Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 16

Under the heavy moonlight, the delicate waterwheel in the courtyard spun round after round, its paddles brushing past the pond before the rockery.

Finally, the familiar sound of hoofbeats echoed from beyond the walls.

Juchen couldn’t help but smile faintly as she leapt down, gathered her skirts, and went to the door to greet him.

The man’s footsteps were noticeably hurried too, his boots tapping briskly against the cobblestone path.

When their eyes met across the distance, Song Mai spotted her leaning against the door ring and frowned. He strode forward, scooped her up in one swift motion, and gave her bottom a firm smack.

Though meant as playful, the strike carried undeniable force.

Juchen blinked in surprise as he lowered his head, his gaze skimming over her snow-white ankles. His teasing words came with a cool edge: “Aren’t you cold, Minister Li?”

Her bare feet, which had been pressing against the cold ground moments earlier, curled slightly in response, while her cheeks flushed as if brushed with rouge.

In her past life, she had heard him call her “Minister Li” countless times never with an ounce of respect, always dripping with mockery.

But now, the phrase sent her heart fluttering like a kitten’s playful scratch.

As Song Mai set her down on the mat, Juchen quickly tucked her feet beneath her skirts and smoothed the fabric. Noticing the weariness on his face, she asked, “Have you eaten?”

Song Mai glanced at the cooling dishes on the table. “You’ve been waiting for me?”

Juchen nodded.

He turned to call for servants to reheat the meal, then joined her at the table. Lifting a spoon, he served her a bowl of crucian carp soup with quiet instruction: “You should eat first in the future.”

Juchen hesitated. “I wouldn’t want you eating leftovers.”

“I’m not that particular.”

Setting down her silver chopsticks, Juchen studied him, recalling Lu Feng’s sigh about how he’d spent all these years alone.

Their fates were so similar both sent away from their families as children.

Yet she had been luckier, blessed with a princess’s affection and the companionship of Princess Xuyang.

But him? He had been so young back then. During all those solitary days and nights in Pengshan, had he even remembered to eat?

Noticing her stillness, Song Mai looked up.

Juchen sniffled slightly, then propped her chin in both hands to gaze at him with artful innocence. “I’m not used to eating alone,” she murmured.

The subtle melancholy in her voice did not escape him. After a pause, he softened his tone: “Then I’ll try to come back earlier.”

Her eyes curved into gleaming crescents.

As Song Mai passed the soup bowl, Juchen took delicate, soundless sips between frequent glances his way.

“What is it?” he finally asked.

Clearing her throat with a fist to her chin, she whispered conspiratorially, “Are we not allowed to talk during meals?”

Matching her tone, he whispered back, “Who says?”

Her shoulders slumped in relief as she leaned back with an exaggerated exhale, her voice brightening: “You’re always so quiet I thought it was a rule!”

After a thoughtful silence, he explained gently, “I grew up eating alone and got accustomed to the quiet. But you can speak if you wish.”

A trace of heartache flashed in Juchen’s eyes. Without worrying about whether it was presumptuous or not, she could not help but add more dishes to his bowl. With a gentle smile, she asked with concern if something had delayed him today.

The Prince of Pengshan was always meticulous in his planning, often arriving precisely on schedule for work. If he had other arrangements, he would rather work with both hands simultaneously, signing documents with sweeping strokes, than stay a moment longer.

As a punctual man, if he was late for an appointment, it must have been due to urgent official business.

Song Mu’s brows furrowed with worry as he said solemnly, “There’s been too much snow this year. The commercial capital is still buried under relentless snowfall, and disasters have already occurred.”

Though Juchen’s face showed surprise, she remained composed inwardly.

This snow disaster had arrived right on schedule.

Tonight in the imperial study, Song Mu had been appointed as an imperial commissioner to lead relief efforts in the commercial capital, departing tomorrow.

Juchen inquired about the general situation. After Song Mu gave a brief explanation, he murmured quietly, “I wonder if the finances can be arranged in time.”

Juchen asked, “And if they can’t?”

Song Mu glanced at her, “I’ll find a way.”

Juchen found herself lost in the barely perceptible tenderness in his eyes before realizing that to him now, she was still young not the powerful female chancellor who could summon wind and rain in their past life. Sharing too much would only add to her worries.

So Juchen simply put on an expression of unwavering faith in him.

Clapping her hands together with a smile, she said, “Actually, just the other day while browsing the gold market, I saw a great cloak that would suit you perfectly.”

She quickly trotted to her dressing table and brought over an embroidered box, presenting it to him.

For once, Song Mu’s eyes brightened momentarily. The unexpected gift left him momentarily stunned, forgetting even to reach out and take it.

Beaming, Juchen proactively opened the box to show off her find. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

She had spent days designing the pattern, having tailors work overnight to craft it with fine feathers and exquisite weaving, its white inner lining like moonlight.

As Song Mu ran his fingers over the soft cuffs of the cloak, a smile unconsciously curved his lips.

“Beautiful.”

—

Early this morning, yet another day of heavy snowfall began.

Snow had blanketed dozens of small towns consecutively. The common people’s charcoal supplies and remaining food stores were nearly exhausted their drafty homes as cold as ice cellars.

Outside the government offices, crowds of starving, thinly clad victims gathered daily, crying for help from their local officials.

Though the commercial capital’s granaries had opened fully for relief, it was still like trying to extinguish a cartload of burning firewood with a cup of water.

Magistrate Zhao had become as anxious as an ant on a hot pan. After several sleepless days and nights, blisters had formed at the corners of his mouth.

When he saw the Prince of Pengshan dismount this morning, it was as if he had seen a heavenly savior he nearly threw himself at the prince’s feet in tears.

“Your Highness, you’ve finally arrived!”

Clad in a feathered cloak, Song Mu gave him a faint smile, deftly avoiding Magistrate Zhao’s teary attempt to wipe his face on the prince’s sleeve.

Dispensing with pleasantries, he immediately ordered soldiers to unload grain from the carts and begin cooking rice cakes to distribute to the people.

Magistrate Zhao efficiently directed operations behind him. Watching the orderly distribution of steaming baskets of cakes to the people, he sighed in relief that salvation had come at last.

Yet Song Mu’s expression remained tense as he murmured, “This is only the beginning.”

Magistrate Zhao shot him a questioning look.

Song Mu simply instructed him to quickly gather all available carpenters and masons from inside and outside the city.

“What do we need them for?”

“To build shelters.”

Magistrate Zhao’s face grew even more perplexed.

Yet within just three days, he came to his senses.

Three days later, the heavy snow that had been swirling over Shangdu’s skies abruptly transformed into torrential rain, pouring down in relentless sheets.

A continuous mist of rain spread across the land, melting the accumulated snow on the mountains. The resulting floodwaters surged toward the Yellow River below, breaking the ice on its surface. The rising waters became uncontrollable, inundating Shangdu.

What had begun as a snow disaster had now turned into a flood calamity.

Countless homes were destroyed by the mountain floods, leaving displaced victims with nowhere to go. Fortunately, soldiers arrived in time to rescue them, escorting them to makeshift shelters hastily erected on higher ground.

Early this morning, despite the downpour, Song Mai still rode his white horse, visiting every disaster-stricken area.

The crude shelters were overcrowded, and though conditions were harsh, thankfully, there had been no significant casualties.

Magistrate Zhao, walking beside Song Mai, flattered him, saying, “Thanks to Your Highness’s divine foresight, otherwise, in this situation, we officials would surely be in chaos.”

Song Mai frowned slightly. “What divine foresight?”

Magistrate Zhao clasped his hands respectfully. “Was it not Your Highness who observed the heavens at night, foreseeing the unpredictable storms, and thus ordered us to build shelters in advance as a precaution?”

The man had quite the imagination, actually believing Song Mai possessed the skills of an imperial astronomer.

A faint smile tugged at Song Mai’s lips as he replied calmly, “My original intention was simply because the bitter cold had left the government’s charcoal reserves insufficient. Gathering the people in shelters was meant to help them stay warm together. I never anticipated the flood disaster, nor that these mountain shelters would serve a greater purpose.”

Magistrate Zhao seemed convinced by this coincidence, nodding in understanding. After all, claims of predicting heavenly omens were usually the domain of charlatans who shook their heads and spouted mystical nonsense.

Every time Song Mai inspected a disaster area, he would review the records of local pharmacies. Now, he summoned the district’s medical officer and asked with concern, “Have you noticed anything unusual?”

The medical officer bowed and reported truthfully, “Nothing so far.”

“No fevers? No coughs?”

The officer shook his head repeatedly.

Song Mai lowered his gaze, his expression grave.

Standing beside him, Magistrate Zhao sighed softly and remarked, “Your Highness’s deep concern for the people’s well-being truly sets an example for us officials.”

Song Mai had no patience for his flattery. Frowning, he asked, “Have the medicinal supplies I mentioned earlier been prepared by the yamen?”

Magistrate Zhao swallowed hard, clasping his hands again. “Your Highness, it’s not that this humble official disregarded your orders. It’s just that some of the herbs you listed are exceedingly expensive. Procuring them all would require tens of thousands of taels. If we spend all our funds on medicine, within days, our disaster relief funds will be stretched thin.”

And yet, the disaster was not even halfway over.

Song Mai looked up and said bluntly, “I’ll have the Ministry of Revenue allocate the funds. Those are plague prevention medicines. They should be prepared as soon as possible, just in case.”

Magistrate Zhao opened his mouth, then hesitated before swallowing his words.

“If you have something to say, speak plainly.”

After a long pause, Magistrate Zhao glanced at his official hat, then at the disaster victims before him, and steeled himself. “This humble official merely thinks that, as there are currently no signs of plague and the victims don’t yet require medical treatment but they do need daily food would spending the money on… this be a case of sacrificing the greater for the lesser?”

As soon as the words left his mouth, Magistrate Zhao, fearing he had spoken too bluntly and offended, bowed deeply, keeping his head lowered.

Song Mi did not refute him, but instead led him to the provincial governor’s office and into the archives, showing him all disaster records from the past fifty years along the Yellow River banks in Shangdu.

“Being young and serving as an imperial envoy for disaster relief for the first time, I feared my lack of experience might render me useless to you.

So, on my first day in Shangdu, I retrieved all similar past records, hoping to learn from them.”

Song Mi’s expression was gentle, and the sincerity in his words made Magistrate Zhao’s eyes grow moist. Clutching the records, he bowed deeply to him. “Your Highness serves the nation and its people with paternal care, your heart embracing the world. Truly….”

Song Mi cut him off directly. “You should look at the records first.”

Magistrate Zhao lowered his head and followed the key points marked in red by Song Mi. Since the founding of the Great Liang Dynasty, there had been twenty-two disasters along the Yellow River banks in Shangdu ten droughts and twelve floods.

Of the ten droughts, most were swiftly resolved after imperial funds were allocated. But of the twelve floods, nearly nine were followed by outbreaks of plague.

Song Mi explained, “After consulting numerous texts, I discovered this pattern. Floods easily alter mudflow structures, changing the environment.

Torrents also carry unknown toxins from the mountains into the city. Combined with the damp, muddy, and filthy conditions from the rain, the air becomes turbid ideal for the spread of disease.”

Magistrate Zhao’s expression grew increasingly grave.

Song Mi recalled, “The plague at the borders of Lücheng in Shangdu during the Tianxi era’s third year was especially fierce. Records state it began with just one infected person, yet it led to the entire city’s downfall. The population plummeted, white funeral banners hung everywhere, corpses littered the streets, and in the end, fewer than one in ten survived.”

Magistrate Zhao felt the hairs on his back stand on end.

The reason Song Mi remembered this plague most vividly was because, that year, the late emperor had defied his ministers’ objections and obstinately enfeoffed Cao Shu as empress. Consequently, all natural disasters that year were blamed on her.

Everyone accused her of being unworthy of her position, yet the late emperor, for her sake, voluntarily issued an edict of self-reproach.

Whenever Song Mi thought of that man’s gentle, jade-like figure, his emotions grew unbearably complex. His gaze involuntarily shifted to Xiao Bai, tied up outside the door.

Magistrate Zhao wiped his forehead and took a deep breath. “Your Highness’s concerns are clear to this humble official. I will spare no effort to protect Shangdu’s people.”

Song Mi nodded. “Your perspective is sound. The immediate priority is indeed ensuring the people’s food and clothing. I’ve already sent an urgent request to the Ministry of Revenue they will expedite the next relief funds.”

The two discussed the specifics of disaster relief in detail. As they left the archives, Magistrate Zhao paused mid-step behind Song Mi, unable to resist scrutinizing him from head to toe.

Song Mi turned and noticed his gaze. “What is it?”

Magistrate Zhao chuckled awkwardly. “To be honest, I noticed a few days ago Your Highness’s cloak is quite unusual.”

As soon as he spoke, Magistrate Zhao glanced down at himself.

Over the past few days, the two had been constantly braving wind and rain.

Even with a rain hat, he could not avoid getting soaked. Standing in the archives for just this short while, droplets had already pooled at his feet into a small puddle.

In stark contrast, Song Mi remained completely dry despite the rain, his appearance immaculate without a single drop of water staining him. The raindrops that fell on his shoulders simply rolled off the fine feathers of his cloak, never lingering for even a moment.

While everyone else looked disheveled, he alone maintained an elegant and dignified demeanor. Magistrate Zhao, filled with envy, could not help but ask, “Where did you buy that?”

“It was a gift.”

Noticing the faint trace of tenderness that flickered across Song Mi’s face, Magistrate Zhao surmised it must have been from a beloved woman and remarked admiringly, “That person must be very thoughtful indeed.”

The tenderness in Song Mi’s eyes deepened, and he could not help but smile.

—

In his previous life, Song Mi’s journey to Shangdu to provide disaster relief had been fraught with obstacles.

First came heavy snow, then floods, and finally, a plague.

The plague struck with such ferocity that if one person in a household was infected, the entire family would inevitably succumb.

Due to its late discovery, the local magistrate, fearing responsibility, initially concealed the outbreak. Later, due to financial constraints, the medicinal supplies to combat the plague arrived too late. Nearly half of Shangdu was devastated, and tens of thousands perished in the disaster…

This time, haunted by memories of the past, Song Mi refused to sit idly by.

On the very first day of rain in Shangdu, citing concerns of potential flooding, he acted before March, issuing orders to halt the Ministry of Revenue’s disbursement of the quarterly national budget, effectively securing the funds in advance.

Subsequently, he privately wrote to Wang Zhi, the Minister of Revenue, urging him to reallocate this year’s treasury funds. The least urgent expenditures were to be set aside as disaster relief funds the more, the better to prepare for the worst.

To his surprise, the Ministry of Revenue acted with unusual speed, and soon, the second batch of relief funds was dispatched.

Escorting the funds was none other than the eldest son of the Lu family, the Vice Minister of War. From afar, at the city gates, Song Mi spotted Lu Feng trailing behind his elder brother’s horse, waving frantically at him.

“I heard you were short on help, so I thought I’d come assist you.”

Song Mi patted his shoulder with a smile and asked, “Why was Wang Zhi so quick to act this time?”

He knew the Minister of Revenue well meticulous to a fault, to the point where he would scrutinize every single coin entering the treasury before approving any expenditure.

Lu Feng gave a thumbs-up. “We owe that to the young ladies of the Phoenix Pavilion.”

“Li Juchen’s calculations were lightning fast. With just a flick of her delicate fingers, she had me completely dazzled. It was the first time I realized that the skill of managing finances could not only bring order to a household but also stabilize a nation.”

“A nation is but a household on a grander scale,” Song Mi remarked with a slight smile. He was well aware of Juchen’s capabilities, and his thoughts drifted back to the night before he left the capital.

When the cloak was delivered to him, he had pressed her down onto the jade mat.

Under the hazy moonlight, she lay beneath him like a piece of driftwood tossed by the sea, rising and falling with his rhythm.

Overcome with passion, he bent down to nibble her ear.

She let out soft, fragmented protests, wrapped her arms around his neck, and blushed as she met his gaze. “Disaster relief is a monumental task. The Ministry of Revenue must support it from behind. Could you speak to Minister Wang and let the Phoenix Pavilion take this opportunity to gain experience and lend a hand?”

Without hesitation, he agreed.

With a familiar muffled groan from the man, Juchen’s curled toes suddenly relaxed. She lifted her head and gently kissed his jawline.

Song Mi calmed down and looked down at her, suddenly realizing how cunning she truly was.

In that fleeting moment just now, forget about sharing a fraction of his power even if she had asked him to die, he would have thought it worthwhile.

He fully understood now what it meant to say, “Better to die under the peony than live without passion.”

He couldn’t help but think if she had known how to use this trick on him in their past life, would there ever have been such a thing as the shrewd and calculating Regent King in this world?

Afterward, Song Mi conducted a thorough investigation and finally uncovered the origin of the plague at the earliest possible moment.

This time, the county magistrate failed to conceal the truth, and the imperial court swiftly responded, dispatching troops to help him contain the outbreak.

But what Song Mi hadn’t anticipated was that the one rushing through the night to arrive was none other than Yuan Zheng, the heir of Yunnan’s royal house.

Leading his troops through the pouring rain, he reined in his horse and dismounted, draped in an identical cloak to Song Mi’s own.