Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 37

On this day, Juchen stood inside the Shangfu Bureau, carefully unfolding Yong’an’s wedding attire. From the embroidered cape to the golden leather belt and jade-adorned ribbons, she meticulously examined every detail.

The imperial feathered robe of the Great Liang royalty was breathtakingly exquisite, virtually flawless destined to be the most magnificent garment Yong’an would ever wear. Within her capabilities, Juchen strove to provide her with the finest wedding ceremony. After inspecting the ceremonial robes, she proceeded to the Hundred Crafts Institute to examine the princess’s wedding carriage.

The vermilion carriage walls were adorned with gauze windows on either side, draped with crimson silk curtains. The interior and exterior gleamed with gold and jade, so exquisitely crafted it resembled not a carriage but a jewelry box brimming with treasures.

Juchen stared at it, lost in thought. If she were to steal the jewels inside and present only this priceless box to the King of Tibet, would he accept it?
Song Mi would never allow her to steal, and Yong’an wouldn’t agree either.

Juchen sighed softly.

At that moment, Ming Luan arrived, guided by a palace eunuch from the opposite end of the corridor.

Juchen had been occupied for days with preparations for Princess Heshuo’s wedding and hadn’t returned home in quite some time. Ming Luan, having received word from the princess’s residence, hurried to inform her: “The Prince of Yunnan has suddenly fallen gravely ill and is bedridden. His heir, Yuan Zheng, will depart the capital this afternoon to return to the southern borders and attend to his ailing father.”

Upon hearing this, Juchen immediately turned back to the Feng Pavilion to request half a day’s leave from Chief Steward Shen, then swiftly made her way out of the palace. Having been away for days, her family’s carriage had long been recalled, leaving her no choice but to rush on foot to the princess’s residence. However, the steward informed her that the consort had already departed.

Standing at the grand entrance, Juchen glanced inside and asked, “Where’s Ranran?”

Her question implied whether Xuyang had gone to see him off.

Matron Hong sighed sorrowfully and leaned in to whisper, “These past few days, the consort and the princess have been at odds. You know the princess’s temperament she refuses to yield even an inch. Otherwise, she wouldn’t have specifically sent someone to deliver this message to you.”

It was clear she was meant to bid farewell on her behalf.

Juchen exhaled deeply and had no choice but to turn and sprint toward the city gates. Halfway there, it suddenly struck her how foolish she had been in her haste she hadn’t even thought to request a carriage from the princess’s residence.

Just as frustration set in, she rounded a street corner and a familiar white figure approached with the clatter of wheels. A towering white horse abruptly blocked her path, its gaze imperiously sweeping over her.

“Where are you going?” Song Mi lifted the carriage curtain slightly, his eyes meeting hers mid-air. He had been returning from the Dali Temple when his horse, Xiao Bai, suddenly pawed the ground and whinnied ahead. Spotting her sprinting figure, he had urged the carriage forward to intercept her.

“To the southern gate to see off Yuan Zheng.”

The court had heard whispers of the Prince of Yunnan’s grave illness. Song Mi studied her and asked, “Why isn’t Xuyang with you?”

“Ranran is quarreling with him,” Juchen replied truthfully. Her face was flushed with urgency, her toes practically bouncing with impatience a sight that inexplicably pricked at Song Mi’s eyes.

A brief silence settled between them. Juchen, wholly preoccupied with her fear of missing Yuan Zheng, failed to notice the shadow in Song Mi’s gaze.

Softly, she pleaded, “Your Highness, could you give me a ride?”

Song Mi’s eyes lingered on the faint sweat at her temples and her frantic demeanor. His expression grew colder as he abruptly withdrew his hand, letting the curtain fall and severing their locked gazes. Sitting motionless inside the carriage, his voice was icy as he replied, “I’m busy right now.”

Juchen noticed the coldness in his words and paused, thinking to herself that he indeed had no obligation to be her carriage driver. Disappointed, she said, “Fine then.”

She could only give a slight bow toward the carriage before turning to leave.

After just a few steps, the large white horse caught up with her again, stopping in front of her with an exasperated expression. From behind the carriage curtain came the man’s familiar, cool voice: “Get in.”

Cold, yet resigned.

Compared to watching her stand with Yuan Zheng, Song Mi had pondered it over and found it even more unbearable to imagine her alone with Yuan Zheng.

If he didn’t follow them today and keep an eye on them, letting his imagination run wild with scenes of them lingering at the city gates, Song Mi reckoned he wouldn’t sleep for the next half month.

Juchen obediently climbed in, but before she could even thank him, Song Mi pulled down the half-drawn window curtain, plunging the carriage into near darkness.

Juchen’s pupils dilated instinctively as he leaned down and kissed her. To his surprise, she had even applied new rouge well, he would make sure to wipe it all off.

Her back pressed against the carriage wall, Juchen let out muffled protests, but resistance was futile. She had no choice but to push against his chest with both hands. Song Mi cupped her face, kissing her relentlessly until the rouge was gone though her lips were now swollen, making them even more alluring.

Finally giving up the struggle, Juchen caught her breath. He seemed pleased with his handiwork, gazing at her slightly reddened eyes before smirking and brushing his thumb over her lips.

Unable to resist, Juchen grabbed his collar and whispered, “Does Your Highness usually demand repayment like this when bestowing favors upon other women?”

She assumed this kiss was his way of collecting payment for giving her a ride. Though she was not unwilling, Juchen could not help feeling like she was trading on her looks something she had, but so did others.

“Not at all.” Song Mi, feeling his integrity questioned, visibly displeased, curled one side of his lips into a cold smile. “You’re the only one I target.”

“Really?”

“Mhm.”

In their past life, if he had teased and provoked her like this, Magistrate Li would have already been fuming, likely pointing at his nose and threatening, “Just you wait!” But now, she actually laughed.

Had anger driven her mad?

Juchen draped her arms around his neck, parting her lips to ask more, but the sound of hooves gradually slowed. She pulled away from his embrace and lifted a corner of the curtain the carriage was rumbling past the moat, and she caught sight of Yuan Zheng’s retreating figure.

Juchen leaned out the window, calling out repeatedly to halt his steps.

Yuan Zheng turned, reining in his horse. Juchen lifted her skirts and stepped down from the carriage. The sight of the two hurrying toward each other drew at least three disdainful snorts from Song Mi.

Juchen rushed up to Yuan Zheng. “Ran Ran asked me to see you off.”

Yuan Zheng paused, then chuckled helplessly. “You might as well admit it was your idea.”

Seeing his disbelief, Juchen opened her mouth to explain, but Yuan Zheng frowned, staring at her lips. “What happened to your mouth?”

Juchen froze, instinctively covering her swollen lips.

Yuan Zheng’s gaze shifted behind her, where Song Mi had gracefully descended from the carriage, following her. His second question came swiftly: “Did His Highness bring you here?”

Juchen lowered her head, hiding the faint blush on her cheeks. “Yes, he happened to meet me on the road and kindly offered me a ride. He’s a good man.”

Song Miao let out a scoff upon being praised as a good person. Yuan Zheng bowed to him before turning back to ask Juchen, “You still haven’t told me what happened to your lips?”

Juchen lightly bit her lips and coughed dryly, “I ate something spicy.”

The mention of “something spicy” caused a noticeable pause. His gaze followed to look at her, only seeing the dark back of the girl’s head.

Yuan Zheng nodded, glanced at Song Miao, and couldn’t help but laugh, “Did His Highness eat with you?”

Song Miao’s lips bore the same redness.

“No, perhaps the food at the Grand Secretariat and Phoenix Pavilion was similar today.” Juchen fibbed quietly, never daring to meet the eyes of the man behind her, afraid Yuan Zheng might notice something amiss.

Both he and Xuyang had watched her grow up. If she wasn’t careful, how could she possibly hide it?

Seeing how Juchen’s eyes no longer turned toward him in Yuan Zheng’s presence, Song Miao turned his face away, his expression colder than before.

The three sat in a pavilion by the official road.

Yuan Zheng and Juchen exchanged farewells. There was nothing unusual about it, yet for some reason, Song Miao sat silently beside them with his arms crossed. Though it seemed he had simply come along to see Yuan Zheng off, Yuan Zheng couldn’t shake the feeling that his gaze was sharp and cold, like a hawk’s, constantly watching them, making him unconsciously maintain a proper distance between himself and Juchen.

Truth be told, he had never been so formal with Juchen growing up. But something told him that if he didn’t, disaster would surely follow.

Juchen asked, “When will you return?”

“Not sure yet. My father is quite ill this time.”

“Actually, if you told Ranran, she might be willing to go back with you.”

“No need. She’s better off staying in the Eastern Capital.”

“Then remember to write to her.”

“She wouldn’t want to receive my letters.”

“You should still write.”

Yuan Zheng fell silent for a moment before conceding, “How about I write to you instead?” He smiled faintly, thinking, Whatever I say, you’ll pass it on to her anyway. But after smiling, he inexplicably felt a chill in the air.

Juchen pondered, “Fine.”

After Juchen finished saying all she needed to, seeing Song Miao had nothing more to add, she glanced at the setting sun in the west and urged Yuan Zheng to set off before dark to reach the next post station sooner.

Yuan Zheng nodded in acknowledgment, stood to bid farewell, and returned to his horse convoy.

As the sun dipped below the horizon, the early spring evening still carried a chill. A cold breeze swept by, prompting his attendant to drape a cloak over his shoulders.

Juchen had been standing outside the pavilion to see him off. When she noticed the identical fabric, her beautiful eyes widened, and she immediately ran after him, “Wait!”

Song Miao watched her chase after him again, his lips pressed into a straight line, his gaze lowering faintly.

Yuan Zheng looked puzzled as Juchen hurried over. Glancing back at Song Miao in the pavilion, he pulled her aside and asked quietly, “Where did you get this cloak?”

Yuan Zheng hesitated before answering truthfully, “Xuyang gave it to me.”

“Ranran?”

“Yes. When I was ordered to suppress bandits in Jiangnan during the cold winter, she took this sable cloak from the dowry the Empress Dowager gave her. She said the color suited a man, so she made one for me.”

So it was from Ranran’s dowry. No wonder.

Their tastes were so alike that Juchen let out a silent sigh. Giving him another glance, she thought helplessly this outfit was a gift from his wife.

Asking him not to wear it in the future seemed impossible.

Juchen could only suppress the urge to tear the clothes off him. Forcing a smile, she waved him off. “Go on, get going.”

Out of sight, out of mind.

Yuan Zheng studied the disdain in her eyes, finding her utterly baffling.

Unable to resist, he flicked her forehead before mounting his horse, deliberately kicking up a cloud of dust and leaving her far behind.

Covering her nose, Juchen coughed twice before chuckling helplessly.

When she turned around, Song Mi was already standing behind her. Their eyes met, his gaze cool as he asked, “Heading back?”

Juchen hesitated briefly. Seeing her uncertain expression, Song Mi narrowed his eyes, thinking if you dare say you want to stand here like a fool watching him disappear into the distance, you can walk back alone.

Swallowing hard, Juchen leaned in and whispered, “Are you free tonight?”

There was never a time when he was not free for her.

Recalling how he had stood on the road, gritting his teeth before finally agreeing, Song Mi inwardly scorned himself. Song Zhengzhi, you are really embracing this substitute role with enthusiasm.

Returning to the city, Juchen mentioned she still had official matters to attend to. Song Mi had Xiao Bai escort her to the imperial palace while he returned to Ciyou Villa alone.

Entering his study, he finished the remaining paperwork. By the time he looked up, night had fully fallen.

Stepping out, he noticed the lights in the master bedroom were already lit.

Exhausted from days without rest, Juchen had gone straight to the bath upon entering.

Song Mi pushed open the door, hearing the sound of water behind the screen.

Pausing outside the bathing chamber, he asked, “Why didn’t you send word you were coming?”

His voice, mingling with the steam seeping past the screen, carried an unreadable weight.

“You were busy.” Juchen had just finished washing her hair, sweeping it back to reveal a face flushed from the heat, droplets clinging to her lashes.

Silence lingered outside. Assuming he had left, she rose from the tub, reaching for the soap.

Suddenly, a man’s robe was tossed onto the nearby rack. He strode past the screen and stepped into the bath.

Juchen instinctively turned, realizing he had never left. Startled, she abandoned the soap and ducked back into the water just as he shed his clothes, his muscular frame outlined by taut veins, strength evident in every line.

Her breath hitched, her blush spreading like ink in water as she averted her gaze.

Song Mi stepped into the tub without hesitation, the spacious bath suddenly feeling cramped with his presence.

Juchen turned her back to him, frozen in place.

Unfazed, he made no further move, simply retrieving the soap and beginning to wash her himself.

When he lifted her arm to scrub, she flinched. Meeting his unbothered, questioning look, she cleared her throat. “No need for the trouble. I can manage.”

“Aren’t you tired? I heard you’ve been working nonstop for days.”

“Not that tired. I can handle it.”

“You’re not exhausted?”

“Nope.”

“Perfect.”

Song Mi curved his lips into a smile and embraced her from behind, lowering his head to nip at her snow-white neck.

A bite mark was left as his claim.

His approach was overwhelming, his eyes pools of dark intensity. Juchen instinctively tried to retreat, but when he pinched her most sensitive spot, her body melted completely beneath his touch.

Water splashed, waves surging against the edges of the bathtub, sending ripples cascading outward again and again.