Chapter 2: He Dreamed of a Woman’s Silhouette

By the time they stepped out of the bath, night had completely fallen outside the window.

Ju Chen had no strength left to even cling to his shoulders and simply leaned limply against his chest as he carried her out of the tub. As they rounded the screen, she glanced at the water clock in the corner—it had already been two full hours.

Song Mi set her down inside the bed canopy. Remembering she hadn’t eaten yet, he turned toward the wardrobe, changed clothes, and prepared to head out to instruct the kitchen.

Ju Chen pulled the quilt up to cover her bare body and leaned against the pillow, unable to resist looking out toward him.

By the floor-length mirror, the man stood tall and upright in black robes, hair falling over his shoulders.

He dressed slowly, each motion graceful and unhurried. His long, jointed fingers smoothed the robe’s front, elegant as jade. It was hard to imagine that these refined hands had just moments ago pressed her against the bath’s edge, covering her eyes.

As if sensing her gaze, Song Mi turned to look back.

Their eyes met. Ju Chen quickly averted her gaze, pretending it was just a passing glance.

When Song Mi returned, he found her already draped in a robe, sitting at the writing desk.

“What are you doing?” he asked.

His voice was deep and mellow, like aged wine—not heavy, but rather cool and clear.

Ju Chen blinked her long lashes, looking very obedient. “I still haven’t finished today’s calligraphy practice.”

Song Mi stepped forward and picked up the scroll she had set aside. After a moment, he smiled faintly. “Your writing is already so good. Still practicing?”

Ju Chen’s eyes lit up. “You think it’s good?”

“Better than mine,” Song Mi replied sincerely.

Ju Chen was suddenly reminded of how, in her past life, he used to write imperial notes in red ink on official memorials—elegant, flowing, but often rushed and nearly illegible, forcing her to decipher them painstakingly.

“What are you smiling at?”

“Nothing.” Ju Chen resumed writing. Her smile faded into silence, but the corners of her lips lifted to her ears.

Song Mi’s gaze lingered on her.

Under the lamplight, she sat upright. Her long dark hair cascaded over her shoulders, framing her delicate face. She wore only one of his thin inner robes—its loose shape couldn’t hide her curves, and one side slipped to reveal her long, pale leg.

He recalled once commenting that her student attire resembled a boy’s robe, giving him strange, indecent thoughts.

She had remembered. Ever since then, whenever she came from the academy, she would change into his robes and wait for him on the bed.

But clearly, she had misunderstood what he meant.

Ju Chen looked up and saw his gaze drifting up her body to her face. “What is it?” she asked.

Without answering, Song Mi approached and lifted her from her seat at the desk.

Thinking he wanted more, Ju Chen hooked both ankles around his waist.

Song Mi glanced down, the corner of his lips quirking silently. Then, with a calm voice, he said, “It’s time to eat.”

Ju Chen’s face flushed crimson like rouge. She quickly loosened her legs.

He carried her to the table and sat her down. Soon, the only sounds in the room were the soft clinks of silver chopsticks and ceramic bowls.

Though they had maintained this private relationship for some time, they rarely spoke much during meals.

Ju Chen wasn’t a reserved person by nature, but seeing him so quiet, she assumed he was well-mannered—no talking during meals or before bed—so she didn’t want to irritate him. Even when faced with dishes she didn’t like, she swallowed them silently.

Noticing her brows subtly furrow, Song Mi hesitated, then ladled her a bowl of soup. Just as he was about to speak, a soft knock came from the door.

It was his personal guard, Yuan Ruo.

“My lord, Young Master Lu Feng has set up a banquet by the Yaojin Pool. He invites you to join him.”

“How does he know I’m back?”

“Perhaps the city guards recognized you when we entered the capital.”

Lu Feng, after all, currently served in the patrol division.

Ju Chen swallowed her food and recalled that Lu Feng had been a close friend of Song Mi since youth. But she also remembered that Lu Feng was notoriously flirtatious, fond of brothels and winehouses. Yaojin Pool by Jin Market was a renowned pleasure district in the Eastern Capital.

Yuan Ruo still awaited an answer outside. Ju Chen couldn’t help but ask, “Are you going?”

The question came out hastily. Song Mi lifted his gaze toward her.

Ju Chen cleared her throat. “I mean, it’s snowing heavily outside.”

Yuan Ruo added in a low voice, “If you don’t go, Second Young Master will definitely come question you himself.”

Knowing Lu Feng’s temper, if his invitation was ignored, he just might come barging in next.

“Let him wait,” Song Mi replied.

Ju Chen’s expression dimmed briefly. Realizing he was heading out anyway, she didn’t press. She had only taken a few bites before setting down her spoon.

“Finished?” Song Mi asked.

“Mm.”

He nodded, set down his own chopsticks, and called someone in to clear the dishes.

Ju Chen quietly stepped into the inner room, standing by the clothes rack. She planned to change and go home after he left.

As the maid left with the dishes, Song Mi entered the room.

Ju Chen thought he’d come to fetch a cloak, so she stepped aside to give him room.

But instead, he scooped her up in his arms and walked toward the bed. His voice was low and teasing: “Why didn’t you wrap your legs around me this time? Weren’t you so eager just now?”

Within the pale curtain, he tugged off her robe.

Pinned beneath him, Ju Chen’s face turned bright red. She shut her eyes, too embarrassed to meet his gaze…

---

By the time Song Mi arrived at Yaojin Pool, the sky was already tinged with pale morning light and the snow had stopped.

Since the Eastern Capital lifted its curfew, the Jin Market buzzed with life day and night. No matter when one visited, it was all red lanterns and green wine, lavish and indulgent.

Beside the southern edge of Yaojin Pool, rows of ornate lanterns lined the path. Behind fluttering curtains and hanging veils, shadowy figures danced and sang amid the music of strings and pipes.

Song Mi stepped into a recently built teahouse. The scent of rouge and powder hit him immediately.

The mix of perfume and alcohol, having fermented through the night, swirled thick in the air. He couldn’t help but hold his breath, brows knitting slightly.

Lu Feng reclined at the head seat, girls in his arms on both sides. When he saw the person entering, he let out a laugh and teased, “You’re here early, huh?”

That loud shout drew the attention of all the courtesans in the room. They turned toward the door, eyes lighting up.

Song Mi walked straight toward him. The two exchanged a friendly slap on the shoulder. Lu Feng used one hand to guide him to a seat and the other to pull over the courtesan by his side, gesturing for her to serve the guest well.

Song Mi ignored it, walking past without so much as a glance. He stepped onto the private balcony, leaning against the railing, his gaze drifting lazily toward the snow-covered island in the distance.

Lu Feng clicked his tongue and thought, Still the same as ever.

Even after mixing with their group of idle, rowdy friends since youth, Song Mi somehow still carried the air of an untouched lotus, emerging clean from the mire. Lu Feng genuinely admired that about him.

Sighing, he cleared the room of the women, brought over two cups of good wine, and joined Song Mi at the railing.

“I tried to host a proper welcome party for you last night, and you were already too busy to come?!” Lu Feng scolded.

He handed Song Mi a cup. “What were you so busy with, huh? Someone who didn’t know better might think you’ve got a wife at home you need to report to.”

Song Mi took the cup, casually glancing back inside. “Your taste has gone downhill. Who picked that overpowering incense?”

Lu Feng clinked cups with him and chuckled. “It’s always been like that. Maybe after spending time out there, you’ve been around finer things, so this all smells like cheap rouge to you.”

Song Mi didn’t respond. He took a sip of the wine and, unintentionally, recalled Ju Chen’s dark hair brushing against his nose that morning—a faint whiff of white orchid lingering in the air.

Lu Feng asked, “The corruption case in Taiyuan—handled?”

Song Mi nodded slightly, his tone nonchalant.

Lu Feng couldn’t help but look at him with admiration.

Taiyuan was the ancestral home of Empress Dowager Cao’s faction. The officials in that region had deep roots and were notoriously difficult to deal with. That Song Mi had completed the task so quickly on behalf of the court was impressive.

Thinking about Song Mi’s strained relationship with the empress dowager, Lu Feng squinted. “You didn’t sacrifice family for justice, did you?”

“It was just official duty,” Song Mi replied coolly.

Lu Feng raised a brow. Since the assignment had been a covert one, he didn’t press further. Instead, he changed the topic. “Not long ago, I think I saw your little white horse wandering around Baoning Ward.”

Their eyes met. Lu Feng grinned mischievously. “Don’t tell me it was sneaking off to meet some little mare?”

“It’s not like you. Not a stud horse,” Song Mi said.

Lu Feng choked on his wine and cursed, “Song Zhengzhi, can you insult someone any worse?!”

Song Mi gave a lazy smile. “I can.”

Lu Feng waved it off, deciding not to argue. “Fair enough. Unlike the rest of us, even your horse walks around like it’s too pure to touch dirt. It’s not exactly the sneaky type.”

Song Mi didn’t respond.

Lu Feng switched topics again, mentioning that the empress dowager had recently taken interest in selecting suitable noble ladies from the capital.

Song Mi looked utterly uninterested, not even lifting his eyes.

Lu Feng tested the waters by bringing up a certain noble girl they’d often seen in the palace as children.

“Who?” Song Mi asked.

As expected—he didn’t remember.

Lu Feng had anticipated this. Knowing the empress dowager would likely be wasting her time again, he didn’t press the matchmaking topic further. Instead, he rambled on about palace gossip, including how a new selection for young female officials would soon be underway.

“A while back, Her Majesty was reviewing the list from Jifang Academy and casually mentioned a few names she was interested in. I was with my mother at the palace at the time and overheard it.”

Lu Feng didn’t care if Song Mi was listening; he just wanted to pour out all the gossip from the capital while he’d been away.

“Most of the list came from the Five Surnames and Seven Clans—respectable families, all highly educated ladies. But what surprised me was that she also mentioned Li Ju Chen.”

Song Mi looked at him.

Lu Feng figured he didn’t remember who that was. He slapped his own forehead and helpfully added, “Remember when we were little, we used to spend summers at Princess Jun’s estate? She always sat by the window in her family’s private study—that one.”

Lu Feng wracked his brain to recall a shared memory.

“The one who mistook me for Yuan Zheng when she first saw my back.”

“That’s the one! You do remember.” Lu Feng was surprised, then sighed. “Beauty really does leave a lasting impression. Her face truly was unforgettable.”

Song Mi nodded, seemingly agreeing, and downed his cup of wine.

Lu Feng, quick to catch the signal, refilled his cup and chuckled. “Back when we were staying at Princess Jun’s place, I even tried to ask her to watch the lanterns with me. But there were too many others who beat me to it. I was too late.”

Song Mi, though lounging lazily, suddenly looked at him seriously. “So who did she go with?”

“No idea. She rejected me—why would I go find out who she accepted? That’d just be self-torture.”

Still, it was rare for his friend to show interest in such romantic gossip, so Lu Feng kept going.

“I remember Li Ju Chen wasn’t great at her studies when she was younger—such a troublemaker. But to get into Jifang Academy and still not be expelled? That must’ve taken some real effort.”

Someone like Lu Feng, who had always hovered below passing, could never comprehend how others managed to consistently pass exams.

Song Mi took a small sip and gave a soft “Mm.”

Lu Feng was momentarily stunned, thinking—Did he really acknowledge how hard she worked?

He sighed. “Now all the girls are becoming officials, and I’m still hanging around in the patrol division doing nothing.”

“You’re still young. Don’t rush it,” Song Mi said.

Lu Feng gave a sarcastic laugh. “Can’t compare to you. Born with a golden spoon, and even if you don’t climb, someone will push you up. You’ll definitely be promoted now that you’re back. If anything good comes along, bring your brother with you, yeah?”

It was clearly a plea for support. Though Lu Feng had noble heritage, his exam luck was terrible, and he had never secured an official post. With Song Mi’s rise in recent years, he was ready to hitch his future to him.

Song Mi hesitated, then clinked glasses with him. “There is something, actually. I’ll come find you in a few days—you better not turn it down.”

Lu Feng downed his drink. “If it’s from you, I’ll risk my life if I have to.” Song Mi’s lips curled faintly.

Having secured his support, Lu Feng crossed his legs in satisfaction. He sighed that since Yuan Zheng had married Princess Xuyang, everyone had suddenly grown up—each chasing their careers and ambitions. He figured he couldn’t idle around anymore either.

“Oh, right. Li Ju Chen was also at the wedding.”

Her family wasn’t high-ranking, so under normal circumstances, she wouldn’t have been invited to a royal wedding. But having grown up with both the bride and groom, she received a personal invitation from the princess.

She drank quite a lot that night and didn’t seem to be in a good mood.

Lu Feng suddenly recalled that Song Mi had been there too. Normally, he disliked formal banquets, yet that day he attended his niece’s wedding.

Though, he’d disappeared not long after.

He was always coming and going like a ghost—few dared to question his whereabouts.

Lu Feng asked if he remembered how Li Ju Chen had cried that night.

“I remember,” Song Mi replied.

Lu Feng thought of how broken she looked that night—like someone who had seen through the absurdity of the world in a single evening. He muttered, “What do you think she was thinking about?”

Song Mi was silent. He lightly knocked his wine cup against the railing and leaned on it. “Who knows?”

He never could guess what she was thinking.

The rumors he’d heard always painted her as one-of-a-kind, always going against the grain—others said east, she said west; others went south, she went north.

Yet this very girl, when in bed with him, complied with his every whim.

“Some people say she cried because she liked Yuan Zheng—grieving over unrequited love. But really? Was she that into him?” Lu Feng asked casually, not expecting an answer.

And Song Mi indeed didn’t respond. His gaze darkened as he leaned on the railing, recalling the dream that had haunted him for days.

Last year, while visiting Lingyun Temple in Pengshan, the old abbot held his hand before he left, frowned deeply, and said, “You’ve changed. Must be some regret from your past life. Before long, it’ll take up residence in your heart—in your dreams.”

At the time, Song Mi had thought the old man was just being cryptic and mystical due to his age.

But that very night, he dreamed of himself—twenty years in the future.

In that dream, he opened his eyes slowly and found himself sitting before a painting… depicting the back of a woman.