Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 57
Juchen stared blankly at the figure before her slender and elegant, with an indifferent brow that was nearly identical to the original, uncannily so.
Her eyes sparkled with admiration as the corners of her lips lifted slightly, though the smile faded before reaching her ears.
The alcohol had begun to loosen her senses, and her gaze grew hazy. The newcomer, seeing her silence, didn’t press further. Instead, he took a few steps and seated himself beside her. With polite distance, he lifted her elbow through the fabric of her sleeve, rolling it up to reveal a jade like arm marred by a stark, ugly gash, carelessly left untreated.
Juchen raised her head, her blurred vision catching his furrowed brow.
“If you ignore it now, you’ll regret it later.”
His words always carried a hint of teasing, as if nothing truly concerned him yet beneath that lay a heart surprisingly tender. Pity that in her youth, she hadn’t understood. Back then, she had only seen him as lofty, looking down upon the world, utterly detestable.
Juchen never denied her own insignificance. It had given her modest aspirations the imperial court of Daliang was a towering mountain, and in her original life’s plan, she had only hoped to stand at its base as a diligent minor official. Looking back now, it was only in her rivalry with him that she had unknowingly scaled its entire height.
Pale moonlight streamed through the latticed window, spilling across the carpet. He was tall, his figure imposing even as he sat beside her, like a mountain casting its shadow over her.
Song Mi had intended to retrieve a medicine bottle from his sleeve and let her tend to the wound herself. But she didn’t take it instead, she thrust her elbow directly before him, as if demanding his help.
Song Mi froze. A faint fragrance, mingled with the scent of wine, drifted from her sleeve.
The two remained locked in a silent standoff until, abruptly, he leaned closer to her face. She didn’t flinch. “You’re drunk,” he concluded.
Had this been years ago, with the way she used to avoid him like the plague, she would’ve recoiled three feet away.
Yet now, she simply stared at him, dazed.
He wrapped the bandage around her arm methodically, expressionless.
Meanwhile, she propped her chin on her other hand, leaning toward him. Song Mi’s gaze inadvertently skimmed past the curve of her arm her collarbone delicate, her skin like snow.
He glanced briefly, then averted his eyes.
Juchen let out a soft laugh. “That sanctimonious act of yours you’ve perfected it, just like him.”
Song Mi frowned slightly, not grasping her meaning. But her mind was already adrift in intoxication, clinging to the last shreds of clarity. Curiosity overtook her, and she reached out to touch his face without hesitation. The boldness startled him, making him instinctively retreat half a step, his brow tightening further.
That untouchable, sacred air it was exactly like that man’s.
Juchen’s eyes crinkled with amusement as she nodded approvingly to herself. A faint smile played on her lips as she studied him a moment longer. Truly, a courtesan like this if he had not mastered some semblance of the original’s charm would never have driven the Feng family to such distraction.
Her grin widened, as if she had happily surrendered to this little game.
Fragments of the romantic tales she would read in her youth flitted through her mind, and with the practiced ease of a seasoned libertine from the pleasure quarters, she reached out and tilted his chin up.
His frown deepened as he took in the flush on her cheeks, the cups on the table, the empty wine jars scattered across the floor, and the chaotic assortment of concoctions Xu Yang had left behind. He fell into silent contemplation.
Juchen pinched for a while, unsure of what to say, so she straightened up and ordered him to pour the wine instead.
Seeing she was thoroughly drunk, he lowered his voice and refused firmly, “No more drinking.”
Juchen was not angry. She simply poured it herself, only to watch as he snatched the wine jug and drained it in one go.
Tilting her head back, she stared at the sharp outline of his bobbing Adam’s apple. The alcohol burned through her veins like wildfire. Grabbing his elbow, she used both hands and feet to pin him down onto the embroidered mat.
Song Mo’s eyes widened abruptly as Juchen loomed over him. She reached up, pulled out the hairpin from her updo, and a cascade of ink black hair tumbled down, brushing against his cheeks with a teasing tickle.
Song Mo swallowed hard, his Adam’s apple bobbing, and opened his mouth to command her to get off. But Juchen, still clutching the hairpin, rummaged through her sleeves and gathered all the silver she had, placing it in her palm along with the jeweled pin before offering it to him. “Here, take all of this.”
“What for?”
“Payment.”
Payment? It took Song Mo a moment to grasp the meaning behind those words she had mistaken him for one of the house’s male entertainers.
Why would she think that? Did he really look like one?
His expression darkened as he watched her press down on him, her dark hair spilling freely, her bright eyes gleaming. Against his better judgment, he couldn’t help but ask, “So, is this my ‘selling price’ in your eyes?”
Was that all he was worth to her?
Juchen shook her head. “No. Let me beat you up this is for your medical expenses.”
“…”
No sooner had she spoken than her gaze turned dangerously toward the nearby whip. She wobbled as she tried to get up and reach for it. Song Mo wasn’t about to let that happen. He twisted her arms back, careful not to use too much force his martial trained strength could easily snap her delicate limbs.
“What are you doing? I already paid!”
“I value my life more than money.”
“I won’t kill you.”
“How can you be sure?”
“Since when do people in your line of work refuse customers? Where’s your professional ethics?”
“What’s wrong with my line of work? Am I not human?”
The moment the words left his mouth, Song Mo cursed inwardly. What line of work? He wasn’t in any such profession this girl was leading him astray.
Either way, he wasn’t letting her get that whip. Juchen seemed to reconsider whips were indeed hard to control so she compromised and raised her hand to slap him instead. “Fine, I’ll do it myself then.”
Song Mo: “How gracious of you.”
He caught her wrist just as she swung at him. She was truly wasted, and only now did he realize how she acted when drunk. If anyone saw her like this, her reputation would be ruined she might as well throw herself into the Yangtze River.
They tussled pushing, dodging, and chasing their silhouettes stretching across the wall in the dim light, their close combat taking on an oddly intimate air.
Outside the door, Xu Yang stared at the overlapping shadows cast on the window lattice, accompanied by the muffled, suggestive exchanges inside.
Flushing crimson, she quickly turned away and discreetly ushered all the servants out of the courtyard.
After several rounds of blocking and dodging inside the room, Song Mo had already flipped positions to pin Juchen beneath her. When Juchen had been on top earlier, he had been completely at ease, letting her maneuver freely while he held her down. But now that their positions were reversed, he couldn’t bring himself to press down on her that would be far too improper.
Instead, he had to keep his waist suspended midair, a posture that tested his core strength to the limit.
Juchen pushed upward with both arms, her palms pressing firmly against his chest where she could feel his heart pounding like a drum, though his expression grew increasingly inscrutable.
She studied his strikingly familiar features, becoming more entranced by the moment. The resemblance was uncanny as if she were looking at the real person.
They remained locked in this stalemate, her delicate fragrance mingling with the scent of alcohol wafting between them. Song Mo’s nostrils flared slightly when suddenly, the woman beneath him grabbed his arm and sank her teeth into it.
Wincing in pain, Song Mo shoved her away. He stared at the neat row of tooth marks left on his skin, remaining silent for a long moment before finally letting out a derisive chuckle.
“Li Juchen,” he said, “after all the trouble I went through to save you from that fire, this is how you repay me?”
Unable to contain himself, he snapped, “Are you some kind of dog?”
Juchen’s eyes curved into crescents as she smiled. “Now you’ll always remember I’m the only woman who’s ever bitten you.”
Whether this drunken remark was meant for the male escort before her or someone else remained unclear. No sooner had she spoken than Juchen passed out completely.
In the Crane Manor, the night was cool as water, the moon not quite as full as it had been that fateful evening.
Seated once more in the familiar elegant chamber, Juchen reflected on that night the drunkest she had ever been in her life. Upon waking, she had experienced near total blackout amnesia. Beyond the vague impression of seeing him enter the room initially, all she could recall was a hazy dream of chasing after what seemed to be a dog, shouting and cursing at it all night.
In this lifetime, Juchen had not been the one trapped in the flames. Instead, she had rushed in to rescue others, only to collapse exhausted beneath a pillar after inhaling too much smoke, where Xu Yang arriving in haste had once again carried her away.
This time, having learned her lesson, Juchen drank sparingly.
When the door opened, she lifted her beautiful eyes to examine the male escort before her, immediately sensing something different from that night’s encounter.
He still wore dark robes with subtle woven patterns that caught the light, and greeted her with the same understated smile upon entering. Every gesture was carefully imitated, yet something felt off. With just one glance, Juchen knew this wasn’t him.
Perhaps she had truly been too drunk that night to tell the difference.
Juchen sat gracefully, observing him in silence without making any moves. As time passed, the authoritative aura cultivated through years of high ranking officialdom unconsciously emanated from her.
The escort grew visibly nervous, though he couldn’t pinpoint why. The person before him was, after all, just a young girl.
After prolonged silence, Juchen noticed his fear of her another sign this wasn’t the right person. Masking her disappointment, she decided to test Xu Yang’s training results through casual conversation. Clearing her throat gently, she asked, “What have you been occupying yourself with lately?”
The escort answered stiffly, “In my leisure time, I’ve been practicing the xiao flute.”
Song Mo had indeed played the xiao, and played it quite well.
Feigning interest, Juchen invited him to demonstrate. Soon, a servant brought a stool to a corner of the room.
The escort took his xiao, bowed, and sat down. After a moment of stillness, a soothing melody flowed forth like gentle rain, ethereal as music from beyond the clouds.
Juchen lifted the teacup, skimming the foam from the surface with the lid, and listened attentively.
It had to be said, it was truly impressive not only was the music enchanting, but the skill was also remarkably refined. However, if one were to truly compare it to that person, the effortless mastery subtly woven into the flute’s melody still fell short.
As the piece concluded, Juchen praised it with a nod.
A pleased expression flickered across the young courtesan’s face. Noticing the dimming light outside the window, he stepped forward to pour her wine.
The liquor cascaded smoothly along the side of the cup. Juchen thanked him without a change in expression but did not lift the drink. Instead, she inquired since he played the flute, surely he must also know the qin?
The qin was Song Mi’s strongest skill among his many musical talents.
“Does my lord wish to hear the qin?”
Juchen nodded. The courtesan obliged, rising to fetch the seven stringed guqin from the music chamber.
Watching his retreating figure, Juchen abruptly stood and slipped out the door, heading in the opposite direction to make a quiet escape from the estate.
Just as she rounded the corner of the corridor, she collided once more with that striking face.
The man strode toward her with purpose, halting when he saw her. His expression was indifferent, his dark eyes reflecting the endless night.
Juchen froze for a moment perhaps it was the dim surroundings playing tricks on her vision, but this time, the resemblance was uncanny.
“Weren’t you fetching the qin?” she blurted out.
A brief silence followed. His inscrutable gaze lingered on her before the corner of his lips curled into a smile. “So, you prefer the qin?”
“…”
Oh no it’s really him!
Wasn’t he supposed to be in Suzhou? How did he end up here?
Juchen stood rooted to the spot, locked in a stalemate of stares. A delayed shiver of realization shot through her, and she spun to flee only for an arm to snake around her waist from behind.
“If you wanted to hear the qin, why run?”
His words might have carried amusement, but they were utterly devoid of warmth. Juchen forced a dry chuckle, still scrambling for a reply, when suddenly the world flipped upside down.
Song Mi hoisted her over his shoulder and carried her back toward the private chamber, then slammed the door shut with a resounding bang, locking it from the inside.