Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 49

The next morning, when Juchen woke up, the sunlight was already streaming through the window, and the room was empty Song Mo had already left.

Two Tibetan maids knocked and entered to help her get dressed. As they came in, Juchen instinctively glanced down at herself. Song Mo had been meticulous before leaving, he had even made sure her nightgown was properly fastened.

He had also washed her body the night before. Sitting before the washbasin, Juchen finished washing her face and took the towel from the maid. As she rubbed her damp skin, the memory of him wiping her entire body with the towel flashed through her mind.

Perhaps she had rubbed too hard when she handed the towel back to the maid, her face was flushed crimson.

After breakfast, Juchen stepped out into the morning light and leaned against the railing, glancing toward the pasture. A familiar tall steed galloped past her with a rhythmic clatter, followed by a group of eager local noble youths.

They had been itching to catch the white stallion since seeing it at the races the day before, but none had succeeded.

Lu Feng, seated on a platform by the pasture, watched as the horse continued to toy with the young men. He looked up at Song Mo beside him and chuckled.

“After seeing how smoothly Juchen rode it yesterday, I thought it had matured and become more docile. Turns out, it was just.”

Song Mo skimmed the tea foam with the lid and glanced at him.

“It’s just a patriotic horse.”

His dark eyes swept over his friend from head to toe, taking in his smug expression. Song Mo sighed. “Seems the Stone of Three Lives was right.”

“About what?”

“You really are an idiot.”

Lu Feng spat out his tea, slammed the cup onto the table, and wiped his mouth with his sleeve. “Song Zhengzhi, what do you mean by that?”

A faint smile played on Song Mo’s lips. Just as Lu Feng was about to argue, his gaze was suddenly drawn to something behind him. He waved cheerfully, and Song Mo turned to see Juchen approaching.

“Awake, Lord Li?” Song Mo greeted her calmly.

Juchen nodded in greeting, her eyes briefly flickering over his face as she straightened. In broad daylight, he stood there in his violet robe and jade belt, his features as refined as a painting, his demeanor noble and composed not a trace remained of last night’s recklessness.

Lu Feng exchanged only a few pleasantries with Juchen before the woman he had spent the night with appeared below the platform, holding a Han dynasty text and shyly waving at him. Ever the one to prioritize romance over friendship, Lu Feng quickly excused himself and slipped away with her.

Song Mo took a sip of the Tibetan style Snow Festival tea, finding its flavor unique. He poured another cup, intending to invite Juchen to join him, but when he looked up, her graceful figure had already turned away, leaving him with nothing but a resentful silhouette.

That morning, Yong’an had been invited by the Tibetan king for a stroll along the riverbank beside the pasture. Whatever the king said had made her cover her lips in laughter. Just then, a Tibetan guard hurried over, summoning the king away temporarily. Yong’an sat on a stone bench by the river to wait for his return. Spotting Juchen approaching in the distance, she smiled and waved.

Juchen took a seat beside her, but after only a few words of conversation, Yong’an, seeing no one else around, couldn’t resist bending over to rub her sore calves. Juchen instinctively followed her movements, her pupils contracting as her gaze involuntarily landed on Yong’an’s neck. As Yong’an lowered her head to massage her legs, the shocking trail of love bites along her neck and collarbone was instantly exposed without concealment.

Juchen took a deep breath, lowering her eyes to see that Yong’an’s complexion wasn’t particularly good either clearly, she had been forcing herself to stay alert. Tibetan men were more unrestrained in temperament compared to Central Plains men, likely even less considerate in showing affection.

Juchen fixed her gaze on Yong’an, hesitated, but ultimately couldn’t hold back. She pulled Yong’an close and whispered stern advice into her ear.

Yong’an hadn’t expected her to say such things, her face flushing instantly.

“Did you understand?” Juchen asked. “If you’re uncomfortable, you must speak up. Never just endure it.”

Yong’an’s cheeks burned red as she nodded, glancing at her hesitantly.

“What is it?” Juchen pressed.

Yong’an kept her head lowered as she asked, “Sister, how do you have such insights about these matters?”

“I’ve read a lot of books.”

Juchen coughed dryly, maintaining a perfectly composed expression, doing her best to appear well read, worldly, and experienced at least in theory. She casually let her gaze drift around before, unfortunately, meeting a pair of deep, mesmerizing eyes.

“Would you like to try some Shoton tea?” Song Mi stood behind them, his tone as gentle and calm as ever.

It was unclear whether he had overheard their conversation. Juchen accepted the tea, its milky white hue soft and delicate, casting an unusual flush across her lotus like face.

The three of them sat by the river sipping tea, the water shimmering under the low-hanging clouds and the vast blue sky.

When the Tibetan king returned as promised, he was accompanied by a yawning Buzan. The guards reported that Buzan had yet to wake, but given the prince’s notoriously erratic and unpredictable temper, they hadn’t dared to knock on his door. The king hurried inside and pulled back the covers, only to find him still fast asleep.

Abruptly awakened, Buzan’s expression was cold as his indifferent gaze swept across the grassland. Spotting a group of youths chasing the white horse that had won the race the previous day, his interest piqued, and he decided to try taming it himself.

Yong’an stood beside the Tibetan king, watching with a benevolent smile.

Not wanting to intrude on their family moment, Song Mi and Juchen tactfully retreated to a shaded corner.

Juchen observed the little white horse’s unruly demeanor, recalling its origins, and couldn’t resist stealing a glance at Song Mi.

As if sensing her gaze, Song Mi looked back steadily. Unable to withstand the intensity of his stare, Juchen coughed lightly and said, “Last time, I told you quite a bit about my family, but I realize I don’t know much about you.”

“Last time?”

“That day, by the riverbank.” Juchen trailed off as she noticed the growing curve of his lips, suddenly realizing he wasn’t genuinely asking. She turned her head away, ignoring him.

Song Mi chuckled softly before asking seriously, “What would you like to know?”

“Why do you like white animals?”

“It’s not a particular preference.”

“But you have so many white animals at home. I heard from Brother Lu Er that your estate in Pengshan has a menagerie.” Juchen spoke softly. “And I also heard that Xiao Bai was a gift from the late emperor?”

Song Mi paused before replying, “Yes.”

When Song Mi was first born, as the eldest son of the Empress Dowager, it was said he enjoyed a brief period of being cradled in his mother’s arms like a treasured jewel.

But after the current emperor was born, the Empress Dowager grew wary, fearing that the late emperor would grow increasingly displeased with this eldest son from a different father. To secure the future, she reluctantly severed ties with him, sending him to Pengshan under the pretense of praying for the late emperor’s blessings.

By the time Song Mi turned three, when childhood memories began to solidify, the first person to visit him on the mountain was none other than the late emperor.

The late emperor did not reveal his identity. Dressed in plain clothes, he appeared as nothing more than a handsome scholar, a traveler seeking solace in the mountains, who happened to meet him at the mountain gate.

Before descending, the late emperor gifted him two pigeons, forging a bond through these white birds.

He was Song Mi’s first friend in life, though he was often too busy to visit frequently. Yet, no matter how occupied he was, he always found time to reply promptly to every letter Song Mi sent via the pigeons.

Later, the late emperor stole another moment to return to the mountain.

Seeing how meticulously Song Mi cared for the two pigeons and hearing him praise the purity and beauty of their white feathers, he mistakenly assumed Song Mi had a fondness for white animals. From then on, whenever the imperial menagerie acquired a new white creature, he would send it to him.

In truth, Song Mi simply cherished the way he communicated through the pigeons.

As the gifts grew increasingly rare and extraordinary, the late emperor’s identity became harder to conceal. Song Mi, ever perceptive, eventually pieced it together after reading and learning about the world.

When the late emperor noticed Song Mi had stopped sending letters by carrier pigeon, he assumed it was out of anger for his deception. His heart ached, and as his health steadily declined, the last gift he sent before his passing was a small white horse.

Song Mi had once written to him, lamenting how he was trapped on the mountain, always reading about gallant heroes riding freely across the land.

He had longed to wander beyond those peaks.
And the reason he had been sent to the mountain the late emperor understood it all too well.

After the late emperor’s death, the Empress Dowager, no longer restrained, released Song Mi from Pengshan. On the very day he received the white foal, he rode it out of the mountains. Yet, despite years of carefree travels, he never again found someone to whom he could eagerly share every new discovery.

When Juchen heard this, her expression visibly shifted in surprise.

“What is it?”

“I always thought. you would hate him.”

“Many people assumed I would. I even believed he must have despised me. But he taught me what it means to love someone so deeply that you cherish even what they cherish.” Song Mi gave a faint smile and sighed. “He truly adored Her Majesty. At the very least, her second marriage was not a mistake.”

A strange emotion flickered through Juchen’s heart as she stared at him in quiet astonishment. Song Mi’s temperament was strikingly similar to the empress’s, yet had the empress been abandoned in her youth, she would never have developed such compassion for others. But Song Mi carried an extra layer of gentleness within him.

The ancients often said that birth could not compare to upbringing. Juchen’s own unconventional nature, so different from Li Ling and Lady Wen’s, was shaped by her upbringing under the Xianning Princess. And the tenderness in Song Mi it was likely a gift from the late emperor.

Juchen gazed at the softness in his eyes, lost in thought, until she suddenly realized what this peculiar feeling in her heart was. Admiration, affection, and an ache she could not suppress.

In the end, Bu Zan failed to tame Little White and was thrown off by its kick. The Tibetan king hurried over to check on him, while Yong’an crouched down beside him in concern. As Bu Zan was helped up, he inadvertently caught sight of a large red mark on the back of her neck a mark that symbolized something and felt an inexplicable sting in his heart. His eyes turned cold, his expression growing unusually distant.

Turning away abruptly, he left the pasture at a brisk pace, leaving everyone behind. The Tibetan king, unsure what had upset his precious charge, had no choice but to follow and placate him.

Seizing the moment of respite, Yong’an exhaled lightly in relief. Spotting Juchen nearby, she walked over and asked if she would like to join her in watching the shepherds herd the sheep.

Juchen was quite interested, and Yong’an casually extended the invitation to Song Mi, fully expecting him to decline. To her surprise, he nodded in agreement, and the three set off together.

After watching the herding, they stood by the sheep pen feeding the lambs.

Yong’an leaned against the fence, gently stroking one lamb’s head. Glancing over, she noticed Song Mi wasn’t feeding the sheep like the others, but Juchen was thoroughly enjoying herself. Yong’an handed Juchen some fodder, which she accepted naturally, her attention entirely on the lambs, showing no trace of unease despite the noble status of the one assisting her.

Yong’an suddenly realized that the two of them no longer seemed as unfamiliar as before there was even a tacit understanding between them, as if they had known each other for years.

Unable to contain her curiosity, Yong’an asked about their first meeting.

The year Song Mi had come to the princess’s estate to escape the summer heat, Yong’an had already been taken back to Baoguang Temple. Learning that her uncle had appeared in their lives during his youth, Yong’an felt a twinge of regret regret that she hadn’t witnessed his youthful brilliance.

Juchen pointed a slender finger at him. “His Highness was just like this back then too.”

Song Mi raised an eyebrow. “What do you mean, ‘just like this’?”

“Noble in status, handsome in appearance, wealthy and powerful wherever he went, he drew countless gazes.”

Song Mi nearly let the word “perfunctory” slip from his lips. “If that’s the case, why weren’t you drawn to me?”

“Me? I knew my place,” Juchen shrugged, joking.

But it was the truth in her heart.

Living in the princess’s estate, surrounded day and night by nobles and elites, Juchen had encountered the wealthiest and most talented people in the world. What was rare was that she never lost sight of her own standing.

She could comfortably befriend Yuan Zheng, Song Yun, or Lin Zongbai precisely because she knew her boundaries, never entertaining improper thoughts about them. But Song Mi was different. From the moment she first saw him, she had sensed an inexplicable danger.

Her instincts warned her to stay away.

So back then, she had fled at the sight of him. Even when she couldn’t resist stealing a few more glances, she kept her distance, only using him as the first model for her kiln.

Song Mi studied the faint trace of regret in her smile and scoffed inwardly.

Was it truly about “knowing her place,” or was it that her heart already belonged to someone else, rendering everyone else insignificant?

Yong’an spoke up again. “Back at the princess’s estate, did Sister Juchen address Uncle like the Grand Princess did?”

“Since when was she ever that polite?” Song Mi said coldly.

“Then would you prefer her to call you Uncle? Actually, as the adopted daughter of the princess, by status and seniority, Sister Juchen could very well address you as Uncle too it would show proper respect,” Yong’an suggested.

The moment these words were spoken, Song Mi actually felt tempted to take advantage of the situation, egging her on to call him that just once.

When she finally wore Juchen down and he reluctantly uttered the term, he froze in place.

Noticing his slightly troubled expression an unusual moment of stunned silence Juchen suddenly became energized and called out again, “Uncle.”

Song Mi’s brows furrowed deeply.

“Uncle, uncle, uncle.”

Song Mi grabbed her hand abruptly. “You’re not allowed to call me that.”