Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 54

Juchen had indeed wanted him to paint a portrait of her, but she never imagined it would have to be utterly unique like the first nude painting ever created by Prince Pengshan.

Song Mi had visited Rome in his youth and encountered many bold and vivid foreign painting styles. He had even specially purchased their pigments, though he’d never had the chance to use them. After all, given his temperament, unless it was someone exceptionally close to him, the principle of “no impropriety in sight” was deeply ingrained in his conduct.

Juchen considered herself well acquainted with his lesser known sides. She thought she had developed an unflappable composure under his “tyranny.” Yet when he guided her to recline on the daybed beside the studio, arranging her in a relaxed and natural pose, his elegant, fan like fingers suddenly reached out to part her collar, revealing the crimson undergarment beneath. Juchen still shivered, her shoulders tensing.

So this really was just for painting. He he was seriously going to depict her like this?

“You’re back in the capital now why are you still wearing this color?” Song Mi’s expression was so normal, as if they were merely doing something as mundane as eating or sleeping.

The studio had already been prepared with warm silver charcoal braziers, making the room far from cold. Yet Juchen instinctively pulled the loosened fabric back over herself, shielding her chest. “Last time. I thought you seemed to like it.”

Song Mi visibly paused just for a fleeting moment before amusement flickered in his eyes. Without mercy, he brushed aside her protective hands and pushed her ankle length skirt up, gathering the fabric around her hips, exposing the pale length of her legs.

Juchen leaned against the daybed as instructed, maintaining as composed an expression as possible. Still, her arms betrayed her, crossing over her chest to block the revealing view.

Though she had never ventured beyond the Western Regions to that distant empire, she was no stranger to the world. She had unfortunately, seen the sensual paintings and sculptures smuggled into the Central Plains by merchants. She also knew Song Mi had been to Rome.

If he could be so unrestrained, she could not afford to act coy that would undermine the dignity she had cultivated over years of governance.

Given the vividness of the artworks she had encountered, the fact that Song Mi had not demanded full nudity was already considerate. Yet no matter how calm Juchen appeared, the trembling of her hands gave her away.

Song Mi, however, seemed genuinely focused only on capturing her likeness.

Seated before the easel, brush dipped in ink, he looked up to find the young woman wearing the solemn expression of a seasoned official while her arms quivered between them.

He set the brush down and returned to her side, handing back the discarded undergarment.

His demeanor was so utterly unperturbed that Juchen couldn’t shake the illusion that if she put the garment back on now, she would undoubtedly be admitting defeat.

With practiced ease, she accepted the crimson silk, draping it lightly over her chest to conceal only the most critical areas, leaving the soft curves exposed.

It was the first time Song Mi had ever grasped the meaning of “a transparent pretense” while painting a woman.

Juchen at least had some modesty preserved, growing increasingly composed by the moment. She even rested her chin on her hand, eyes half lidded like a lazy cat napping on a couch. Later, she smoothed a stray lock of hair with the grace of a swan preening its feathers so vivid one could almost catch the faint fragrance drifting from her tresses before even approaching.

Song Mi sketched her silhouette with his brush, the darkness in his eyes deepening.

Juchen, tired from holding her pose, discreetly stretched her waist.

Suddenly, her artist flung his brush into a basin of water and tore the painting before him to shreds.

Her beautiful eyes widened as she sat up straight, guiltily murmuring, “What’s wrong? Did I pose poorly?” Song Mi shook his head, chuckling softly, before arriving at a realization. No matter how masterful those foreign portraits were in their vivid artistry, he, Song Mi, would likely never master them in this lifetime.

He could not capture her beauty on paper because he feared others might see it. Nor could he bring himself to paint any other woman but her.

Rising, he stepped forward to pull her skirt back over her ankles, then helped her into her undergarments, blouse, and short jacket. Under her dazed gaze, he tilted her chin up and kissed her. “You’ve posed for so long shall I reward you?”

Juchen was kissed for a long while before snapping back to reality, realizing he hadn’t even finished the painting. What kind of payment came before the work was done?

Reading the silent protest in her widened eyes, Song Mi laughed softly by her ear. “Next time.”

Juchen disliked his “next time” unpleasant memories surfaced, and she gripped his hand stubbornly. “Why? If you didn’t like my pose, I could change it. Or do you prefer me without clothes?”

“…”

If not for his impeccable manners, Song Mi might have cursed like Lu Feng something like, Damn.

How could Lady Li say such teasing words with such a straight face?
He tapped her forehead lightly with a bent finger. “I’m leaving the capital in two days. Did you know?”

A snow disaster had struck the Liangjiang region by year’s end, plunging the people into misery. Given Song Mi’s outstanding record in disaster control during his time in Shangdu, the arduous task had once again fallen to him.

“I heard.” Juchen nodded, a flicker of reluctance passing through her eyes.

That flicker pleased Song Mi immensely. He pulled her close by the waist, pressing a kiss to the corner of her eye. “So, I don’t have time now.”

No time? For what? Before Juchen could ask, Song Mi had already swept her into his arms and carried her out of the studio.

This was Juchen’s first visit to Pengshan Manor in this lifetime.

In her past life, when she would come to practice dancing with him, she had mostly stayed obediently in a corner of the rear pavilion by the lake, never exploring the vast estate.

The Empress Dowager had enfeoffed Song Mi as a prince and built this residence when he was fifteen. While other princes received mansions to be exiled from the imperial city, Song Mi who had hardly grown up there was granted an estate nestled at the foot of Pengshan.

Pengshan Manor encompassed nearly half the mountain, with dedicated courtyards for the menagerie he’d kept as a child. Whether intentional compensation from the Empress Dowager or not, his estate rivaled the imperial palace in scale, every plant and tree meticulously curated.

Cradled in Song Mi’s arms, Juchen glanced around. From the moment she entered, she had noticed he had dismissed all the servants. The sprawling manor held only the two of them now.

He led her out of the studio, passing through various pavilions and towers.

The gardens in his estate were breathtakingly beautiful, and even though Juchen was accustomed to luxurious mansions, the design of his residence still dazzled her eyes.

Unable to resist, she asked which master he had commissioned to draft the blueprints. His answer, however, was: “Too poor to hire one. I just scribbled it myself.”

“You’re really too modest.”

It was unclear whether her remark was directed at his claim of being poor or the beauty of his garden. Song Mi lowered his gaze to her. “Do you like it?”

“Who wouldn’t like a grand estate?”

“Then I’ll give it to you.”

Juchen was about to laughingly scold him how could an imperial-bestowed estate be so casually transferred? But as she parted her lips, she paused. If this estate bore her name, wouldn’t that mean she was its mistress?

Suddenly, she wanted it. Looping her arms around his shoulders, she whispered a soft “Okay.”

Song Mi heard it, and a subtle ripple stirred in his heart. Even if she only liked his estate, his wealth couldn’t that also be a reason for her to like him a little?

If she could grow even slightly fond of him, that would be more than enough.

Juchen continued looking around as Song Mi guided her through intricately carved beams and painted rafters, eventually arriving at a secluded corner deep in the rear garden. There stood a massive greenhouse built with glazed tiles, housing delicate flowers and trees that demanded precise climates.

There was also a hot spring pool, its surface now strewn with fiery petals.

By year’s end, the entire court was unusually busy, especially the Empress Dowager’s and the Emperor’s palaces, as the two had fallen into an unspoken cold war. Undercurrents surged, storms loomed, and officials treaded carefully. To stabilize the situation, Song Mi had little time to spare, making it impossible to take Juchen to Lishan for a hot spring soak.

He had remembered her tendency to feel cold. Now that he finally had a moment, he had the servants prepare the pool in advance with warming herbs before settling her in.

The water shimmered with steam, and Juchen’s fair skin nearly blended into the mist.

Song Mi often reflected on himself, and in matters of love, his greatest realization was its uncontrollable nature how it could obliterate years of restraint in an instant.

Since childhood, he had lived near a Taoist temple atop Peng Mountain, learning from an old priest a measure of Taoist detachment. That detachment was not about indulgence but about tempering his attachment to gains and losses.

Before meeting Juchen, Song Mi had been a man who could command his body with his mind. He never acted impulsively when he shouldn’t, never faltered when he ought to advance, never wallowed in sorrow when it was unnecessary.

Yet all that control crumbled in her presence.

Just as he couldn’t stop himself from watching her in his past life. Just as he knew he wanted her but dared not use his power to claim her. Just as he had observed from others that confessing led either to fulfillment or rejection and then moving on yet he lacked even the courage to let her reject him. Just like now, after holding back again and again, he still couldn’t resist pulling her into his arms, gripping the curve of her hips.

Song Mi truly gave up on his self-control around her.

He did not even struggle anymore, only grateful that Yuan Ruo had lit incense by the poolside table, allowing him to indulge himself with her.

It was the first time in broad daylight.

On the other side of the hot spring stood a crystal-clear glass wall, allowing unfiltered daylight to pour in. Mist swirled above the water’s surface, obscuring two naked figures pressed tightly together. He cradled the back of her neck, tilting her face upward to meet his kiss.

The medicinal spring water was warm, but not as scorching as his hands kneading her snow-white mounds.

Juchen stared fixedly at the towering trees above, their broad fan like leaves forming lush, overlapping canopies where birds and insects flitted about with cheerful chirps.

How was this any different from being outdoors? Juchen couldn’t relax at all.

“No one will come,” Song Mi murmured, fingertips brushing against her tension in reassurance.

Worried her nervous trembling might make her uncomfortable, Song Mi patiently lifted her onto the pool’s edge, using his outer robe as a cushion. Standing waist deep in the water before her, he began kissing her anew, starting from her forehead.

His lips traveled downward relentlessly.

Leaning back against the robe he would spread, Juchen reached to tangle her fingers in his raven hair but grasped only air.

“Don’t.” Her protest dissolved into fragmented whimpers.

When he finally resurfaced before her, Juchen’s gaze was dazed and unfocused, her eyes slightly reddened as she stared blankly at the verdant banana leaves overhead. “The scholars and beauties in those romance novels they’d rendezvous like this in secluded groves too,” she mumbled absently.

The moment the words left her lips, she bit her tongue sharply.

Li Juchen, what kind of shameless talk was that?

Song Mi noted the sudden flush blooming across her face but refrained from teasing her further, merely chuckling inwardly as he drew her back into the water.

Scalding heat surged from below, churning the spring into tidal waves that crashed violently against the stone banks, splashing the surrounding pebbles with relentless rhythm.

This was clearly him making up for what he had failed to accomplish that day at Mount Li.