Flower Stealing Master

Chapter 1115: A Single Blossom in Jingzhou

Linghu Chong’s fury curdled into a cold laugh. “How utterly bizarre. There’s a saying: the hatred of a murdered father and the theft of one’s wife are debts that cannot share the same sky — yet you’ve stolen Yingying from me, and you’re still certain I won’t kill you?”

Song Qingshu replied with calm detachment. “Brother Linghu, this ‘stolen wife’ grievance of yours really holds no water. Did you and Yingying have a matchmaker? Did your parents give their blessing? Did you ever bow before Heaven and Earth together?”

“I…” The rapid-fire questions left Linghu Chong speechless, unable to form a single answer.

“Regrettably,” Song Qingshu said, “I have all of those.” The words struck like a thunderbolt from a clear sky, sending Linghu Chong lurching to his feet.

“You… you two have already bowed at the altar?” Linghu Chong’s lips trembled, his speech coming out unsteady.

“It seems Brother Linghu’s sources are rather poorly informed. Several months ago, at the Golden Serpent Camp, the wedding was presided over by my grand-master, the Great MasterZhang of Wudang. Yingying and I have already completed the ceremony and become husband and wife.” Song Qingshu quietly reflected: a gentleman may be deceived through his own principles. Linghu Chong was precisely such a man, which was why he dared to say this so boldly. Had he been facing a truly vile person, speaking this way would have been nothing short of suicide.

“No. I don’t believe it. You must have forced Yingying into this marriage.” Linghu Chong felt a sudden violent pain in his chest, as though the most precious thing in his life had been ripped away.

“I swear upon my life: Yingying agreed of her own free will. If I lie, may the five thunders of Heaven strike me down.” Song Qingshu’s expression was grave and earnest as he spoke the oath. He could afford to swear it without hesitation because Ren Yingying had indeed consented freely — she simply had not known the true face behind his mask at the time.

“Furthermore, this wedding was conducted by my grand-master himself. Do you really believe that a man of his virtue would have permitted me to force any woman to the altar?” Song Qingshu pressed on.

Having watched Song Qingshu take that oath without the slightest falter, Linghu Chong had already believed him seven or eight parts. When he then learned that Zhang Sanfeng had personally presided over the ceremony, all remaining doubt crumbled. Zhang Sanfeng was a legend of the martial world — the very embodiment of moral stature and virtue. Linghu Chong could doubt Song Qingshu, but he could not doubt Zhang Sanfeng.

“Yingying is now my wife, wedded through proper rites and with all due propriety. For Brother Linghu to keep entangling himself in this affair is hardly the conduct of a gentleman.” Sensing that the mood had been carefully brought to a head, Song Qingshu at last delivered his sharpest blow.

“I…” Linghu Chong opened his mouth, but no explanation came. He felt an unspeakable frustration lodged deep in his chest. Yet he could not entirely dispute what had been said — by the reckoning of this world’s customs, Ren Yingying was, in every legitimate sense, another man’s wife.

“I respect Brother Linghu as a gentleman, which is precisely why I speak plainly.” Since no blows had been exchanged during this conversation, Song Qingshu had found the opportunity to slowly gather the true qi within his body, forcing the poison of the Golden Devil Flower back into partial suppression. His vision had steadied — he no longer saw the doubled shadows that had plagued him. “Since the one Brother Linghu truly loves is still Miss Yue, why not seize this moment to look honestly into your own heart? As long as you keep in mind what I just described, winning Miss Yue’s affections again should be no great difficulty for a man of your character and talent.”

Linghu Chong fell into silence. Images of Ren Yingying’s countless kindnesses rose unbidden in his mind, and his heart twisted with a dull, grinding ache. Unable to contain himself, he burst out in anger: “No matter how silver your tongue, I will kill you today!”

“Are you quite certain, Brother Linghu?” Song Qingshu remained unhurried. “I am Yingying’s husband. If you kill me, you make yourself her enemy. And let us not forget that I have saved Miss Yue’s life more than once. What woman would ever give her heart to the man who slew her saviour?”

“You—!” Linghu Chong’s expression shifted between dark and pale. At that moment, a distant clamour broke through the stillness — a large group of men bearing torches was drawing steadily closer, clearly the pursuit forces sent by Li Kexiu, sweeping through the area on a thorough search.

“You’re not wrong,” Linghu Chong said after a long pause. “Killing you would grieve them both. Besides, you’ve been poisoned by the Golden Devil Flower — you won’t last long either way. It makes little difference whether I strike or not.” He glanced toward the approaching torches. “But don’t expect me to be magnanimous enough to save you again. The hunters are coming. Your fate is your own.” He turned and walked away.

Song Qingshu laughed openly at his retreating back. “Brother Linghu carried me out of Yangzhou city — that alone was an enormous favour. But as I passed on my secrets of courting women earlier, I’d say we’re even.”

At those words, the departing silhouette of Linghu Chong stumbled mid-stride, nearly pitching forward. “Hmph. If by some miracle you survive this, I will still come to settle accounts with you.” With a few swift leaps, he vanished into the wild dark of the mountains.

“I’ll take that as a blessing.” Song Qingshu couldn’t help but reflect that Linghu Chong was, in truth, a genuine gentleman — too proud to take advantage of a man already down. If their positions were reversed, he honestly doubted he could be half as magnanimous.

The torchlight was drawing ever closer. Song Qingshu dared not linger. He rose and staggered off into the depths of the mountain.

*****

Back in the city, Li Kexiu had sent the matrons of his household to examine Li Yuanzhi’s person. Learning that she remained pure and untouched, a great weight lifted from his chest. Then came the report that Song Qingshu had been spirited out of the city by someone. Li Kexiu could no longer sit still. Years of hard campaigns had taught him that once a thing is done, it must be done to the very end — otherwise the enemy’s revenge, when it came, would be all the more devastating.

He immediately mobilized the Green Standard Army forces, coordinating with Wan Qili’s men, and spread the search outward from Yangzhou in every direction. They would comb mountains and scour rivers until Song Qingshu was found. The direction in which Linghu Chong had been seen departing with Song Qingshu became the focus of their greatest effort.

Army scouts were trained trackers by nature. Before long, one detachment had followed the faintest traces of a trail to the right place.

As Song Qingshu lurched unevenly through the mountain wilderness, a sharp-eyed scout in the pursuing force spotted his silhouette from a great distance and cried out: “There! Over there!” The man sent runners to alert the other nearby detachments while the whole group surged toward Song Qingshu’s position.

“They say when luck turns against you, even cold water finds a way to lodge in your teeth.” Song Qingshu let out a bitter laugh. Spotted from that distance, on a dark night like this — did these men all come equipped with infrared telescopes? He grumbled inwardly, but there was nothing for it except to quicken his steps and press deeper into the mountains.

Fortunately, a fair gap still separated the two parties, and the terrain made mounted pursuit impossible. The trackers could not catch him immediately. But his trail had been blown, and among the pursuers were men skilled at following a quarry — with a violent poison eating through his body, Song Qingshu had no means to shake them loose.

*****

While this chase played out beyond the city walls, inside the hall of the Provincial Commander’s residence, a young married woman of blooming years was carefully binding the wound on Wan Gui’s chest. Her shoulders were delicate and sloping, her waist was slender, her figure tall and well-proportioned — in the warm flicker of candlelight, every line of her seemed to grow more lovely.

She let out a long, mournful sigh. “My husband… have you been hurting people again?”

This young woman was none other than Di Yun’s martial sister — Qi Fang, who had been deceived into marrying Wan Gui.