Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 1100: A Token of Affection

Ding came back to herself quickly enough. Hmph. Her Brother Tian was still the best.

Cheng Yaojia, who had followed behind Song Qingshu, was not accustomed to so many men staring at her at once. She edged behind his shoulder with a flustered shyness…yet beneath that shyness, her face glowed with a particular warmth. What woman didn’t want her man to be this formidable?

Lu Guanying, by contrast, was practically beside himself with excitement. These great figures…men who in ordinary times would barely condescend to glance at him…were now bowing in greeting. It was something he could not have imagined before today. Men of this caliber, and he was standing among them.

In that moment, Lu Guanying thought quietly that perhaps everything he had paid had been worth it. Song Qingshu was genuinely someone worth following.

“Young Master Song looks just as impressive as when we last parted. Truly enviable.” Daoist Baishang let out a hearty laugh. The Vajra Sect master beside him wore a considerably less pleasant expression…the memory of his Indestructible Vajra Body being cracked open in that roadside inn was not one he revisited with any pleasure.

“You yourself seem to be aging in reverse, Elder.” Song Qingshu offered a faint smile by way of reply and let the courtesy rest there.

The reactions from Black and White Impermanence and the Bald Eagle had been striking enough…but watching Daoist Baishang and the Vajra Sect master extend such civility genuinely shook the others.

‘How does this boy grow this fast?’ Zuo Lengchan’s expression was thoroughly sour. It’s come to the point where I have to look up at him. His defeat at Song Qingshu’s hands on Mount Tai all those years ago had been the most shameful moment of his life…he had trained in bitter secrecy ever since. But every time their paths crossed, Song Qingshu’s cultivation had surged yet further ahead, until now the thought of revenge had ceased to be something he could even permit himself to desire.

Among the hostages, Han Dingxiao was studying the newcomer with alert, evaluating eyes. This young man stood there alone, entirely at ease, and the mere fact of his presence had stilled every faction in the courtyard. ‘If I could draw someone like this to our side,’ he thought, ‘nothing would be beyond reach.’

Wang Baobao was equally moved. He had heard the story before, from people in his household…how the Vajra Sect master, Daoist Baishang, and the great Monk Jinlun himself, escorting his sister and Lady Huazhen southward through the Central Plains, had been thoroughly humiliated in a single inn encounter with Song Qingshu alone.

Wang Baobao knew exactly how formidable those fighters were. The thought that they had been bested by the young man standing before him now sent an uncomfortable feeling through his chest. Tonight may not end cleanly.

Yet he gathered himself quickly and smiled with open warmth. “So it is the Golden Serpent King himself who honors us. Your fame has preceded you for a long time…seeing you in person, I find the reputation well earned.”

Even Wang Baobao was treating him like this?

The Southern Song group was stunned into silence. Mongols were known throughout the world for their arrogance…even an ordinary Mongol envoy would affect the manner of a lord before any Song subject, let alone a prince of the royal household. They had watched Wang Baobao’s imperious conduct with their own eyes not half an hour ago. For him to transform so completely at the sight of Song Qingshu made several of them quietly question whether they were still in the same courtyard.

“This Song has long heard that the Young Prince is the finest commander of the Mongol’s younger generation,” Song Qingshu replied smoothly. “Seeing you now, I find that reputation equally well earned.” One good word deserved another…and besides, this man was very possibly his future brother-in-law. A little courtesy cost nothing.

The compliment landed precisely where it was most welcome. Wang Baobao had always prided himself on his talents as a commander…and always nursed a quiet resentment that, lacking direct descent from Temujin, the western and southern campaigns had been entrusted to Hulagu and Kublai while he stood aside. Being praised to his face by a man of Song Qingshu’s standing and influence in the martial world…even Wang Baobao, who prided himself on composure, felt a faint warmth rise in him.

But he was too disciplined to let it carry him away. He steadied himself quickly. “I wonder…to what purpose does Young Master Song come to us tonight?”

The question sent a ripple of tension through every one of Ruyang Palace’s fighters. If Song Qingshu had come to stand with the Southern Song group, there would be a desperate battle ahead…and against their current state, every one of them injured, that was a very different prospect from facing him at full strength.

The Mount Song contingent went equally grave. This unexpected variable of a supreme fighter appearing out of nowhere meant that tonight’s original objective might slip entirely out of reach…and if things went wrong, they might lose far more than they had hoped to gain.

Song Qingshu glanced around the courtyard. “It is rather too noisy here for a proper conversation. Would the Young Prince perhaps do me the courtesy of a private word?”

Wang Baobao’s expression shifted slightly. His attendants immediately broke into urgent objection: “Young Prince, you must not…the wise man does not stand beneath a crumbling wall. This man’s martial arts are without peer in the world. To meet him privately would be to place your life entirely in his hands!”

Song Qingshu could see Wang Baobao wrestling with himself. He reached into his robes and produced something. “Once the Young Prince has seen this, I believe things will become clear.”

An attendant stepped forward quickly, took the object from Song Qingshu’s palm, and brought it to Wang Baobao. The moment Wang Baobao saw what it was, his eyes brightened. “Very well. Please, Young Master…let us speak inside.”

“Young Prince!” The Vajra Sect master and the others cried out in alarm.

Wang Baobao raised a hand to quiet them. “Stay at the door, all of you. No one enters without my order.”

Song Qingshu turned to Cheng Yaojia and said quietly: “Wait here for me.”

Cheng Yaojia looked at the fierce, battle-hardened figures of Ruyang Palace and Mount Song surrounding her, and her expression clouded with unease. “What if they—”

Song Qingshu smiled faintly. “Don’t worry. They won’t touch you.” Then his gaze swept the courtyard…a single, unhurried look.

Wherever that gaze passed, men felt something move through them without warning…a subtle inner jolt that went deeper than mere wariness. Even Zuo Lengchan and the other supreme masters felt a quiet chill rise from somewhere beneath their ribs, and each of them glanced instinctively away.

‘His martial arts have reached this level!’ Zuo Lengchan’s expression was deeply unpleasant. He had no wish to see Song Qingshu closeted alone with Wang Baobao…but he had no means to prevent it. The three factions had arrived at a precarious equilibrium; one careless move and the other two would unite against whoever disturbed it. All he could do was watch and wait.

Song Qingshu walked toward Wang Baobao at an unhurried stroll. Where he passed, Ruyang Palace’s fighters moved aside by instinct…not quite retreating, but opening a path all the same.

Watching him walk through them without so much as a glance, Ding called out despite herself: “Be careful!”

She had no warmth for Song Qingshu whatsoever. The only reason she performed the semblance of concern was that he had become the sole reliable hope for their entire group. If he grew careless and was swarmed, the Southern Song contingent had no chance of holding off Ruyang Palace and Mount Song combined.

Song Qingshu did not break stride…gave no sign of having heard…and passed directly through the ring of Ruyang Palace fighters.

Ding bit back a quiet curse. Biting the hand that feeds him. Serve him right if he gets ambushed.

Cheng Yaojia, who could not quite help herself, smiled and said: “There’s no need to worry on his behalf, Miss Ding. Those people cannot hurt him.”

Of everyone in the Southern Song group, it was Cheng Yaojia who carried the least doubt about Song Qingshu. The others all harbored varying degrees of uncertainty…but she had witnessed him act more than once. She had been at his side when he had extracted them both from Ruyang Palace’s full-strength lineup with effortless ease. Without that burden now, facing men already spent and injured, there was simply no danger to speak of.

“Who said I was worried about him!” Ding said, with a sharp exhalation…then her expression shifted into something peculiar and knowing. “Though I do wonder, Lady Lu…how does a married woman come to understand another man quite so well?”

Cheng Yaojia’s color changed. She turned and walked away without a word.

Lu Guanying shot Ding a hard look. “Mind that mouth of yours, girl.” This was his most tender wound, and hearing it prodded sent a flash of genuine anger through him. Some months ago he might have restrained himself more carefully…but with Song Qingshu behind him, and the Evil Exterminating Sword Manual now in his hands, he stood on steadier ground.

“You—!” Ding’s eyes flashed, and she was already drawing breath for a retort when Ding Dian fixed her with a look. “Enough. The enemy is right in front of us. Don’t give outsiders a spectacle to enjoy.”

“Hmph.” Ding Dian carried himself with a quiet righteousness that Ding had always instinctively deferred to in this clansman elder of hers. She swallowed the rest of it, turned her face away, and let out a single emphatic grunt.

Ding Busan, watching his granddaughter wronged, had let his eyes go slightly narrow…the look of a man in whom lethal thoughts were quietly forming. But with Ding Dian having stepped in, he could hardly press the matter. He settled for giving the couple…Cheng Yaojia and Lu Guanying…a long, measuring look, contempt unfolding slowly behind his eyes.

The brief friction within the Southern Song group drew little attention from anyone else. Every faction’s gaze was trained on the closed door, each of them turning over the same question: what in the world were Wang Baobao and Song Qingshu discussing in there?

*****

Behind that door, Wang Baobao turned the exquisite earring over in his fingers and regarded Song Qingshu with a look of measured puzzlement. “How did you come to have Minmin’s earring?”

It was precisely because he had recognized it…his sister Zhao Min’s most beloved pair…that he had agreed to take this risk at all.

“If the brother-in-law would be so good as to return it first.” Song Qingshu smiled pleasantly, and without any visible motion, the earring was back in his own hand.

Wang Baobao had no leisure to address that particular trick. He was staring at Song Qingshu with a deeply strange expression. “What did you just call me?”

“Brother-in-law,” Song Qingshu said, in a tone of perfect reasonableness. “This earring was given to me by Minmin as a token of affection. What else would I call you?”

“A token of affection.” Wang Baobao’s expression ran through several interesting variations. He had some doubts…but then again, Minmin had fallen out entirely with Zhang Wuji long ago, and the Xuanming Elders had been dropping hints for years about some vague entanglement between his sister and this young man. He believed it at roughly eighty percent.

“Ha! So we’re family after all!” Wang Baobao clapped him on the shoulder with genuine warmth. “Not bad, not bad at all. I find you considerably more agreeable than that Zhang Wuji.”

“The feeling is mutual,” Song Qingshu said evenly.

“Truly, great minds think alike.” Wang Baobao gestured for him to sit. “That b@stard nearly made Minmin disown her own family…she was ready to throw everything away for him. I’ve had no patience for him for years.”

Song Qingshu had long since made his peace with Zhang Wuji…the debt had been settled, one way or another. He had no particular interest in relitigating the matter, and let the subject go. “How is it that Minmin didn’t come to Yangzhou this time?”

“You don’t know?” Wang Baobao’s expression cooled in an instant, a sharp wariness kindling in his eyes.