Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 27

Juchen’s cheeks flushed like rouge had been brushed across them. Her delicate fingers clutched at the fabric near his waist, her heart swelling with both sweetness and bitterness as she leaned into his embrace. Dazed, she thought to herself at least for now, he did not want to cut ties with her. Having had something was still better than nothing at all.

After all, life was short, and one ought to seize joy while they could.

Back when her parents had first gotten together, they had sworn undying love, inseparable as glue. Yet in the end, hadn’t they forgotten their old affections the moment new ones came along?

Rather than holding out hope for growing old together while hesitating now, it was better to grasp the fleeting happiness of the present. Even if it was just a brief dream, it was still better than never having embraced it at all.

Lost in her self-deceiving thoughts, she suddenly heard the man chuckle softly above her.

Juchen lifted her beautiful eyes. “What is it?”

Song Mi let out a low laugh. “Nothing. Just realizing I’m a bit of a scoundrel.”

“Hmm?”

“Because right now, I really want to kiss you.”

Their summer robes were thin, and pressed so close together, every slight movement from Song Mi brushed against either her slender waist or her long, shapely legs.

He had meant to inhale the fragrance of her freshly washed hair to clear his mind, but as he lowered his head, his gaze fell upon a deep valley an abyss of desire impossible to fill.

If he could remain unmoved in this situation, he wouldn’t be a man at all.

Though his eyes were dark with lust, he still restrained himself and asked in a low voice, “Lady Li, if we don’t do anything else can I just kiss you?”

His tone was coaxing, but his gaze was a turbulent, smoldering black, so intense it was almost soul stealing. Juchen’s instincts told her that agreeing might not be wise.

Yet under his unwavering stare, she found herself utterly incapable of uttering a single word of refusal.

With her silent consent, Song Mi’s lips descended upon hers.

In the dimly lit room, the soft, wet sounds of their kisses soon filled the air. Before long, Juchen’s body had melted, her arms weakly draped over his shoulders as she met his passion with gasping breaths.

Perhaps out of consideration for her, Song Mi was gentler this time no relentless invasion, no storming of her senses. It didn’t feel like he was merely venting pent-up desire, but rather as if he were using the kiss to distract her, to soothe her discomfort.

Dazed and intoxicated, Juchen found the pain in her abdomen easing slightly.

But for Song Mi, the torment only grew.

The kiss had been a mistake. Instead of relief, it only deepened his frustration like a caged beast staring at its prey, the memory of her sweetness vivid, yet unable to break free and pin her beneath him, to sink his teeth into her tender flesh.

All he could do was press frustrated kisses along her neck, trailing down the half-open collar of her robe until his lips found the hollow beneath her collarbone.

Juchen shuddered violently, her delicate toes curling involuntarily. A familiar tingling sensation raced up her spine.

“D-Don’t bite.” Her mind went blank, her hands instinctively tangling in the hair at the nape of his neck.

His locks were smooth and soft as ink, yet his resolve was unyielding. He caught her wandering wrist and pinned it back against the bed.

“Not allowed? But your body’s telling me you like it.”

“……”

Juchen could only grit her teeth, her breathing erratic sometimes rapid, sometimes drawn out occasionally letting slip a few panting gasps, filled with unspoken frustration simmering beneath the surface.

He was utterly despicable!

Just because her monthly discomfort had ruined his mood, he had to go and set her entire body aflame.

——

In the following days when Juchen wasn’t on her period, she never accepted Song Mi’s invitations again.

Knowing full well nothing could happen yet still asking her out he was clearly doing it on purpose!

Song Mi had only wanted to see her, never expecting her to react with such aversion, even shooting him a glare brimming with irritation. He could only smile helplessly as she slipped away like oil underfoot.

Days passed without them meeting.

On this day, Juchen was assigned a task by Chief Secretary Shen to archive recent records in the historical archives and organize the documents.

Juchen hadn’t always enjoyed such tedious work, once considering it a waste of precious time. But after rising to a high position, enduring countless storms, and being reborn in this life, she now cherished the tranquil atmosphere of the archives and this peaceful routine.

The air carried the aged fragrance of ink, and beams of light streamed in through the neatly arranged windows, casting patches of brightness across the orderly rows of bookshelves.

The archives were divided into two floors, with the upper level built high many ancient texts required a ladder to reach. Juchen stood atop one, leaning slightly to file away a recently compiled volume.

The second floor housed the Liang Dynasty’s confidential records, accessible only to a few key ministers. Juchen’s current rank didn’t grant her access, so she had no idea that at this moment, someone on the second floor had lifted their head at the sound of movement, their gaze piercing through the stacks of aged papers to land on her.

Song Mi watched as she descended the ladder, holding a few scrolls, and settled at a desk in the main hall to read, her snow-white neck exposed beneath her slightly bowed head. Suddenly, he recalled the days in their past life when the Phoenix Pavilion and the Grand Secretariat had merged, and the two of them had worked side by side reviewing memorials.

Ever since their dance together, he found himself stealing glances at her during rare moments of respite, his eyes instinctively seeking her out across the mountains of paperwork.

She was always bent over her desk, brush in hand, sitting for hours without even pausing for a sip of water.

Female officials in the central court were rare, and Li Juchen was the first in Liang Dynasty history so she pushed herself relentlessly.

She often worked late into the night before returning. Every evening, as her carriage passed Taiyuan Tower, she would personally lift the hem of her robes and step out, calling softly at the entrance, “Manager Qian, pack me some pastries, please.”

She loved rewarding herself with sweets after a long day’s work.

Seated in his own carriage, Song Mi lifted the curtain with slender fingers, watching from afar as she stood patiently before the tower, her delicate silhouette framed against the night. He could not fathom how a woman who indulged in late-night snacks especially sweets could remain so slender.

Had he not danced with her, he would never have known she carried her curves exactly where they ought to be.

Still, an appetite was a blessing. He had once assumed her relentless drive stemmed from the weight of her hard-worn official’s hat, so heavy it robbed her of sleep and appetite.

Now he realized her mindset was not so fragile. All her efforts were not to prove she deserved her position she was simply doing what they all did: fulfilling her duties, excelling in her role.

Later, without realizing it, stopping by Taiyuan Tower every evening after work to hear her crisp order became Song Mi’s daily routine. He thus memorized her favorite pastries Grand Preceptor cakes, Spring Water Delicacies, Jade Dew Balls, and Honey-Coated Su Nai Flowers.

He had pondered for a long time about why he did this, but could not find any meaningful reason.

It simply felt interesting, though if pressed to explain what exactly was interesting, he couldn’t articulate it.

Just like now though he had already finished reviewing the case files he needed, he still found himself leaning against the second floor bookshelves, holding an ancient text while staring transfixed at her through the gaps between books.

The historical archives were dimly lit.

Fleeting beams of shifting sunlight from outside slowly drifted across the girl’s face.

She remained engrossed in her reading until a soft call came from the entrance.

Juchen heard her name being called and looked up to see Song Yun suddenly appear at the doorway, a smile playing on his lips as he rushed toward her.

Song Yun had been released from house arrest by the Dowager Princess but was forbidden from leaving the capital.

Having wandered every corner of the Eastern Capital his childhood hometown now overly familiar and devoid of poetic inspiration he would turned his attention to the vast sea of historical texts, believing he could experience the world through the footsteps of predecessors.

He had always wanted to become a wandering poet, but the Dowager Princess disapproved and never acknowledged his writings.

“Not long ago, Mother burned all the poetry collections in my study,” he said.

Seeing him scratch the back of his head dejectedly, Juchen gave his shoulder a comforting pat.

The two had been classmates since childhood at the Aristocratic Girls’ School. Having been subjected to his poetry growing up, Juchen had witnessed his evolution from incoherent ramblings to literary brilliance.

Moved by his distress, she confided: “But I think your writing is excellent, and I believe more people will come to appreciate it like I do.”

In her past life, he had been a late bloomer who eventually gained nationwide fame.

The current Song Yun, unaware of this future, merely smiled and began sharing the universal childhood grievance of being constantly compared to others.

“Lately Mother keeps mentioning Uncle, always using his political achievements to spur me on. She often says if I had just one tenth of Prince Pengshan’s ability, she could die without regrets,” Song Yun sighed deeply.

“I know he’s extraordinary since childhood, whether in academics or martial arts, everything seems effortless for him. But after all my efforts, poetry is the only thing I’ve mastered. I’ll never achieve what he has.”

Seeing his despondency, Juchen who would once clashed fiercely with Song Mi in her past life understood his pain well. She reassured him loudly: “He’s not as effortlessly perfect as you think. Most of it is probably just an act.”

Song Yun blinked in confusion. “Really? But I heard he never forgets what he reads writing poetry at three, painting at five, mastering hundreds of texts by ten, immensely learned, highly skilled in martial arts, and naturally ambidextrous.”

As soon as Juchen heard these clichéd praises about Song Mi, certain “long buried grievances” uncontrollably surged within her. Images from her past life flashed through her mind like a revolving lantern, and she could not help but remark, “There’s no such thing as pure talent. He must have put in countless hours of hard work behind the scenes he just never told us about it.”

“Is that so?”

“These so called ‘model children’ are all like this,” Juchen tapped the table emphatically. “Toiling away in secret while appearing effortless on the surface, deliberately creating anxiety for the rest of us. Their hearts are as black as ink.”

Song Yun’s eyes widened, inexplicably finding her argument quite convincing.

Juchen stated firmly, “Don’t pay too much attention to what others say.

Writing poetry can also lead to great success.”

Song Yun’s eyes brightened. “Really?”

Juchen continued, “While making history may seem glorious, having your poems recited by common folk, passed down through generations, and achieving immortality that way isn’t that just as remarkable?”

Rarely having received support or encouragement, Song Yun blossomed at the slightest praise. Hearing this interpretation, joy spread across his face like ink dispersing in water. He rushed forward and hugged her shoulders tightly. “I knew you were the best!”

The embrace was childlike in its enthusiasm, almost too tight. Juchen gave an awkward laugh and was about to push him away when.

A sudden cough came from the second floor.

Juchen’s spine stiffened. That voice.

She turned abruptly to see the very subject of their private discussion the “black hearted model child” now descending the stairs at a leisurely pace.