Midnight Flying Thief

Song Qingshu was suddenly overcome with despair. The Sweeping Monk was practically a godlike figure in the world of Jin novels; if even he said there was no cure, then there truly was no hope.

Seeing him on the verge of collapse, the Sweeping Monk silently uttered a Buddhist invocation and said slowly, "Martial arts are but worldly possessions. Why must you cling to them so stubbornly, young hero? The martial arts of today bring about much slaughter. Though the occasional righteous person may save one or two lives, how can that compare to Buddhism's salvation of all living beings? Why not devote yourself to the study of Buddhist teachings from this day forth..."

The Sweeping Monk's voice seemed to possess a calming power. Song Qingshu gradually settled down, but when he saw the other man urging him to enter the Buddhist faith, he was far from convinced. He quickly declined, "I appreciate your kindness, Master, but there are still far too many mysteries in my heart that I need to verify one by one. I truly cannot withdraw from the world into Buddhism just like that."

"So be it. I can see that your worldly ties have yet to be severed, so I shall not force you." Nameless shook his head, then suddenly extended a finger and tapped several major acupoints across Song Qingshu's body. Song Qingshu felt several warm currents envelop his entire body. Nameless had already turned and drifted away, his voice carrying back from afar. "This old monk has used true qi to protect your meridians, preventing them from withering for the time being. In all the world today, perhaps only the Four Great Divine Doctors may have a solution for your injury..."

"The Four Great Divine Doctors?" Hearing Song Qingshu's question, Zhou Zhiruo furrowed her delicate brows and thought carefully. "Among those in the world today worthy of being called divine doctors are none other than Butterfly Valley Medical Immortal Hu Qingniu, The Killer Physician Ping Yizhi of Kaifeng, Divine Doctor Xue of Songzhou City, and—oh, the legendary Poison Hand Medicine King."

Seeing the hopeful look in her husband's eyes, Zhou Zhiruo could not bear it either. She comforted him, "Qingshu, Zhang Wuji has already inherited Hu Qingniu's full teachings. One could say the student has surpassed the master. If even he has no solution, the medical skills of the other divine doctors are only on par with Hu Qingniu's. I doubt they would be of any help..."

Song Qingshu thought she wanted to remain here and wait for Zhang Wuji rather than accompany him, and irritation rose within him. He blurted out, "Don't mention that man!" The moment the words left his mouth, he regretted them.

Zhou Zhiruo had not expected such a strong reaction from him. Yet she knew very well that because of her, Song Qingshu had always hated Zhang Wuji intensely. Thinking of how deeply devoted he had always been to her, her heart softened. She gently persuaded him, "Qingshu, losing your martial arts is no great matter. Let's return to Emei together and stop concerning ourselves with the grudges and feuds of the martial world. By then, what difference would it make whether you have martial arts or not? What do you say?"

Song Qingshu had never seen Zhou Zhiruo so tender and gentle, pleading with him in such a soft voice. Looking at her radiant, lovely face, he was momentarily entranced.

Seeing him stare blankly at her, even though they were husband and wife in name, Zhou Zhiruo could not help feeling shy. She shot him an annoyed glance. "Haven't you looked long enough?" "I could look for a lifetime and still not have enough," Song Qingshu answered instinctively. Then, suddenly puzzled by the drastic change in her attitude, he looked at her uncertainly. "You're really willing to return to Emei with me?"

"You are my husband. If I do not return to Emei with you, who else would I return with?" Zhou Zhiruo said softly, though a trace of loneliness remained hidden deep in her eyes. That night, Zhang Wuji had taken the initiative to embrace her. Although Zhou Zhiruo had refused him, she had still felt a faint secret joy, knowing that Zhang Wuji had always harbored deep feelings for her. Yet so many days had passed afterward, and Zhang Wuji had given her no explanation. She knew that he likely cared more for that Princess Consort. Amid her disappointment, she thought of how Zhang Wuji was not even a tenth as good to her as Song Qingshu had been. For a time, her heart turned cold. Moreover, Song Qingshu had become a cripple because of her this time. Zhou Zhiruo only wanted to return to Emei with him as soon as possible and spend the rest of her life with him.

Overjoyed, Song Qingshu could not resist pulling Zhou Zhiruo into his arms. To hell with troubled times and peerless martial arts. With such a breathtaking beauty by my side, this life would not have been wasted.

Caught in his embrace without warning, Zhou Zhiruo's body stiffened instinctively. But thinking that he was, after all, her husband, she gradually relaxed.

Holding such a fragrant, delicate body, its exquisite curves soon stirred Song Qingshu. He lowered his head and kissed her face.

Zhou Zhiruo instinctively wanted to dodge, but then she suddenly remembered everything he had sacrificed for her, and her mind went blank.

Song Qingshu was no longer the fool who only knew how to fight over pride. While Zhou Zhiruo hesitated, he had already successfully kissed her cherry-red lips.

Zhou Zhiruo's eyes widened at once. While she was still stunned, Song Qingshu took the opportunity to part her lips.

Her breath was fragrant as orchids, and sweetness lingered between their lips and teeth. At that moment, Song Qingshu felt as though his whole body were about to melt. After her initial shock, Zhou Zhiruo closed her eyes as if resigning herself to it, though her heart was in complete turmoil.

Even during that brief embrace with Zhang Wuji, Zhou Zhiruo's heart had pounded furiously. Yet now, kissing Song Qingshu, she felt nothing in particular. She merely allowed him to do as he pleased, passive throughout. All she felt was a maiden's instinctive shyness and endless bewilderment.

Slap! A chill touched her chest, and Zhou Zhiruo snapped back to her senses. Instinctively, she slapped him, then spun away and broke free from Song Qingshu's arms, looking at him with faint anger on her face.

Song Qingshu inwardly cursed his mistake. He had instinctively used the flirtatious caressing methods of the modern age, forgetting that she was still an unmarried maiden of this ancient era. How could she possibly endure such boldness? Still, being slapped by a woman—though it had not been hard—made him lose face. His expression turned awkward.

Seeing the faint red mark on his face, Zhou Zhiruo felt somewhat apologetic, remembering that he was her husband after all. She could only explain, "This is Shaolin, a place of peace and purity, and it is broad daylight besides. You've made things too embarrassing for me."

Her words instead filled Song Qingshu with delight. Does that mean if we were somewhere else, at night, you'd give in if I did that? Of course, he did not dare say it aloud. He merely asked, "My injuries have mostly healed now. When shall we return to Emei?" At this moment, he only wanted to leave this place as quickly as possible. Once he was far away from Zhang Wuji, with enough coaxing and persistence, plus their perfectly legitimate status as husband and wife, truly making her his would only be a matter of time.

"It is already late. We'll rest for the night and set out tomorrow morning." After speaking, Zhou Zhiruo touched her burning cheeks and hurried out.

Left alone in the room, Song Qingshu sat on the bed, recalling the wonderful feeling from before and chuckling foolishly to himself. Heaven has truly treated me well. Not only did it give me a second life, it even handed me such an incomparably beautiful fairy. Compared to that, what did it matter if I could no longer practice martial arts in this life?

When night fell, Zhou Zhiruo returned to the room. To outsiders, they were husband and wife, so naturally they had to sleep in the same room. After helping Song Qingshu lie down, Zhou Zhiruo went to the other bed and lay down.

Lying on his side and staring at Zhou Zhiruo's graceful curves on the opposite bed, Song Qingshu practically drooled without end. Such a peerless beauty was right before him, yet he could only look and not touch. It was truly too regrettable.

Sleepiness gradually overcame him. Just as Song Qingshu closed his eyes, a masked figure flashed in through the window and swiftly struck several major acupoints across his body.