Chapter 921: I Take the Bed, You Take the Floor

Wanyan Ping turned back to look at him in disbelief. “Have you lost your mind, or have I?”

Song Qingshu shrugged. “Why does this surprise you so much?”

“First of all, such things are forbidden in the military camp. And even if they weren’t, do you really think I would sleep with you?” Wanyan Ping retorted angrily.

“First, this isn’t an official military operation—no one cares about such details. Second,” Song Qingshu raised a second finger, “why wouldn’t you sleep with me?”

Wanyan Ping’s expression turned icy. “True, we’ve been intimate before. But now I know you’re not my brother-in-law. Did you think that just because of that one night, I’d be like those Han women who pledge themselves for life to the man who took their virtue?”

“Because I know one night isn’t enough, that’s exactly why I want more nights with you. Our feelings should deepen, don’t you think?” Song Qingshu grinned. “Even if you’re not Han, I am. After that night, I already considered you my woman. Are you trying to go back on your word now?”

“Shameless!” Wanyan Ping could no longer contain her fury and lashed her whip toward his face.

Song Qingshu caught the tip of the whip, flicked his wrist, and sent her stumbling uncontrollably into his arms. Holding her waist to steady her, he whispered in her ear, “We’ve fought before. You know you’re no match for me. Did you attack me just as an excuse to throw yourself at me?”

“You—!” Wanyan Ping was nearly mad with rage when suddenly, Song Qingshu pressed a finger to her lips.

“Shh! Did you bring backup?”

Wanyan Ping shook her head blankly.

Song Qingshu plucked an earring from her ear, listening intently before flicking it outward.

Wanyan Ping couldn’t even track its movement before a muffled grunt sounded outside the tent.

In the next instant, Song Qingshu lunged forward, darting out of the tent. A series of low thuds followed—fists meeting palms—before silence returned. When Song Qingshu reappeared, he was dragging a masked man by the throat.

“Who is he?” Wanyan Ping gasped.

“No idea,” Song Qingshu said, shaking his head. “But his martial arts aren’t bad.” He yanked off the black cloth covering the man’s face.

Wanyan Ping froze. “Pucha Shijie?”

Pucha Shijie burned with humiliation. Known as the second-best fighter in the capital after Daxing Guo, he had even mocked Tangkuo Bian’s martial skills in front of Wanyan Ping earlier that evening. Yet now, he was being held like a helpless chick in the man’s grip—defeated in just three moves! Though he could blame the initial ambush for catching him off guard, true masters fought for dominance from the first strike. There was no such thing as a fair duel in real combat, and Pucha Shijie knew this all too well.

Being exposed in front of someone familiar versus a stranger evoked entirely different reactions. For instance, when others discovered Song Qingshu’s peerless martial prowess, people like Gebi immediately realized he was an imposter. But Pucha Shijie simply assumed that Tangkuo Bian had been hiding his true strength all these years, never once doubting his identity.

“So it’s Young General Pucha. What brings you here in the dead of night?” Song Qingshu released him. He had initially considered silencing the intruder to avoid complications, but given Pucha Shijie’s status as the heir of Pucha Ahute, that was no longer an option. Fortunately, the man hadn’t been eavesdropping long enough to hear anything incriminating.

Rubbing his throat and gasping for air, Pucha Shijie stammered in shame, “I—I was worried about the princess’s safety, so I followed to check.”

“What danger could I possibly be in?” Wanyan Ping snapped, though her face flushed as she recalled her earlier stumble into Song Qingshu’s embrace.

Song Qingshu smirked in realization. “Young General, do you have feelings for Ping’er?”

Hearing the affectionate address, Pucha Shijie’s heart twisted, but the sheer gap in their martial prowess left him resigned. “Yes…”

“Admiring a fair maiden is a noble pursuit. But have you heard the saying, ‘Fate is decreed by heaven; forcing it brings no blessing’?” From the intelligence Song Qingshu had gathered in the capital, Pucha Shijie was a decent man—rarely indulging in the vices of nobility and known for his integrity. Song Qingshu saw no reason to torment him further. “Ping’er has already rejected you. Why cling to hopeless affection?”

Pucha Shijie’s face darkened with despair. “After tonight, I have no right to pursue the princess any longer. But there’s one thing I must say—I hope the Left Deputy Minister won’t take offense.”

“Speak freely,” Song Qingshu gestured.

“I know the princess favors you, but you are already the consort of the a Princess of the Dynasty. How can you promise her happiness?” Pucha Shijie stared at him intently.

Before Song Qingshu could respond, Wanyan Ping cut in coldly, “That’s between him and me. You’re an outsider—don’t meddle. Even if my brother-in-law can’t marry me, I’d willingly be his secret lover.” Though she disliked Song Qingshu, compared to Pucha Shijie’s relentless pestering, he was far more tolerable.

Pucha Shijie looked as if struck by lightning. A bitter laugh escaped him. “I see now. I was too presumptuous before. I beg the princess’s forgiveness.”

As his figure vanished into the night, Song Qingshu sighed. “Your words must have crushed him.”

Wanyan Ping snorted. “If I didn’t say that, how else would he give up?”

Song Qingshu leaned closer. “Then, were you serious just now?”

“Don’t get ahead of yourself,” Wanyan Ping retreated a step. “Even if I meant what I said, it was about my real brother-in-law—not an imposter like you.”

“I’m not an imposter,” Song Qingshu said smugly. “Ask your sister. I may not be your former brother-in-law, but I’ll be your future one.”

“What nonsense!” Wanyan Ping spat, turning to leave—only for Song Qingshu to block her path in a blur.

“I won’t let you go tonight. If you walk away now, I might lose you forever.” His gaze was steady.

Seeing that even Pucha Shijie was no match for him, Wanyan Ping abandoned all thought of resistance. Their peculiar relationship also made calling for help impossible. After a long pause, she finally stamped her foot. “Fine, I’ll stay. But I take the bed—you sleep on the floor.”

“Deal,” Song Qingshu agreed without hesitation.