Flower Stealing Master-Chapter 752: The Empress

“What are you staring at? Get lost!” The woman looked up at him, her face immediately contorted with disgust.

Song Qingshu clicked his tongue to himself. This woman certainly had a bad temper, and he couldn’t figure out what he had done to offend her.

“Turn around; do not look back unless I command it,” she said coldly. Then, as if recalling something, she added, “Wait—go outside and close the door. I haven’t called you, so you are not to come in. And don’t even think about running; the vital spot on your body can only be unlocked by my exclusive technique. No one else can do it.”

Song Qingshu curled his lips dismissively. ‘Was it really necessary to make such a fuss? It was only that your arm had a bit of exposed skin. If you were to see the beauties on the beach from this brother’s past life, wouldn’t you be utterly mortified?’

Had he obediently gone out as instructed, he wouldn’t be Song Qingshu at all. Instead, he leaned forward, ignoring her murderous glare, and with a sly grin said, “Lady, do you need help cleaning your wound? I can assist you.”

The woman grabbed her sword and pressed it against his neck. “How dare you make advances on me!” she hissed, her voice as cold as ice.

“Advances?” Song Qingshu mused. The sensitivity threshold among the women of this world was far too low—but it was precisely this reserve that made them, in a way, even more charming than the liberated urban beauties of his previous life.

“You’ve misunderstood, lady. Have you forgotten that I’m a eunuch?” he thought to himself. ‘Fortunately, there are no subordinates from the Golden Serpent Camp here; if they saw me act so shamelessly, who knows whether they’d still recognize me as their boss?’

The female assassin’s sharp gaze softened a bit, though her tone remained icy: “There’s no need.”

Although reluctant, Song Qingshu accepted her clear refusal—he couldn’t force her. Grudgingly, he stepped outside, leaning against the door as he gazed up at the moon, silently pondering: ‘I must quickly find out why this Xiao Xingguo is treated so well in the palace, and also who killed him. If that person sees the supposedly dead Xiao Xingguo resurrected, won’t they question everything?’

Bang!

While Song Qingshu was deep in thought, he suddenly heard the sound of a water basin clattering to the floor from inside. He hurriedly called out, “Hey, lady, are you alright?”

After several calls with no response, he rushed into the room. There, he found the woman fainted on the table. Her sleeve had been cut open, exposing a large swath of tender skin where the scarlet blood contrasted vividly with the snowy whiteness—a strangely bewitching sight.

“Tsk, now this fits the plot—just like on TV. When a woman is meant to faint, she just faints,” Song Qingshu remarked under his breath. He walked over and checked her pulse. It appeared she had fainted from excessive blood loss combined with internal injuries, though her life was not in danger.

Hoisting her up by the waist, Song Qingshu murmured in surprise. This woman’s figure seemed quite ample, yet she was surprisingly light.

After laying her on a bed in the inner room, he brought a basin of clear water to clean her wound. Glancing at the porcelain bottle clutched in her hand, he picked it up and sniffed; it smelled of healing ointment. He then poured it over her injury.

After bandaging her wound, Song Qingshu suddenly patted his head. “How could I have forgotten about this!”

He removed the veil from her face to reveal a charming, somewhat reproachful yet beautiful face. Her features were exquisite, though her complexion was unnaturally pale and void of any color.

Had he not met her before, Song Qingshu might have assumed that her pallor was caused by excessive blood loss. However, from their previous encounter, he knew that this woman was naturally pale.

“The yellow-robed woman?” he murmured, frowning slightly.

The reason he had come to Jin was because of the information she provided. Now, her solitary attempt to assassinate someone in the Jin Palace clearly indicated that she harbored some grudge against Jin—and the news she had shared about Song Yuanqiao at the Shaolin Temple had likely not come from a good intention.

“Is it beautiful?” A soft female voice suddenly asked as he pondered.

“It is beautiful,” Song Qingshu replied instinctively.

“Then have you seen enough?” The voice carried a trace of mild anger.

At that moment, Song Qingshu snapped back to attention and couldn’t help but laugh, “With such a beautiful face, one could admire it for a lifetime without ever growing tired. In just a little while, how could it possibly be enough?”

“Hmph!” The yellow-robed woman snorted coldly as she struggled to sit up, leaning against the headboard. “If it weren’t for the fact that you just bandaged my wound—and considering you’re a eunuch—you’d already be dead.”

“A lady with a sharp tongue but a soft heart; you wouldn’t really harm me,” Song Qingshu said, reaching out to help her. But she swatted his hand away, and he inwardly grumbled: ‘Could it be that, like Mu Wanqing, you swore a vow to marry the first man whose face you saw?’

The mere thought of Mu Wanqing warmed Song Qingshu’s heart. He wondered how her trip to Gusu had turned out. ‘With the secret manual I gave her—and the fact that she could mention my name at the critical moment—she should be safe.’

The yellow-robed woman spat disdainfully, “Smooth-talker! I think you don’t look like a eunuch at all—rather like…” She trailed off abruptly.

“Like what?” Song Qingshu inched closer to appreciate her stunning beauty, silently marveling that even though he had seen many beauties, in terms of looks and demeanor, she was undoubtedly top-tier.

“It’s nothing—just reminds me of a smooth-talking playboy I once met,” she said with a shake of her head.

Song Qingshu wore a puzzled expression. ‘Could she be referring to me? After all, at Shaolin Temple she had once described me just like that. A woman’s intuition is truly formidable.’

“What’s wrong with you?” she asked, glancing at him curiously.

Startled back to reality, Song Qingshu smiled and replied, “With your celestial bearing, the playboy who managed to leave an impression on you must be truly extraordinary.”

Her eyes grew distant as if lost in memory, and she murmured softly, “He really is quite extraordinary…”

Quickly, the yellow-robed woman realized her lapse and instinctively straightened her expression. “I’m going to tend to my wounds—get out, quickly!”

A disgruntled Song Qingshu protested, “But this is my room,” though inwardly he noted that it was really the room of that unlucky Xiao Xingguo.

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“From today on, I claim this room,” she declared as if it were only natural.

“Uh…” Song Qingshu almost wanted to remark that her shameless demeanor reminded him of his own in days past.

At that moment, a knock suddenly sounded at the door: “Eunuch Xing, Eunuch Xing?”

The yellow-robed woman sprang up, her sword gleaming coldly as she pressed it against Song Qingshu’s neck. “Who’s out there?”

Song Qingshu almost wished he could slap himself—why on earth had he foolishly taken her sword? Faced with her question, he found himself at a loss. After all, he wasn’t the real Xiao Xingguo; who in the world knew who might be coming?

“Uh, it must be someone here to see me,” he mumbled ambiguously.

“Nonsense!” she snapped, shooting him an annoyed glance. As the knocking grew more urgent, she reached out and shoved him outside. “You should know what to say and what not to say. Don’t forget that the vital spot on your body can only be undone by me.”

“I know, I know,” Song Qingshu replied in deep irritation, thinking: Why did I have to get involved in this farce and end up taking the brunt of her anger? But who is that person outside? Could it be the murderer of Xiao Xingguo—having learned from the guards that Xiao Xingguo wasn’t dead—coming to verify it?

With that thought, Song Qingshu became alert. Yet he now faced a dilemma: while he wasn’t afraid of that murderer, he couldn’t reveal his martial skills in front of the yellow-robed woman.

“Eunuch Xing, Eunuch Xing!” The caller outside pressed even more urgently.

“Why the rush? Are you mourning?” Song Qingshu retorted irritably, “I’m coming, I’m coming.” In his mind, he already had a plan—there was an assassin in the room; at worst, he could use them to do his dirty work.

Cautiously, he opened the courtyard door and found two young eunuchs standing outside. Momentarily taken aback, he asked, “What’s the matter?”

“Oh my goodness, the Empress has been waiting for you for so long. How come you’re still here, not in a hurry?” the two young eunuchs cried as they grabbed him and hurried him outside.