Chapter 919: Burning with Jealousy

Song Qingshu couldn’t help being startled—Wanyan Ping hadn’t scolded him?

This sort of matter could be made big or small, and a single careless word could ruin a woman’s lifelong happiness. Her reaction was so mild—could it be because she was a woman of the grasslands, whose views on such matters were more open than those refined ladies of Jiangnan?

“Hey, why are you staring at me like that?” Seeing him fix his gaze on her without blinking, Wanyan Ping finally couldn’t hold back, her cheeks flushing.

“Because Ping’er, you’re adorable. Of course I can’t bear to look away,” Song Qingshu replied with a grin.

“Pfft, smooth talker.” Wanyan Ping, an innocent young maiden, was no match for this man who had, in his past life, sampled the finest arts of humankind. Just a single sentence from him made her flustered, and she spurred her horse to ride away.

Song Qingshu felt rather smug about his charm. After all, the same words coming from different mouths could produce completely different feelings in a woman. If an ugly man dared to flirt like this, he’d earn himself a “scoundrel” label and a slap within seconds. Only men with true charisma could make a girl’s heart flutter and elicit a shy rebuke—and clearly, he was one of those dazzling men. (G: sigh…)

Watching Wanyan Ping’s graceful figure as she rode away, his gaze gradually drifted downward to her pert hips on the saddle, and those long, shapely legs. He sighed inwardly—purely in terms of beauty, Wanyan Ping might not surpass her elder sister, or Daiqisi, but the fresh, vibrant aura she exuded was something neither of them possessed.

As for the question he had meant to ask her earlier, there was no need to rush. Regardless of her answer, they wouldn’t be returning to the capital anytime soon. Better to wait until nightfall, when the camp was set, to have a private conversation.

After that, Song Qingshu deliberately slowed the entire group’s pace, using the excuse that he had been t0rtured in the imperial prison and his body couldn’t withstand strain. Seeing that he didn’t have a single scratch on him, Pucha Ahute and the others nearly popped their eyes out—who was he trying to fool?

Still, they were all in the same circle, meeting often, so they gave him some face. Besides, the imperial edict didn’t specify a deadline, so Pucha Ahute simply treated it like a leisurely outing. As for the soldiers, they were more than happy to take it easy—what soldier actually enjoyed forced marches for dozens of li?

Not long after, with the sun about to set, Pucha Ahute simply ordered the army to make camp.

Wanyan Ping found a quiet slope by herself, sitting with her knees drawn to her chest as she gazed at the distant sunset. Thinking of her beloved brother-in-law dying quietly in Kaifeng, tears streamed uncontrollably down her cheeks.

“Princess? Princess?”

A man’s voice came from behind. Wanyan Ping hurriedly wiped her tears, turning to glare at the tall young man approaching.

“Pucha Shijie? Haven’t I told you many times—call me Chief, not Princess?”

Pucha Shijie gave a wry smile. “Princess, after what happened last time, the core members of the Laundry Courtyard were wiped out, leaving only us few senior members. His Majesty has shown no sign of rebuilding it. The Courtyard is now little more than an empty name.”

Wanyan Ping’s face darkened. “Silence! As long as even one person from the Laundry Courtyard remains, it will not perish.”

In front of Song Qingshu, she often acted like a delicate young lady, but before others she was known as the cold-blooded queen. Even though her power was greatly diminished, she still spoke sharply to her former subordinates.

“Do you know why I refuse to call you Chief, and call you Princess instead?” Pucha Shijie said with another bitter smile.

Wanyan Ping frowned. “Why?”

“Because calling you Chief makes it seem as though there’s only a cold, hierarchical relationship between us. But calling you Princess… makes us feel closer.” His eyes blazed with intense emotion.

“Do you… like me?” Wanyan Ping asked calmly, hands clasped behind her back.

He hadn’t expected her to be so direct, and Pucha Shijie choked, his dark face turning crimson. After a long moment, he seemed to gather his courage. “I… I… you… you…”

Wanyan Ping quickly lost patience. “What ‘I-I-you-you’ nonsense? If you’ve got nothing to say, I’m leaving.”

Seeing her truly turn to leave, Pucha Shijie panicked, blurting out, “Yes! I like you!”

Wanyan Ping paused and glanced back. “Done talking?”

Still flushed from the confession, he instinctively answered, “Yes.”

“Then I’m going.” She turned away again.

“Wait…” he hurriedly called after her. “Princess, does that mean you agree?”

Her brow furrowed. “Agree to what?”

“To… to be with me!” Pucha Shijie suddenly felt a sinking dread.

“Idiot. I don’t like you.” She took a few more steps. (G: ouch…)

“I know you like your brother-in-law, but that’s impossible!”

At his words, Wanyan Ping whirled around. “What did you say?”

Biting his teeth, Pucha Shijie forced himself to go on: “The Laundry Courtyard was founded on intelligence work. Your feelings for Tang Kuo Bian—who in the Courtyard doesn’t know? Everyone just kept quiet. But Princess, have you thought about it? Tang Kuo Bian is already your sister’s husband. Since ancient times, there’s never been a case of two princesses marrying the same imperial son-in-law. You two are doomed to have no future.”

“Whether there’s a future is my concern, not yours!” Wanyan Ping’s voice was cold as ice. “And if a single word of this gets out, I will not spare you.”

“Princess, can’t you stop being so stubborn? What’s so great about Tang Kuo Bian? In martial arts, in looks, even in family background—does he beat me in anything?”

Her eyes flashed with cold light, and her whip lashed toward his face. The strike came without warning, but Pucha Shijie, known as the number one expert of the younger generation, reacted swiftly, seizing the whip’s end.

“Let go!” Wanyan Ping tried to pull it back, but it wouldn’t budge.

“No!” His temper flared as well.

While the two were locked in a standoff, a voice drifted from the top of the slope—half amused, half teasing.

“Ahem… Am I interrupting something?”

They both turned to see Song Qingshu. Their expressions turned awkward, and they released the whip at the same time.

Smiling, Song Qingshu said, “Don’t mind me—go ahead and keep fighting. I’ll just say one thing and leave.”

Then he looked at Wanyan Ping. “Ping’er, come to my tent tonight.”

To Pucha Shijie’s astonishment, Wanyan Ping nodded. “Alright.”