Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 51

The man’s breathing grew heavier, his grip increasingly forceful until Juchen could no longer bear it, nudging him away with her elbow.

Song Mo paused, then grasped her shoulders and turned her to face him. Backed into a corner, Juchen found her lips and tongue relentlessly claimed, her hands pushing futilely against his unyielding chest a solid wall pressing her down.

Just moments ago, he had been staring distractedly at another woman. And now, here he was, seeking this from her. What did he take her for? An outlet for his desires?

Juchen turned her head away, hands gripping his shoulders before raking her nails down his back with deliberate force.

The marks appeared almost instantly angry red streaks across Song Mo’s skin.

He hissed through gritted teeth, catching her wrist. He meant to mock her for needing to trim those claws, but the sight of her slender, porcelain fingers with their delicate pink tips stole the words from his tongue.

Instead, he brought her hand to his lips, pressing a kiss to her knuckles.

Juchen’s breath hitched, her fingers curling into a fist as she let out a soft, displeased hum.

That sound finally alerted Song Mo. Meeting her frost laced glare, his voice dropped low. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing,” Juchen muttered, averting her gaze. What right did she have to question him, after all?

His suspicion only grew. Sweeping her into his arms, he carried her to the bed, one hand tracing idle circles at her waist as he pressed for answers.

Juchen realized then how cunning this man was pinning her beneath him with just enough weight to trap her, his calm expression belying the unspoken ultimatum: This won’t end until you talk.

Trapped and unwilling to reveal her jealousy, she seized on another grievance. “Why won’t you let me call you ‘uncle’?” she spat.

“It’s inappropriate.”

“How? I’m older than Yong’an but younger than Ranran!”

“Age isn’t the issue.”

Juchen’s eyes flashed cold. “Then it’s because you think a mere princess’ plaything this so called adopted daughter of a prince isn’t worthy?”

“Of course not. Where is this coming from?”

“Then why?”

“It simply isn’t proper.” Song Mo exhaled silently, fingers tightening at her waist before claiming her lips again. “Especially now.”

As his tongue breached her defenses, realization struck. He wasn’t so depraved as to indulge in bedding a girl who addressed him as uncle to take her beneath him while she used that title would cross even his boundaries.

When Song Mo withdrew, Juchen turned her face away with a quiet scoff. That alluring smile he’d given those beauties earlier surfaced in her mind, fueling silent accusations of hypocrisy.

Not missing her disdain, Song Mo tilted her chin back for another kiss. Her resistance now held no trace of coyness. After a long pause, he anchored her shoulders. “Anything else you want to ask? Say it all now.”

Juchen pushed him twice but couldn’t budge him, forced to meet his deep, heavy gaze. She caught her breath lightly, her hands pressed against his chest gradually curling until they formed fists that tapped against his heart. “If I hadn’t come on this journey, where would Your Highness have gone tonight?”

Song Mi thought back to his past life and replied, “Back to my room to sleep.”

“Is that so?”

“You don’t believe me?”

Juchen desperately wanted to accuse him of having been fantasizing about someone else’s slender waist earlier, but if she said that, it would reveal she had deliberately ruined his chance at a romantic encounter tonight her inappropriate behavior and that jealousy would become glaringly obvious.

Taking a deep breath, Juchen murmured almost inaudibly, “With so many beauties in Tibet, surely Your Highness wouldn’t mind a fleeting romance here?”

Was her question laced with jealousy, or was it just an excuse to persuade him to leave her room? Song Mi couldn’t tell at that moment. He only felt a sudden pang of sorrow. For all his pride in his integrity and his lifelong chastity across two lifetimes, the only woman he had ever loved didn’t see him that way at all. “Minister Li, in your eyes, am I really such a promiscuous man?”

The overwhelming weight of the man above her abruptly vanished, and Juchen’s heart clenched. Her throat tightened as if something were stuck in it, her fingertips turning pale from how hard she pinched them, the tip of her nose reddening.

Under normal circumstances, Song Mi might have mustered the patience to carefully unravel her inexplicable irritation and coax her out of it.

But perhaps it was the festive atmosphere today, unusually rowdy, that had worn him down.

Or perhaps it was the memories of the past how he had disliked her speaking to strange men but only dared to interfere with underhanded methods; how he had spent ten years writing a love letter that, in the end, he never sent.

Or perhaps it was the realization that she could lift him to the heavens with one word and plunge him into an icy abyss with another, and no matter how hard he tried, he could never surpass the man who already held her heart.

Song Mi sat at the edge of the bed, his back to her, silent for a long while.

His eyes darkened, his voice carrying a hint of anger yet hoarse: “All these years, there’s only ever been you.”

In his past life, in this life decades unchanged.

As soon as the words left his lips, Juchen’s feet, tucked quietly under the covers, curled their toes together abruptly. The ache in her nose grew heavier.

Her heart throbbed repeatedly, and she silently berated herself. Li Juchen, oh Li Juchen, for all your tenure as a prime minister, the cunning in your heart is no bigger than a sesame seed. You’re even dredging up past grievances do you regret not wasting enough of your life already?

While Juchen was still struggling internally, Song Mi had already risen.

Feeling the dip in the mattress behind her shift, Juchen quickly turned over, knelt at the edge of the bed, and wrapped her arms tightly around his narrow waist before he could leave.

Song Mi stood by the bed, letting her hold him not leaving, but not returning to bed with her either.

Juchen glanced up at him and saw his lips pressed into a straight line, none of the usual warmth he reserved for her in sight.

Left with no choice, Juchen steeled herself and rose to kiss him, but he refused to lower his head, leaving her only able to reach his jaw.

Seeing his lack of cooperation, she bit her lip, looped her arms around his neck, and hung her full weight on him, as if trying to bend a proud, towering pine tree, forcing him to stoop so she could press her lips to his.

And just like that, she found the root of his tongue, unsparingly sharing all the familiar sweetness and coolness between her teeth, dissolving the bitterness lodged in his heart.

After kissing his lips, she moved to his cheeks, then the tip of his high bridged nose, and finally pecked his eyelids.

Song Mi had initially maintained a cold expression, but under her persistent affection, he soon flipped her onto the bed.

The soft mound in his palm contorted under his touch. Juchen bit back a whimper, enduring in silence.

To better exert himself, he lifted her ankles high. Juchen gasped, closing her eyes as she yielded to him.

He pressed her knees toward his shoulders, gazing down at her with unrestrained hunger.

Juchen finally begged for mercy.

Song Mi relented slightly at her pitiful, breathless pleas, slowing his movements as he fixed his dark eyes on hers. His voice was low and deliberate as he asked, “What did you write in your reply to Lu Feng?”

Juchen’s mind blanked, her beautiful eyes widening. “I-I really don’t remember.”

Song Mi’s gaze darkened. He caught her earlobe between his teeth. “Was it a love poem?”

“N-no.”

“No? But you just said you don’t remember.”

He bit down on her collarbone, drawing a faint sob from her. “It definitely wasn’t! My studies were terrible back then how could I have written a love poem?”

“Then what was it?”

“Probably something like, ‘Alas, fair maiden, dally not with men,’ or ‘Wandering beneath the courtyard trees, I hang myself from the southeast branch.'”

“Really?”

“Y-yes!”

“Why reply with such things when they sent you love letters?”

“They always insisted on a response when they shoved them at me. And at the time, the princess was forcing me to memorize texts. I just thought, with so much paper, I shouldn’t let it go to waste.”

Tears welled in Juchen’s eyes, but then she heard the man above her let out a faint, almost imperceptible chuckle.

She looked up, only to find his expression as composed as ever his dark eyes carrying the natural authority of royalty, betraying no excess emotion.

Yet the pace of his torment quickened.

The next day, before dawn had fully broken, Song Mi left early but not before applying medicine to her.

The moment his fingers brushed her, Juchen shuddered and opened her eyes to find him seated at the bedside, impeccably dressed, his demeanor as pristine as the morning light.

Once he finished tending to her, he lifted his gaze to meet hers. Juchen immediately yanked the covers over her head, hiding her flushed face as she recalled the night before how he had guided her to straddle him, how she had swayed her hips before his eyes. Today, she had no desire to face him at all.

By the time the Tibetan maid entered to help her rise, the sun was already high. After breakfast, Juchen stepped outside only to collide with that tall, imposing figure once more.

He stood with Lu Feng in the corridor just beyond her door, their backs to her as they chatted and laughed, arms slung over each other’s shoulders.

Juchen quickened her pace, intending to slip past unnoticed, but Lu Feng’s sudden exclamation of “What the hell?!” froze her in place.

Lu Feng tugged at the back of Song Mi’s collar. “What happened to your neck?”

Juchen’s steps faltered. A vivid memory from the previous night flashed through her mind how he had pinned her against the pillar, how she had clung to him in desperation, her fingers tangling in his hair as he buried his face against her throat. She had trembled, her nails scraping his nape in her frenzy, leaving behind a thin crimson mark.

Juchen bit her lower lip and glanced over guiltily, only to see Lu Feng’s expression growing increasingly grave. It would have been better if he hadn’t lifted the fabric once he did, the marks on his back came into full view as well.

The ones on his back were from when she had scratched him in a fit of anger, but the mark on the back of his neck wasn’t intentional. She wouldn’t dare leave such an obvious mark in such a visible spot.

But now, Lu Feng had seen everything. He grabbed Song Mi as if he had stumbled upon some earth shattering revelation.

Song Mi brushed off his hand and said flatly, “A cat scratched me.”

“You think I’m an idiot? No wonder your lights went out so early last night.

Not very brotherly of you keeping a girl from me?”

Song Mi was silent for a moment. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

“Song Zhengzhi, you’ve really leveled up copying my one-night stands now?

Still, I’m curious. Who’s this vicious one daring to provoke the untouchable?”

“She’s not that vicious.”

“Tch, defending her already? Didn’t take you for the type who likes them wild. These marks you would need some serious force to leave them like this.

Were you two playing some kind of game?”

“Stop talking nonsense.”

“Come on, I really want to know. Who is she? Must’ve been one of the girls at last night’s party, right?”

“Yes.”

Lu Feng narrowed his eyes with a smirk. “Which one? Introduce me.”

His request to “get to know her” was far from innocent. Though contemptible, this was the usual attitude among their circle of wealthy young men toward fleeting affairs if they found someone appealing, swapping partners wasn’t out of the question.

Juchen’s hands clenched at her sides, her heart tightening. Her toes shifted several times, torn between leaving and staying rooted in place.

Waiting for his answer.

She was both afraid to hear it and desperate to know.

Song Mi did not answer. Instead, with cold clarity, he uttered a single word: “Leave.”

It was the first time Lu Feng had ever been cursed at by him. Stunned, he hesitated before chasing after Song Mi’s retreating figure. Before he could press further, Song Mi spotted the thick bamboo curtain rolled up over the archway ahead. Stepping through the threshold, he yanked the hook beside it.

The curtain came crashing down behind him right onto Lu Feng’s face.

“Ah!” Lu Feng reeled as if slapped twice, a lump immediately swelling on his forehead.

Clutching his head, he snapped, “Song Zhengzhi, fine, keep your secrets! No need to lose your temper like that!”