Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 41

Song Mi was still outside the carriage, cooling off, when he heard the sound.

He immediately lifted the carriage curtain, and Juchen signaled him to be quiet with a finger to her lips.

Song Mi’s expression turned grave as he noticed the severed wrist of a woman clutched in her hand.

Not far away, several torches suddenly appeared, their flickering light in the night resembling ghostly flames, gradually drawing closer to their location.

A group of burly men, carrying hemp ropes, searched along the riverbank.

Juchen quickly shoved the woman back under the carriage cushion, concealing her once more. Peering through the curtain, she surveyed the surroundings within several miles, the grass and shrubs barely reached waist height, and aside from their carriage, there was nowhere else to hide.

They would undoubtedly suspect the carriage.

Juchen’s expression darkened as she lowered her head, pondering a solution.

Seeing the men approach within a hundred paces, Song Mi turned and climbed back into the carriage. He lifted the curtain, then abruptly pressed Juchen against the carriage wall.

With a swift motion, he pulled the hairpin from her head, sending her silky black tresses cascading down like a waterfall.

Footsteps drew near outside. The leader of the group, spotting a carriage beneath the willow tree, rudely yanked the curtain open with his torch in hand.

Inside, two figures were entwined in an intimate embrace. The man on top was tall and strikingly handsome, his face buried in the woman’s neck as he lazily toyed with the delicate ribbon at her chest, teasing it loose. The scene was one of lovers lost in passion, the air thick with palpable desire.

The sudden exposure of such a scandalous sight left the intruder momentarily stunned. The man inside the carriage, hearing the disturbance, lifted cold, disdainful eyes a natural born ruler who needed no words to crush the common folk beneath his gaze.

The intruder instinctively sensed danger, gripping his torch tighter as he stammered awkward apologies, “My apologies, brother! Didn’t mean to intrude! Sorry, sorry!”

They had all wondered why such an understated yet luxurious carriage would be parked by the river in the dead of night. Now it made sense some noble had come seeking thrill and pleasure under the cover of darkness.

Faced with such a blush inducing scene, who would suspect that someone could be hidden beneath the carriage? Their minds filled with salacious thoughts, the men quickly moved on, continuing their search elsewhere.

Song Mi’s sharp ears caught the sound of their retreating footsteps. He lowered his gaze, his eyes dark and unreadable. The act they had just performed had left Juchen’s robes slightly disheveled, the thin strap of her undergarment peeking out revealing a flash of red he had never seen before.

That delicate red fabric rested softly against her collarbone, making her skin appear even paler, like untouched snow.

Song Mi stared at that hint of red, like cinnabar in an alchemist’s furnace a substance known to be toxic yet irresistibly alluring to those who sought immortality.

He inhaled deeply, suddenly realizing that this “midnight tryst” ruse had been a terrible idea.

It was nothing short of self-inflicted torture.

Clutching the last shred of his rationality, Song Mi forced himself to pull away and sit back on the opposite cushion, his face shadowed with frustration.

Juchen, however, paid him no mind. She adjusted her robes and immediately lifted the carriage cushion again.

The red clad woman, rescued by kind strangers, finally allowed her exhausted legs to relax after a full day and night of fleeing. But no sooner had she sighed in relief than fresh tears spilled down her cheeks, as if a dam had broken.

Song Mi feared that the group from earlier might return, so this was no place to linger. He first drove them back to the courier station by carriage.

As the carriage rumbled away from the riverside, Juchen took out a handkerchief to wipe the tearstains from the girl’s face and learned her name Li Niang, a native of Jiangyang in Shu, who had just turned fifteen this year, the age of coming of age.

The carriage went straight into the rear courtyard of the courier station. Li Niang was helped down and timidly followed behind Juchen. Once inside, they were met by a group of armored officers standing guard outside the courtyard, who knelt and saluted Song Mi. Though instinctively fearful, she could tell the man before her was no ordinary figure.

Li Niang, her face streaked with tears, knelt before them, weeping and pleading for help.

She had never been educated, and her speech was halting. Yong An stepped forward to help her up, and from her disjointed words, he caught one phrase repeated most often: “The River God’s Bride?”

Juchen sat silently to the side, watching as Li Niang clung to Yong An, stumbling through an explanation of the term’s origin. Memories flooded her mind unbidden.

Years ago, when Ming Luan had accompanied Juchen on her assignment to Shu, she had tried to console her along the way: “I’ve already inquired Jiangyang is nestled between mountains and rivers, with picturesque scenery and a reputation as the ‘City of Wine.’ It’s a blessed land of outstanding people.

Think of it as a chance to relax. You’ve been so busy since entering the Phoenix Pavilion you deserve a peaceful place to rest.”

Juchen had almost believed her nonsense. But upon arriving in Jiangyang, she realized oh, it was indeed nestled between mountains and rivers.

Bandits ran rampant, and floods wreaked havoc. The wine was excellent, but the rugged roads trapped it in the mountain valleys, unable to be sold. The local yamen struggled to collect enough taxes year after year, their finances in dire straits.

Jiangyang lay along the border of the Lu River, which was perpetually turbulent and prone to flooding. Naturally, Jiangyang suffered greatly, repeatedly battered by disasters.

The people endured untold hardships, while the local officials were incompetent and ineffectual. Over time, this suffering festered into a miasma of resentment that hung over the entire town, exploited by those with sinister motives.

Several years ago, a highly skilled old monk arrived in the county with two disciples. They performed rituals by the Lu River, after which rumors spread of divine and demonic forces. It was said that the river’s frequent floods were caused by the river god’s desire for a bride, using the calamity to demand that the locals select a beautiful maiden each year to be cast into the waters.

A wedding required dowry, and so the three monks began accepting offerings from the people annually to “send off” the brides.

When Lu Feng learned that this ancient custom had persisted in Jiangyang for ten years, he slammed the table in shock. Unable to contain his disbelief, he asked whether the practice had ever worked.

Clearly, ten innocent lives had been lost, yet the disasters never ceased.

And Li Niang was to be the River God’s bride this year.

Song Mi fell silent for a moment before leading his men to Jiangyang overnight.

The gates of the Jiangyang yamen had been refurbished.

Juchen still remembered when she first arrived the county’s finances were in such poor shape that she had cut corners wherever possible, leaving this dilapidated gate unrepaired.

Now, well past midnight, the gates were tightly shut. Two newly hung lanterns under the eaves cast faint glows into the dark night, indifferent to the silent road before them.

With a glance from Song Mi, Yuan Ruo stepped forward and knocked heavily on the gate.

After a long wait, a yamen runner finally came, yawning as he opened the door, his face twisted with impatience.

Lu Feng briefly outlined how local monks deceived the people, resulting in several innocent women losing their lives, and demanded to see their superior. Upon hearing this, the bailiff scolded, “I thought it was something important. The magistrate won’t see you. Get out of here!”

As he moved to shut the door, Lu Feng slammed his palm against it, about to lose his temper. But Song Mi calmly retrieved a jade token from his sleeve and handed it over, saying in a composed yet firm tone, “Kindly present this to the magistrate for his review.”

Before long, the yamen gates swung wide open. The entire Jiangyang government office lit up as bright as day. Magistrate Lu adjusted his hat and sleeves before hurrying out from the inner hall. He stopped before Song Mi and bowed deeply. “Your humble servant, Lu Cheng, greets Your Highness.”

Lu Cheng was originally a scion of a noble family in the capital. After passing the imperial examinations, he was assigned to serve outside the capital for three years as per regulations. Thus, he came to Jiangyang merely as a formality once his term ended, he would be recalled to the capital.

Juchen stood silently to the side, coldly eyeing the sycophantic smile on Lu Cheng’s face.

Back then, Lu Cheng had been a seventh rank magistrate, while Juchen was only an eighth rank assistant magistrate. The difference in rank was oppressive, and Juchen had suffered greatly under his authority.

Song Mi cut straight to the point, asking whether Magistrate Lu was aware of the local superstition known as the “River God’s Bride” ritual.

Magistrate Lu coughed awkwardly several times, glancing at Li Niang, who was hiding behind Juchen. He assumed the bride, fearing death, had taken a desperate gamble by appealing to nobility.

Unable to gauge Song Mi’s true intentions in raising the matter, his response was evasive, repeatedly emphasizing how deeply ingrained the superstition was among the local populace.

Lu Feng angrily interjected, “But those thrown into the river are living, breathing lives!”

Lu Cheng fell silent, stealing a glance at Song Mi. Studying the unreadable expression on the Prince of Pengshan’s handsome face, he hesitated before glancing at Juchen and Yong’an. Concerned that what he was about to say might offend the women present, he drew Song Mi aside.

The Prince of Pengshan had wielded immense power since his youth, his reputation resounding throughout the imperial court. In Lu Cheng’s eyes, someone who could ascend to the highest position in the Grand Secretariat at such a young age must possess ruthless tactics and profound cunning certainly not the idealism of a naive reformist.

A man capable of turning the tides with a flick of his wrist would surely understand that the world was full of gullible fools who believed whatever they heard. Even if ordered to abandon their superstitions, they wouldn’t listen.

To control them in extraordinary times, all it took was offering a shred of belief no need to waste effort fighting against an unstoppable natural disaster.

“Peace inevitably demands sacrifice. Wasn’t the young princess sent to Tibet in marriage for the sake of Great Liang’s stability?”

Lu Cheng concluded with this statement, hoping Song Mi would sympathize with his predicament.

Juchen, sharp eared, overheard every word without a change in expression, though his hands clenched into fists.

When Juchen first arrived in Jiangyang and learned of this barbaric custom, he had drafted a memorial overnight and sent it to the court. But before it even left Sichuan, it was rejected.

The higher officials of Sichuan paid no heed to the matter. In their eyes, sacrificing one woman a year to placate the people’s grievances was a cost effective method of governance.

Of course, they would never say it aloud they simply feigned busyness and turned a blind eye.

As Lu Cheng finished speaking, Song Mi fell silent for a moment. Juchen, standing slightly behind him, couldn’t discern his expression.

After a brief pause, Song Mi turned to Lu Cheng and asked, “Have you ever attended the wedding of a River God’s Bride?”

Lu Cheng gave a slight nod and vividly described the grand scene of the commoners gathering, emphasizing that this was precisely the vision held in their hearts.

Song Mi continued questioning, “Did you personally witness them being thrown into the river by the people?”

Lu Cheng nodded again.

Song Mi shot him a cold glare: “Guards!”

“County magistrates are officials who interact directly with the people the foundation of governance and the face of the imperial court. As the parent official of these locals, holding such a pivotal position, you neglected your duties, idly occupied your post, and stood by indifferently as innocent women lost their lives, allowing wolves and foxes to treat human life as worthless!”

Song Mi ordered the officers to immediately remove his official hat and throw him into the dungeon to await punishment.

—

That night, they stayed directly at the Jiangyang government office.

Song Mi wanted to investigate the origins of the River God marriage tradition and the root causes of the frequent floods along the Lu River.

He summoned all the officials from the three departments and six offices of the prefecture overnight for interrogation. Afterward, he sat in the inner office, reviewing years of flood records. By the time it was nearly midnight, Juchen, fearing he would spend the entire night on this, offered to assist him.

No one knew the Jiangyang government archives better than Juchen. Soon, under her subtle guidance, Song Mi found the root of the problem.

The two conversed by candlelight in the records room. Song Mi lowered his head to study the Jiangyang waterworks map, pondering for a long while. When he looked up to continue the discussion with Juchen, he saw that she had unintentionally dozed off from exhaustion, her head resting on the desk facing his direction. Before closing her eyes, it seemed she had been watching him.

This wasn’t the first time they had worked late into the night. In their past life, she had never dozed off facing him.

Every time Song Mi glanced over, he would only see the back of her head, her dark hair cascading over her temples.

Song Mi propped his chin on his hand, studying her partially hidden face delicate as a lotus blossom for a moment before glancing at the water clock in the room. It was nearly dawn. Every moment of sleep counted. He removed his outer robe and draped it over her, then moved the candle on the desk closer to his side to avoid disturbing her peaceful slumber.

At the crow of the rooster, Juchen turned over, half awake, and in her dream, she passed through a mist and returned to Jiangyang the Jiangyang of twenty years later in their past life.

“Smash it! Smash it all!”

“Hurry, destroy this idol! Such a treacherous villain doesn’t deserve our worship!”

“And that commemorative stele smash it too!”

“After all the love and respect we showed her, who would have thought she’d become a disloyal, treacherous official!”

“I always said women in office couldn’t be trusted. I never had faith in her when she first came to Jiangyang.”

“Selfish and reckless, disregarding the greater good, sowing chaos in the court!”

“Smash it now!”

Regent Song Mi had passed away overnight from illness, and Prime Minister Li Juchen was executed. The court was thrown into turmoil. The once young emperor had now become the new helmsman of the Liang Dynasty.

To consolidate his throne and eliminate dissent, within a year of their deaths, he issued a revised national history, recording Li Juchen as the eternal traitor of the Liang Dynasty.

The people of Liang rose in outrage. The very citizens of Jiangyang whom Juchen had helped the most were now filled with righteous indignation, flocking to her temple day after day to spit on her memory and destroy the statues they had once erected in her honor.

At that time, Juchen was already considered executed in the eyes of the world, yet she was brought to the scene, standing unnoticed in a corner, forced to witness their fury.

She watched their ungrateful display, her hands trembling. She took two sharp breaths, her back jerking violently as if struck by a heavy blow.

Her expression shifted from shock and anger to confusion, and finally to a deep, sorrowful resignation.

The surrounding curses and insults continued to rise in intensity.

The youth in yellow robes beside Juchen curled his lips, letting out a pitiful sigh. “See, Teacher? These are the very people you once protected.

They’ve completely forgotten your kindness.”

Juchen replied helplessly, “Your Majesty has already obtained everything you desired. Why must you drag me here specifically to humiliate me?”

“I merely wish to prevent you from persisting in your mistakes, Teacher.

These ignorant commoners aren’t worthy of your kindness. What you’ve pursued all your life they cannot give it to you. The era you long for will never come.”

“History is written by the victors. Say what you will.”

“I know your stubborn nature, Teacher. But seeing this scene before you, don’t you feel even a hint of regret? Don’t you think they’re unworthy of your devotion?”

With a thunderous crash, the towering monument of merits was pushed over with full force, smashing onto the statue of the Guanyin like female official in the hall.

The statue collapsed violently, its head tumbling to the ground. The face, exquisitely lifelike, seemed to be looking into a mirror as it faced the direction where she stood. The smile at the corners of its lips remained, but suddenly, a deep crack split open at its neck.

A chill ran down Juchen’s spine, startling her awake. Instinctively, she touched her own neck.

She found herself slumped over a desk, her forehead resting against the official documents of Jiangyang’s past years. As the words entered her vision, scenes from her previous life flashed before her eyes like a revolving lantern. Juchen’s brows furrowed tightly, her head splitting with pain. The documents of Jiangyang now seemed like cursed shackles, strangling her throat.

In anger, she shoved them aside and stumbled backward, tripping over the chair and falling to the ground.

It was only then that she noticed a man’s outer robe draped over her shoulders.

The familiar, noble scent from the hem of the garment wafted into her nose with her sudden movement. Juchen froze for a moment before coming to her senses. Clutching the robe that threatened to slip off, she exhaled deeply and looked outside at the now bright sky.

A dream.

She stood up, gathered the robe in her hands, and stepped out to search for Song Mi’s whereabouts.

As she walked down the corridor, a yamen runner brought news: the day of the River God’s wedding was imminent, and the people had already begun causing trouble at Liniang’s home.

Song Mi and Lu Feng had led troops to suppress the unrest, but the public sentiment was too fervent, and their attempts at persuasion had little effect.

The current county magistrate of Jiangyang sighed and said, “I believe the urgent matter at hand is to hand over the bride to quell the people’s unrest.”

Upon hearing that her parents were being threatened and her home vandalized, Liniang wept bitterly. Finally, she knelt and spoke words of compromise.

Yong’an, fearing she might do something drastic, grasped her hand firmly and shook her head. “We shouldn’t hand over Liniang. Instead, we must make the people believe that throwing someone into the water is useless.”

Yong’an continued, “We need to expose the lies of those monks and show the people they’re only after the dowries.”

The officials of the yamen gathered together, discussing back and forth. To convince people that something is ineffective, it must first be put to the test.

Just as they were at their wits’ end, Juchen stepped through the door, her lips curling into a smile as she said crisply, “So we just need a girl to jump into the river first?”

“I can play the bride,” Juchen declared.