Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 40

In an instant, Juchen’s cheeks flushed like red ink dripping into clear water, the crimson spreading endlessly from the bridge of her nose to her ears and down the nape of her neck.

“Sister Juchen, why is your face so red? Are you feeling unwell?” Yong’an had just returned from tipping the performers and couldn’t help reaching out to touch Juchen’s forehead as she sat down.

Juchen’s heart pounded faster than the drumbeats on stage. Parting her lips slightly, she was about to make an excuse when she suddenly recalled his earlier description of her lying.

Yong’an watched as her face grew increasingly red, almost as if it might bleed.

Song Mi suddenly stood up, lazily tugging at his collar. “It’s stifling in here.”

“I’m going for a walk,” he declared. After Lu Feng and Yong’an numbly agreed, he turned to Juchen. “Would Lord Li care to join me?”

Juchen initially wanted to refuse, but staying would mean having to explain her flushed face. After a moment’s hesitation, she slowly rose. “It is rather warm.”

Once outside, Song Mi suggested going to the riverbank. Distracted, Juchen absentmindedly agreed and soon found herself in his carriage, heading several miles to the riverside.

As they stepped out by the water, the cool breeze tousled Juchen’s hair. The summer night was alive with the chirping of insects and croaking of frogs from the grass. Song Mi glanced at her wind tossed strands and asked again, “Why are you upset?”

Juchen could no longer deny it. She gave a quiet hum and looked toward the dense woods across the river. A gust of wind made her eyes sting unexpectedly.

She stopped walking and leaned against the red railing by the bank, gazing down at the shimmering water.

Song Mi stood beside her, patiently waiting.

After a long silence, Juchen sniffled softly and said hoarsely, “There was a time when I deeply regretted not being born a boy.”

“Why?”

She pressed her lips together. “Because I often wondered if I were a son, would Father have treated me so coldly? Would Mother have loved me more?”

Perhaps being so close to Jiangyang in Rongcheng had unavoidably brought back memories of Li Ling’s icy expression and Wen Shi’s sharp words of disappointment when she was demoted.

Juchen disliked negativity, so she often consoled herself this distance existed because she hadn’t grown up by her parents’ side, so it was natural their affection would be cooler.

But today, seeing Yonghe’s grandfather, whose love overflowed at their very first meeting, Juchen suddenly realized: love isn’t something that can be measured. It either exists or it doesn’t.

She could no longer find excuses to comfort herself or avoid facing reality.

All along, she had been trapped in self deception, willfully blind to the truth.

Her dejected appearance made Song Mi’s heart feel tightly clenched. He frowned slightly and clicked his tongue. “But could you choose your gender?”

“No.”

“Then how is this your fault? Even if you want to blame someone, it shouldn’t be yourself. You should blame them if they preferred sons so much, why did they make you a daughter?”

Juchen was momentarily taken aback. Song Mi turned his head to look at her, the corners of his lips curling into a faint smile. “But I don’t think it’s necessary, because I think you’re perfect as you are. Not to mention, if you were a man, where would that leave me?”

“Though because of you, rumors of my supposed preference for men have already spread,” Song Mi turned around, leaning his back against the railing with his hands resting on either side. After a moment’s thought, a slightly troubled expression flashed across his face. “But if you were truly a man, I really couldn’t accept that.”

While he was earnestly trying to comfort her, Juchen’s attention was suddenly diverted. “What if I really were a man?”

Song Mi fell briefly silent, his brows furrowing before he chuckled helplessly. “Do all young girls like asking such questions?”

Juchen suddenly wanted to ask if he had interacted with many young girls, but feared he might think she was being too nosy. Jealous women always appeared ugly she had often witnessed Lady Wen’s hateful expressions toward Concubine Wu and didn’t want to become like that.

Biting back her words, Juchen murmured softly, “Of course a young girl would want to hear, ‘Whether you’re male or female, my feelings would remain the same.'”

Song Mi pondered for a moment, his expression complicated. “But the truth is, they wouldn’t be the same.”

Juchen paused, then turned her face away. “Fine then.”

Seeing the disappointment on her beautiful features, Song Mi remained silent for a long while. Unable to explain himself, noticing the passersby coming and going, he suddenly extended his wide sleeve to shield her from prying eyes. Bending down, he cupped her neck and tilted her face upward.

A feather light kiss, fleeting as a whisper, brushed the corner of her lips.

Accompanied by his familiar deep voice tinged with helpless amusement, “Will Lord Li spare me now?”

Caught completely off guard, Juchen’s beautiful eyes widened in shock. Under Song Mi’s intense gaze, it took her a long moment to regain her composure.

She reflected deeply he was undeniably, unmistakably a man through and through. Here she was, forcing a straight man to claim he could love another man that was truly asking too much.

Conversely, if Song Mi were a woman, she probably wouldn’t have fallen for him either.

Juchen raised her head to study his sharply defined profile, her mind involuntarily imagining him with his hair styled like a woman’s, adorned with red flowers. She couldn’t help but let out a soft laugh.

Recognizing her familiar mischievous smile, Song Mi instinctively knew she wasn’t thinking anything proper about him. But at least the furrow between her brows had gradually relaxed.

Choosing not to pursue it, he turned and spotted a street vendor carrying a bundle of candied hawthorns near the haystack. Smoothly intercepting him, Song Mi selected one and handed it to Juchen.

Juchen held it dumbly, staring at the round hawthorns coated in sweet syrup.

The familiar taste from her memories suddenly flooded her senses.

After the Empress ascended the throne, Juchen became her most capable subordinate, often entrusted with important tasks.

The Empress valued her highly, which naturally meant being stricter with her.

Once, when Juchen completed an assignment less satisfactorily than Song Mi, she was publicly reprimanded by the Empress.

Song Mi had been present during the scolding. The Empress ordered him to handle the aftermath, requiring them to return to the scene together.

At that time, Juchen had been proud and competitive. The entire way, she kept her face turned away, eyes red and wide open, refusing to let a single tear fall.

The two sat together in the carriage. From the corner of her eye, Juchen noticed him staring at her persistently for most of the journey. Unable to bear it any longer, she turned and glared at him, saying resentfully, “Fine, I admit defeat this time. If you want to mock or laugh at me, get it over with quickly! Stop staring at me like that!”

Song Mi merely hummed in acknowledgment without saying anything. He lifted the carriage curtain, gazing at the receding marketplace outside for a while before suddenly calling the coachman to stop. Reaching out through the window, he returned with a stick of candied hawthorns in hand.

When he offered it to her, Juchen coldly refused, “I’m not a child.”

After a brief silence, Song Mi chuckled softly, “Does only a child need comforting?”

Juchen’s expression froze momentarily.

He pushed the candied hawthorns closer. “Have something sweet it’ll lighten your mood. Your face is too grim right now. If others see you like this later, they might think we’re here to collect debts.”

Perhaps because he had spoken so unusually considerately, Juchen found herself inexplicably accepting it. Lowering her gaze, she stared at the crimson sugar coating for a long moment before silently taking a lick.

Though it was undeniably sweet, the tip of her nose inexplicably stung even more.

Afraid he might notice, she sniffed discreetly and shot him a glance, only to find he had already turned away, his gaze fixed outside the window once more, leaving only his sharply chiseled profile in view.

Bowing her head, Juchen felt the grievances in her heart gradually dissolve amidst the cloying sweetness on her tongue.

Truth be told, looking back, Song Mi had witnessed countless moments of her humiliation. He had seen her scolded, insulted by commoners, attacked by court officials. He had also witnessed how her parents, when faced with choices between interests, had repeatedly abandoned her.

At the time, Juchen had made excuses for them: “After all, it was their first time being parents.”

He had mercilessly pierced through her pretense: “But it wasn’t their first time being children.”

“I once heard how your grandmother, for the sake of your father’s career, swallowed her pride to beg favors from others. They couldn’t possibly not understand how it feels to be sheltered by one’s parents.”

His words had struck so directly, so piercingly at her heart, leaving her no room for further excuses.

Back then, she could only flee in defeat, angrily rebuking him with “You wouldn’t understand.”

Yet later, it was this very man who in her eyes understood nothing who, remembering her fear of pain, had traded his life for hers for that simple reason.

“Is it good?”

A cool breeze skimmed across the river surface, rippling the water as it carried over the man’s vivid, deep inquiry.

Leaning against the railing, Juchen had just bitten into a hawthorn berry, her mouth forming a half-circle bulge. Unwilling to speak with her mouth full, she nodded with a muffled sound.

“Let me taste?” Song Mi said.

When Juchen extended the candied hawthorns toward him, he instead pressed directly against her lips.

His tongue explored hers as if savoring a mountain spring sun warmed to perfect temperature, moist, sweet, and intoxicatingly fragrant.

As night deepened and the shore grew nearly deserted, Song Mi couldn’t be bothered to shield them anymore.

Only as he drank deeply from her did Juchen begin to realize why he had insisted on bringing her to such a secluded spot.

—

They kissed for what felt like an incense stick’s worth of time.

Fearing Yong’an might grow worried if they delayed further, Juchen reluctantly pushed against his firm chest with both hands, breaking away.

On the way back, Juchen walked behind, her face buried in her hands as she vainly tried to cool the persistent heat in her cheeks with her jade like skin.

When they reached the carriage, Song Mi turned and extended his hand to help her up. Juchen was carefully assisted inside, but when she glanced back, she saw him remaining motionless outside.

“Aren’t you coming up?”

Song Mi paused. “I’ll stay in the breeze a while longer.”

The breeze? Why would he need that? A question mark formed in Juchen’s mind, but her gaze had already unconsciously trailed down his powerfully built waistline.

Noticing her inquisitive look, Song Mi cleared his throat with a fist to his mouth. Juchen’s cheeks flushed crimson as she quickly retreated behind the carriage curtain.

No sooner had she sat down than she felt a strange, muffled movement from beneath the seat cushion.

Her spine stiffened. Standing abruptly, she lifted the cushion to reveal a pair of frightened, disheveled eyes staring back at her.

The sudden discovery of a woman in red hiding in the carriage startled Juchen into a gasp.

The stranger clutched her hand desperately, pleading in a voice thick with fear, “Miss, please save me!”

Juchen’s gaze froze as she took in the familiar red bridal gown and the ritual symbols forcibly painted on the woman’s face. Her heart sank like a stone.