Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 1111: A Thread of Hope

Li Kexiu was simultaneously furious and full of regret. Furious that the flower he had spent more than a decade carefully tending had been plucked by someone else. Regretful that he had ever agreed so readily to Wan Qili’s scheme against Song Qingshu.

However he measured it, marrying his daughter to Song Qingshu was nowhere near as desirable as installing her as Empress in the Song imperial palace. But that did not change the fact that Song Qingshu remained, by any honest reckoning, a considerable match.

And now the man had apparently gotten his daughter with child.

As far as Li Kexiu knew, Song Qingshu had a wife and no shortage of other women around him — but no heir. Which meant his own grandchild would be Song Qingshu’s firstborn son. Even if Li Yuanzhi never became Empress, a mother’s standing rose with her son’s. In an age of disorder, the distinction between a firstborn and a legitimate heir was not nearly so sharp as it was in peacetime — his grandchild might well become the heir of the Golden Serpent Camp.

But none of that mattered now. Song Qingshu was dying of an incurable poison. The relationship between them was broken beyond repair. And because of his daughter’s claim, the arrangement with Wan Qili was likely in ruins as well.

Everything in pieces and nothing to show for it. The thought came to him with bitter clarity. He was trapped — neither killing Song Qingshu nor letting him go sat cleanly.

Noticing Li Kexiu’s uncertain expression, Wan Qili felt a flicker of unease. He moved close and spoke in a low voice: “There is no need for the General to trouble himself. The young lady may well have been bluffing — have a few matrons examine her privately and we’ll know soon enough. And even if she is truly… in that condition, it need not be the end of things. There are ways of keeping such matters concealed. We can still send her to court.”

Li Kexiu’s eyes brightened. In his agitation he had lost sight of something obvious: his daughter had been in the military compound for weeks, entirely separated from Song Qingshu, and showed not the slightest sign of anything. How could she possibly be carrying his child?

He was not entirely certain, of course — a man with martial arts as extraordinary as Song Qingshu might conceivably have slipped into his daughter’s quarters some night — but Wan Qili’s assurance settled most of the weight from his shoulders.

Then he looked over at his daughter — the dagger still pressed hard against her throat, a thin trickle of blood already showing — and his heart clenched. He looked at Wan Qili with awkward helplessness. “My daughter’s situation — what does the Left Minister suggest?”

“Your daughter’s safety must come first.” Wan Qili’s smile was faint and tranquil. “Let Song Qingshu go.”

“But—” Li Kexiu hesitated, casting a wary look toward Song Qingshu.

“Have no concern. The Heavenly Devil Flower’s toxin will not let him survive the night.” A cold satisfaction touched Wan Qili’s expression. “And I have people posted outside.”

Li Kexiu understood at once. He had made his decision — though he had no intention of letting Song Qingshu simply walk away, not while there was still a risk of his daughter following him. That would complicate matters enormously.

So he arranged his face into a performance of reluctant difficulty: “Yuanzhi — you’re putting your father in a very awkward position, you know.”

Hearing her father’s tone soften, Li Yuanzhi’s heart leapt. She pressed quietly at Song Qingshu’s arm: “Brother Song, go now — quickly. I’ll stay here and make sure they don’t follow you. Get out of the city as fast as you can.”

Song Qingshu allowed himself a quiet sigh. Li Yuanzhi was young — not yet a match for her father’s decades of practice at this. She thought she had read him. What she hadn’t seen was that Li Kexiu was deliberately letting Song Qingshu leave precisely in order to separate the two of them.

He had no intention of saying so. Li Yuanzhi had already done more than enough for him — there was no reason to keep her in the line of danger. She had bought him a chance. Whatever traps waited outside, at least the odds were better than they were in here.

“Thank you.” He held her gaze for a long moment. “Take care of yourself.” Then he turned and walked away, unsteady on his feet but moving.

The people around him tensed to intercept — Li Yuanzhi pressed the dagger harder against her throat. Li Kexiu flung out his hand and let Song Qingshu pass.

When he had gone, Li Yuanzhi let out a breath she had been holding for a long time. Li Kexiu’s voice came out cold and dry: “Well. Are you satisfied now?”

Li Yuanzhi bit her lip. “I know what I did today made Father angry. But I had no other way.”

“All right, all right.” He looked at the faint beads of blood on his daughter’s delicate neck and felt his anger fold into something softer. “Put the dagger down.”

“No.” She shook her head with absolute firmness. “Not until Brother Song is far enough away.”

Li Kexiu let out a long, aggrieved grunt. “A daughter’s heart always turns outward.”

At that moment a commotion came from the covered walkway — Han Dingxiao strode into the courtyard at the head of his people. He had heard the disturbance from the beginning, but had initially held back, not wishing to interfere in his host’s affairs. He had sent someone to investigate quietly — and then discovered that what was happening in this courtyard involved Song Qingshu directly. That changed everything. Song Qingshu was the linchpin of his arrangement with Mongolia. If something happened to him and the Mongols used it to void the agreement, the recovery of Sichuan — the entire achievement of this mission — would evaporate. He had come immediately.

The scene before him made his brow crease. Then his eyes found Wan Qili’s face — and the crease deepened sharply. “Left Minister. What are you doing here?”

Wan Qili smiled with his mouth and not his eyes. “Why shouldn’t I be here, Vice Minister Han? You came — why not I?”

Han Dingxiao’s gaze moved between Wan Qili and Li Kexiu. Long years in the court had taught him to read a room, and what he read here was that these two had been working together for some time. The weight of it settled unpleasantly. “The Jianghuai situation has always been my direct responsibility. What does the Left Minister mean by inserting himself?”

Wan Qili turned and bowed with elaborate courtesy in the direction of the south — toward the imperial capital. “Vice Minister Han, I really don’t follow. We both serve the Emperor. Why should there be any question of yours and mine?”

Invoking the Emperor as a shield — Han Dingxiao felt a flash of anger and suppressed it. His expression simply darkened.

Wan Qili pressed smoothly on: “Besides, I heard that the Vice Minister had fallen into captivity and came all this way to offer whatever assistance I could—”

Han Dingxiao cut him off without ceremony: “The Left Minister’s kindness is wasted. I freed myself long since — and in the process concluded a three-party agreement with Mongolia and the Golden Serpent Camp that will recover Sichuan. If tonight’s events lead the Mongols to renege on that agreement, and Sichuan is lost again after just being won — is the Left Minister prepared to answer for that?”

“There is no need to try to frighten me, Vice Minister.” Wan Qili’s smile remained unhurried. “This Song person was merely a middleman. Now that the agreement with Mongolia has been reached, the middleman has served his purpose. Mongolia’s attention is entirely fixed on its western campaigns — it will not go to war over one Song Qingshu, whatever its private displeasure. Your credit for recovering Sichuan is secure. No one is taking that from you.”

“You—!” Han Dingxiao bit down on what came naturally to his lips and swallowed a full measure of cold fury. “We are a dynasty of proper conduct and good faith. To break a covenant — to invite the contempt of the world — how could we do such a thing?”