Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 43

Juchen did not agree with his statement at all.

With public sentiment running high, if he were to abandon her expertise and seek someone else, it would clearly be going the long way around far from the best strategy.

Juchen recommended herself again, but Song Mi’s decision was non-negotiable, and he refused to engage in further discussion with her. Born into nobility and holding a high position, it was inevitable that he would display necessary dominance, as he did now.

Having been in leadership roles for many years herself, Juchen understood that once he had declared “no” in front of so many officials, he would not easily change his mind based on her words alone.

Yet, as his authoritarian pressure descended, Juchen couldn’t help but recall unpleasant memories. Like when she was first promoted to the fourth rank and became a capital official who could submit memorials directly to him, only to find that while his comments to others were at least substantive, his responses to her were always a perfunctory “Noted.” Or how he often believed the Phoenix Pavilion, being staffed by women, had limited capabilities, so he never assigned them major or critical tasks first. And then there was their first reunion after years apart after rescuing her from the mountain, when she genuinely wanted to assist in suppressing the bandits, he openly mocked her for overestimating herself.

At the time, she had truly been grateful for his rescue, but in that moment, his words had stung. After returning to the capital, their political views frequently clashed, and from then on, their relationship grew increasingly hostile.

As long time adversaries, what Juchen disliked most about him was this very refusal to entertain discussion his expression calm as ever, yet giving no opportunity to speak, as if entrusting anything to her was inherently unreliable.

The resentment buried deep within her was suddenly awakened. When Song Mi cut her off mid sentence with “You don’t need to interfere in this matter,” she turned and stormed away.

For the next few days, they stopped communicating entirely, locked in a cold war.

Such scenes had been routine in their past lives, and Juchen had never thought much of it before. But now, the more she reflected, the angrier she became, itching to confront Song Mi and give him a piece of her mind.
Yet he had been leaving early and returning late recently, denying her even the chance to vent.

As the day of the River God’s wedding approached, Juchen heard the sacrificial ceremony would proceed as scheduled. At dusk, Song Mi finally appeared at the end of the corridor. Juchen stepped forward and stopped him.

“Have you found the substitute bride?”

Song Mi looked down at her for a long moment before giving a quiet hum of affirmation.

Juchen nodded slightly, privately impressed by his capability. During her own time here, she hadn’t been able to find such a brave candidate and had to take on the role herself. Yet he had managed to arrange everything in just a few days.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Juchen arrived at the riverbank on the appointed day.

Amidst the music of strings and bamboo, a procession made its way noisily to the wooden bridge at the river’s edge. A flower sedan chair was carried forward.

An elderly monk stood before the altar, fingering his prayer beads and murmuring incantations as if communicating with the river deity. Two disciples stepped forward and lifted the sedan’s curtain, revealing the bride seated inside, draped in a crimson veil and adopting a demure posture. Her hands and feet were bound with hemp ropes.

The pier was bustling with people. Juchen stood some distance away, tilting her head up to catch a glimpse. Inside the bridal sedan chair, the figure was wrapped in voluminous crimson wedding robes with wide sleeves. The oversized garments completely enveloped the person, who was curled up slightly. Against the sedan’s entirely red interior, the figure blended seamlessly with its surroundings, creating no immediate sense of discordance at first glance.

Yet in that fleeting moment, Juchen noticed the bride’s unusually tall stature. The red veil and hunched posture, combined with the layers of heavy ceremonial robes, left few clues exposed.

After all, this was a river sacrifice. No one present would suspect anyone foolish enough to impersonate the offering. The two disciples gave only a cursory glance as long as someone was in the sedan, it sufficed.

As the ceremonial music reached its crescendo, the bridal palanquin was carried up the embankment. The crowd prostrated themselves, pleading with the River God for mercy and blessings upon Jiangyang, praying for favorable weather and abundant harvests.

When the sedan was still some distance from the river’s surface, a sudden gust of wind swept through, lifting both the sedan’s curtain and a corner of the bride’s red veil.

Juchen’s sharp eyes caught the fleeting glimpse of a sharply defined jawline beneath the veil a telltale sign that didn’t escape her notice.

With a tremendous splash, the towering bride and the sedan were submerged together into the river.

Juchen’s eyes widened in shock. She pushed through the crowd, sprinting toward the riverbank, ready to dive in when Yuan Ruo appeared beside her, catching her just in time.

“That was….”

Yuan Ruo raised a finger to her lips, her gaze darting around in silent warning. “Rest assured, Lady Li, we’ve made all the necessary arrangements.”

Juchen’s heart leaped into her throat as she fixed her anxious gaze on the water’s surface. Before long, a crimson figure emerged from the depths.

Unprecedented and baffling the bride had surfaced alive.

Instead of swimming back toward the crowd, the figure allowed the current to carry them downstream, the red veil still in place as they drifted toward the opposite shore.

The weight in Juchen’s chest lifted instantly.

Soon, murmurs of confusion spread through the crowd as people began questioning the high priests at the altar.

Juchen turned to look at the charlatan monks, now frozen in stunned disbelief. Memories flooded back their past manipulations, how they had twisted public opinion against her, the suffering they would caused under the guise of divine authority.

White hot anger surged through her. With Yuan Ruo and others in tow, she marched up to the altar. “Venerable masters, does the River God’s reaction mean he’s displeased with this bride? Perhaps you should go ask him personally?”

At her signal, Yuan Ruo’s team swiftly bound the bald fraud and tossed him into the river. When no response came from below after considerable time, Juchen ordered his two disciples thrown in after him better they all visit the dragon palace together and remind their master not to linger over tea with the River God while his followers waited ashore.

With the impostors dealt with, the bewildered villagers remained by the water’s edge, staring at the mirror like surface. Juchen turned away, stumbling through the crowd before gathering her skirts and sprinting toward a long, arched stone bridge in the distance.

Her heart pounded rapidly in her chest from the continuous sprint, yet her thoughts had already drifted far beyond the skies.

Juchen suddenly recalled a time when the Princess Xianning had supervised her studies. Slouching over the desk in protest, she had once asked a question to divert the princess’s attention.

She had asked, “Why must this world always uphold male superiority over women? I don’t see myself as any lesser than them.”

Princess Xianning replied that she did not think so either, but the world as it stood merely made men appear stronger than women for the time being.

Juchen countered, “Only in appearance. More often than not, it’s just men’s wishful thinking.”

Xianning sighed with a faint smile. “Yet in this current world, it’s practically an ironclad rule. Few men remain untouched by its influence.”

Juchen drooped her head. “That’s why I dislike men who endorse male superiority.”

After a brief silence, Xianning smiled and said, “Actually, male superiority comes in two forms genuine and false.”

“There’s a distinction?”

Xianning explained, “False male superiority is when a man believes he’s stronger than you, dominates over you, makes unilateral decisions, and denies you any right to resist. Genuine male superiority is when he believes he’s stronger than you and, when faced with adversity, stands before you without hesitation.”

Juchen’s eyes widened slightly. Xianning stroked her hair and continued, “There’s so much false male superiority in this world that many mistake it for the real thing, making few bother to distinguish between the two. But if one day you encounter the genuine kind and still reject it indiscriminately, wouldn’t that be unfair in itself?”

“You resent male superiority because it feels unjust, right? But if you dismiss it all outright, are you truly being fair and free of prejudice toward others?”

Juchen still remembered how those words had struck her like a bolt of clarity, leaving her determined to etch them into her heart.

Yet later, amid repeated disappointments, she seemed to have forgotten them entirely.

In her past life, her first reunion with Song Mi occurred when he accidentally stumbled into a den of thieves and rescued her. Later, while leading troops to suppress the bandits, he told her not to “cause trouble” when she offered assistance.

Looking back now, Song Mi had said it with a smirk he often teased and sometimes spoke in ways that were not quite human, but his intentions were likely good.

He simply didn’t want her to risk danger again, but his words had struck a raw nerve.

The reason she had been demoted was precisely because the Ministry of Personnel accused her of “causing trouble.”

She had demanded to know if he thought her incapable.

After a pause, he had countered, “Why don’t you tell me what you could accomplish by coming up the mountain?”

His expression had been earnest, a genuine question but back then, she had been furious, convinced he was like all those male officials who looked down on women in office.

And so, she had always held a grudge against him.

Juchen sighed deeply, recalling how Song Mi had often teased her but there was one thing he had not been wrong about.

She really did hold onto grudges.

Hurrying down the bridge, Juchen reached the base and saw him sitting on a large rock, seemingly unwilling to let others see him in such a state.

Drenched, the river had washed away the gaudy makeup on his face. As he wiped at it, the smeared eyeliner mixed with rouge, leaving a blotchy red-and-black mark resembling a birthmark.

Staring at such a “bride,” Juchen admitted that even she, as the River God, would have thrown him out.

Juchen took a moment to catch her breath, then stepped forward to hand him a handkerchief. “Here, wipe your face. It’s all smudged.”

“Where? I can’t see it.”

Juchen took the handkerchief back and knelt before him.

He lowered his head slightly, eyes half-lidded with lazy indifference as she began gently dabbing at his face with careful strokes like cleaning a tabby cat that had tumbled into a vat of dye.

As she continued wiping, Juchen suddenly could not hold back anymore. She turned her face away, laughter bubbling up.

“Is it really that funny?”

She shook her head, but the smile at the corners of her lips refused to fade.

“Are you still laughing?”

Resting her forearm against his knee, Juchen buried her face in the crook of her arm, shoulders shaking uncontrollably.

Song Mo sighed in resignation. Gritting his teeth, he grabbed her wrist and yanked her upright, fixing her with a glare.

Their eyes met instantly, noses so close they nearly touched separated only by a hair’s breadth.