Flower Stealing Master

Reminder: you can become a Flower Stealing Master ($5 per month) member at NEW Goblinslate Patreonand get 64 Advance Chapters immediately, then stay 64 chapters ahead of the regular release for the month!

“Insolence!” Qi Fang’s heart leapt into her throat. She cried out in fury, “This lady is bathing inside — what right do you have to look?”

“My lady, please be at ease. This subordinate is only searching for any suspicious individuals. I would not cast a single glance in my lady’s direction.” The garrison officer replied coolly, then stepped steadily toward the folding screen. He had no choice in the matter — Li Kexiu had issued a kill order: if Song Qingshu was not apprehended, every last one of them would lose his head.

Weighed against that imminent danger, offending the Minister’s household women was hardly worth considering.

Watching the man’s silhouette draw closer and closer, Qi Fang grew frantic, at a loss for what to do. For her own part, she was not in immediate danger — her body was beneath the waterline, and a thick layer of flower petals floated above it; so long as she did not rise above the surface, nothing unseemly would be exposed.

But the moment he stepped inside, where could Song Qingshu possibly hide in this bathing tub? The officer had claimed he would not look in her direction, yet how could she believe such words? One casual glance toward the tub and Song Qingshu would have nowhere left to conceal himself.

Her gaze fell on the thick carpet of petals drifting across the water’s surface. A thought flickered through her mind: if Song Qingshu were submerged entirely, the officer might detect nothing at all. But the obstacle was plain — Song Qingshu was still unconscious, incapable of holding his breath. If she pressed him under without warning, he might inhale water and make a sound, which would only make discovery more certain. And if he made no sound at all, that was an even graver concern, for it would mean he was drowning.

While she was still wrestling with herself, the officer was nearly upon the screen. Left with no alternative, Qi Fang gently eased Song Qingshu beneath the waterline. Afraid of him choking, she kept his face parallel to the surface, his mouth and nose just barely clear of the water.

Then, to ensure that even those exposed features went unnoticed, she drew him against her chest, wrapped both arms across her own bosom as though modestly shielding herself, and left a narrow pocket of air between her hands and her chest — just enough space for Song Qingshu to breathe.

‘If you wake up at this very moment, I will… I will…’ Qi Fang was so tense she could hear her own heartbeat, yet even after wracking her mind, she could not work out what she would actually do if Song Qingshu truly came to at this precise moment.

The garrison officer stepped inside. His gaze swept the room in a rapid arc — nothing to be found. Instinctively, his eyes drifted toward the wooden tub.

“How dare you! Where exactly do you think you’re looking?” Qi Fang’s voice came out equal parts alarmed and furious. Had this man not pressed forward step by relentless step, she would never have been reduced to holding Song Qingshu against her in this position. She could feel the warmth of his exhalations faintly against the skin of her chest, and a flush of peculiar scarlet began to creep across her snow-pale complexion.

“I beg my lady’s pardon — this subordinate shall withdraw at once.” The garrison officer bowed in apology. In that fleeting instant he had already cast one glance into the tub — and aside from Qi Fang, there was no other person to be seen. The only space he hadn’t inspected was beneath the waterline, but even given ten times the audacity, he would never dare truly accost the young mistress of the Minister’s household. He had already pushed matters as far as they could go.

“Get out!” In ordinary circumstances Qi Fang would never have been so blunt, but after everything that had happened today — events so absurd they beggared belief — even her famously gentle temper had been worn to nothing.

“Move out.” The garrison officer’s own expression was black as a thundercloud. He had heard the commotion that brute had caused and imagined he might uncover some clue — instead he had come away empty-handed and earned himself an enemy in the Minister’s household besides.

‘What a wretched day.’ Cursing silently, he led his men out and vanished through the door.

Watching them go, Taohong — who had remained in the room, standing there at a loss — spoke up quietly: “Young Mistress, shall I help you dress?”

“You get out too!” Qi Fang snapped, unable to stop herself from venting her frustration. “You were supposed to be watching the door — you couldn’t even manage that. Go outside and close it behind you, then stand guard at the top of the stairs. If anyone barges in again, don’t think you’ll have a place in this household any longer.”

“Yes, yes, of course — this servant obeys.” Taohong bowed her head in contrition, but a flash of something cold and vicious crossed her eyes as she turned away.

When the door was shut again, Qi Fang at last exhaled. She felt utterly hollowed out, and without thinking she let herself fall backward, coming to rest against the rim of the tub.

She had forgotten that Song Qingshu was still in her arms. As she sank back, the unconscious man in her embrace slid forward with the motion and pressed against her — and by some ill-starred coincidence, his l!ps came to rest precisely against her che$t.

“Ah~” Qi Fang’s whole body jolted. She reached out hastily to push him away — but Song Qingshu, in his deep unconscious state, instinctively made a suckling motion. 

Qi Fang went rigid. The arm she had extended seemed to lose all its strength in an instant, and fell limply back to her side.

Suckling is an instinct woven into human beings from birth. Even unconsciousness does not erase it.

To Song Qingshu, lying insensible in the tub, it seemed as though a stream of divine nectar was flowing into his mouth. As it spread warmth through him, the pain wracking his body eased, just a fraction — and without thinking, he drew another mouthful.

“Ah!” Qi Fang finally came to her senses. Her powdered face burned crimson. She reached out again, determined this time to push him away.

Sensing in his stupor that someone was about to take away his nectar, the animal core of Song Qingshu surged up to defend what was his. His arms shot out and locked around the sl!ppery warmth beside him with a grip of iron, showing no intention of releasing his hold.

“Let go, let go!” Qi Fang shoved at him again and again without success. If anything, his hold only tightened. Growing frantic and furious at once, she threw her hands and feet into the struggle, fighting with everything she had to pry him loose.

It was no use. No matter how she strained, her efforts vanished into him like a stone dropped into deep water — without even a ripple — while he, for his part, only seemed to grow more enthusiastic.

“Release me~” Qi Fang let out a helpless whimper. A strange and treacherous sensation was spreading through her body. Flushing with shame, she instinctively curled down beneath the water — and Song Qingshu’s mouth and nose plunged under the surface. He choked at once and erupted into violent coughing.

Qi Fang seized her chance. She shoved him away with one foot, then scrambled out of the tub in a frantic rush, snatching a garment from the folding screen and wrapping it around herself. When she turned back, Song Qingshu was floundering in the water, plainly having choked badly.

“Serves you right.” Qi Fang spat in contempt. ‘I sacrificed so much to save you, and this is how you repay me?’ “Better if you drown,” she muttered.

As though her curse had taken shape, Song Qingshu thrashed in the tub a few more times — and then slowly sank beneath the surface, making no further sound at all.

“Stop pretending. Get up already.” Qi Fang was still working at her sash, her voice sharp with displeasure. In her estimation, Song Qingshu had long since regained consciousness and was simply feigning otherwise to take advantage of her.

“This incident never happened — and neither of us is ever to speak of it again!” Her chest heaved rapidly; it was plain her composure had not yet returned.

The tub offered no response. A beat passed — and then Qi Fang went still.

“Wait. Could he still be unconscious?”

She was furious at his earlier insolence, but this was a human life — a life she had fought hard to preserve. If he died in the end because of her, how could she live with that?

Qi Fang rushed to the side of the tub and thrust her hand into the water, groping for him. Her fingers found nothing. Her anxiety mounted; her upper body bent lower and lower over the rim — the soft contours of her figure pressed against the tub’s edge, their fullness all the more pronounced for it.

At that moment, a hand broke the surface of the water. It closed around her slender wrist. Before Qi Fang could react, she was yanked down and swallowed by the tub entire.

“Mmph—” She opened her mouth to cry for help — but the instant she did, a pair of burning l!ps sealed over hers, driving every scream back down her throat.

Qi Fang’s face drained of color. Throwing caution to the wind, she struck at him with hands and feet and poured her inner energy into her blows — yet his body was like cast iron, utterly unyielding to every strike.

And because she had been dragged entirely beneath the water, her lungs were running out of air in moments. Her face flushed deep red; her mind, starved of breath, began to cloud at the edges. The hands and feet she had hurled against him with such ferocity at the start gradually softened into weak, listless taps.

Qi Fang thought she was about to die — but then, a wisp of clean air passed from his l!ps into hers. Her body’s will to survive took over; she found herself drinking it in, greedy and helpless.

‘How does he still have any breath left?’ The fresh air steadied her mind by degrees. Her astonishment was beyond words.

But she quickly realized this was hardly the moment to dwell on that question. She strained to struggle upward, to reach the surface — only to find her hands and feet pinned beneath his, and the full weight of him pressing her down against the bottom of the tub.

“Mmph~” She made sounds whose meaning she herself could not have named. In her heart she would rather have died than suffered this humiliation — yet the primal instinct for survival was stronger than shame, and she found her l!ps parting against his of their own accord, drawing in his breath to keep herself alive.

‘Let’s see how long you can last,’ she thought, filling her mind with cold fury. Song Qingshu’s martial arts might be formidable, but he was no fish — the air in his lungs would run out sooner or later, and he would be forced to the surface.

But the situation mocked her expectations. Not only did Song Qingshu show no sign of running short on breath, he found a free hand and slipped it inside her collar.

‘What does he think he’s doing?’ Qi Fang’s eyes flew wide open, and for a moment her mind went completely blank.

His body burned like a brand pulled from a forge; even in the water, Qi Fang could feel the extraordinary heat radiating off him. When he finally drew his l!ps from hers and pressed his face against her mounds instead, something broke loose inside her. She erupted with the fury of a cornered she-leopard, thrashing with every ounce of strength she possessed.

But after thrashing and thrashing to no avail, she looked on with bewildered horror as her garments — fewer and fewer of them now — peeled away one by one, drifting upward to float on the water’s surface. And Qi Fang herself, deprived of oxygen for too long, felt her vision blur and her thoughts dissolve into shadow.

Just as despair closed over her entirely, he gave her another breath.

‘Stop tormenting me,’ she begged in the privacy of her fading mind.

Then all at once, something like a white-hot brand seemed to pass through the core of her being. Her body locked rigid — and Qi Fang closed her eyes, accepting what could not be changed.

*****

Song Qingshu felt as though he had entered a dream.

In the dream he sat cross-legged beneath a Bodhi tree, sunk deep in contemplation of the Way. The Heavenly Devil, Mara, materialized before him and tried every manner of trick to drag him from his meditation.

First came threats — Mara called forth a horde of demons and savage beasts to assail him. But Song Qingshu, who in his previous life had watched countless grand-spectacle films, was not the least bit cowed by the display. He watched it all the way one watches a stage performance, quietly appreciating the show.

Seeing that intimidation and physical assault had produced nothing, Mara changed his approach. He sent forward his three daughters — women of devastating, otherworldly beauty, seduction woven into every line of them — to lead him astray.

Related