Flower Stealing Master

Song Qingshu was extremely surprised—he hadn’t expected Huang Rong to ask such a question. He couldn’t help but laugh and remark, “Such intimate, private matters of the boudoir—aren’t you afraid, Rong’er, that listening to them will sully your ears?”

Huang Rong immediately regretted letting those words slip out; her heart began pounding wildly. Hearing Song Qingshu’s teasing, she instinctively turned away and, feeling guilty, muttered, “Then don’t say it.”

Moving closer from behind, Song Qingshu leaned in and, in a dreamy tone, whispered into her ear, “Since you’ve asked, Rong’er, how can I be so cruel as to leave even your little bit of curiosity unsatisfied?”

The skin on Huang Rong’s neck could faintly feel the warmth of his breath. Her whole b0dy stiffened in an instant—even though she didn’t turn to look, she could sense that Song Qingshu was extremely close. That subtle pressure made her inner self tremble.

Instinctively, Huang Rong glanced toward Guo Jing not far away. Seeing him still sound asleep, she inexplicably let out a sigh of relief, “Don’t be like that—Brother Jing is still there!”

“I didn’t do anything at all~” Song Qingshu replied, his tone thick with amusement. “But I am really quite curious—why was your first reaction not to try to get away from me, but rather to check if you had roused your husband?”

Only then did Huang Rong come to her senses. She let out a low cry and hurriedly tried to step aside to create some distance. But before she could move, Song Qingshu’s hands clamped onto her shoulders with such force that she became completely immobilized.

“What do you intend to do?” she asked in a panic, her eyes darting repeatedly toward Guo Jing—partly worried he might notice something, and partly hesitating on whether to call for her husband.

Huang Rong was ordinarily an exceedingly clever woman. Had it not been for that fateful mishap last night, she wouldn’t have hesitated in the slightest. But tragedy was that what had happened the previous night still haunted her!

Compared to last night’s events, even if Song Qingshu were to take a small advantage now, it would be nothing. The real danger lay in disturbing her husband—if it provoked Song Qingshu into a murderous frenzy to silence her, things could become disastrously worse…

The very thought of the potential consequences sent shivers down her spine. Under normal circumstances, a couple like them wouldn’t fear one another, but now Brother Jing was severely injured, unable to use any martial skills; and although her own Dog-Beating Staff technique was quite formidable, in his presence Song Qingshu could likely subdue her with one hand.

Recalling how she had tried to resist last night only to be pinned down with no chance of fighting back, Huang Rong had completely lost confidence in her own abilities.

At that moment, she felt like a buyer who had unwittingly paid the full price in advance—with no certainty whether the seller would honor the contract and deliver. Bereft of any bargaining power, she could only cautiously comply, for fear that he might suddenly turn hostile.

‘I must get Brother Jing away as soon as possible!’

Inwardly, Huang Rong resolved that she needed to leave. In truth, she had originally intended for Guo Jing to rest here, but now she had come to her senses completely. Though the Jin people were despicable, the man surnamed Song were hardly any better—and if she stayed any longer, who knew what might happen?

“Don’t worry,” Song Qingshu continued whispering in her ear, “Guo Jing has been so tormented by the Jin these past couple of days that his spirit is utterly drained. Besides, the medicine he just took contains ingredients to calm the nerves, so he won’t wake easily.”

Hearing this, Huang Rong’s emotions became a tangled mess—she wasn’t sure whether to feel relieved or not. Instinctively, she shifted her stance and said, “Let me go now.”

“Rong’er, weren’t you curious about the intimate details between Madame Tang and me? How is it—do you perhaps not want to hear any more?” Song Qingshu asked with an enigmatic smile.

“Say it or don’t—who cares?” Although her words tried to sound indifferent, her b0dy no longer struggled; instead, she stood quietly, ears pricked, awaiting his next words.

“Madame Tang is an exquisite woman—v0luptuous and graceful, with skin so smooth and tender, and a face radiating charm. Every time I become intimate with her, I feel immense pleasure.”

Seeing the look of reminiscence on his face, Huang Rong’s cheeks flushed, and inwardly she cursed, ‘How shameless!’

“Rong’er, do you know what it is that I like most about her?” Song Qingshu suddenly asked.

“How would I know?” Huang Rong snorted, though her mind couldn’t help but conjure images of Madame Tang’s heaving b0som and those gleaming, long legs—it must be those two, she silently reasoned.

“You probably think I favor her b0som or her legs,” Song Qingshu said, as if he could read her mind, “but you’d be mistaken. What I like best is actually her status.”

“Her status?” Huang Rong was utterly confused. What could be so special about her status?

“Yes—she’s someone else’s wife!” Song Qingshu’s eyes flashed with an inexplicable red spark. “Because she is another man’s wife, every time I see her, gracefully yielding to my affections with a look of blissful delight, I feel an overwhelming sense of conquest and satisfaction. That is what I like most about her.”

“You really are such a pervert!” Huang Rong exclaimed, her lips parting in shock.

“A pervert?” Song Qingshu shrugged. “It’s merely a harmless little hobby.”

Her heart pounding wildly, Huang Rong finally understood why he had so persistently clung to her—a married w0man. It was all because of that very fact!

Their conversation had already grown quite explicit; never before had anyone dared speak so openly in her presence. Thus, along with her shame and indignation, she felt a curious thrill at the breach of taboo.

“After all that rambling, you still haven’t told me which instance with Madame Tang brought you the greatest pleasure.” This was something Huang Rong would never dare even imagine in normal circumstances—let alone ask a man who wasn’t her husband—but in the end she couldn’t help herself.

Song Qingshu laughed—a laugh that left Huang Rong feeling rather flustered—and asked, “Rong’er, why are you so curious about that?”

“I’m just curious—what’s it to you?” Huang Rong replied hesitantly, though she couldn’t very well admit that deep down she was secretly hoping to hear the answer.

“But if I reveal such a private matter, I’d be at too much of a disadvantage,” Song Qingshu said, stroking his chin with a hesitant look.

“Then what would make you feel it’s not a loss?” Huang Rong inquired. She felt herself growing bolder, gradually shedding her usual reservations, as if she were confiding in a close friend.

“Alright then, let’s play a game of Truth or Dare,” Song Qingshu suddenly suggested.

“What do you mean by Truth or Dare?” Huang Rong’s beautiful eyes sparkled with anticipation. Every beginning is difficult, but once started, everything falls into place. At first, she thought that discussing such matters with another man would be unbearably awkward, but after a while she found herself not only unrepulsed but rather inflamed with a burning curiosity for gossip.

“As the name suggests, it’s a combination of truth and dare,” Song Qingshu said, as if he were transported back to the carefree gatherings of his youth. “We take turns asking each other a question. If you choose ‘truth,’ you must answer honestly; if the question puts you in a difficult spot, you can choose ‘dare’—in which case, you must do as I instruct.”

Huang Rong was remarkably clever—even though she had never encountered such a game before, she quickly grasped the entire process from his few words.

“I won’t play. This game is clearly stacked against w0men,” she said, her cheeks reddening.

“What’s disadvantage about it? If you’re worried that the dare might put you at a loss, you can simply choose to answer the question. I won’t force you,” Song Qingshu replied dismissively.

A hint of excitement lit up Huang Rong’s expression. Proud of her quick wit, she thought that when the time came she could easily fabricate a lie to get out of a dare—and thereby naturally avoid having to perform any outrageous tasks.

“Fine, but I’ll ask first,” she declared, tilting her chin confidently. In that moment, her vivacity seemed to hark back to her youth.

“Of course—ladies first,” Song Qingshu smiled.

Just as Huang Rong was about to speak, she glanced over at Guo Jing not far away and hesitated, “Let’s go outside, so as not to disturb Brother Jing’s rest.”

“I’d be delighted,” Song Qingshu replied—his answer nearly causing Huang Rong to jump up.

Drawing aside the curtain, the two moved into an adjoining side room. Song Qingshu poured two cups of clear tea and, with a casual flick of his sleeve, set one steadily before Huang Rong.

Unfazed by his martial prowess—something she had long grown accustomed to—Huang Rong simply picked up a stool and sat on the opposite side of the table.

Song Qingshu couldn’t help but chuckle softly, “Why sit so far away? I’m not going to devour you.”

Huang Rong smiled sweetly, “I just feel more at ease keeping a bit of distance from you. Can we start now?”

Song Qingshu nodded, “You ask first.”

“I already asked the question,” Huang Rong said, pressing her lips together as a mysterious gleam flashed in her eyes. “Namely, which time with Madame Tang brought you the greatest pleasure?”

Song Qingshu fixed her with a deep, penetrating gaze, and only after noticing her shifting her eyes uncomfortably did he reply, “Every time she brings me joy—but last night, she brought me exceptional pleasure.”

Huang Rong’s heart pounded furiously. Forcing herself to remain impassive, she asked blankly, “Why?”

“Does this count as a second question?” Seeing a trace of irritation on her face, he burst into laughter. “Never mind; since we’re just beginning, consider this extra bonus.”

“Honestly, if you insist on knowing why, I can’t quite put it into words. Perhaps ordinarily we experience mostly physical pleasure, but last night, she let me feel a merging of spirit and desire. She seemed to carry a sweeter aura, her skin was smoother and more tender, her b0dy more supple… and especially the way she inadvertently revealed her struggle, along with those deliberately suppressed, delicate gasps—it was as if a respectable young wife were being vi0lated by a brutal bully. That overwhelming sense of conquest made it all the more perfect!”

As Song Qingshu spoke, lost in recollection of last night’s sensations, he failed to notice that Huang Rong’s pretty face was growing increasingly red, and that her hands were unconsciously twisting at the hem of her skirt—just like a bashful young girl.

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