from now on. It feels smaller than the first time I touched it.”

Dongfang Muxue shot him a fierce glare. “If I’d known I’d be gr0ped by you like this one day, I’d have killed you with one palm the first time we met in the Forbidden City.” Remembering their first encounter in the Forbidden City—he disguised as a woman, she as a man, both copping a feel of the other’s che$t—she couldn’t help smiling.

“Thank you, miss, for not killing me.” Feeling her skin, softer than an infant’s, Song Qingshu felt heat rising in his b0dy. His voice grew husky. “I’ll channel some Joyful True Qi into your b0dy to prepare you fully.”

“No need.” Dongfang Muxue paused, her face reddening. “My b0dy… is already prepared.” She took his hand and guided it beneath her robe.

The wetness and warmth showed her b0dy was already deeply ar0used. Song Qingshu hesitated no longer. He pressed down on her shoulders and moved closer.

“Hhmng…No. I want to be on top.” After her initial shyness, Dongfang Muxue had reverted to her former domineering nature.

Song Qingshu naturally refused. “The myriad things of the world have their order—male and female, yang and yin, heaven and earth. How can we reverse them?”

“I have commanded a hundred thousand cult members. Countless men have groveled at my feet…”

Song Qingshu cut her off. “Now I’m your man. I’m in charge.”

“By what right?” Dongfang Muxue fumed.

“By the right that you can’t beat me right now,” Song Qingshu answered matter-of-factly.

Dongfang Muxue: “…”

Song Qingshu stopped arguing. He pressed her down onto the bed. The room fell silent, save for slightly quickened breathing and the crackle of the two festive red candles.

The candlelight fell upon the jade-like woman beneath him, tinting her white skin with a rosy glow, radiating a captivating sheen. Whether because cultivating the *Sunflower Manual* had taught her the principle of transformation and natural growth, Dongfang Muxue’s skin was even more delicate than many young maidens’. Her entire b0dy seemed poreless, as soft as a newborn infant, as smooth as the finest Suzhou silk.

Her skin was cool to the t0uch, immensely pleasant. Song Qingshu half-supported himself, looking down from above at this supremely proud woman.

Her snow-white neck was slender and graceful like a swan’s, carrying a hint of haughty elegance. Her shoulders were round and supple, her collarbone delicate and $exy. Her flat, toned abd0men had not an ounce of flab. Her slender wai$t seemed barely a handful.

The graceful curve of her waist swelled dramatically at her hips, a breathtaking sight. Her two jade-white legs, long and straight, were crossed together. The hands covering them showed that their owner was not as composed as she had pretended.

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