Longing for Love (Twice Reborn) - Chapter 66

Song Mi carried Juchen out of Shoukang Palace. Xuyang, who had been abruptly sobered up by Mingluan pouring a pot of hangover soup down her throat, hurried over from the other side of the imperial city’s thoroughfare.

The moment Xuyang opened her eyes, Mingluan’s ashen expression frightened her into complete panic. Now witnessing this scene, she suddenly couldn’t tell whether she was truly awake or still trapped in a drunken dream.

Her uncle was walking toward her with A’chen in his arms. Xuyang pinched herself hard the sharp pain sent a flash of white light through her mind, clearing her thoughts with startling clarity.

Stomping her foot, Xuyang almost punched herself in frustration for being so oblivious to their relationship. How could she have missed it? Her dear A’chen’s standards were far too high for ordinary men she had always aimed for the moon itself.

In this entire imperial city, who else but her unattainable uncle could be someone A’chen would admire enough to offer herself to, yet hesitate to confide in? With anyone else, wouldn’t A’chen have simply asked for help?

Xuyang could have tied the man up if needed but with him, she truly had no recourse.

Now that she saw their connection, past interactions took on new meaning.

They had even escorted Yong’an together for her wedding procession. The implications of that journey suddenly made Xuyang’s head spin.

“Call your carriage. She’s never liked riding in mine,” Song Mi said.

The situation remained improper with the palace banquet still ongoing, they couldn’t risk others thinking A’chen was currying favor with nobility. Xuyang quickly agreed, taking Juchen from him with Mingluan’s help to bring her back to the princess’s residence.

Song Mi’s carriage followed silently behind. Now thoroughly enlightened, Xuyang deposited Juchen on the bed and ushered everyone out including herself.

Sitting by the bedside, Song Mi tended to her. The Binding Spirit Wine’s effects lasted three days even with the antidote’s aroma, she wouldn’t wake immediately. Her clothes clung to her sweat drenched body. Fetching warm water, Song Mi undressed her, wiping her down starting from her jade like feet. Every inch of her was intimately familiar to him her snow-white skin, the faint natural fragrance that filled his senses.

As he meticulously cleaned her, his gaze darkened. When finished, he couldn’t resist touching her soft hair. She frowned in some dream, turning away to leave him staring at her back.

The strands slipped abruptly from his palm. Perhaps exhaustion from the journey finally caught up his usually composed expression faltered, eyes drooping as unprecedented helplessness and defeat surfaced.

The Empress Dowager’s words echoed in his ears:
“How much weight do you truly hold in her heart? Will she choose you or Yuan Zheng?”

Despite his efforts to dismiss the thought, today’s events paired with Her Majesty’s words cut like a blade, leaving him wondering: Did she defy the Empress Dowager to prevent Xuyang and Yuan Zheng’s reconciliation because she still couldn’t let Yuan Zheng go?

Given a second chance at life, who wouldn’t want to fulfill their unfinished wishes?

Everyone carries their own regrets his regret was Juchen, and Juchen had hers as well.

Outside the window, the sky darkened as moonlight spilled through the latticed panes, casting a hazy silver glow over the figure reclining on the bed, draped in the canopy’s shadows.

Song Mi gazed at her indistinct silhouette, his thoughts overwhelmed by memories.

After the failed coup at Xuyang Palace, Prince Consort Yuan had pleaded with Juchen to submit a memorial on his behalf, hoping to atone through meritorious service only to perish on the battlefield.

When the Turkic commander responsible for Yuan Zheng’s death was captured and sent back to the capital, Juchen concealed a dagger in her sleeve and marched toward the courtyard where the prisoner was held at the Court of State Ceremonial, intent on avenging the bl00d debt.

Song Mi happened to be there negotiating the terms between the two nations.

For the sake of the greater good, he disarmed her with a single strike and had his guards restrain her.

“Magistrate Li, do not disgrace the official robes you wear.”

The Turkic commander was none other than the Great Khan’s eldest son a crucial bargaining chip for the Liang dynasty’s negotiations. Surely, Song Mi thought, Li Juchen understood this basic reasoning.

Yet Juchen immediately removed her official headdress and flung it at his feet. Tears streaming down her face in uncontrolled fury, she pointed at him and rebuked, “Your Highness cares only for grand schemes and noble causes how could you possibly comprehend the agony of common folk who’ve lost their dearest kin?”

“Song Mi, if the day ever comes when your own beloved faces calamity, I swear you won’t maintain this detached composure!”

Back then, his mind had been wholly occupied with affairs of state, leaving no room to consider her grief. After that day, their relationship fractured beyond repair.

By the time Song Mi came to his senses, the woman who’d accused him of understanding nothing about loss had become his most cherished. Only then did he realize how cruel his well-intentioned advice had been to her.

Later, when the court stabilized, Song Mi relinquished his regent duties and left the capital. The world knew he had laid down his authority to wander the land, unaware that between his travels and eventual passing, he returned to the capital once.

He had been by Qinghai Lake when he received word of Lin Zongbai’s critical illness and hurried back.

It coincided with the anniversary of Princess Xuyang’s death. Though barely able to rise from his sickbed, Lin Zongbai wished to pay his final respects to his junior sect-sister before his own demise.

Song Mi supported him on the journey to the imperial mausoleum.

As always, Juchen chose to visit at dusk Xuyang’s favorite hour. Since Song Mi’s departure, Juchen had shouldered the court’s heavy burdens, often buried in official documents, yet she never missed this annual pilgrimage.

The setting sun’s afterglow cast slanting golden beams through the eaves.

Guided by the mausoleum eunuchs along the corridor leading to the ancestral hall, Juchen rounded a corner where, beneath a tree, stood a tall, motionless figure.

Sunlight filtered through the leaves, cloaking him in an ethereal, translucent radiance like a silhouette detached from the mortal world.

Juchen’s steps faltered.

Song Mi stood beneath the tree, initially watching the koi flick their tails in the pond. At the sound of approach, he turned, their gazes meeting midair.

The distance between them gradually closed as the eunuch led the way.

Juchen stepped forward and bowed to him with solemn reverence.

Song Mi glanced at her, his voice as pleasant as a melody carried by a gentle breeze, ethereal and lingering in the courtyard after years. “Here to pay respects to Xuyang?”

“Yes.”

Song Mi looked up at the sky. “Finished work so early today?”

“I left ahead of time.”

The harsh winter had just passed, and a lingering chill still hung in the air. Yet Lin Zongbai had somehow procured a bouquet of blooming red peonies, rich and fragrant. He took them from a servant, cradling them carefully in his arms, then turned and noticed Juchen, warmly inviting her to join him in paying tribute at the ancestral hall.

Xuyang had always favored vibrant colors white chrysanthemums would never suit her. The bouquet of red peonies, opulent and proud, matched her temperament perfectly. Lin Zongbai was certain she would have loved them. He bent down and placed them before her gravestone.

Juchen stared at the tomb in silence, her eyes dull and lifeless.

Seizing the rare opportunity of her presence, Lin Zongbai invited Juchen back to his residence after the ceremony. They settled in the waterside pavilion in the rear garden to reminisce.

A servant approached with a tray, setting down a wine jug before respectfully pouring three cups of warmed wine and withdrawing.

Juchen picked hers up and took a small sip. When she lifted her gaze, she saw Song Mi intercept Lin Zongbai’s hand as he reached for his cup. Noticing Lin’s increasingly pallid complexion, she could not help but ask about his well being.

Lin Zongbai smiled faintly, suppressing a cough, and dismissed it as a minor chill. He didn’t mention that his illness had already reached a critical stage.

Song Mi confiscated his wine cup, giving him a knowing look but not exposing his lie. He understood Lin’s reluctance to burden Juchen with sorrow her responsibilities were already heavy enough. If Lin added to her worries, he’d have a hard time explaining himself to Xuyang in the afterlife.

Lin had rarely lied to her, so Juchen didn’t suspect anything. She nodded, then inadvertently met Song Mi’s gaze again and asked, “Your Highness, how have you been these years?”

Replacing the wine in Lin’s cup with tea, Song Mi wore his usual faint smile, his tone as unreadable as ever. “No changes. Still the same idle fisherman with nothing to do.”

Juchen’s heart clenched. She had no idea how he’d learned of her youthful bravado. She glanced at him cautiously, only for Song Mi to counter amiably, “And how is Minister Li faring?”

“Thank you for your concern, Your Highness. I’m doing well.” Juchen cleared her throat lightly.

The three continued chatting. It was a rare reunion, and Lin Zongbai had initially hoped to drink freely. But with Song Mi forbidding him alcohol, he didn’t even get a chance to taste the fine vintage he’d carefully aged for ten years. He replaced Song Mi’s wine with tea as well, leaving them both with nothing but bland drinks.

Juchen, in low spirits, took advantage of their bickering to down her cup in one gulp.

As the elder, Lin Zongbai had always treated Juchen like a younger sister.

When Xuyang was alive, she had worried most about Juchen’s future. Now, Lin couldn’t help but take up the mantle of concern. He pressed down on Juchen’s hand as she reached for the wine jug. “After all these years, haven’t you ever considered finding someone to care for you properly, little sister?”

No sooner had he spoken than Lin turned to scold Song Mi. “Zhengzhi, why haven’t you married yet?”

Juchen’s gaze followed. Song Mi felt as if his heart had been pinched he suddenly realized this gathering was nothing short of a setup.

He couldn’t help but glare at Lin Zongbai. Juchen turned to Lin and retorted, “Brother Bai, shouldn’t you be more concerned about yourself? At your age, matchmakers would consider you an unsellable old bachelor.”

Lin Zongbai chuckled lightly, “Your words insult both men present he’s the same age as me.”

Juchen replied calmly, “His circumstances are slightly better than yours. He doesn’t show his age.”

Shaking his head with an amused smile, Lin countered, “What about you then?

You can’t keep delaying just because you don’t show your age either.”

“I’m too busy,” Juchen said.

“If you’re busy, just find someone idle like those who spend all day fishing by the lake with nothing better to do. They’d be perfect. Rising before dawn to dress you, sharing breakfast, then going fishing while you attend court, just in time to prepare fish soup when you return.”

Juchen’s delicate brows furrowed slightly. “The way you phrase that almost makes me misunderstand.”Song Mi’s expression turned icy as he glared at Lin Zongbai, his voice low: ‘Lin Ziyou, have you been watching too many theater performances at wine houses lately?” Have you forgotten what jokes are inappropriate?”

Lin appeared unfazed, smiling gently. “Recently I’ve developed a taste for unexpected plot twists like former sworn enemies becoming devoted spouses.”

Juchen disagreed: “Setting other matters aside, do you really think he’s the type who could make soup?”

“If he could, would you give him the chance?”

Juchen momentarily choked on his words, his gaze flickering toward Song Mi with concern that Lin’s joke had gone too far and truly offended him.

Song Mi seemed to realize his earlier warning had no effect on Lin. His eyes drifted elsewhere, deliberately removing himself from their conversation as if distancing himself from the matter.

Left to handle Lin’s inappropriate humor alone, Juchen stated firmly, “Even so, it’s impossible. I’ve never intended to marry anyone.”

“Why not?” Lin pressed.

A bitter smile touched Juchen’s lips. “Because I’m unworthy.”

“You hold high office yet remain alone. Rumors have begun circulating that you refuse to marry because of your childhood friend Yuan Zheng. Those scene years ago when you caused an uproar at the Court of State Ceremonial has already been adapted into plays dramatizing the tangled web of love and hatred between you, Xuyang, and Yuan Zheng.”

After a long silence, Juchen sighed. “That rumor isn’t wrong.”

Lin asked softly, “Is Yuan Zheng truly why you won’t marry?”

Juchen lowered his eyes and nodded.

A heavy silence fell. Lin hesitated for a long moment, not daring to look at the other man’s expression, and could only raise his cup to gently clink against Juchen’s wine glass.

As night deepened and cups were drained repeatedly, the breeze drifted through the pavilions. Lin produced his jade flute and began an impromptu melody.

The flute’s mournful tune was Xuyang’s favorite song in life. On its surface remained a small turtle carved mischievously by Xuyang in childhood.

Drinking more than usual to drown his sorrows, Juchen consumed heavily that night.

When the gathering ended, Lin walked them to the gate.

Song Mi was returning to his private residence, the Parting Sorrow Villa, which shared the same direction as the Orchid Garden. Noticing Juchen’s unsteady, drunken gait, Lin requested that Song escort Juchen home.

Juchen didn’t refuse. Throughout the carriage ride, he sat upright on the opposite side, silently watching the retreating buildings through the curtain without a word.

The carriage took a sharp left turn at the corner, causing Juchen to lose her balance and tumble against him unintentionally.

In the dim light of the carriage, his eyes gleamed like cold stars in the night sky.

Juchen apologized, but her drunken state left her limbs heavy and uncoordinated. She struggled to push herself up from his chest but failed.

He coldly muttered that it was fine, yet made no move to help her, leaving her sprawled against him in a posture that almost seemed like she was throwing herself into his embrace.

Shaking her dizzy head, she tried again to rise, pressing her hands against his chest. Suddenly, he spoke, his voice resonating through his chest with a faint tremor, “Have you truly decided never to marry in this lifetime?”

“I won’t marry. I can no longer be a woman of the inner court,” Juchen affirmed hazily, still leaning against him after another failed attempt to sit up.

Song Mi fell silent.

The mention of marriage stirred the chaos in Juchen’s mind, reminding her of her earlier conversation with Lin Zongbai and thoughts of Yuan Zheng.

Clinging to his chest, her fingers slowly clenched into fists against his robes. “Back then it was me who hired assassins to ambush and kill Lu Tu on the road.”

Lu Tu the Turkic chieftain, the son of their Great Khan, who had once ambushed Yuan Zheng. His death within Da Liang’s borders had shattered the fragile peace between the Turks and Da Liang, prompting the Turks to launch another attack the year the young emperor ascended the throne.

“The Dali Temple had traced the crime back to me, but in the end, it was blamed on bandits, turning it into an ‘accident.’ You suppressed the truth, didn’t you?”

Back then, Juchen had been young and reckless, consumed by vengeance, fully prepared to face ruin alongside her enemies. She had waited for the Dali Temple to arrest her, yet by some stroke of luck, the famously infallible investigators had failed to uncover the mastermind behind the plot.

She had escaped by chance until today, when, as the Chief Grand Secretary, she accessed the highest-level confidential archives of the Dali Temple and discovered that it was he who had signed off on the case despite its glaring inconsistencies.

He had understood her hatred and grief, erased the loose ends she had left behind, and sealed the matter shut.

A slow night breeze drifted through the carriage curtains. Instead of answering her question, Song Mi asked indifferently, “Is it worth it? Giving up marriage for the rest of your life, all for someone who’s been dead for years?”

Juchen’s eyes reddened whether from the wine or from memories, she couldn’t tell. Her voice was hoarse as she said, “The greatest regret of my life was helping Yuan Zheng submit that memorial volunteering for the campaign.”

The moment the words left her lips, she felt his breath hitch ever so slightly against her. Drunk and overwhelmed, she wanted to thank him for shielding her all those years ago, yet the gratitude felt too late. After all these years of opposing him, he must have long since grown weary of her.

Her throat tightened for a long moment before she finally asked, as if compelled by some unseen force, “Song Zhengzhi do you have any regrets?”

Song Mi lowered his gaze to her and remained silent for a long time.

His eyes were always deep, mesmerizing, and inscrutable. Juchen met them and felt as though she had stepped into quicksand. Quickly averting her gaze, she mustered the strength to push herself upright at last, retreating to the opposite seat.

Song Mian’s heart felt as if it were being tightly clenched. In the dim light of night, he gazed at her delicate features for a long while before quietly tucking away the letter he had written years ago, deep within his wide sleeve once more.

“I have no regrets.”