Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 48

As evening fell, the Tibetan envoy had led them back to the guest quarters to settle in. Though the Prince of Pengshan was the first to be escorted to his reception hall, he still followed the envoy past each chamber assigned to the wedding entourage officials, as if fearing his subjects might suffer neglect in a foreign land.

Juchen recalled the moment his dark eyes had flickered toward the secluded window behind her room now that she thought about it, that glance had been profoundly meaningful.

Unlike the sprawling post stations with thousands of rooms, the White Palace placed their quarters impossibly far apart. Yet despite having consumed at least five or six jars of wine tonight, Song Mo had somehow navigated the darkness with precision, flipping straight into her chamber. Juchen couldn’t help but admire him.

The night was thick, moonlight threading through the window lattice to spill silver over the bed curtains. In the dimly lit chamber, the canopy glowed under its radiance, accompanied by the soft, intimate sounds of kisses.

Juchen cradled the man’s face in her hands, her petal-pink fingertips resting against his cheeks like she was caressing the fine porcelain cup she drank from daily cool, smooth, and delicate to the touch.

Song Mo leaned against the bedpost while Juchen sat astride him, bending down to meet his lips. She kissed with earnest focus, pouring herself into it. His large hands idly rested at the small of her back, seemingly content to let her lead until each time she tried to pause for breath, when he’d coax her gently to delve deeper.

When they finally parted, her tongue tingled faintly, her lips damp as she swallowed the lingering taste of wine from his mouth. Her luminous eyes flickered up at him, expectant.

“Not bad. You’re improving,” Song Mo appraised neutrally, pinching her cheek.

Catching her breath, Juchen steadied her uneven rhythm before leaning in again, eager to learn. “Then shall we try once more?”

Song Mo tilted his head up, guiding her through each sip, swallow, and shared breath until their bodies pressed impossibly close. His solid frame dwarfed hers, the swell of her chest crushed against him, molding to the rapid pulse thudding beneath.

His gaze darkened further, her sweetness mingling with the faint orchid fragrance clinging to her skin. The scent, blended with residual alcohol, seeped from his nostrils straight into his veins, stoking a restless heat beneath his skin.

Just as Juchen was diligently practicing how to tease his tongue, he suddenly rolled her onto her back. His next kiss landed on her earlobe, drawing it lightly between his teeth.

A shiver raced through her, leaving her momentarily dazed but Song Mo had already seized control, one arm around her neck, the other at her slender waist.

“What’s wrong? Did I do poorly?” she asked, confusion swimming in her eyes.

Song Mo hovered above her, the ghost of a smile at his lips as he murmured low by her ear, “Let’s call it a night for today.”

“Why?” She had barely practiced at all.

“Because,” he said, voice rough, “I’m about to lose control.”

Months of grueling travel, seeing her daily yet unable to touch her Song Mo had endured the torment with immense restraint.

Pinned beneath him, Juchen met the wildfire blazing in his eyes, though his expression remained deceptively calm. The heady aroma of wine clung to him, dizzying her senses. When she looked up again, the deep blue bed curtains seemed dyed in the blush of peach blossoms.

Song Mi’s large hand, calloused yet gentle, wandered freely through her hair.

Fearing his drunken state might make him lose control of his strength, he repeatedly restrained his grip, though his kisses grew increasingly fervent.

Juchen couldn’t withstand it within moments, her mind had been thoroughly muddled by him.

Song Mi withdrew his fingers, rubbing the already slick moisture between them. His hand tightened on her hip. “Bring it here.”

Juchen asked hazily, “What?”

A faint, almost imperceptible laugh laced his voice. “Before we left the capital that time you knelt by the bed in the annex, untying the sachet. I saw it.”

Juchen’s mind exploded with realization. Their eyes met, and her fair face flushed crimson in an instant.

In mere moments, the lotus colored contraceptive sachet, along with the man’s long robe, had been tossed to the foot of the bed. Song Mi undid her sash, and the collar slipped down to her elbows, revealing swathes of snow-white skin. He nipped light at her collarbone, leaving faint marks.

Her undergarment tangled around her neck, and once again, he caught sight of red this time even more alluring than before.

Kneeling before her, Song Mi grasped her ankle, his gaze lingering on the deep crimson draped around her neck, embroidered with two blooming peonies. A sudden familiarity struck him, flooding his thoughts with a memory.

During the Turkic invasion of Liang, the two of them had briefly set aside their differences and traveled together to Tubo and Gaochang to seek reinforcements.

With Yong’an’s assistance, the Tubo chieftain pledged a hundred thousand troops to aid Liang against the Turks.

On their way from Tubo to Gaochang, they passed through the Gobi Desert and stopped at a relay station to rest. Water was precious in the desert, and the station had only one communal bathhouse, typically shared by several people at once. To accommodate them, it had been cleared for private use.

Song Mi, ever the gentleman, yielded to her first. Juchen washed away the dust of travel, her damp hair loosely tied as she stepped out. Halfway down the hall, she realized she had left her undergarment inside.

Hurrying back, she turned the corner only to find the bathhouse door shut Song Mi had already entered.

Uncertain how far along he was in his bath, Juchen hesitated to knock. The thought of asking him to retrieve her undergarment was too mortifying, so she waited silently outside.

After a while, Song Mi pushed the door open. Fresh from his bath, he wore only a plain white inner robe, his hair unusually loose tied at the ends with a thin ribbon. The inky strands, soft and smooth, shimmered with a faint blue sheen under the moonlight, softening his usually austere demeanor.

Their eyes met. Juchen froze for a moment before lowering her gaze. “I left something behind.”

Song Mi stepped aside, waiting outside as Juchen slipped back into the bathhouse. The air inside was still thick with steam, mingling with his clean, cool scent pleasant and intoxicating. Her breath hitched, an inexplicable pang tightening her chest as she moved to the clothing rack.

Her undergarment had fallen onto the lowest shelf, barely noticeable. Surely, he hadn’t seen it.

She snatched it up and hurried out, only to find Song Mi lingering outside, as if unwilling to leave her alone in the deepening night.

“Did you find it?”

Juchen nodded. Song Mi’s gaze flickered briefly before lowering to the flash of red half hidden in her grasp.

For the briefest moment, his expression remained unreadable. But that night, he dreamed.

A surge of heat, scalding like molten lava, muddied the clear spring. Song Mi looked down at her appearance the real her was even more captivating than in his dreams.

Juchen drew in shallow breaths, her fingers tangling in his loose hair, its softness just as she’d imagined. Was she remembering the same past?

“Why haven’t I seen you wear this color before?” He recalled she always favored inconspicuous pale shades.

Juchen didn’t understand how he could make small talk at such a moment, but refused to reveal her nervousness. Gasping, she explained, “Xu Yang gave it to me. She said red wards off evil when traveling far.”

“She certainly cares for you deeply.”

“Both she and Yuan Zheng treat me like family.”

Which was why she couldn’t let them meet tragic ends again.

When Juchen mentioned that name and drifted into thought, Song Mi’s eyes darkened. Releasing her ankle, he pinned both wrists above her head, violently bringing her mind back to the present.

The moonlight in Juchen’s eyes shattered as the bed creaked alarmingly. In panic, she slapped his buttocks. “Stop! Stop right now!”

Song Mi froze no one had ever struck him there.

Her gaze scattered, Juchen clung to his waist to prevent further movement.

“This bed it’s too loud.” At his current intensity, neighboring rooms would surely hear. How could she explain tomorrow? Certainly not by claiming she’d been doing somersaults.

Song Mi arched an eyebrow. “The table then?”

“No!” Juchen refused vehemently, her face burning. “That position is too much.”

After a pause, Song Mi lifted her against the wall instead.

Pressed against the cold surface with her sachet still clutched, Juchen felt enveloped by masculine heat. This angle exposed everything below she could only tilt her head back and shut her eyes, pretending blindness to endure.

As Song Mi slowly parted her knees, he suddenly chuckled. Juchen opened questioning eyes.

His lips brushed her ear as he murmured deeply, “When you spanked me just now, I thought you wanted to try something new.”

Her cheeks flushed like rouged silk. “How could you think that?” she whispered incredulously.

Something flickered in his eyes some memory he would not share before he silenced her with a kiss, just as he had done when refusing to testify about her drunken behavior in the bamboo pavilion.

Juchen rose and fell in his embrace.

At the peak of passion, he gripped her waist, displeased when she bit back all pleasured sounds despite ragged breathing. Nipping her lip, he demanded why she stayed silent.

Of course for fear of being heard.

What she said instead was, “I lack those singing girls’ lovely voices.”

Song Mi was momentarily stunned before letting out a soft chuckle, firmly placing her suspended feet back on the ground. Juchen thought he had finished, but in her daze, she realized she had not heard the familiar muffled groan she usually expected from him. Instinctively, her gaze drifted downward to investigate, but before her eyes could reach their target, he suddenly spun her around, gripping her shoulders from behind and turning her toward the wall face to the wall, back to him.

Her shoulder blades trembled slightly, the delicate hollow between them flushed a tempting red. Before Juchen could react or turn back in confusion, she shuddered violently the next instant, her calves nearly cramping.

Even with her teeth clenched tight this time, a tremulous moan still escaped her lips as she let out a soft whimper.

Song Mi’s steady voice drifted lazily from behind her, “But I still prefer hearing you sing.”

Juchen didn’t dare look back at him. With her hands braced against the wall and her vision blurred like misty water, she stared blankly at the white surface before her, utterly baffled at how he could say such shameless words with such complete seriousness.

This this utter rogue.