Flower Stealing Master

Song Qingshu leaned down and ki$$ed Dongfang Muxue’s smooth, jade-like forehead. His dry, burning lips moved slowly downward, ki$$ing her slightly heroic eyebrows, her long, seductive Fenghuang eyes, her straight and pert nose bridge, then veered aside to take her crystalline earlobe between his teeth, gently blowing a stream of warm breath into her ear.

Dongfang Muxue was like a hedgehog curled up in defense. But Song Qingshu, that cunning fox, had found her weak spot. With a few puffs of warm breath, she could no longer stay curled up. She exposed her softest, most vulnerable b0dy unreservedly before the fox.

Sensing her breathing growing heavier, her gently twisting waist silently conveying an invitation, Song Qingshu was not one to refuse. He lowered his b0dy and pressed against her.

“Hpmhh!”

“…”

Watching from the side, Lan Fenghuang’s face burned. But even more than her embarrassment was her shock. The mistress who had once looked down upon the world now lay shy and submissive beneath another m@n. Her rose-flushed skin showed she was deeply aroused. Somehow, Lan Fenghuang felt a sense of loss, a faint fear that the mistress she adored might never return to her former self.

Noticing Dongfang Muxue’s slightly furrowed brow, Song Qingshu stopped. “Does it hurt?”

“A little… but compared to the injuries I’ve suffered over the years, this level of pain is nothing. Just keep going…” Dongfang Muxue snorted, her voice carrying an intoxicating, bewitching softness.

“…”

“Huh? No blood?” Song Qingshu was puzzled. Dongfang Muxue’s physical reactions and the initial tightness clearly showed she had never been with a m@n. Yet there was no trace of blood.

“Hmph, this one broke her own barrier long ago. After all, who knew back then that one day I’d end up pinned under a m@n?” Dongfang Muxue raised her long, slender, crystalline fingers and smiled triumphantly.

Beside her, Lan Fenghuang blushed, remembering how those same fingers had taken her own innocence.

Seeing their expressions, Song Qingshu understood. This was perfectly in keeping with Dongfang Muxue’s character.

No wonder, though she had been broken, entry had still been so tight. After all, a slender finger could never compare to a real m@n.

Song Qingshu felt somewhat disgruntled. He had been beaten to the punch by a finger. He bit it lightly. “Let you steal my thunder~”

Her finger caught between his teeth, Dongfang Muxue giggled. “Stop it, that tickles… Hey, don’t lick it…”

*****

After they had played for a while, Song Qingshu remembered the important matter at hand. He quickly mobilized the yin and yang energies within him to cleanse her meridians and marrow. 

Dongfang Muxue also fully let go, welcoming the entry of his true qi.

*****

No one knew how long had passed. Dongfang Muxue, her face flushed, pushed the man off her. “The Joyful Meditation Method is truly miraculous. My injuries have healed.”

Song Qingshu was exasperated. “Hey, I expended a great deal of my true qi to heal you, and this is how quickly you cross the river and burn the bridge?” 

When he had healed Ah Jiu, he had lost nearly half his internal energy. But Dongfang Muxue’s original cultivation was among the highest in the *wulin*. Though healing her had consumed a vast amount of his true qi, later, when her true qi replenished his, with their yin and yang energies intermingling and merging, in the end, he had not lost much internal energy. Instead, it had become purer.

*What an exceptional cauldron.* Gazing at Dongfang Muxue’s flawless b0dy, Song Qingshu was filled with emotion. Whether because her cultivation had reached the state of transformation and natural growth, the pure yin energy within her was almost impossibly rich.

Such a constitution was born of seduction. A man who t0uched her b0dy would never want to leave the bed. But because her pure yin energy was so abundant, though it brought unprecedented pleasure, it was also harmful to a man’s b0dy.

Fortunately, Song Qingshu had the Joyful Meditation Method. This pure yin energy was an excellent tonic for him. For an ordinary man, one night with her would likely bring on a serious illness. Frequent intimacy would probably drain his yang energy within three months, leading to an early death.

Dongfang Muxue pulled a blanket over her b0dy and smiled seductively. “I’ve been injured for so long. I need to take this opportunity to consolidate my cultivation, otherwise, your efforts today would be wasted. And as for crossing the river and burning the bridge—didn’t I specially prepare Fenghuang for you?”

Song Qingshu glanced at Lan Fenghuang. She quickly lowered her head, the roots of her neck reddening.

“Fenghuang, attend to my man well.” Dongfang Muxue reached out, grabbed Lan Fenghuang, and stuffed her into Song Qingshu’s arms. Then she said to him, “Use her as you wish, don’t hold back. My woman is naturally your woman.”

Holding the voluptuous, soft b0dy in his arms, Song Qingshu was dumbfounded. *What kind of situation is this?*

*****

Back in her tent with Zhou Zhiruo, Zhao Min spent half a day finally understanding what kind of therapy it was. She was both amused and exasperated. “There exists such a shameless technique in this world? I wonder which lecher invented it.”

“Mm.” Zhou Zhiruo found Zhao Min unexpectedly adorable at this moment—she was speaking directly from Zhou Zhiruo’s heart.

“That b@stard Song Qingshu listed so many drawbacks of the first method—clearly, he had ulterior motives. It makes me so angry.” Zhao Min flopped onto the bed, pouting in frustration.

“What are you angry about?” Zhou Zhiruo asked blandly.

Zhao Min’s eyes darted about. She sidled up to her and said with a grin, “Aren’t you angry at all?”

“Why should I be angry?” In truth, Zhou Zhiruo was somewhat uncomfortable. But if she showed it, wouldn’t that be exactly what Zhao Min wanted?

If Zhao Min was angry, Zhou Zhiruo would be different, to show her own magnanimity.

“Imagine the scene. Your husband is on t0p of some other seductive vixen—right in front of you, without any consideration for your feelings…” Zhao Min gesticulated as she spoke, mimicking the scene vividly.

Zhou Zhiruo’s eyelids twitched. Finally, she could take no more. “Shut up! If you keep chattering, I’ll find a needle and sew your mouth shut!”

Zhao Min pouted. “Tch, and you say you’re not angry.”

“Stop trying to sow discord between sisters,” Zhou Zhiruo snorted.

“Sisters?” Zhao Min’s expression was strange. “If you were the type willing to share a husband with other women, why did you fight me so fiercely back then?”

At these words, both women recalled some past events. They fell silent.

“Do you still plan to avenge Wuji?” Zhao Min suddenly asked.

Zhou Zhiruo pressed her lips together and answered coldly, “My husband is now Song Qingshu. If you want to avenge that surnamed Zhang, do it yourself.”

“How heartless a woman in love can be.” Zhao Min pouted mockingly.

Zhou Zhiruo laughed scornfully. “Am I the only one who has changed her heart?”

Zhao Min opened her mouth to retort, but in the end, said nothing.

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