Chapter 7 — Continue in That Same Position?

The night was cool as water, layered clouds swirling gently around the moonlight.

The courtyard lay quiet, with only the gentle gurgle of running water breaking the silence.

A few koi fish, drawn by the glow from the main residence, swam to the surface and wagged their tails—only to scatter in fright at the sound of a woman’s shy exclamation.

The curtains before the hibiscus canopy bed were already drawn.

Inside, Ju Chen knelt on the bedding, her gaze unfocused, fixed on the warm light beyond the veil. She clenched her teeth tightly, yet in the end, she couldn’t help but let a sound escape.

Before she could recover from the last wave of pleasure, Song Mi shifted positions again—this time pulling her by the waist and lifting her ankle.

From this angle, he could see her completely and clearly.

Ju Chen’s entire figure was exquisitely beautiful. Except for a single vermilion mole behind her ear, her skin from head to toe gleamed like polished jade. And this flawless beauty—once brought to bed, after just a few kisses—had delicate pink marks blooming across her collarbones and shoulders.

Ju Chen’s breath came in erratic gasps. She shielded her cheeks with her hands, lips pressed tight, trying her best to stay silent.

Yet the more she avoided looking at him, the more curious he became about her expression behind those willow-white arms.

He grabbed her wrist and pinned her hands above her head.

Caught off guard, their eyes met.

A flush spread more deeply across Ju Chen’s cheeks, her eyes misty with tears. The moment she met his gaze, she turned away in panic. “W-Wait. I need a drink of water.”

Song Mi paused and let her go.

Her calves trembling, Ju Chen slowly made her way to the table.

From within the canopy, Song Mi leaned back and listened to her every step—approaching the table, lifting the teapot, pouring into a cup, then drinking slowly and quietly.

Ju Chen sipped her water with extreme deliberation.

He had been rougher than usual tonight.

Standing at the table, Ju Chen mulled over what she might have done to provoke him. She could only guess it had something to do with what he’d heard today—about her past, making him see her as a flirtatious woman unworthy of tenderness.

She drooped her head, a little disheartened.

“All done?” came the low voice of a man from behind the canopy.

“…Mm.”

Ju Chen responded softly. She took a step forward, then hesitated and retreated. After a long sigh, she reached out to lift the curtain.

But just as her fingertips touched the gauze, a hand from inside caught hers. Before she could even cry out, she was pulled back into the bed.

“Should we continue where we left off?” Song Mi asked, sealing her lips with a kiss before she could reply.

Moments later, her slender, snow-white ankle was once again held high…

---

When Ju Chen’s breathing finally steadied, her whole body was limp, her mind turned to mush. She all but collapsed into sleep.

Song Mi pulled the covers over her, lifted the canopy, and stepped into the bathroom.

Fresh from their heated encounter, the veins on his arms still bulged slightly, a fine layer of sweat clinging to his back.

He ladled cold water over himself, pressed his fingers to his brow, and sat in the bath for a while to clear his head. Returning to the bed, he found Ju Chen had unconsciously kicked off the blanket.

She was lying with her back to him, hair like ink spilled across the bedding, her long, pale legs stretched out across the dark covers—dotted here and there with the evidence of their earlier indulgence.

Recalling what they’d just done, Song Mi’s gaze darkened. He sat at the bedside and gently pulled the covers over her again.

Outside, the moon hung misty in the sky.

He brushed aside a strand of hair from her cheek, staring at the blush still lingering there.

Was this really the same girl he couldn’t forget from his past life?

Half incredulous, he thought back to her childhood.

Everyone assumed he had no impression of her back then—but in fact, the first time he saw her, he remembered her clearly.

As Lu Feng had said, that face was unforgettable.

Even during their nights of entanglement in this life, he’d often tried to recall those fleeting memories from when they were younger.

He remembered how, at dusk one day, he had just arrived at the Princess’s estate when she mistook him for Yuan Zheng.

At the formal hall later, perhaps from embarrassment, she stood quietly beside the princess like a shadow, clearly wishing not to draw attention.

But she was too striking—he noticed her instantly.

Later, whenever he fished in the courtyard pond, he would catch glimpses of her leaning against the waterside window, only the hem of her robe visible.

He’d been the target of many secret admirers, but for some reason, that time, he deliberately walked toward her.

Sensing his approach, she quickly pulled back the visible fabric and hid behind the window. But when she didn’t hear his footsteps, she cautiously peeked outside.

Not seeing him, she breathed a sigh of relief—then turned and met his eyes.

He could still recall that startled, uneasy expression—tinged with the faintest flush—as she clutched the book in her hands.

Turns out she had simply been reading by the window. It was his unexpected approach that disturbed her.

Still, that moment of mischief drew them unexpectedly close, and in that proximity, he saw her clearly: clear eyes, soft features, porcelain skin that looked smooth and flawless as jade.

Even then, staring at her delicate face, a ridiculous thought had come to mind—”So this is what it must feel like to see Xi Shi or Diao Chan come to life.”

Looking at her now, even more graceful and stunning than before, Song Mi felt a mix of disbelief and fascination. Had he really come to long for her so much? To the point that even the sight of her back made him reluctant to look away?

Did he truly like her that much?

Enough to give up his life for her?

---

The next day, Ju Chen sat in the library pavilion, recalling the night before, her face burning red.

Those eyes, glowing in the dark as they watched her bare body… they lingered vividly in her mind.

Dark, intense, brimming with desire and utterly hypnotic.

He had been especially fierce last night.

Ju Chen rubbed the marks on her wrist and thought back to their first time.

She had heard it was often uncomfortable the first time for a woman.

He was tall, his body covering hers completely, always in control.

He had taken her without restraint, and when things seemed on the verge of spiraling out of control, he paused—just long enough for her to adjust—before continuing more gently.

In that, he had shown great tenderness.

But last night, he had clearly been more… reckless.

Ju Chen had never expected that things could end with her crying out loud like that. Just remembering the way she moaned and gasped made her cheeks burn hot again.

Once again, this morning, she had fled in embarrassment.

She shook her head hard, trying to dispel the memories, sighing quietly. She got up from the reading area and walked to the bookshelf, hoping to find something calming to read.

As she stood selecting a book, she didn’t notice the tall figure quietly approaching behind her.

She was reaching up to grab a classic text from the top shelf, about to look for a ladder—when a long hand suddenly reached over her shoulder and plucked the book down for her effortlessly.

Ju Chen startled and turned around, locking eyes with him. For a moment, neither spoke.

Song Mi stood in front of her, his dark eyes deep and unreadable. His brows slightly raised, and the casually lifted hand held a hint of gentle helpfulness.

Ju Chen’s heart tightened. Her hands gripped the edge of the bookshelf, her fingertips nervously scraping the wood, turning pale with anxiety.

Song Mi handed her the book.

She thanked him stiffly. At that moment, Lu Feng suddenly appeared at the doorway, poking his head in.

He’d heard Song Mi was here and wanted to find him—they were supposed to go to the Ministry of Justice for something. To his surprise, he saw Ju Chen too. His eyes lit up with delight, and he hurried in to greet them.

“I really did drink too much last night.” Probably recalling what had happened, Lu Feng scratched the back of his head apologetically.

He hadn’t exactly blacked out drunk—he’d just fallen into a deep sleep after getting home. He hadn’t expected Song Mi to miss morning court too.

Lu Feng nudged Song Mi with his elbow and couldn’t help asking, “Clearly I was the one who passed out yesterday—so how did you get here later than me?”

“Woke up late,” Song Mi replied blandly. Then he turned to Ju Chen and asked casually, “Did Miss Li sleep well last night?”

“…”

He didn’t know if she slept well?

At that moment, Lu Feng’s gaze fell on the ancient text in her hands. “Huh? That’s the Mahā Prajñā Pāramitā Hṛdaya Sūtra (Heart Sutra). Ju Chen, are you a devout Buddhist? Do you enjoy reading scriptures?”

Ju Chen let out an awkward laugh. She couldn’t admit she’d just picked it up to calm herself.

But Lu Feng, thinking they had similar interests, began reciting:

“When Avalokiteśvara Bodhisattva practiced deeply the Prajñā Pāramitā, he perceived the five skandhas as empty, and thereby transcended all suffering… Shariputra, form is not different from emptiness; emptiness is not different from form. Form is emptiness; emptiness is form…”

At the line “form is emptiness; emptiness is form,” Ju Chen’s cheeks instantly flushed red.

She lowered her head, completely avoiding Song Mi’s expression beside her.

Lu Feng, naturally skilled at saying the wrong thing at the wrong time, pressed further, “Ju Chen, what’s your understanding of ‘form is emptiness; emptiness is form’?”

Ju Chen: “…”

Lu Feng… did I offend you in a past life?!

Song Mi curled his lips slightly and asked Lu Feng sincerely, “You drink yourself half-dead in Jin Market every day—are you reading this to prolong your life?”

Ju Chen blinked—she didn’t understand what he meant.

But with that interruption, Lu Feng paused in thought and no longer pursued the topic with her.

It wasn’t until Lu Feng walked in circles mentally that he finally caught Song Mi’s sarcastic undertone—he was implying Lu Feng was afraid of dying from overindulgence, so he kept chanting “form is emptiness, emptiness is form” to comfort himself!

And he’d asked it with such a sincere tone, like genuine concern.

Lu Feng gritted his teeth and shouted that he’d never help Song Mi again—only to be softened when Song Mi gave him a genuinely contrite “I was wrong.”

Lu Feng waved him off but turned to Ju Chen again, wanting to talk more. Suddenly, hurried footsteps sounded at the door.

Lu Yun rushed into the library, looked around, and zeroed in on Ju Chen—immediately running over and throwing herself at her.

She clung to Ju Chen’s legs before she could react.

Tears streamed from Lu Yun’s eyes. “I’m sorry, Ju Chen. You came all that way to meet me yesterday, and I lied to you.”

Well, it hadn’t really been that far.

Ju Chen’s first instinct was to help her up. But Lu Yun, terrified she wouldn’t be forgiven, clung tightly to her leg. “It was my fault. I had selfish intentions, and forced things to happen. I went against the Lu family rules. I’ve wronged my father, mother, grandfather—I’ve wronged all our ancestors!”

She pulled up her sleeve to show marks from punishment and whimpered like a small animal, “I’ve already been disciplined at home.”

The Lu family, being a vast and prestigious clan, had a strict and extensive code of conduct—so detailed it was engraved on the ancestral hall walls, with over a thousand rules.

One of them: Do not speak falsehoods. If violated, twenty strokes with the bamboo ruler.

“I didn’t mean to deceive you. I just wanted to make a good match,” Lu Yun said sincerely. “I came to apologize right after I was punished yesterday, but your family said you’d gone to the library late at night. I didn’t dare disturb you. Did I interrupt your reading today?”

“…Not really.”

Because she hadn’t actually been reading.

Ju Chen smiled gently and said with a light laugh, “I’d never been to the Drum Tower and wanted to check out the most famous restaurant in Eastern Capital. Plus, I got to eat a very expensive meal. All in all, it wasn’t a loss.”

She genuinely wasn’t too angry.

Not because she liked being lied to.

But because when the world stood against her, Lu Yun had once defied her own family to stand by Ju Chen’s side.

To those who treated her well, Ju Chen always responded with kindness tenfold.

“You’re too kind, Ju Chen,” Lu Feng couldn’t help scolding Lu Yun for her deception.

Lu Yun, still tearful, looked pitiful as ever—until she heard Lu Feng’s sarcastic comment. She immediately flared up, sniffed, and shouted, “I was already punished yesterday! And you’re still blaming me!”

Now she turned her anger on Lu Feng.

“I had planned exactly how I’d apologize to Ju Chen and treat her better if she marries into our family. But you, you heartless thing—you had to go tattle to Grandpa and get me punished!”

Song Mi had been quietly watching, but his brows twitched slightly at the words “marry in,” and “settle down.”

Lu Feng raised his voice: “I did not!”

Lu Yun, tearful again: “I was thinking for your sake, and you betrayed me!”

“Come on, think about it—how drunk I was yesterday. Do you think I had the time to tattle?”

“How would I know? Maybe you got drunk and ran to Grandpa talking nonsense. You drunkard!”

“You—!” Lu Feng was speechless. “I really didn’t.”

“If not you, then who else?!”

Lu Feng scratched his head and looked helplessly toward Song Mi.

Only four people knew about what happened yesterday.

Ju Chen had never even entered his house—she didn’t know his grandfather, so it couldn’t be her.

His grandfather had been growing increasingly spiritual in recent years. Song Mi had lived at Mount Peng’s Lingxi Monastery since he was young and shared similar ideals. They’d become close friends despite the age gap—closer than Lu Feng himself was with his grandfather.

But knowing Song Mi’s personality, he wouldn’t have meddled in such trivial matters… right?

Lu Yun snorted coldly, took Ju Chen’s hand, and changed the subject. “When you go to Mount Li for New Year, remember to find me. I know the area well—I’ll show you around.”

Ju Chen froze and replied truthfully, “I wasn’t planning to go to Mount Li.”

Lu Yun frowned. “But I heard your second sister say at the palace banquet that your family would go.”

She tightened her grip on Ju Chen’s arm and asked cautiously, “Are you still mad at me, so you don’t want to see me there?”

Ju Chen quickly shook her head but said nothing.

Standing quietly nearby, Song Mi suddenly recalled a scene from his past life.

She had once said, “Is it fun there? I’ve never been to Mount Li.”

At the time, they were working late together in the imperial study, and during a break, she had mentioned it.

He had laughed, “Surely you jest, Minister Li. Doesn’t the court organize trips for female officials every year? You’re the one who signs off on them.”

She had stared at the document for a long time and replied with a bitter smile, “I never had the time.”

Lu Yun had been summoned to the palace today. Not long after, the eunuch from the Yellow Palace came to fetch her, and she had to leave.

After she left, Lu Feng looked at Ju Chen and smiled, wanting to chat more.

But Song Mi pulled him by the arm and walked away.

On their way to the Ministry of Justice.

Lu Feng glanced at him, smiled meaningfully. Song Mi gave him a questioning look, and Lu Feng made an exaggerated bow of thanks, “Thank you for walking Ju Chen home last night.”

Song Mi: “It wasn’t for you.”

Lu Feng chuckled, not believing it. “I know you like to do good deeds without claiming credit. I’ll remember this favor.”

Then, Lu Feng started musing aloud about Ju Chen: “Don’t you think she’s great? Not just her looks, she’s generous too. I think we really suit each other. Isn’t it fate? Met yesterday, bumped into each other again today. She reads Buddhist texts too—same interests!”

He turned to Song Mi. “Hey, do you think there’s a chance between me and her?”

Song Mi: “No chance.”

Lu Feng froze in place.

And he wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination, but when Song Mi turned back, he swore he saw him shoot him a glare.