Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 31
Whenever envoys from the northern kingdoms arrived in the capital, they would first have an audience with the emperor. The following day, they would accompany His Majesty to the ancient White Horse Temple to offer incense and pray for the well-being of both nations’ subjects. On the third day, a banquet would be held in the Northern Imperial Gardens, which housed various entertainment venues favored by northern nomadic tribe’s archery, horse racing, ball games, and polo. The court would specially select military officials skilled in both horsemanship and archery to accompany and engage with the envoys, fostering goodwill between the two nations.
His Majesty appointed Prince Pengshan as the host, responsible for overseeing all arrangements during this period.
A temporary administrative pavilion was set up in the Northern Imperial Gardens, where officials from the Six Ministries and Nine Courts came and went like a school of fish. It resembled an intricate network tightly woven around the empire’s vital organs, with Song Mo serving as the central cog that kept everything running smoothly.
Commander Lu of the Patrol Battalion had just finished discussing security arrangements for the incoming envoy delegation with Song Mo. Before leaving, he couldn’t help but steal a glance at the graceful figure seated at the low table beside Song Mo.
This was something nearly every official who entered the pavilion did instinctively. Song Mo raised a brow and followed their gazes, turning to see Juchen set down her brush to massage her slender wrist before resuming her writing, her focus never wavering from the documents before her, utterly indifferent to the lingering stares directed her way.
They say a man immersed in his work is most captivating, but Song Mo believed the same held true for women.
Juchen approached everything with dedication whether it was skipping school as a child (which she did with remarkable seriousness) or delving deep into mud pie research. Now, as an official, she maintained her position with unwavering clarity, never hesitating when it was time to step up.
After a morning of near constant activity, Song Mo finally tapped the desk lightly with his finger, confirming that all expected visitors had come and gone, and no one else was likely to arrive. He fetched a violet upholstered stool and called Juchen over to sit beside him.
Obediently, Juchen gathered her work and approached, assuming he had instructions or advice for her. Instead, he poured her a cup of tea, propped his chin on one hand, and gestured to the memorial in front of her with the other. “Keep writing.”
“Are you finished with your work?” Juchen couldn’t help asking.
“More or less.”
At this, a deeply ingrained competitive streak stirred within Juchen. She lifted her chin and declared, “I’m almost done too.”
“Mm.” Song Mo’s lips curved as he picked up a draft list of banquet attendees beside him. “Then when you’re free, you can prepare the invitations for these people.”
Juchen immediately regretted her earlier words and muttered under her breath, “Couldn’t you delegate such trivial matters to subordinates?”
The moment the words left her mouth, she realized her impertinence and clapped a hand over her lips, shooting him a wary glance.
Song Mo, however, didn’t seem angered. He merely arched a brow and asked gently, “What’s your current rank?”
Juchen replied stiffly, “Eighth grade.”
“And mine?”
“First grade.”
“Do you know the ranks of all the officials who came through earlier?”
“They were all fourth grade or higher.”
Song Mo nodded earnestly. “So it’s not that I’m giving you a hard time it’s just that, beneath me, there really aren’t any officials ranked lower than you.”
There was no arguing with that.
Juchen obediently took the guest list and pursed her lips. “I won’t stay eighth grade forever.”
“Mm.” Song Mo gazed at her, a faint glimmer of amusement or perhaps approval dancing in his eyes.
Juchen shot him an almost imperceptible glare, carefully controlling it to avoid detection, her eyes clearly conveying “just you wait.”
Song Mi still noticed but pretended not to, turning his face away with a silent scoff.
Juchen opened the guest list and began categorizing names by rank, drafting invitations with swift strokes.
Song Mi sat nearby reviewing his afternoon schedule. Pausing over the preliminary alliance treaty from the Privy Council, he rested his chin thoughtfully before his gaze drifted unconsciously to her elegant handwriting, momentarily transfixed.
The Northern Imperial Gardens, built during the previous dynasty and refined by successive emperors, boasted countless pavilions amidst dense foliage and fragrant blossoms. A sudden breeze outside stirred the plum branches, scattering petals that cast dappled pink shadows across Juchen’s face in the winter sunlight.
Looking up, Song Mi found her jade like complexion and picturesque profile utterly mesmerizing. Watching the dancing plum blossom shadows on her cheeks, an itch crept between his fingers he longed to brush away those floral patterns, to make her blush for him instead.
Yet her focused expression deterred him from disturbing her work, leaving him regretting summoning her here in the first place.
Though they had shared this office space for ages, Song Mi realized proximity made all the difference. Now he truly understood the meaning of distraction.
The oblivious culprit never lifted her eyes from the paper, flipping pages until reaching the palace ladies’ list. Her pen paused at “Princess Yong’an” in the corner.
A fleeting image surfaced a woman in ethnic headwear with extraordinarily gentle features.
“Would an alliance banquet really include Yong’an?” Juchen murmured.
Song Mi glanced over. “The inner court seating was arranged by Her Majesty herself.”
He was not surprised by the question. Though the late emperor’s youngest daughter, Yong’an’s lowborn mother and inauspicious birth had made her unwelcome.
Conceived when the emperor first discovered the empress dowager’s political meddling, their strained relationship led to a drunken encounter with a palace maid.
Fearing the dowager’s displeasure, the emperor exiled Yong’an and her mother to remote Baoguang Temple to copy scriptures.
Growing up knowing she was unwanted, Yong’an lived more like a novice nun than a princess sweeping, chanting, reading, and meditating.
Until the day County Princess Xianning visited the temple and took pity on the quiet girl beneath the trees, bringing her home as a student.
Juchen remembered Yong’an during those years soft spoken, quick to smile with dimples that lifted hearts.
It happened to be the third month of spring, when the Princess Consort preferred to take them outdoors for lessons. One day, she suddenly plucked a wild orchid from the garden and set them an impromptu task to compose a poem on the spot.
That day, three young ladies received the Princess Consort’s highest praise.
The first was Xuyang, with her poem Plucking the Orchid, which exuded an air of decisive ruthlessness toward things deemed unfit.
The second was Juchen, with her Ode to the Orchid, choosing not to judge the actions of those in power but instead praising the flower’s beauty and its noble spirit bent but unbroken.
The third was Yong’an, with her Fallen Orchid, filled with tender sorrow akin to burying blossoms.
After reading their poems, the Princess Consort shook her head with a sigh and smiled. “A tripod of talent. If only the three of you could unite, you might form a formidable team capable of great things.”
Yet, shortly after that day, news of Yong’an and Xuyang both receiving top honors reached the palace. Fearing the Princess Consort might take offense, Yong’an’s mother hurried to the manor that very night and took her back to Baoguang Temple.
Later, Xuyang died young, Yong’an was married off to Tibet, and Juchen in the end lost the game of power.
But if there was one regret that haunted Juchen throughout her long political career, it was not her own downfall. Rather, it was her failure to win the debate in the Golden Hall concerning the fate of women sent as brides to forge alliances. When the Tibetan king passed away and Yong’an pleaded with the court to return home, Juchen could not secure her release. As a result, Yong’an was bound by the steppe’s levirate marriage custom and wedded to the Tibetan king’s second son.
For years, Juchen had dedicated herself to achieving equality between men and women in the Liang dynasty. Yet, when the nation was in turmoil, she faltered, allowing the sacrifice of one woman’s will for the sake of diplomacy.
She carried this guilt toward Yong’an in her heart. But even then, when war ravaged Liang, Yong’an persuaded her second husband to lend his full support, rescuing Juchen from dire straits.
Such kindness in return for betrayal it became the deepest remorse of Juchen’s life.
Song Mi dipped his brush in vermilion ink and circled two important matters on the itinerary. Turning, he noticed Juchen staring at the invitation for a long while, rubbing her slightly reddened eyes.
Assuming she was weary from the morning’s work, he gently reassured her that the invitations were not urgent. “You can finish them in the afternoon.”
Juchen snapped out of her thoughts and nodded. She resumed writing for a while before hesitating, setting down the brush. Pinching her thumb and forefinger together, she gestured a tiny gap and asked, “Might this humble official step out for just a moment?”
Every time Song Mi saw her slightly guilty expression, he couldn’t resist teasing her. Frowning, he feigned sternness. “Is it time to leave already?”
“It’s precisely because it’s not yet time that I wish to seek out the official in charge of the Northern Imperial Gardens.”
“Why?”
“I need to ask him for a favor.”
“Why him?” This time, a trace of genuine displeasure crept into his voice, as if he couldn’t fathom what the Northern Imperial Gardens’ official could do for her that he couldn’t.
Juchen replied tactfully, “I wish to ask him to allow one more person into the gardens on the day the envoys are welcomed with a banquet. No seat at the feast is needed just entry.”
Song Mi asked, “Who?”
“My younger brother, Li Wuyou.”
This time, Song Mi truly frowned. “Is this your idea?”
Juchen paused, then answered truthfully, “That day on the imperial road, I did leave early for a reason. My mother called me home for dinner.”
“Then she told you she hopes your brother gets to attend the banquet? I recall he’s not the legitimate heir.”
“It was my father who mentioned it. He said Wuyou really wanted to see the Liang military officials compete in archery against the Tibetan envoys.”
“Minister Li won’t ask for favors himself, but drops hints to your mother instead?”
Juchen shrugged. “Perhaps not intentionally, but my mother took it to heart.
She probably wants to show I’ve made something of myself that I can easily solve my father’s problems.”
As the assistant minister currently overseeing the Northern Imperial Gardens and hosting the envoy delegation, arranging this would indeed be simple for Juchen she just needed to coordinate with the palace guards.
But her mother hadn’t considered whether her daughter wanted to owe such favors, or what benefit it might bring her.
Song Mi studied her slightly resigned and melancholy expression before concluding, “You love your mother very much.”
The words struck Juchen’s heart. She met his gaze. “You love the Empress Dowager very much too.”
Song Mi looked startled, then chuckled. “I don’t.”
“Then why did you perform ‘Song of Everlasting Sorrow’?”
Her unwavering gaze seemed to peer past his reflection into his deepest thoughts.
After a brief silence, Song Mi smiled. “Fine. Tell him to comply with the security check. Certain prohibited items can’t enter the gardens.”
It took Juchen a moment to realize he’d agreed. She quickly bowed. “Thank you, Your Highness.”
Song Mi scoffed lightly, resting his chin on his hand. “Four words? That’s all?”
Their eyes locked. As Juchen’s lashes fluttered, Song Mi meaningfully tapped his lips, his teasing gaze clearly saying, you know what I want.
Clearing her throat, Juchen leaned in slowly.
Just as their lips were about to meet, hurried footsteps sounded outside.
“Juchen! Time for dinner!” Xuyang’s cheerful voice called as he threw open the pavilion door.