Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 23

Pitch pot had been Xu Yang’s most proficient game since childhood. As the game began, she was brimming with competitive spirit, determined to claim the title of tonight’s undisputed champion.

Yet today, she met her match.

Their game rules involved drawing lots to form teams of two, with combined scores tallied each round. Only the first place team would avoid drinking, while all others had to down their cups.

Despite the random draw, she somehow ended up paired with Yuan Zheng what formidable karmic ties. Still, Yuan Zheng’s exceptional archery skills made him an ideal teammate as she had hoped.

She eagerly sat beside Yuan Zheng, glancing around to discover Juchen had drawn the short straw paired with her uncle, seated directly across from them.

This must be the karmic bond of ceramics.

Admittedly, the two looked rather pleasing together. Without exchanging a single word, they appeared perfectly harmonious even strikingly well matched.

Then Xu Yang realized Song Mi was frighteningly skilled at pitch pot, showing no mercy to the birthday girl. Juchen, never adept at archery, remained completely sober all night thanks to him.

Xu Yang kept failing to secure first place, her frustration mounting until she finally threw down her arrows in defeat, demanding they switch games.

The group readily obliged.

As proprietor of Dongdu Restaurant, Lin Zongbai was most knowledgeable about drinking games. When Lu Feng asked about newly popular pastimes in the capital, Lin pondered before heading downstairs to have an attendant fetch a brocade box from his carriage.

Frequently invited to liven up banquets, he kept various party props in his carriage.

Xu Yang, as tonight’s hostess, received the box first. Opening it revealed dozens of small pouches containing nearly identical slips of paper.

Lin explained, “This game’s simple called ‘Ghost Catcher’ in the entertainment quarters.”

“Each pouch holds a set of slips with similar but not identical words.”

“Players take turns describing their word without naming it, balancing concealment with hints.”

“The ‘ghost’ holds the different word unknowingly. They must deduce their identity through others’ clues, then describe their word similarly to blend in without violating its true meaning.”

“Winning means identifying the ghost. Fail, and the ghost wins.”

Xu Yang smiled. “Intriguing.”

Lin asked, “Shall we try?”

Meeting his gaze, she smirked, “Very well,” selecting a pouch from the simpler category.

“Let’s start easy it’s our first time playing.”

To prevent accidental peeking, the paired pitch pot tables were separated into individual stations.

Finally free from Song Mi’s proximity, Juchen’s heartbeat steadied though with a faint, imperceptible melancholy.

Never had she felt so conflicted. Forcing focus, she turned her attention to the slip in her hand.

Xuyang was the first to speak. Frowning slightly as she glanced at the words on the paper, she said with a smile, “I don’t think anyone actually likes this.”

The others exchanged looks, immediately finding common ground as they touched their noses and chuckled knowingly.

Then, starting from Xuyang’s right, each person began to describe it.

“Every time before doing this, my heart feels tormented.”

“Waking up in the morning and thinking about this makes me wish I could turn back time.”

“It’s great when I don’t have to do it every day.”

“Usually done at fixed times, but sometimes not.”

Round after round passed. Despite being a simple topic, they went through five rounds without identifying the “ghost” among them. Looking around in confusion, they wondered had the collective wisdom of these pillars of the state really fallen short of ordinary folks in teahouses and taverns?
It wasn’t until Song Yun solemnly admitted, “I did it last year, but not yet this year,” that all eyes suddenly focused on him.

Noticing the shift in atmosphere, Song Yun blinked. “What’s wrong?”

Xuyang’s slender finger pointed at him. “It’s you.”

Song Yun was incredulous. “Wait, you’ve all already done it this year? But it’s not even time yet!”

Groans erupted around them. Juchen sighed helplessly. “I started doing it as soon as spring began this year.”

The two assistant ministers from the Court of Judicial Review looked even more miserable. “We do it almost every day.”

As Song Yun stood bewildered, Lin Zongbai burst out laughing and declared the ghost caught the civilians had won.

When the slips were revealed, Song Yun’s jaw dropped as he saw everyone else’s papers uniformly read “going to work,” while his own clearly stated “visiting graves.”

Lu Feng couldn’t help snickering. “Seriously? ‘Going to work’ and ‘visiting graves’ how are these related? And we only noticed now?”

“I really thought I was a civilian,” Song Yun said, stunned.

The others couldn’t resist scoffing at him in disdain.

Having tasted the fun of the game, everyone eagerly started the next round.

After three rounds, Lin Zongbai smiled and said, “Let’s raise the difficulty.”

This time, Juchen drew a slip from the pouch and unfolded it to see two neat characters: “like.” Unaware she was the ghost, she was fortunate to be the last to describe.

As the game began, Juchen pricked up her ears to listen.

“It’s something that can override reason.”

“The mind can be persuaded, but it cannot.”

“Like the wind you don’t need to see it to feel its presence.”

“Easy to lose yourself in it.”

“Once it appears, once it happens, you can’t decisively draw a full stop.”

Listening, Juchen marveled inwardly. Just listen to these scholars trained by the Xianning Princess their cryptic descriptions perfectly matched her word yet left everyone clueless.

Then, it was Song Mi’s turn before her. After a pause, he said, “You never mention it, yet hope others will.”

Juchen froze, as if a dewdrop had fallen from grass by a pond, stirring faint ripples in her heart.

His description was as vague as the others’. But would his “like” really go unmentioned?

Though she couldn’t claim to fully understand him, after years of standing toe to toe with him, she had a fairly clear grasp of his temperament.

The Prince of Pengshan was never one to shy away from expressing his likes and dislikes his stance on most matters was straightforward, either clearly favoring or disdaining them. Yet throughout all this time, there was only one thing he had kept entirely hidden within himself, never letting anyone catch a glimpse, until his passing revealed faint traces of it.

Seeing Juchen remain silent for so long, Xuyang prompted her to speak.

The fact that no one showed even a hint of suspicion at Song Mi’s description made Juchen’s heart twinge involuntarily.

After a moment’s thought, she parted her lips lightly and said, “It is pure, and the only purity in this world is the absence of thought.”

Clearly, she had managed to slip past their scrutiny. Clearly, she had noticed a subtle difference between her own words and theirs on the slips of paper.

This made Juchen pay even closer attention to Song Mi’s descriptions.

In the second round, he said, “I can’t pinpoint exactly when or where it started, because by the time I noticed, I was already deeply entangled.”

In the third round, he said, “From that moment on, your joys and sorrows would no longer be yours to control.”

In the fourth round, he said, “My heart is densely crowded, yet my vision is blank as paper.”

In the fifth round, he said, “I thought time would be the cure. I thought it was just a passing rain, but after the rain stopped, the marsh never returned to clear waters.”

As his words fell, the others couldn’t help but let out soft gasps of admiration.

He had spoken so beautifully that everyone forgot to search for the hidden “ghost,” completely immersed in his words.

So beautifully that even though Juchen had won, she felt utterly defeated.

When they opened the slips of paper, Xuyang glanced at the word in Juchen’s hand and exclaimed in sudden realization, “So it was ‘unrequited love’ and ‘love.’ No wonder we couldn’t find it the difference between these two words really isn’t that big.”

Juchen curled the corner of her lips slightly, murmuring to herself inwardly, “Not that big?”

Then why had she never noticed in her past life?

Was she too slow, or was he too skilled at hiding?

If the difference wasn’t big, how could she so easily distinguish between “never mentioning a word” and the rest?

And why did she suddenly feel her heart mired in mud?

Her heart, too, had long since turned into a swamp, sinking deeper with every step because of that rain.

Fun as it was, the game was also quite mentally taxing. After several rounds, everyone was feeling a bit weary.

Xuyang suggested switching to something simpler to give their minds a break, and under Lin Zongbai’s recommendation, they settled on “Pass the Flower with the Drumbeat.”

The rules were straightforward: whoever ended up with the flower when the drumming stopped had to either perform a talent or answer a question.

Lin Zongbai had prepared everything the drum, the flower, and the drawstring pouches containing the questions.

The drumming began, and the game started.

In the past, Juchen had always preferred performing talents in such games playing the qin or flute, singing or dancing she could do a little of everything, so she rarely chose to answer questions.

But today, perhaps because of someone’s presence, she suddenly realized that her skills in music and dance were merely superficial, far from mastery, and hardly worth showing off.

So when the flower landed in her hands, and everyone expected her to rise and perform, she hesitated for a moment before choosing to draw a question instead.

Xu Yang couldn’t help but let out a surprised sound. Upon closer inspection, she noticed that Juchen’s sitting posture tonight was especially proper and demure. Previously, Juchen had always sat beside her, but she had never paid much attention.

Lin Zongbai, responsible for drumming and hosting, opened the brocade pouch and unfolded the slip of paper. With a gentle tone, he asked her, “How do you distinguish between gratitude and love?”

Xu Yang instinctively laughed, “Are all the questions this philosophical?”

Lin Zongbai smiled and explained, “Not necessarily. There’s all kinds some might even be so embarrassing they are hard to say out loud. Let’s hope everyone can handle it.”

Xu Yang gasped, and the group exchanged glances, unable to suppress murmurs of surprise. This was precisely why Juchen disliked choosing questions she had encountered some shockingly bold ones before.

Juchen frowned in thought before answering, “Is there a need to distinguish?

How many people in this world would actually show you such kindness? Some acts of grace are profound enough to make one fall on their own.”

Xu Yang couldn’t help but laugh, “Seems like A-Chen is the type to pledge herself in return.”

Juchen curled her lips and playfully retorted, “Wouldn’t you?”

Xu Yang pouted but seriously considered it. “Only if they risked their life to save mine would I even think about it.”

No wonder they were such close friends.

After all, in their shared worldview, few would dare to risk their lives.

Their perspective sparked lively discussions among the group.

From distinguishing gratitude from love to life-saving sacrifices and repayment, the young men and women began expressing differing views and experiences.

Lu Feng had just refuted his sister Lu Yun’s notion that a rescued maiden should repay her savior with marriage, arguing that a woman should marry the man she loves rather than bow to societal pressure to wed someone she might have only met once.

To strengthen his argument, he turned to his sworn brother Song Mi for support. “Zhengzhi, if you saved someone without regard for danger or your own life, you wouldn’t expect repayment, right?”

His booming voice naturally drew everyone’s attention to their side.

Song Mi ran his fingers along the rim of his cup, pondered for a moment, then smiled faintly. “If I’ve already given my life, why would I care whether she repays me? I’d only wish for her to live well.”

His tone was teasing, yet his words struck like a naked blade sharp and undeniable.

Who was it? Knowing full well its deadly edge, yet unable to resist letting it pierce straight through their heart.