Song Yuanqiao shook his head. “Qingshu, my mind’s made up. If you can’t save all these princesses, I won’t leave.” Zhang Songxi and Yin Liting hesitated but nodded in agreement.
“Don’t you care about Wudang’s reputation?” Song Qingshu, frustrated and anxious, didn’t know what else to say.
“No need to argue,” Zhang Songxi said. “We’ve erred and must face it. Master is no ordinary man, would surely approve once he knows the situation.”
Seeing their fear turn to resolve, Song Qingshu admired them secretly. Glancing at the three pitiful princesses on the ground, he recalled the outrage he felt reading about the Jingkang Shame in his past life. A surge of heroism rose within him. “Fine, let me defy fate this once!”
Though stirred, he stayed clear-headed, analyzing quickly. “Saving these princesses requires a long-term plan. Today’s not the day. To avoid raising suspicion, you’ll have to endure here a bit longer and play along with that vixen Wanyan Ping.”
Zhang Songxi beamed. “Qingshu, you’re willing to take such a risk to save them. This small hardship is nothing!”
“But that vixen will surely use this to coerce Wudang’s secrets tomorrow. How do we handle that?” Yin Liting asked, worried.
“That’s simple,” Song Qingshu replied swiftly. “Give her a formula that’s nine parts true, one part false—enough to fool her while preserving Wudang’s core techniques. You know Wudang’s arts better than I do; you’ll need to gauge the balance.”
Zhang Songxi exclaimed, “Brilliant plan, Qingshu! How’d you come up with it?”
‘You haven’t read The Legend of the Condor Heroes…’ Song Qingshu muttered inwardly, then hurried on. “No time for that now. The guards are coming. I’m off. Take care.”
With a tap, he unsealed the three princesses’ acupoints and drifted away like a feather.
“Qingshu’s Qinggong is unmatched,” Zhang Songxi marveled.
“You flatter him, Fourth Brother,” Song Yuanqiao said, though a proud smile betrayed him.
“Eldest Brother, Fourth Brother, I have a selfish request,” Yin Liting stammered.
“What is it?” Song Yuanqiao and Zhang Songxi exchanged glances, puzzled by his hesitation.
“Today’s events… if we die in Jin, so be it. But if we return to Wudang, please… keep this from Buhui,” Yin Liting said, embarrassed.
“Don’t worry, we’ll stay silent before your wife,” Song Yuanqiao and Zhang Songxi said, cheeks reddening. This isn’t exactly glorious for us either.
The three princesses began to stir as guards stormed in.
The trio fell silent.
*****
Leaving the Laundry Courtyard, Song Qingshu wandered the palace aimlessly, head pounding. Saving those Song princesses posed two challenges: extracting them from the heavily guarded palace and safely escorting them out of the city. Both seemed insurmountable for now.
‘First, I need to contact those princesses in the Laundry Courtyard, learn their numbers and conditions, then plan accordingly,’ he thought, frustrated but finding a thread of clarity.
With today’s commotion, returning to the Laundry Courtyard was impossible. He decided to head to the Tangkuo residence but paused, heart stirring, and redirected toward Xiao Xingguo’s quarters.
He wasn’t sure why—perhaps hoping to chance upon that yellow-robed woman again? He scoffed at himself; she’d left without a trace last time. Would she really return for a mere eunuch?
In a shadow, he slipped on Xiao Xingguo’s human-skin mask and strode boldly as him through the palace, unease gnawing at him. Xiao Xingguo had been missing for days—had anyone noticed? And the empress, expecting him every three days, had been stood up. What consequences awaited?
Xiao Xingguo’s quarters were dark, seemingly empty, but Song Qingshu’s keen senses detected a faint presence—perhaps the yellow-robed woman or someone with ulterior motives. Xiao Xingguo’s unclear death raised questions about who in this vast palace wanted him gone. Caution was paramount.
Feigning carelessness, Song Qingshu sauntered inside. As he opened the door, a cold glint flashed. He hesitated, not countering, and instead feigned panic. “Heroine, spare me!”
He cursed inwardly—Xiao Xingguo, a lowly eunuch, wouldn’t discern the attacker’s gender so quickly.
As expected, the yellow-robed woman’s icy voice came. “How did you know it was me?”
Song Qingshu’s mind raced. Feigning confusion, he said, “If not you, who else?”
“Hmph.” She sheathed her sword, seemingly satisfied, and limped to the inner room. Her face, paler than before, betrayed exhaustion. Song Qingshu blurted, “Heroine, are you hurt again?”
“None of your concern.” She sat by the bed, weary but still radiantly captivating.
As he studied her, she looked up, catching his gaze. She froze, then snapped, “Keep staring, and I’ll gouge your eyes out!”
Song Qingshu looked away, grumbling, “Beauty’s meant to be seen. Why are you so sensitive?”
The yellow-robed woman laughed coldly, “What does a… eunuch know about beauty?”
Song Qingshu retorted, “Eunuchs lack parts, not eyes. I can still see beauty!”
A faint blush colored her pale cheeks. She huffed, “Shameless!”