Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 50

During this period, Juchen hadn’t forgotten her original purpose for this journey. Her gaze frequently lingered around Song Mi, carrying a hint of vigilance and wariness.

Unaware of the reason, Song Mi was more than happy to take her along wherever he went, claiming it was so she could “save him” whenever he forgot his lines. In truth, his Tibetan was already excellent, but to give Li daren a chance to shine, he deliberately spoke only in Central Plains dialect, having her translate every word he said.

This meant Juchen had to listen attentively to every single sentence he uttered. Song Mi, who had never before enjoyed the privilege of being so thoroughly acknowledged by the Prime Minister, found this arrangement endlessly amusing.

Juchen suspected he was simply finding ways to keep her busy. Given his noble status and absolute authority, she a mere minor official had no choice but to comply. She poured all her effort into the translations, racking her brains to interpret his every word.

When he said “good,” it became “amazingly good” in her mouth. When he shook his head in refusal, she rendered it as “no way, no way.”

Song Mi often frowned at her, the corners of his lips twitching in suppressed laughter, but he never corrected her.

Thanks to Li-daren’s efforts, the normally composed and inscrutable Prince Pengshan successfully transformed in the eyes of their allies into an exuberant, hot-blooded youth brimming with passion and indignation.

Days passed in a flash, and as their return journey approached, the annual Tibetan Shoton Festival arrived. Song Mi was invited to the grasslands to watch Tibetan opera performances dedicated to the monks emerging from their retreat.

The Shoton Festival originated from the Buddhist precept of “non-killing.”

According to tradition, from the fourth to the sixth month of the Tibetan calendar, as all living things revived, monks were confined to their temples to avoid stepping on and killing small creatures. On the day the prohibition lifted, they could finally leave the mountains, and the people would prepare yogurt and hold outdoor feasts in their honor.

That day, many beautiful Gaochang women also attended the festival. Gaochang and Tibet had always been neighbors, and during major celebrations, people from both sides would cross the border to join in the festivities. The Gaochang women wore colorful silk veils, floral hats, vests, and tube skirts, their tops cropped short to reveal slender, delicate waists. Adorned with earrings, rings, necklaces, and bracelets, they jingled melodiously with every step, exuding boundless charm.

Around the bonfire, people from all three nations celebrated together, their songs lingering in the air alongside the music of strings and flutes. Song Mi’s gaze settled on the fluttering veils of the dancing Gaochang women, and a memory surged into his thoughts.

After leaving the desert outpost, he and Juchen had traveled day and night to reach Gaochang, where they were warmly received by its ruler.

The negotiations for an alliance against the Turks concluded successfully, and Juchen was invited by the Gaochang princess to attend a gathering for unmarried men and women of their tribe that evening.

That afternoon, Song Mi returned to his room for a nap. As the setting sun cast its glow through the window, he stretched lazily and stepped outside.

Glancing down the corridor, he saw two graceful figures approaching.

His eyes froze when they landed on the sliver of pale waist visible beneath Juchen’s plain white veil. The gauzy fabric, light as clouds, still couldn’t outshine the radiance of her skin.

Dressed by the Gaochang princess in local attire, Juchen walked past him with the princess, exchanging only a brief nod before heading toward the bonfire celebration by the riverbank.

Song Mi’s gaze lingered on her retreating figure for a moment before he silently followed.

Juchen and the princess arrived by the riverside. The Gaochang people all had high noses, deep-set eyes, sharp features, and darker complexions. Juchen’s delicate, gentle beauty, coupled with her fair, luminous skin, made her stand out immediately in the crowd. Before the princess could even finish explaining the rules of the gathering, Juchen found herself surrounded by Gaochang men eager to invite her to dance.

Yet she didn’t accept any of their invitations, for just then, some mischievous child had lit a firecracker in the grass, startling the tall white horse nearby. The horse reared with a loud whinny, its panicked hooves charging into the gathering and scattering the crowd of Gaochang men and Juchen alike.

Juchen stumbled back two steps and accidentally collided with a firm, broad chest.

Song Mi steadied her, then politely withdrew the hand that had rested on her waist. Juchen looked up, meeting his gaze in a brief, silent moment before nodding in thanks. But as she turned to face him fully, there was a sudden, sharp tearing sound.

Both were startled by the noise. Looking down, they saw that the square ring on his finger had accidentally caught on her dress, leaving a long tear as she turned.

Juchen stared in shock at the ring on his finger she had no memory of the Prince of Pengshan ever having a habit of wearing rings when Song Mi had already removed his outer robe and draped it over her shoulders.

“My apologies. I’ll compensate you,” Song Mi said, then, feeling the words insufficient, added more firmly while looking into her eyes, “Double the compensation.”

Juchen: “…”

Seated by the bonfire, Song Mi stared into the roaring flames, recalling how Juchen had gone from being the center of attention to completely ignored the moment she donned a man’s outer robe. A faint smirk tugged at his lips as he inwardly scorned himself. The small measure of mischief in his nature seemed reserved almost entirely for her.

Juchen, sitting nearby, glanced in Song Mi’s direction. He lounged lazily, a hint of amusement in his eyes, his mood seemingly quite pleasant as he gazed straight ahead.

Following his line of sight, Juchen saw several beautiful Gaochang women dancing gracefully around the bonfire, their bright smiles and swaying figures a delightful sight.

So that was it. Juchen’s fingers tightened around her teacup until her knuckles turned white.

Though he had never commented on her figure, the way his hands never tired of exploring her body told her clearly enough this man preferred curves.

And such superficial traits weren’t unique to her. These women before her had ample bosoms and slender waists too. It might have been her imagination, but Juchen couldn’t shake the feeling that, in his eyes, their waists must look even more delicate than hers.

Was this, then, the encounter he’d been waiting for?

Juchen had little experience in matters of romance. It had taken two lifetimes for her to have her first man. They had been intimate countless times there wasn’t a spot on her body he hadn’t touched. Yet the thought that she wasn’t the only one he’d been this way with, that his roguish charm had embraced others just the same, brought an unfamiliar bitterness to her throat. Her heart felt as though it were being squeezed tight.

She could only pretend she hadn’t seen anything, lowering her head and clutching the hem of her dress with white knuckled force.

But such matters could hardly be suppressed by putting on a facade of peace.

Juchen crumpled the hem of her skirt until it was nearly wrinkled beyond recognition, but still couldn’t hold back a cold laugh when Lu Feng suggested they all go down to join the hand-dancing. “I won’t be going. Why don’t you take Uncle instead? He seems quite eager, though he’s been restraining himself.”

Song Mi snapped out of his thoughts, unaware of the context, but hearing her call him “Uncle” again instantly soured his mood. He had warned her repeatedly not to use that title it seemed some people simply refused to take the easy way and insisted on learning the hard way.

He glared directly at her. Juchen met his icy expression but didn’t have the sense to apologize. Instead, she turned away indifferently, ignoring him, and resolved not to engage with him for the rest of the banquet.

However, when a group of Gaochang beauties noticed the dashing Central Plains man seated behind them and approached with wine cups, intending to invite him to dance, Juchen clenched her small fists. After a moment’s struggle, she scooted over from her seat beside him and, pointing at the grapes in Song Mi’s hand, said in a soft, sweet voice, “I want some of these.”

The girl rarely acted coquettish with him, and even this slight hint of sweetness was enough to melt half his bones. Song Mi obligingly handed her the grapes, and the beauties withdrew from his side.

Once the crowd dispersed, Juchen plopped back into her original seat, her expression instantly reverting to its earlier frosty indifference.

Song Mi frowned slightly at her mercurial change. What was this? Lure him in, then leave him hanging?

Lu Feng danced several rounds around the bonfire before returning to his seat, slightly fatigued. No sooner had he sat down than a Tibetan girl who had previously clung to him with ancient texts, begging him to teach her Chinese characters approached under her companions’ encouragement and handed him a love letter she had painstakingly practiced writing for days.

Lu Feng smiled graciously in thanks, his practiced charm betraying the ease of a seasoned heartbreaker. Watching him effortlessly win someone’s affection in just a few days, a talent far beyond her reach, Juchen couldn’t help but gaze at him with envy.

Misinterpreting her admiration, Lu Feng thought she coveted the love letter in his hand and kindly reassured her, “When we were kids, I even wrote you a love letter once.”

Juchen laughed in surprise. “Really?”

“Of course. You even replied to me.”

Her shock deepened. “What did I say?”

“I don’t quite remember something like a poem, maybe? You know how bad I was at studies back then. I didn’t understand a word of it.”

Juchen: “…”

Oh no. She had received so many love letters back then that this one had completely slipped her mind.

Lost in her hazy recollections, she furrowed her delicate brows. Driven by some inexplicable unease, she couldn’t help but glance at the man beside Lu Feng.

Song Mi’s expression remained unreadable. Not even a flicker of his gaze betrayed any interest in their conversation as he lifted his teacup, blew lightly on the steaming liquid, and took a sip.

After all, theirs was merely a fleeting affair. He had no reason to care about her past “romantic history.”

Juchen lowered her eyes to the small tea stain on the table before him, unsure when he had spilled it.

By the time the bonfire burned out and the banquet ended, Song Mi hadn’t exchanged another word with Juchen. Even when they parted and she bid him farewell out of courtesy, his demeanor was indifferent, almost absentminded, as if he hadn’t noticed her at all. He didn’t even acknowledge her.

Admittedly, Juchen wasn’t completely unable to understand. In his eyes, she had been utterly ungrateful and audacious tonight, daring to give him inexplicable cold looks.

Juchen had originally thought that with her being so distant towards him, Song Mi would likely ignore her for the next few days.

Under the moonlit night, Juchen lit the candles in the room and walked to the clothes rack. Just as she had slipped out of her ruqun, the man suddenly climbed in through the window, his gaze colliding with her bare legs exposed to the air.

There wasn’t a place on her body he hadn’t seen before, yet Juchen still wasn’t accustomed to being naked in front of him. She hastily stood on tiptoe to grab the sleeping robe hanging at the very top of the rack. But the moment her fingers grasped a corner of the fabric, Song Mi had already enveloped her from behind.

Without hesitation, he bit down hard on her shoulder, and his hands which usually settled on her abdomen immediately moved upward to knead her, molding her until she was nearly shapeless.