Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 2
By the time they emerged from the bathing tub, darkness had completely fallen outside the window.
Too exhausted to cling to his shoulders, Juchen could only lean limply against his chest as he carried her out. Passing the screen divider, she glanced at the water clock in the corner two hours had slipped by unnoticed.
Song Mi placed her on the bed, remembering she hadn’t eaten supper. He turned to the wardrobe, changed clothes, and prepared to instruct the kitchen.
Pulling the quilt corner to cover her bare form, Juchen rested against the pillow, her gaze drifting irresistibly beyond the bed curtains.
Before the full length mirror stood the man, his tall frame draped in dark robes like jade. His movements as he dressed were deliberate, one hand smoothing fabric after another, a visual pleasure. Those slender fingers adjusting his lapels, their bone structure like polished jade, made it hard to imagine they were the same elegant hands that had pinned her against the tub’s edge earlier, covering her eyes.
As Song Mi fastened his outer garment, he seemed to sense something and turned.
Their eyes met. Juchen pretended it was merely an accidental glance and quickly averted her gaze.
When Song Mi returned after stepping out, he found her already seated at the writing desk, having draped a robe over herself.
“What are you doing?” he asked. His voice was exceptionally pleasant deep like aged wine, yet not overpowering, carrying instead a crisp clarity.
Juchen blinked her lashes, the picture of docility. “I still have today’s calligraphy practice unfinished.”
Song Mi approached, picking up the completed sheets beside her. After perusing them, he gave an almost imperceptible smile. “Practicing when your handwriting’s already this good?”
Her eyes brightened. “You think it’s good?”
“Better than mine,” he admitted candidly.
Juchen’s mind flashed abruptly to their past life his vermilion brush annotations on memorials, those dashing, elegant strokes that often turned frenetic from his busy schedule, giving her endless deciphering headaches.
“What are you smiling about?”
“Nothing.” Juchen resumed writing, her smile growing silent yet spreading from lips to earlobes.
Song Mi’s brow arched slightly as his gaze lingered on her.
Under the lamplight, Juchen sat with perfect posture, dark hair cascading over shoulders that framed her delicate face. Yet she wore only his plain silk underrobe. The curves beneath barely concealed, the garment’s slit revealing straight, pale legs.
He recalled accidentally mentioning once how her scholar’s uniform visits gave him an odd sense of being some eccentric with peculiar tastes.
She had taken it to heart. Ever since, she would change into his clothes upon arriving from the academy, waiting on the bed.
Song Mi suspected she had entirely missed his point.
Meeting his eyes when she looked up, Juchen asked, “What is it?”
Song Mi stepped forward and lifted her from the desk’s inner side.
Thinking he intended another round, Juchen immediately hooked both ankles around his waist.
Glancing down, Song Mi’s lips quirked soundlessly, but his eyes gestured toward the round table in the outer chamber. “Time to eat,” he rumbled.
Juchen’s cheeks instantly flushed as if brushed with rouge, her feet hastily retreating.
Seated at the table, the room gradually filled only with the light chime of silver chopsticks, spoons, and porcelain bowls.
This private dynamic between them had persisted for some time now. Beyond intimacy, meals rarely involved much conversation.
Juchen was not particularly dull by nature, but seeing him remain silent, she assumed it was due to his good upbringing speaking neither during meals nor before sleep. Not wishing to annoy him, she quietly swallowed even the dishes she disliked without complaint.
Song Mi noticed her delicate brows furrow slightly. After a brief pause, he ladled her a bowl of soup and was about to speak when a soft knock sounded at the door it was his personal guard, Yuan Ruo.
“Your Highness, Young Master Lu Feng has arranged a banquet by the Yaojin Pond and requests your presence.”
“How does he know I’ve returned?”
“Perhaps the city guards recognized us when we entered the capital.”
And Lu Feng was currently serving in the patrol battalion.
Juchen swallowed her food, recalling that Lu Feng and Song Mi had known each other since youth and shared a close friendship. Yet she also remembered Lu Feng’s notorious playboy tendencies, his fondness for frequenting pleasure quarters. The Yaojin Pond by the Golden Market was, after all, one of the Eastern Capital’s most famed haunts for courtesans.
Yuan Ruo still waited outside for a reply. Unable to resist, Juchen asked first, “Are you going?”
The question came out more abruptly than intended, and Song Mi lifted his gaze to meet hers.
Juchen cleared her throat. “I mean… it’s snowing heavily outside.”
Yuan Ruo quietly reminded, “If you decline, the Second Young Master will undoubtedly press for answers.”
Given Lu Feng’s temperament, if a banquet he arranged was refused, he might very well storm over in the next moment.
“Tell him to wait,” Song Mi replied.
Juchen’s expression dimmed briefly. Thinking he still had to leave soon, she didn’t want to delay him and set down her spoon after only a few more bites.
“Full already?” Song Mi asked.
“Mhm.”
He nodded, then likewise set down his silver chopsticks and rose to summon servants to clear the table.
Juchen obediently retreated to the inner chamber, stopping by the clothing rack. Once he left, she would change and return home.
As maids carried away the remnants of the meal, Song Mi entered.
Seeing him stride directly toward her, she assumed he needed an extra layer and stepped aside to make room.
Instead, he swept her up into his arms and carried her toward the bed, his voice low and teasing. “Why aren’t you clinging to me anymore? Stopping so soon I thought you were in a hurry?”
Behind the white silk bed curtains, Song Mi roughly tugged her robe loose.
Pinned beneath him, Juchen flushed crimson, squeezing her eyes shut, too flustered to meet his gaze again…
——
By the time Song Mi arrived at Yaojin Pond, the sky had lightened to the pale hue of dawn, and the snow had ceased.
Since the Eastern Capital had lifted its curfew, the Golden Market thrived ceaselessly, day and night. No matter the hour, the scene was one of revelry and decadence. Along the southern edge of Yaojin Pond, rows of ornate lanterns intersected, while behind gauzy curtains, silhouettes swayed to the rhythm of music and dance, the air thick with the mingling of strings and flutes.
Song Mi stepped into a newly built pavilion, immediately assaulted by the cloying scent of rouge. Perfume and liquor had mingled all night, their fumes so entwined he instinctively held his breath, his brow furrowing slightly.
Lounging in the seat of honor, Lu Feng had an arm around a beauty on either side. At the sight of his guest, he let out a mocking chuckle. “How punctual of you.”
His loud remark drew the attention of the courtesans in the room, their eyes lighting up as they turned toward the entrance.
Song Mi strode straight toward him. The two exchanged a shoulder clap before Lu Feng gestured for him to take a seat, simultaneously pulling the leading courtesan closer and signaling her to attend to their esteemed guest.
Ignoring the gesture, Song Mi walked past without a glance, heading instead for the balcony of the private chamber. Leaning against the railing, he gazed absently at the distant snow capped isle.
Lu Feng clicked his tongue. Still the same as ever.
Since childhood, he had mingled with those so-called friends of dubious character, yet somehow managed to maintain a spotless purity like a white lotus rising untainted from muddy waters. Lu Feng couldn’t help but admire him.
First clearing the room, Lu Feng brought over two fine cups of wine and approached him, immediately launching into a complaint: “I wanted to throw you a welcome back feast last night, but you were already too busy the moment you returned!”
Passing him the wine, Lu Feng asked, “What could possibly keep you so occupied? Anyone would think you had a family waiting at home to report to.”
Song Mi accepted the cup, his gaze briefly sweeping the room before remarking, “Your taste has declined such heavy incense?”
Lu Feng clinked his cup against Song Mi’s and chuckled, shaking his head.
“It’s always been like this. Maybe you’ve encountered finer scents out there, making my choices seem like cheap perfume in comparison.”
Song Mi did not respond, taking a sip of the wine. Unbidden, the memory of this morning surfaced Juchen rising from his embrace, her dark hair brushing past his nose, carrying the faint fragrance of magnolia.
Lu Feng inquired, “Have you finished handling the corruption case in Taiyuan?”
Song Mi gave a slight nod, his demeanor indifferent.
Lu Feng couldn’t hide his admiration.
Taiyuan was the ancestral stronghold of Empress Dowager Cao’s faction, where local officials were deeply entrenched and notoriously difficult to uproot.
Yet Song Mi had managed to complete the court’s assignment in such a short time.
Considering Song Mi’s strained relationship with the Empress Dowager, Lu Feng narrowed his eyes slightly. “You didn’t… sacrifice your own kin for justice, did you?”
Song Mi replied coolly, “Just business as usual.”
Lu Feng raised an eyebrow. Since it was a covert investigation, he knew better than to pry further. Changing the subject, he mused, “Not long ago, I think I saw your white steed around Baoning Lane.”
Their eyes met, and Lu Feng grinned mischievously. “Was it off meeting some little mare in secret?”
“It’s not like you it doesn’t play the stud.”
Lu Feng choked on his wine, gritting his teeth. “Song Zhengzhi, must you insult me so crudely?”
Song Mi lazily smirked. “I could.”
Waving a hand, Lu Feng decided not to press the issue. “Fair enough. Someone as virtuous as you would naturally have a mount that looks down on the world hardly the type for shady dealings.”
Song Mi remained silent.
Lu Feng shifted topics again, mentioning how the Empress Dowager had recently been eyeing eligible young ladies in the capital for marriage.
Song Mi listened with disinterest, not even lifting an eyelid.
Lu Feng brought up a noblewoman they had often seen in the palace as children, testing his reaction.
Song Mi simply asked, “Who?”
Right he didn’t remember.
Lu Feng had expected as much, knowing the Empress Dowager’s efforts were once again in vain. Not wanting to annoy Song Mi further, he dropped the marriage talk and rambled on about the Empress Dowager’s upcoming selection of new young female officials.
“Not long ago, Her Majesty glanced at the list submitted by Jifang Academy and casually mentioned a few candidates she favored. I happened to be in the palace with my mother to pay respects and overheard a bit.” Lu Feng didn’t care if Song Mi was actually listening, he just wanted to dump all the gossip accumulated during his absence. “Many were from the Five Surnames and Seven Clans, after all young ladies from prestigious families, their upbringing and education unmatched. But what surprised me was that she also mentioned Li Juchen.”
Song Mi looked at him.
Lu Feng assumed he must have forgotten who Li Juchen was and tapped his forehead, offering a reminder. “You know, that girl who always sat by the window in the private schoolhouse when we visited the Princess’s estate to escape the summer heat as kids… the one who…”
Lu Feng racked his brain trying to recall their shared childhood memories, hoping to dredge up even the faintest impression.
“The one who mistook my back for Yuan Zheng’s the first time she saw me.”
“Yes, yes! Oh, you remember?” Lu Feng exclaimed in surprise, then sighed.
“Well, beauty does have its advantages. That face of hers is truly unforgettable.”
Song Mi nodded, seemingly in agreement, but downed his drink in one go.
Ever perceptive, Lu Feng refilled his cup and chuckled. “Back when we were staying at the princess’s residence, I even asked her to see the lanterns with me. Too bad so many others had already asked her—I was too late and got turned down.”
Song Mi stood lazily, but his gaze was sharp as he looked at him. “So, who did she go with?”
“How would I know? I got rejected why would I go digging for details to make myself feel worse?”
Still, this was the first time his friend had ever shown interest in his romantic pursuits, so Lu Feng couldn’t help but share a bit more. “I remember Li Juchen wasn’t particularly good at her studies as a kid, she was quite mischievous. Yet somehow, she got into Jifang Academy and hasn’t been kicked out yet. With skills like that, she must’ve suffered a lot behind the scenes.”
Someone like Lu Feng, who had always scraped by just below passing, could never understand how anyone managed to pass every time.
Song Mi took a sip of wine and gave a quiet “Mm.”
Lu Feng paused. Anyone who didn’t know better might think that “Mm” meant he’d personally witnessed the girl’s struggles.
With a sigh, Lu Feng said, “Now even young girls are becoming officials.
Meanwhile, I’m still stuck in the patrol battalion, doing nothing.”
Song Mi replied, “You’re still young. No need to worry.”
Lu Feng scoffed. “I can’t compare to you. You are born with a silver spoon, people push you up even if you don’t climb. Now that you are back, you are definitely getting promoted, right? If there are any good assignments later, bring me along, yeah?”
The subtext was clear Lu Feng came from a prestigious family, but his luck with exams had left him without a proper official position. Seeing Song Mi’s rising influence these past few years, he’d begun considering following him.
After a moment’s hesitation, Song Mi clinked glasses with him. “Actually, there is something. I’ll come find you in a few days don’t refuse me.”
Lu Feng drained his cup. “For you, I’d go through fire and water.” Song Mi’s lips curved faintly.
With Song Mi’s approval secured, Lu Feng crossed his legs, pleased but also sighing at how, ever since Yuan Zheng married Princess Xuyang, it felt like everyone had grown up overnight, each chasing their own future. He couldn’t keep drifting like this.
“Oh, right Li Juchen was there on the princess’s wedding day.”
Her family wasn’t particularly high-ranking, so she shouldn’t have qualified for such a grand royal event. But she had grown up with the bride and groom, childhood friends, and the princess had personally sent her an invitation, insisting she attend.
Yet that day, she drank more than usual and seemed in low spirits.
Suddenly, Lu Feng remembered Song Mi had been there too. Normally, he despised these hierarchical banquets, but that day, he had actually shown up for his little niece’s wedding.
Though later, he had vanished without a trace.
He was often elusive like that, and few dared to question his whereabouts.
Lu Feng asked if he remembered Li Juchen crying that day.
Song Mi said, “I remember.”
Lu Feng recalled the desolate expression on Li Juchen’s face that night, as if he had weathered a lifetime of hardships in a single evening, seeing through the absurdity of the world. He couldn’t help but murmur, “What do you think was going through her mind at that time?”
Song Mi remained silent for a moment, lightly tapping his wine glass before leaning against the railing. “Who knows?”
He had never been able to decipher her thoughts.
After all, from the rumors he had heard, she was always unconventional marching to the beat of her own drum. When others went east, she went west; when they headed south, she ventured north.
Yet this same woman had been utterly yielding to him in bed.
“Later, people speculated she was heartbroken over Yuan Zheng. Surely not was she really that infatuated with him?” Lu Feng asked casually, not expecting Song Mi to indulge such a trivial question.
Indeed, Song Mi didn’t answer. His gaze darkened as he leaned against the railing, recalling a dream that had haunted him for days.
Last year, when Song Mi returned to Peng Mountain to visit Lingyun Temple, the elderly abbot had grasped his hand upon his departure. Frowning, the old man studied him for a long moment before suddenly remarking that he seemed changed. “Perhaps unresolved regrets from a past life will soon take root in your heart, haunting your dreams.”
At the time, Song Mi had dismissed it as the ramblings of an aging mystic.
But that very night, he dreamed of himself twenty years in the future.
In the dream, he slowly opened his eyes to find himself seated before an easel, painting the silhouette of a woman.