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He laughed.
Ju Chen quickly seized the moment and gently asked, “Your Highness, are you no longer angry?”
Song Mi lowered his eyes to look at her, then glanced at the delicate pastries. “So, you made these just because you were afraid I’d be unhappy?”
Their eyes met. Ju Chen looked into his deep and piercing gaze, and her toes curled nervously inside her shoes.
She quickly turned her head and coughed lightly, hiding the blush rising to her cheeks. “Of course I want you to be happy. That way, you and Her Majesty can reconcile.”
The man behind her fell silent for a moment. His voice turned low and teasing. “You haven’t even officially taken your post, and already you’re learning to flatter your superior? You really are cut out for court life.”
Ju Chen turned back, straightened her posture, and said, “Is that not allowed?”
A slight smile tugged at Song Mi’s lips. “Then what do you want me to do?”
She hadn’t planned anything beyond this point. But having made up the excuse, Ju Chen had no choice but to think for a moment and suggest he copy out a poetry collection for the Empress Dowager.
“That way I can read it to Her Majesty tomorrow.”
Song Mi gave a faint, barely audible chuckle.
In the end, he compromised and let her pull him over to the writing table, where he sat down.
Ju Chen dutifully laid out the blank paper, ground the ink, and respectfully presented the writing brush to him. As soon as he took it, she turned to leave, not wanting to disturb his peace.
“Come back,” Song Mi said softly.
Ju Chen paused, quickly turned, and ran to his side, her bright eyes sparkling. “Does Your Highness have any other instructions?”
Song Mi looked into her eyes. “Since I’m helping you, shouldn’t I be rewarded?”
Ju Chen was momentarily stunned. Song Mi pointed at the pastries on the table. “Bring them over. I want to eat.”
A smile tugged at Ju Chen’s lips. She stepped lightly to the table, touched the porcelain plate with the back of her hand, and frowned slightly. “They’ve gone a bit cold. I’ll go warm them up.”
When she returned, there was now a pot of fragrant flower tea on the lacquered tray, brewed especially for him.
Song Mi appreciated her thoughtfulness.
Ju Chen nervously clasped her ten slender fingers together and watched as he took a bite, then gave her an approving look.
The heavy weight in her chest finally lifted, and a small smile played on her lips—but just as it was about to fully bloom, it faded again.
She suddenly remembered her previous life. For some reason, in the Empress Dowager’s final days, she had often brought Ju Chen into the kitchen and repeatedly made that same dessert in front of her.
Ju Chen had never been good at cooking, but after so many times, she had learned it by watching.
Now, thinking back, the Empress Dowager was far too wise to waste so much time doing something meaningless. Perhaps… she had been trying to teach her.
Back then, because of the beheading of the Lu father and son, and Lu Feng’s exile, the Empress Dowager and the Prince of Pengshan’s relationship had frozen completely.
Song Mi had submitted his resignation to the court and left the capital, traveling westward to Rome, never to return.
Even at the Empress Dowager’s death, he didn’t make it back in time to see her one last time.
Ju Chen suddenly recalled the past—the image of Song Mi standing silently before the Empress’s tomb, his lonely back drenched in sorrow. Her heart tightened painfully.
She should have made that dessert for him then.
But she had been too slow. She hadn’t understood the Empress Dowager’s intentions—nor his.
Song Mi took a sip of tea, looked up, and noticed her spacing out. “What are you thinking about?”
Ju Chen subtly sniffled and shook her head. “Does it taste good?”
“Mm.” Song Mi nodded, a faint smile on his lips. He raised an eyebrow and teased, “So, is this going to be your go-to move every time I argue with Her Majesty?”
His gaze held a gentle amusement, as if he were already planning to go pick a fight just for the pastries.
Ju Chen quickly replied, “Even if you don’t argue with Her Majesty, I can still make them for you—whenever you want.”
“Whenever I want?” Song Mi raised an eyebrow.
Ju Chen’s cheeks flushed crimson. She coughed lightly. “I just meant…”
Song Mi cut her off. “Good. It’s settled, then.”
During their leisure stay at Mount Li, the Empress Dowager summoned them daily.
Today at noon, it was Ju Chen’s turn to read at the palace hall.
She opened the poetry book, cleared her throat, and a clear, elegant voice rang through the curtain-draped hall.
The Empress Dowager listened kindly. When Ju Chen finished, she smiled and said, “Most girls these days prefer reading bold, ambitious poetry. You chose something so pastoral and rustic?”
Ju Chen coughed lightly and replied softly, “I asked around beforehand and heard what others read. I thought Your Majesty might be tired of hearing the same famous lines and wanted to offer something different.”
The Empress Dowager laughed. “It is indeed quite refreshing.”
Seeing her in a good mood, Ju Chen plucked up her courage and handed over the book. “Would Your Majesty like to take a look?”
The Empress Dowager reached out and flipped to the first page. Her fingers suddenly froze as she recognized the handwriting. She looked up at Ju Chen.
“Where did you get this?”
Ju Chen hesitated slightly and then answered warmly, “Lu Yun gave it to me.”
It was a hint that Lu Feng had persuaded Song Mi to write it—crediting his best friend.
Not because Ju Chen didn’t want recognition, but because her budding connection with the Prince of Pengshan was too delicate to reveal—especially to his mother.
But the Empress Dowager found it hard to believe. Lu Feng was a blunt, carefree boy—not someone capable of convincing Song Mi to do this. She knew her son’s stubbornness well.
Ju Chen smiled and added, “Maybe convincing someone doesn’t take much skill. People tend to hear what they want to hear.”
The Empress Dowager laughed. “So you’re saying, he wanted to make peace with me?”
“Not make peace—reconcile.”
The Empress Dowager pondered. Looking at her gently, Ju Chen continued, “If it was just a gesture of goodwill, there wouldn’t have been a fight to begin with. A real gesture is based on interest. His Highness is wise enough to see through such things.”
The Empress Dowager smiled faintly. “So you’re saying, the argument—though irrational—was genuine.”
“Only people who care argue. Once they stop caring, even the desire to quarrel disappears.”
“Disappears?” she echoed.
“I believe so. Forgive my bluntness.”
But the Empress Dowager laughed even more heartily. After a moment, her smile faded slightly, and her eyes grew misty. She gently closed the poetry book and sighed. “Children are always a debt.”
After a pause, the Empress Dowager kept the book and ordered Pei Duzhi to retrieve a rare ink painting Song Mi had long wanted from the royal vault and deliver it to him.
Then she glanced at Ju Chen again.
“Take her with you,” she told Pei Duzhi, smiling at Ju Chen. “I liked what you said. As a reward, pick something for yourself.”
Ju Chen was a bit stunned but quickly bowed to express her thanks.
She followed Pei Duzhi into the storeroom. Surrounded by treasures, she thought long and hard before choosing a bolt of fine cloth—perfect for making a coat.
She held it in her arms, already imagining how she would tailor it.
Because soon, he would be going to the capital to handle disaster relief.
On their last day at Mount Li, Ju Chen joined the other female disciples to make a wish at the “Stone of Three Lifetimes” in the red maple forest.
According to Lu Yun, even if they couldn’t marry on time, they could still dream of love. Many officials had romantic confidantes, after all.
“Fleeting romances are the most tempting,” Lu Yun whispered, raising her brow.
The girls giggled, lacking real experience. Only Ju Chen, having lived through it, blushed deeply and bit her lip, feeling like a rogue.
Lu Feng, ever the lively one, heard that the shrine near the stone could divine its “first impression” of you. Curious and fun, he dragged Song Mi along with a group of young men.
Through winding paths, they reached the dense woods.
Maple leaves had fallen all over, mingling with melting snow—red and white, forming a stunning scene.
The Stone of Three Lifetimes stood silently, covered in red threads, waiting for their prayers.
Ju Chen mimicked the others, tying her red string to an old maple tree and bowing respectfully.
Suddenly, laughter burst from the shrine.
“My God, Lu’s first impression is ‘idiot’!”
“Let me see—yours says ‘bookworm,’ and you’re laughing at me?”
“At least mine says ‘book!’ You’re just an idiot.”
“Shut up! I’m obviously charming! This thing’s broken.”
Amid the laughter, someone asked Song Mi, “Your Highness, what’s yours?”
“‘Old acquaintance’?”
“You’ve been here before?”
“Well, he’s royalty. He’s probably passed by plenty.”
“But I’ve passed by, and it didn’t remember me!”
“You know why.”
Laughter again.
Song Mi stood aside, lips curved in a faint smile. As they joked, he suddenly turned his head.
Ju Chen quickly looked away, heart pounding.
He had been here before? Just passed by—or made a wish?
Had he once longed for love too?
Lu Yun called out from ahead, and Ju Chen quickly followed her.
Song Mi watched her graceful figure as it disappeared. When everyone left, he placed his hand on the top of the stone.
He chuckled. His voice was low. “I don’t remember what I wished for, but if you remember I came in a past life, then you should remember what I asked for. I never beg for anything lightly. If I asked you, I must’ve really wanted something. So whatever it is—if I have regrets in this life—don’t blame me for coming back and smashing you with a blade.”
The Stone of Three Lifetimes: “…”