Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 13

“No wonder he’s so handsome yet has no romantic history all these years.”

“Do you really think he’s into men?”

Juchen took the handkerchief, wiped the corner of his mouth, and coughed lightly at the sudden question. “Probably not.”

Lu Yun frowned slightly, puzzled. “Then why hasn’t he ever married?”

“Not marrying just means he hasn’t met the right person,” Lu Feng appeared behind Lu Yun, pinching her ear as he lectured. “If he really were into men, shouldn’t I be the first one he’d go for?”

Lu Yun snorted, swatting his hand away and sticking out her tongue at him.

“What if you’re just oblivious and didn’t notice?”

Lu Feng strode over and sat beside her, clearly confident in his instincts.

“Forget about him you know me perfectly well. If he were really like that, how could we have gotten along so well, sharing clothes and even sleeping in the same bed?”

“You two slept in the same bed?” a female disciple nearby piped up.

“When he used to live on Pengshan, we often stayed up late talking by candlelight,” Lu Feng chuckled. “Though most of the time, it was just me talking.”

Another less informed female disciple sighed in admiration. “So the second young master Lu is really close with the Prince of Pengshan?”

“Come on, we’ve known each other for ten years practically childhood friends.

I know exactly what he’s like.”

Lu Feng smiled warmly, his thoughts gradually filling with memories, recalling his first meeting with Song Mi in their youth.

At the eastern border of the capital, south of the palace, stood a naturally formed mountain range.

Wild white azaleas grew in lush clusters along the mountainside. Come spring, the blossoms flourished like a green robed fairy tied with a white sash graceful and alluring from afar, earning it the name Pengshan.

That year, twelve year old Lu Feng rode his pony clip clopping to the grassy fields at the mountain’s base, secretly practicing archery in this sparsely populated area.

Squinting at the sky, he aimed at a white crane resting halfway up the mountain.

He drew and released the bowstring, but the arrow missed slightly, and the crane flew away.

Frustrated, he lurked at the foot of the mountain, hoping the crane would return.

Before long, a boy his age in white Daoist robes descended the slope, carrying a heavy sword.

“Did you hurt my crane?”

Lu Feng shot him a glance. “So what if I did?”

Without another word, the boy swung his sword at him.

Lu Feng eyed his slender, almost malnourished frame and doubted he could even lift the thirty-pound sword. Assuming it was just bluster, he charged at him defiantly.

Two moves later, he was flat on the ground.

Thus began their friendship forged through conflict. From then on, Lu Feng’s admiration for him surged like a bursting dam, unstoppable.

Under Lu Feng’s relentless pestering, Song Mi reluctantly let bygones be bygones and became his friend.

At first, Lu Feng thought he kept the crane just for show, mimicking those pretentious scholars who treated plum blossoms as wives and cranes as sons.

But when he finally visited Pengshan and entered Song Mi’s home, he discovered Song Mi kept many pets all white, from tiny doves to massive white rhinos, enough to open a zoo.

Later, he realized the reason Song Mi kept so many animals was because his vast home had only one occupant himself.

Looking back now on Song Mi’s days of “playing the lute to a cow,” Lu Feng couldn’t help but sigh, “All these years, he’s always been alone.”

These words served both as a defense for Song Mi’s refusal to marry showing he would not settle and revealed Lu Feng’s deep sympathy for his friend.

Juchen listened, empathizing, and couldn’t help but sigh along.

The Great Liang Dynasty governed the realm by promoting Confucian ideals propriety, righteousness, benevolence, wisdom, and filial piety. Yet, when it came to the most dramatic family scandals, none could rival those of the imperial household.

The current Empress Dowager Cao Shu was originally a consort of the founding ancestor, the Retired Emperor Xining.

In his youth, Emperor Xining had been devoted to his first wife, but she passed away early, leaving their love unfulfilled. One day, while strolling in the imperial gardens, he encountered the third daughter of the Cao family, Cao Shu, whose beauty reminded him of his lost love. In a moment of nostalgia, he broke protocol and brought her into the palace.

Yet Cao Shu’s temperament was nothing like the departed one he cherished, and after entering the palace, she never won his favor.

The year Emperor Xining suddenly passed away, the dynasty had yet to abolish the burial sacrifice system. By tradition, childless consorts like Cao Shu were to be interred in the imperial mausoleum as companions for the deceased emperor.

But by sheer coincidence, that same year, Emperor Xining had for once remembered Cao Shu and summoned her to his chambers.

After that night, Cao Shu became pregnant with the emperor’s child, and a year later, she gave birth to Song Mi.

When the late Emperor Tianxi learned that Consort Cao was carrying the Retired Emperor’s posthumous child, he brought her back to the palace to care for her, fulfilling his filial duty. Yet, in a twist of fate, he fell irrevocably in love with her at first sight.

Defying all propriety, he took her into his own harem.

Eventually, he even made her his empress.

After their union, they became inseparable, deeply devoted to each other. The late emperor showered her with all his affection, and together they had a son and a daughter the current emperor and Princess Xuyang.

The imperial couple ruled in harmony, bringing peace and prosperity to Great Liang, creating a love story praised by all.

But for young Song Mi, his place in the palace became awkward.

His birth mother had remarried his half brother.

By lineage, he was the Retired Emperor’s child, making both the current emperor and Princess Xuyang his juniors who should address him as “uncle.”

Yet in reality, with Emperor Xining gone, the vast palace was home to a blissful family while he, unexpectedly, became a gilded stepchild, forever an outsider.

And now, to avoid marriage, he was even misunderstood as being uninterested in women.

The more Lu Feng thought about it, the more frustrated he felt. He could not help but warn the gossip hungry young ladies, “He’s not as tolerant as you imagine. If you’ve got nothing better to do, stop spreading rumors about him.”

“Or face the consequences.” Lu Feng shot a stern glance at Lu Yun, his tone sharp.

Lu Yun rarely saw her brother so serious and pouted, lowering her head. “Understood.”

—

As the sun dipped below the horizon, a cool evening breeze swept through.

Juchen had borrowed the small kitchen in the dining hall and spent the entire afternoon happily preparing a batch of steaming golden milk pastries. She carefully sealed them in a food container to keep them warm and hurried toward Song Mi’s residence.

But the gatekeeper eunuch informed her that Prince Pengshan had gone to see the Empress Dowager in the morning and hadn’t returned since.

Clutching the food box, Juchen sat dejectedly at the foot of the palace, staring blankly at the vast Mount Li, lost in thought.

Suddenly, a faint clatter of tiles sounded from above.

Juchen raised her eyes to see the proud and beautiful white crane standing atop the wall with its hands behind its back. Their gazes met as it slowly extended one wing, as if beckoning to her.

Then, it turned and leaped onto another roof tile, glancing back at her with its slender, graceful neck and pristine feathers. Its tall figure moving forward seemed haloed in golden sunset light.

Juchen quickly followed, winding through twisting paths and brushing past flowers and willows until she reached the mountain’s back ridge. There, she found a man reclining on granite, basking in the last warm rays of sunlight with closed eyes.

Catching her breath, Juchen clutched the food box before her and approached silently. For a moment, all was still the wind hushed, shadows slanting gently.

Song Mi opened his eyes to find her already bending over him, studying him quietly. Her long, thick lashes cast faint butterfly wing shadows across his face.

“You were looking for me?” he asked with concern.

Juchen moved back slightly, clearing her throat before lifting the food box formally. “This afternoon was my turn to read to Her Majesty and keep her company. When I left, she asked me to bring you this.”

As she spoke, Juchen placed the box beside him and opened it, revealing a golden milk pastry shaped like a peony, its center still steaming faintly.

Relieved to see it still warm, she exhaled softly. Song Mi leaned against the rock, propping his chin on his hand as he arched a brow. “Why come to coax me?”

Juchen froze. “I didn’t….”

Song Mi dismantled her lie word by word. “This afternoon wasn’t your reading shift that’s tomorrow.”

“…”

How did he remember such trivial details?

The girl’s cheeks flushed crimson. Song Mi stood and said gently, “I’m not that foolish. If she were that sort of person, we’d have reconciled long ago.” Their mother-son relationship wouldn’t remain so distant otherwise.

Juchen could only smile sheepishly. “I didn’t mean to deceive you. It’s just… because of me, you argued and were misunderstood. I felt guilty.”

Song Mi stepped closer, his voice firm. “It wasn’t because of you.” Between him and the Empress Dowager lay deep-seated issues.

In Juchen’s memory, Song Mi had always been even-tempered his authority stemmed from talent and capability, rarely displaying anger at court. Yet with the Empress Dowager, he became like a powder keg, often leading to cold wars within days.

Juchen asked, perplexed, “Knowing Her Majesty’s temperament, why provoke her?”

“Why should I always yield?” After a pause, Song Mi added, “I want her to know my stance.”

“What stance?”

Song Mi glanced at her, lowering his lashes slightly. “I don’t wish to marry yet.”

A ripple stirred in Juchen’s heart, as if brushed by a cat’s paw. Of course, she hoped he would not marry so soon but she dared not let him see her excessive delight or suspect ulterior motives.

Soon, Song Mi continued, “How did you know about this pastry?”

Juchen bit her lip, embarrassed. “I worried the young maid from last night might recognize me and grew uneasy, so I went to investigate. That’s when I learned she’d been sent by Her Majesty to bring you treats.”

Juchen’s gaze was clear and bright as she looked steadily at him. “Her Majesty was worried you’d get hungry reviewing official documents, so she personally went to the kitchen to make golden milk pastries for you.”

If there was ever proof that pillow talk was most persuasive, Song Mi’s slight pause showed he had taken in her explanation about the Empress Dowager to heart.

He had never been fond of sweets. The golden milk pastries, with their filling made from cheesecakes, were fragrant without being cloying the only dessert he would eat. Later, when the Empress Dowager learned of this, she specifically sought guidance from the palace chefs to master this pastry.

Song Mi seemed moved. After a moment of silence, he turned back with a thoughtful expression. “Then why do you know how to make them?”

Juchen’s eyes flickered almost imperceptibly. “Is it strange that I can make them?”

“Very strange.”

“Don’t I look like someone who can cook?” She thought she clearly had the appearance of someone both refined and capable presentable in the parlor and skilled in the kitchen.

“No, you don’t.”

“…” Juchen snorted coldly and pursed her lips. “This is what they call ‘never judge by appearances.'”

Song Mi studied her intently without glancing away. The corners of his lips, which had remained straight all day, finally curved upward slightly.