Blossom

Wei Tingyu frowned deeply upon hearing this.

How could such a major matter be left entirely to Song Mo's whims?

Where was the dignity of the imperial court? What of the face of the Five Cities Garrison and Shuntian Prefecture?

He couldn't help but say, "Isn't it inappropriate for the Duke of England's Mansion to offer such a hefty reward? After all, catching thieves and apprehending criminals are the duties of the authorities. Your approach makes it seem as though the Five Cities Garrison and Shuntian Prefecture are working for you..."

The Duke of Dongping was furious.

Some things were better understood than spoken aloud.

He shot Wei Tingyu an annoyed glance and said coldly, "When I'm speaking with the Young Lord, who gave you the right to interrupt?" Then, turning back to Song Mo, he continued, "Regarding the reward, we must discuss it thoroughly with Lord Huang and establish a proper code of conduct—how can we distinguish the thieves when we don't know them? What if someone kills innocent people to claim credit? Or if someone deceives us? We mustn't end up letting the thieves go while wronging the innocent, turning your good intentions into a situation where enemies rejoice and loved ones suffer. Yet we can't delay the hunt for the thieves either." He pondered for a moment. "How about we meet at Shuntian Prefecture tomorrow morning? The Young Lord still holds the sword bestowed by the Emperor, a relic of Emperor Taizong. Surely, we can't just stand by and watch the Five Cities Garrison and Shuntian Prefecture do all the work?" He forced a dry chuckle.

At any rate, the news had already been spread. As for what schemes the Duke of Dongping and Huang Qi were plotting, let them worry about it themselves.

Song Mo agreed with a smile.

Wei Tingyu's face flushed crimson with shame, and he couldn't lift his head.

Wang Qinghai, too, was at a loss for words and sat silently beside him, refilling the wine cups whenever the Duke of Dongping or Song Mo's drinks ran low. In contrast, Wei Tingyu not only appeared dull but also inadvertently reminded others of his status as a marquis, making him seem somewhat pretentious.

Fortunately, the Duke of Dongping was preoccupied and didn't dwell on him, sparing Wei Tingyu further embarrassment for the rest of the evening.

After three rounds of drinks between Song Mo and the Duke of Dongping, both knew that without settling the reward matter, further in-depth discussion was pointless. They began chatting about the romantic and leisurely affairs of the Capital. Compared to his earlier "naivety," Song Mo now carried himself with grace—refined yet approachable, elegant yet unpretentious—outshining even seasoned officials.

The Duke of Dongping couldn't help but marvel inwardly. He began to vaguely grasp Song Mo's intentions.

He sighed in admiration.

Who would have thought that someone as weak-willed as Song Yichun could raise such a formidable son? It seemed the Duke of England's Mansion would once again stand unrivaled within a decade.

As this thought crossed his mind, he grew even more puzzled by the rift between Song Yichun and Song Mo.

If he had a son like Song Mo, even if the boy stole his concubine, he would still strive to secure his future. How could anyone hinder their own child's prospects?

But this was, after all, Song Yichun's family affair.

The Duke of Dongping shook his head slightly, dismissing the thought, and engaged in lighthearted banter with Song Mo until the second night watch drum sounded, when they finally parted ways.

Wang Qinghai and Wei Tingyu trailed behind the Duke of Dongping like wilted eggplants, utterly dispirited.

The Duke of Dongping called out to Wang Qinghai, "Help me back!"

Wang Qinghai didn't dare delay and hurried forward to assist the Duke into his carriage.

The Duke of Dongping bid farewell to Song Mo.

Wang Qinghai shot Wei Tingyu an apologetic glance, regretful that he couldn't accompany him in and out as usual.Wei Tingyu forced a smile uglier than a grimace and nodded weakly at Wang Qinghai, signaling that it was alright and that he should focus on serving the Duke of Dongping.

Wang Qinghai sighed in relief. Once the Duke of Dongping and Song Mo had finished exchanging pleasantries, he boarded the carriage.

The carriage slowly moved forward.

The Duke of Dongping, who had seemed moments ago to be drowsy with drink, suddenly opened his eyes, completely alert, and ordered the coachman, “Quick. Turn the corner and stop at the bend near Drunken Immortal Tower.”

Though puzzled, the coachman obeyed without hesitation, steering the carriage to the designated spot.

The Duke lifted the carriage curtain, and Wang Qinghai saw Song Mo stride straight to his own carriage without so much as a glance at Wei Tingyu, then whip his horses and leave Drunken Immortal Tower Street behind.

The Duke closed his eyes and calmly addressed his son-in-law, Wang Qinghai. “Dahai, from now on, you should keep your distance from the Marquis of Jining. That man not only lacks the makings of greatness but might also drag you down with him.”

Wang Qinghai’s mind was in turmoil. He hadn’t realized the relationship between Song Mo and Wei Tingyu had deteriorated to this extent, nor had he expected his father-in-law to deliberately circle back just to let him witness this scene firsthand.

He murmured an acknowledgment.

His tone was a mix of confusion, bewilderment, and a hint of helplessness.

The Duke didn’t press him further, closing his eyes again as the swaying carriage carried them back to the Duke of Dongping’s mansion.

Song Mo was quite satisfied with today’s meeting.

With his deliberate theatrics, he was certain the Capital’s streets and alleys would buzz tomorrow with talk of his dissolute behavior, which would also help soften his fearsome reputation. And there was an added bonus—bad news travels fast. By tomorrow, most of the Capital would know he and Wei Tingyu were at odds, ensuring that any future troubles in the Marquis of Jining’s household wouldn’t be linked to him.

It felt like shaking off a clump of mud—instantly lifting his spirits.

Once again, he silently thanked the Bodhisattvas of the Western Paradise that Wei Tingyu had claimed Dou Ming back then.

Had Dou Zhao married him instead, Song Mo would have spent his life in endless heartache and unrest.

Lost in these thoughts, Song Mo, freshly bathed, gazed at Dou Zhao sleeping peacefully under the soft lamplight, her beauty like a blooming hibiscus. Unable to resist, he pounced on her. “Shou Gu, Shou Gu…” He kissed her wildly, trying to rouse her, craving her warm response, her playful laughter, her teasing—anything to confirm she was in his arms, happy to be with him… as if only then would his heart feel more settled, more at peace.

Dou Zhao, crushed beneath him, gasped for breath and blinked awake groggily.

“Song Yantang! What are you doing?”

The blankets were in disarray, her robe half-open, one full breast captured in his mouth while the other was molded under his fingers, faintly aching.

“Have you lost your mind?” She didn’t know whether to laugh or cry.

She hadn’t known the Duke of Dongping during his time in power, but now, retired, he was a stubborn old man. Worried that Song Mo’s negotiations with him might have gone awry, she had waited anxiously for his return, only to doze off—and now here he was, acting like this…

Song Mo released her, leaning down to nip at her ear.

“Shou Gu. Shou Gu…” he murmured against her skin, then seized her lips in a fierce kiss, more intense than their first night together.

Had his talk with the Duke of Dongping really gone that badly?Dou Zhao, sobbing and unable to speak, barely managed to free herself from his embrace. As soon as she caught her breath and asked, "What's wrong?" her lips were sealed again, and her soft breasts were cupped in his hands.

Her entire body felt feverish, her face burning hot, yet her heart ached for the setbacks he must have faced outside. So she let him have his way.

Song Mo, with practiced ease, found the pearl nestled within her petals, giving it a gentle twist before entering her.

Dou Zhao let out a muffled groan.

Song Mo could feel the dryness of her passage.

He paused, nibbling her ear as he whispered, "Does it still hurt?"

It didn’t hurt, but the swelling was intense.

How could Dou Zhao admit that?

She gave a vague hum in response.

Song Mo began moving shallowly inside her.

Within just a few strokes, her body grew slick.

He chuckled lowly, then gripped her legs, thrusting deep and hard.

Dou Zhao flushed with embarrassment.

She didn’t remember being this sensitive before.

The pain of childbirth in her past life had long stripped her of any lingering fantasies. Yet with Song Mo, even when he did nothing, he could set her aflame effortlessly.

She could feel her passage growing slick, as if welcoming him in...

A shiver ran through her, and she too was overcome with desire.

In her ear, Song Mo’s voice, brimming with joy, murmured, "Shou Gu, you’re so good..." The swelling buried inside her seemed to grow even larger.

Dou Zhao was stunned.

Before she could react, Song Mo flipped her over, lifting her supple waist, making her kneel on the bed as he entered her from behind.

Her body felt pierced through, and without his tender embrace or sweet kisses... it felt unfamiliar.

"No, not like this!" Panicked and weak-limbed, Dou Zhao clutched the bedpost for support.

"Don’t you like it?" Song Mo murmured, his lips trailing like a spring breeze down her smooth back.

Dou Zhao trembled.

"N-no! I don’t!" Her words came out broken as his thrusts jolted her.

"Don’t like it?" He nipped her ear, laughing, while driving deeper, reaching her innermost chamber. "But I do."

He plunged wildly, loosening her core with each thrust.

"Y-Yantang!" Dou Zhao shuddered, her voice faltering. "S-stop this!"

The intensity was too much.

"Then let’s change positions," he whispered hotly against her ear. "Alright?"

Dou Zhao gave a shaky nod.

Song Mo chuckled darkly.

Yet his thrusts only grew deeper.

Pain flared, and anger rose at his broken promise.

Just as she cried out, "Yantang—" a wave surged from deep within, washing over her.

Her body went weightless, as if floating.

Dou Zhao let out a soft cry.

"Shou Gu!" Song Mo stilled, savoring the lingering tremors of her climax.

She collapsed weakly onto the bed.

Song Mo covered her, pressing tender kisses to her flushed cheeks.

Dou Zhao kept her eyes closed, her face a deep crimson.

He chuckled softly, lifting her limp body into his lap, entering her again as he guided her hips in slow, deliberate movements.

The swollen ache below brought her back to awareness.

Her full breasts swayed before him, tracing mesmerizing arcs...

"No, no!" Blushing furiously, Dou Zhao pushed weakly at him.

But Song Mo caught a rosy peak between his lips."No, no, no!" Dou Zhao leaned back, trying to avoid Song Mo, but only allowed him to plunge deeper into her core.

She bit her lip, caught between resistance and surrender.

Song Mo lifted her higher, then brought her down with more force.

A sharp pang shot through her body, followed by a surge of warmth.

"Yantang!" Dou Zhao cried out his name in a daze, clinging tightly to his neck.

"Shou Gu!" Song Mo cradled her affectionately in his arms, savoring every inch of her body.

Dou Zhao's mind felt muddled, as if filled with paste, yet the sensations beneath her grew ever more vivid.

With such frequent and deep intimacy, her body would surely conceive soon!

Before the last shred of clarity faded, this thought flickered through her mind.