Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 33

After the men’s archery competition, the women of the delegation grew eager to try their hand and couldn’t resist stepping onto the field, laughing as they drew their curved bows before the targets. With the Empress Dowager temporarily not needing an interpreter, Juchen seized the moment for a brief respite and brought Yong’an to the Rare Beasts Garden.

This year, the weather had warmed earlier than usual. By the second month, spring had already embraced the garden lush trees, fragrant grasses lining the paths, and golden sunlight resting on the slender shoulders of the two young girls, painting the scene like an ink wash masterpiece.

Juchen led Yong’an through the garden, showing her all manner of exotic creatures before finally returning to the pair of white lions. Though Yong’an had initially been frightened by them, she was now the most curious, staring intently. “Is this a male and a female?”

“Yes, the male. Have you seen lions before, Yong’an?”

Yong’an nodded, then shook her head. “I’ve seen them in books. Are they a pair?”

“Mm. They were presented by a merchant from the Western Regions and have been together since they were cubs.”

“So they’re childhood sweethearts, a devoted couple?”

A faint smile touched Juchen’s lips. “Yes.”

Yong’an was sixteen this year, just past her coming of age ceremony. Like any girl her age, she dreamed of fate bestowed romance and beautiful love.

Unable to resist, she leaned forward, eyes fixed on the pair of lions. They walked side by side within their vast, straw-strewn enclosure the male majestic and proud, the female graceful and supple an indescribably perfect match.

Juchen stood quietly by her side, watching as Yong’an’s eyes widened with fascination, all traces of fear gone. The girl’s gaze lingered on the lions, her lashes slightly curled, eyes shimmering with delight, lips unconsciously curving into a smile.

Just as Yong’an was absorbed in the sight, someone casually tossed a raw leg of lamb into the enclosure beside her. The meat traced a curved arc through the air before landing with a thud at the female lion’s feet.

The sudden noise made Yong’an flinch, her neck jerking back.

The female lion, too, was startled by the unexpected intrusion, her graceful stride faltering for a moment. The male lion, provoked, let out a furious roar directed at the person outside the cage. Then, after sniffing the fresh meat, he pounced forward hesitated and yielded it to the female first.

Touched by this act of chivalry, Yong’an let out an involuntary “Wow!”

But a mocking young voice cut in from beside them, speaking in cold, deliberate Tibetan. “How pitiful.”

Juchen turned to see a boy of thirteen or fourteen dressed in foreign style narrow robes, wearing a pointed hat with a long back brim. Strands of hair peeked out near his ears, an unusual shade of deep indigo. His features were strikingly handsome, impossible to ignore.

Noticing the girls’ gazes, he smirked slightly and continued in Tibetan, sneering at the lions in the cage. “He was once the ruler of the savanna, the leader of a pride. Without this cage, he could have had multiple lionesses, living as a lord with them hunting for him. Now, trapped by the Liang people, he’s been tamed into this foolishly devoted creature.”

Yong’an, unable to understand, tugged at Juchen’s sleeve. “Sister Juchen, what is he saying?”

After a brief pause, Juchen smiled at her. “He’s praising them. He says they’re adorable.”

The Tibetan youth turned his head, furrowing his brows as he gave her an incredulous look.

Juchen maintained her composure and bowed to him, speaking fluent Tibetan, “Greetings, Prince Buzan.”

Buzan clearly hadn’t expected her to recognize him, a flicker of surprise crossing his gaze. Juchen then switched to the Central Plains dialect, introducing Princess Yong’an behind her as his equal. Buzan paused before pressing his right hand to his shoulder in a formal salute.

Meanwhile, Yong’an, influenced by Juchen’s words, assumed the prince shared her admiration for the divinely crafted white lions and felt an instant goodwill toward him. After exchanging courtesies, she took out the snowflake coconut cakes she had brought from the banquet and offered them to him.

These cakes had been a special gift from the Empress Dowager, who noticed Yong’an’s fondness for them. She had originally planned to take them back for her mother to enjoy, but as their guest had traveled thousands of miles, Yong’an, as a princess of the Great Liang, believed it her duty to extend proper hospitality.

She held them out in both hands, her clear, bright eyes crinkling as the corners of her lips lifted, revealing two faint dimples.

Buzan stared at her in silence, his gaze lingering on those dimples and her delicate, doll like face pale and soft, much like the lambs he used to lure wild wolves into his traps.

Only when Yong’an’s arms began to tire did he finally curl his lips and leisurely reach out, taking the entire bundle of cakes in one swift motion.

Yong’an blinked in surprise, biting her lip discreetly as she swallowed her disappointment at not being able to bring any back to the temple.

Buzan noted the regret in her eyes and, right in front of her, took a bite.

He was mildly surprised by how delicious the pale, fluffy treat turned out to be. Nodding, he flashed a perfectly measured smile before reaching into the pouch at his waist and pulling out an unidentified strip of dried meat, offering it in return.

Yong’an, living in the temple, abstained from meat. She accepted the slightly charred, bone in jerky and instinctively sniffed it, immediately overwhelmed by its pungent gaminess.

Yet Buzan watched her eagerly with his pitch-black eyes, making it impossible for her to refuse his goodwill. Gritting her teeth, she took a small bite, only to find the meat not only unbearably gamey but also bitter, sour, and nearly impossible to chew.

Buzan asked in halting Central Plains dialect, eyes wide with anticipation, “Not good?”

Yong’an forced herself to swallow before smiling weakly. “No, it’s quite unique.”

Buzan studied her for a long moment before suddenly turning away, bursting into laughter. “Very unique,” he agreed uniquely terrible, given that he had haphazardly roasted it for fun and accidentally burned it.

Juchen, noticing Yong’an’s slightly greenish pallor, frowned. As the sun climbed higher and the polo match before the banquet was about to begin, she seized the opportunity to steer Yong’an away from Buzan.

Shielding the princess, she walked a few steps before glancing back only to find Buzan still standing by the lion cage, watching Yong’an’s retreating figure with amused mockery.

A chill ran down Juchen’s spine. This unruly youth was to be Yong’an’s second husband.

The future ruler of the Northern Frontier, who had outright rejected Juchen’s proposal of increased tribute in silk and silver, demanding instead that Yong’an remain in Tibet as the sole condition for renewing their alliance.

At the front of the banquet area, the archery targets had been removed from the field below. The ceremonial music accompanied by drumbeats began to sound as two teams entered in formation, raising their polo mallets in ritual.

Soon, the thunder of hooves kicked up dust across the field.

Yong’an had loved horseback riding since childhood and adored all equestrian sports. Juchen had specifically brought her back to watch the match.

Song Mi sat in a corner near the staircase on the upper floor’s front row.

Hearing faint footsteps ascending, his gaze was instantly drawn to the two belated figures sneaking up stealthily.

There was Juchen, holding Yong’an’s hand, peering around cautiously at the stairwell. Spotting Xuyang waving at them and gesturing to two empty seats beside him, Juchen bent slightly to navigate through the crowd with Yong’an in tow before settling next to Xuyang.

The Empress Dowager watched as Yuan Zheng and Lu Feng demonstrated seamless coordination. In a flash, Lu Feng’s mallet sent the first goal arcing through the air, securing the opening point for the Liang team. A faint smile touched her lips as she turned to casually discuss the match’s progress with Song Mi.

Yet she noticed his expression cool and detached since returning from archery had inexplicably softened.

Even more puzzling, a tender, almost smug smile played at his lips, as if privately celebrating something.

Observing how Song Mi’s gaze remained fixed on the polo field with an uncharacteristic softness, then shifting to Lu Feng below, the Empress Dowager was suddenly besieged by irrational recollections of those capital wide rumors claiming Song Mi preferred men. An uncontrollable thought surfaced perhaps she should not have allowed him to grow so close to Lu Feng.

Song Mi maintained his focus on the game until the final, most intense period when all attention was riveted on the field. Only then did he permit himself the slightest sideways glance toward Juchen in her corner.

Juchen was not watching the match at all. Her attention had been stolen by Buzan’s mid game return to the Tibetan contingent.

The moment Buzan rejoined the Tibetan King’s side, the monarch’s face bloomed with ink-wash warmth. Though merely the king’s second son, Buzan was the sole child of his deceased first wife. His striking resemblance to his mother especially those lapis lazuli blue locks inevitably summoned memories of the departed queen, earning him unparalleled favor.

Slouching lazily beside his father, Buzan produced a box of pastries. At the king’s inquiry, whatever Buzan said prompted amused laughter before the monarch’s gaze inadvertently followed his son’s gesture lingering a moment too long on Yong’an.

A chill crawled up Juchen’s spine as she recalled the alliance negotiations.

Among all potential brides, the Tibetan King had selected Yong’an. That decision had condemned the girl to a foreign land, passed between father and son like property, never to return home.

The predatory gleam in Buzan’s eyes now made Juchen physically ill. She could not fathom what horrors awaited a delicate girl like Yong’an under such ownership first forced to wed the father, and then inherited by the son, subjected to daily humiliations. The weight of her own past cowardice pressed heavier with each passing thought.

From Song Mi’s vantage point, Juchen appeared utterly engrossed in the match, her stare unblinking toward the field.

As noon approached under unusually warm sunlight, the score stood at eighteen to nineteen. The first team to reach twenty would claim victory.

Seeing the Blue Team just one-step away from victory, the Red Team composed of Tibetan players refused to accept defeat. Their Tibetan captain deliberately provoked the Liang Dynasty team to shake their morale. During a timeout, he stripped off his upper garment, revealing his bronzed, muscular torso, mocking the Central Plains players as scrawny “white cut chickens” despite their skill.

Provoked, Yuan Zheng refused to back down and also bared his well built chest. The two dismounted and engaged in a wrestling match right on the field.

Song Mi noticed her gaze fixed intently on the shirtless man ahead. He averted his eyes, his expression growing colder, an air of displeasure thickening around him.

She never looks at me that attentively in bed.

With the strike of a gong, the Liang Dynasty team claimed final victory.

Overjoyed, Yong’an impulsively grabbed Juchen’s elbow, only to find her stiff and distracted she had not even been watching the match.

Xuyang, spotting Yuan Zheng scoring the winning goal, snorted, “At least he saved some face.”

Juchen, snapping out of her daze, noticed the handkerchief Xuyang had nervously crumpled and couldn’t help but smile.

As the match concluded, the Tibetan female guests, dissatisfied with their team’s losses in both archery and polo, challenged the Liang team to a mixed gender rematch.

Xuyang itched to compete against the Tibetan princess and invited Juchen to join. But this time, Juchen declined.

Xuyang was stunned. Though Juchen’s archery was mediocre, her horsemanship was exceptional. In the past, she would never pass up such a public display of skill.

In her past life, Juchen had accepted Xuyang’s invitation during this very match and utterly humiliated the Tibetan princess. Later, historians would condemn that victory as a diplomatic blunder criticizing her for prioritizing personal glory over courtesy after the Liang Dynasty had already won.

Now, when Xuyang pressed her about her lost competitive spirit, Juchen replied serenely, “I’ve grown up. I no longer care for such contests.”

Xuyang sighed, “This isn’t like you. I preferred the reckless girl you used to be.”

But this era, this court, does not. Juchen’s lips curled into a sorrowful smile after a long silence.

Xuyang partnered with Yuan Zheng instead. During the match, Yuan Zheng accidentally knocked the Tibetan princess off her horse while protecting Xuyang. Both rushed to check on her.

From the stands, Juchen studied the beautiful princess her deep set eyes, high nose, and graceful figure typical of Tibetan women. With such enchanting encounters, no wonder men hesitate to return.

Her soft sigh toward Yuan Zheng’s direction caught Song Mi’s eye, misinterpreted as longing wishing she were the one fighting by his side.

Without Juchen’s participation, the Liang team narrowly lost. Perhaps this lifetime’s historical records will call it a harmonious outcome.

At the banquet, Yong’an and Juchen sat together, chatting quietly until the conversation turned to a travelogue Juchen adored.

Since it was something she loved, Yong’an unusually spoke a few extra words before lamenting, “What a pity I’ve only read the first half. The latter half wasn’t collected in the scripture repository of Baoguang Temple.”

Juchen’s chopsticks paused mid-air as she suddenly recalled seeing that very book the complete original edition in the study of the Lonesome Retreat. A faint smile touched her lips as she said kindly, “I know where to find it.

Let me get it for you.”

Yong’an’s eyes sparkled with delight. “Truly?”

“Mmm.”

After the banquet, while Song Mi remained seated pouring himself another cup of wine, Juchen helped clear the dishes. Seizing the post banquet commotion, she discreetly delivered mouth-rinsing tea to Song Mi on a lacquered tray with a tiny note hidden beneath.

“Lonesome Retreat. Tonight.” Reading the message concealed in his sleeve, Song Mi lowered his eyes with a cold sneer, suddenly finding the whole affair tiresome, and tossed his cup back onto the table.

—

Night fell heavily over the Lonesome Retreat as lanterns began glowing in the darkness.

A stray cat stretched lazily along the study’s roof tiles, about to yawn when strange noises emerged from the dimly lit room below soft whimpers like sobs, a woman’s muffled moans.

Inside, Juchen’s lips were swollen red, her neck flushed crimson. Pressed against the bookshelf with her silk robe discarded on the floor, her undergarments were in disarray from the man’s exploring hands.

A trained dancer’s flexibility served her well as Song Mi lifted one ankle to her ear. His other hand teased relentlessly until, before her next protest could form, he captured her mouth in a searing kiss that transformed her complaint into a breathless gasp.