Flower Stealing Master

As soon as Song Qingshu’s hand slid around her waist, Huang Rong’s whole b0dy tensed. She glanced sideways, nervously relieved to see that her husband hadn’t noticed his movement.

However, her relaxation was short-lived. In no time, her pretty face alternated between red and pale as it became clear that Song Qingshu’s hand, resting at her waist, was far from well-behaved—in addition to holding her, it was caressing her l0wer abd0men.

Her heart skipped a beat, and she nearly let out a startled cry. But remembering that her husband was nearby—and considering they were in a veritable lion’s den—she resolved not to complicate matters further. 

After all, the greater advantage had already been claimed by that Song fellow. Besides, she already felt deeply guilty toward Brother Jing; if her impulsiveness caused him to end up in prison again, it would be unforgivable.

Determined, Huang Rong bit her lips tightly and allowed Song Qingshu to act lewdly t0ward her; she even deliberately twisted her b0dy to cooperate, all the while blocking her husband’s view.

Song Qingshu gave her a suggestive look, a smug smile curling at the corner of his mouth.

He had burst out of the dungeon with Guo Jing and Huang Rong, quickly drawing the attention of the guards outside. But as the martial adage goes—no matter how formidable a technique, only speed is unbeatable—Song Qingshu managed to leap ahead with the two of them before the guards could close in. He then led the pursuers on several wide detours before quietly slipping back into the rear quarters of the jiedushi’s residence.

“‘The most dangerous place is also the safest,’” he said with a smile. “Before long, Wanyan Liang will surely launch a citywide manhunt. Whether one hides in an inn or a private residence, none are as safe as being right under his nose.”

No sooner had they escaped danger than Huang Rong, as if scalded by boiling water, immediately pushed him away; her pretty face flushed so red it seemed as though it might burst.

Guo Jing, oblivious to his wife’s distress, weakly extended a hand in greeting to Song Qingshu and said, “Young Hero Song, you are truly both wise and brave. I, Guo Jing, am deeply grateful for your life-saving assistance.”

“Great Hero Guo, you’re too kind,” Song Qingshu replied hastily as he helped him up. “You and your virtuous wife have steadfastly defended Xiangyang all these years—heroes admired by every Han Ch!nese. When you were in peril, it was only natural for us to come to your aid.”

Standing by, Huang Rong couldn’t help but curl her lips in disdain. Brother Jing was so upright he always assumed the best of people—little did he know just how much of a b*stard Song was! 

Of course, she would never speak such words aloud.

“Brother Jing, we should first tend to your injuries,” Huang Rong interjected. She felt extremely uneasy that, despite his grievous suffering, he was still so grateful to that scoundrel.

“Rong, I’m fine,” Guo Jing managed a weak smile, though the cold sweat on his brow betrayed the intense pain he was enduring.

As her fingertips brushed over the iron chain wrapped around her husband’s pipa bone, Huang Rong couldn’t help but tear up. “Who could have inflicted such a vicious blow on Brother Jing…?” (G: pipa bone = the pelvis.)

“That traitor Wanyan Liang, intimidated by my martial skills, ordered his warriors to pierce my pipa bone as soon as they captured me,” Guo Jing explained hastily upon seeing Huang Rong’s eyes welling with tears. “Rong, don’t cry; I’m alright now, aren’t I?”

“After all this, you still say you’re fine?” she choked out.

Seeing her in sorrow, Guo Jing instinctively reached out to wipe away her tears—but then he remembered others were present. Ever mindful of propriety, he couldn’t bring himself to act so intimately in public. Yet, not wanting to simply stand by as she cried, he grew as agitated as ants on a hot pan.

“Madame Guo, you really ought to be happy now—how can you be crying?” Song Qingshu’s cynical tone rang out. Despite his brazen attitude, addressing her as “Rong’er” in front of Guo Jing made him feel somewhat uneasy.

Huang Rong silently sighed in relief. That Song b*stard was always outrageous and unpredictable; if he kept calling her “RongEr,” she wouldn’t know how to explain it to her husband.

But then she recalled Song Qingshu’s earlier words, and her brows nearly shot up. “You say I should be happy? Brother Jing is injured so badly, and you expect me to be happy?”

In light of recent events, Huang Rong couldn’t shake the feeling that Song Qingshu harbored improper intentions toward her—she even subconsciously believed he wished for Brother Jing’s downfall.

Guo Jing looked at his wife in surprise. In his eyes, she had always been exceptionally clever, and he had rarely seen her lose her composure. But now, her reaction was so extreme—and the person in question was his own life-saver. What on earth was going on?

Seeing Huang Rong like an enraged tigress, Song Qingshu quickly said, “As the saying goes, too much concern leads to confusion. Piercing the pipa bone is a method used by the authorities to deal with outlaws. Although it may cause one’s martial skills to be completely nullified, timely treatment can preserve them. Madam Guo, think about it: if Wanyan Liang hadn’t misunderstood the intricacies and personally ordered your rescue to suffer the pipa bone piercing, and if experts like West Poison had been involved, your martial abilities would have truly been ruined.”

Guo Jing nodded in agreement. “At that time, Ouyang Feng did indeed object, but Qiu Qianren, still seething over his elder brother’s past, persuaded him—after all, the process of piercing the pipa bone is excruciating. They intended to torment me further, yet who would have thought you could rescue me so swiftly? I must truly thank Young Hero Song; only because of you have I managed to preserve my martial skills.”

Only then did Huang Rong realize the truth, and with an awkward expression she murmured, “I’m sorry…I misunderstood you.”

Song Qingshu shook his head slightly. “Madame, excessive concern only muddles the mind. It matters not—we should first remove the iron chain from Great Hero Guo’s pipa bone.”

“Thank you,” Huang Rong murmured imperceptibly.

After about an hour, Song Qingshu threw the removed iron chain aside and let out a long sigh. “The chain is off now, but Great Hero Guo has sustained such severe injuries that he will probably need at least half a year of convalescence to recover.”

“Many thanks, Young Hero Song,” Guo Jing said, his face slick with cold sweat. He had been clenching his teeth just moments ago, and now that the chain was removed, a wave of exhaustion overwhelmed him.

“Great Hero Guo, no need for formalities. You’ve lost too much blood, and after your medication, you’ll need plenty of sleep to restore your strength. Besides, the situation outside is very tense at the moment—remain here and rest in peace,” Song Qingshu said with a smile.

“In that case, I must trouble you—Rong’er, please thank Young Hero Song on my behalf,” Guo Jing added before he could hold on any longer, and he soon drifted into a deep sleep.

Huang Rong set down the medicine bowl and carefully wiped the sweat from her husband’s forehead. 

Watching her focused care, Song Qingshu silently marveled, ‘what a model of a virtuous wife and devoted mother.’

When Huang Rong finished tucking Guo Jing in and rose to leave, she suddenly noticed Song Qingshu leaning against the doorway, his gaze fixed on her. Her face flushed as she whispered, “Thank you.”

Pointing to the fine beads of sweat on his forehead, Song Qingshu grinned and said, “Your thanks are rather unconvincing, aren’t they?”

Only then did Huang Rong realize that Song Qingshu also had a thin sheen of sweat on his head. In that instant, she understood that unfastening the iron chain from Brother Jing had required his utmost concentration and a remarkably precise control of force—any miscalculation could have injured the meridians around the pipa bone.

With her clever and delicate nature, Huang Rong had long feared that Song Qingshu, in his pursuit of her, might have covertly tampered during Guo Jing’s rescue, perhaps leaving him with hidden injuries. But as it turned out, he had resorted to no such underhanded tactics, and she was suddenly overcome with guilt—truly, she had misjudged a gentleman with a petty heart.

Instinctively, she reached for an embroidered handkerchief to wipe his sweat. But to her surprise, Song Qingshu recoiled, pointed at the handkerchief in her hand, and with a smile said, “I have a bit of a cleanliness obsession—I’m not used to using things that others have used.”

Only then did Huang Rong realize that she had just used that very handkerchief to wipe Guo Jing’s sweat. Amused by his remark, she thought to herself, ‘if you’re so averse to using what others have used, then why do you keep clinging to me?’

Though Huang Rong had always been confident in her beauty, now that she was married she couldn’t understand why Song Qingshu didn’t pursue younger girls, but instead chose to pester her.

‘Bah, bah, bah—I’m not some such thing… no, I am something…’ Her thoughts became muddled as she inadvertently recalled the events of last night. She couldn’t help but silently retort, “When you used Madame Tang last night, you didn’t seem at all averse.”

The moment the words left her mouth, her face burned with embarrassment. She never imagined that the ever-reserved her would end up discussing such matters with a man other than her husband.

Song Qingshu was momentarily taken aback, but he quickly recovered and laughed, “When it comes to using someone else’s wife, there’s no heartache—naturally, there’s no discomfort.”

“Disgusting,” Huang Rong retorted, her face flaming as she spat out a sharp rebuke.

“Surely, it was you who brought up this very topic,” Song Qingshu exclaimed indignantly.

Huffing in discontent, Huang Rong fell silent for a moment before suddenly asking, “What do you think of… Madame Tang?”

“A woman among women—once a man has been graced by her, he’s reluctant to leave his bed,” Song Qingshu said with genuine admiration.

Huang Rong had merely intended to inquire about Madame Tang’s character, but Song Qingshu had steered the conversation into unrestrained territory. Yet, accustomed as she was to his way of speaking, she wasn’t too surprised. Instead, she felt a sudden stirring of passion and, feigning nonchalance, casually asked, “When was the time you were happiest with her?”

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