Ch 91: Transmigrated to become a Koi Husband

Inside the room, silence stretched on, thick and still. The faint light of the sunset was blocked outside, leaving only a shadowy darkness like deep ink.

Qin Zhao approached Gu Changzhou, bent down, and offered him a hand. “Get up. There’s no ‘Your Highness’ here.”

Gu Changzhou’s body trembled violently. He instinctively grasped Qin Zhao’s arm but quickly let go, his voice choked. “You’re alive… I knew you were still alive!”

“Just barely survived.” Qin Zhao pulled him up. “I haven’t visited the Gu Residence recently, but I figured you’d find a way to see me.”

Due to the recent exams and the little fish fry’s transformation, Qin Zhao had taken a two-week leave from his teaching duties at the Gu Residence.

Gu Changzhou said, “There are many prying eyes at home, so I didn’t dare meet you alone on a whim. If someone overheard…”

He paused, then added, “This is a villa outside the city owned by the Gu family, frequently loaned to the magistrate to entertain important guests. The staff here are all trusted people, so it’s safer.”

Qin Zhao nodded and said, “My husband is waiting outside, so let’s keep this brief. How many people know I’m here?”

“Only me.”

“You recognized my handwriting?”

“Yes.”

The calligraphy hanging in Gu Heng’s study was personally written by Qin Zhao.

It wasn’t just decoration; it was also a hidden signal.

As Prince Rong back then, he was known for his remarkable calligraphy, so admired that people would secretly make rubbings and try to imitate it.

But what they didn’t know was that the genuine handwriting of Prince Rong differed profoundly from the imitations circulating among the public. Even in the same script, each person’s writing style was distinct. To prevent others from copying his writing and causing trouble, individuals in high positions often incorporated unique elements into their handwriting.

These subtleties were invisible to outsiders and impossible to imitate.

The calligraphy Prince Rong had given to Gu Changzhou in the past contained such unique elements.

Only those he trusted deeply in his former circle could recognize them.

Since the beginning of his exams, Qin Zhao had been writing in that specific style.

He was waiting for someone who could recognize it—someone who, upon noticing, would come to him.

“You… you…” Gu Changzhou had thought of many things to ask before coming here, but now, faced with him, he didn’t know where to begin.

Qin Zhao dismissed it and directly asked, “How much do you know about what happened before my disappearance?”

Gu Changzhou asked cautiously, “You mean…?”

Qin Zhao said calmly, “I have memory loss.”

Gu Changzhou was momentarily stunned.

Qin Zhao sat down by the table and gestured to the seat beside him, inviting Gu Changzhou to sit as well. “No need to worry. Just tell me what you know.”

“…Understood,” Gu Changzhou replied in a low voice. “Back then, when I was left destitute and without family, it was you who saved me. You were the one who sent me south to Jiangling, helping me establish the Jiangling Weaving Mill. From then on, I became your lead covert contact within Jiangling.”

There had been rumors among the people that during Prince Rong’s rule, his spies covered every corner of the capital.

This was partly true, but not entirely.

In those early years of instability, the Regent’s spies were not only spread across the capital but had even expanded nationwide. From nobles to commoners, informants exchanged intelligence and shared updates, forming a vast, hidden intelligence network.

It was this very network that allowed the Regent to eliminate dissent and stabilize the situation in just a few years.

“In the sixth year of Jinghe, four years ago, you suddenly came to Jiangling. I met you outside the city, and you said…” Gu Changzhou began.

Qin Zhao asked, “What did I say?”

Gu Changzhou closed his eyes briefly and said in a low voice, “You told me to disband all the old members and cut off all contact.”

Qin Zhao’s gaze darkened slightly.

“…The Jiangling intelligence network was the result of years of my hard work. Disbanding it would mean burning away all those efforts. I wanted to persuade you to reconsider, but your mind was set.”

“I followed your orders and dismissed the informants, then sent word to report back. But I never received any response.”

“Not long after, the emperor announced to the world that you had plotted rebellion and had been… ordered to be executed.”

“Plotting rebellion… utterly absurd!” Gu Changzhou’s emotions flared. “With the power you held back then, if the intelligence network had remained intact, the throne would have been yours for the taking. Why would anyone destroy their intelligence network before attempting a coup?”

“Calm yourself.” Qin Zhao’s tone remained steady as he asked, “When did I come to Jiangling to see you?”

Gu Changzhou replied, “October in the sixth year of Jinghe, around autumn and winter.”

Chen Yanan found Qin Zhao, who had lost all memory, in early November of the sixth year of Jinghe.

He had come to Jiangling to dismantle the intelligence network, then had encountered an incident while leaving.

However, the emperor’s official announcement of his death wasn’t made until August of the seventh year of Jinghe—nearly a year later.

Qin Zhao pressed his fingers against his brow. “Is that all you know?”

Gu Changzhou replied, “Yes.”

Qin Zhao knew he was telling the truth.

An informant wasn’t an ordinary subordinate, and Gu Changzhou had been in charge of the covert operations. Qin Zhao never doubted Gu Changzhou’s loyalty; otherwise, he wouldn’t have trusted him enough to take up the role of a tutor at the Gu Residence and deliberately find ways to be close to him.

But the events Gu Changzhou recounted today… he couldn’t remember any of them.

Due to the poisoning, Qin Zhao’s memories were chaotic. The closer they were to the time before his memory loss, the more fragmented and unclear they became.

He didn’t remember why he had ordered the intelligence network to be dismantled, nor did he remember what had happened after leaving Jiangling—why he had been poisoned or how he had ended up in Linxi Village.

“Alright, I understand.” Qin Zhao patted Gu Changzhou’s shoulder and said in a low voice, “You’ve done very well these past years.”

Gu Changzhou lowered his head. “I am humbled.”

“I mean it,” Qin Zhao said. “You’ve managed the Jiangling Weaving Mill, supported the magistrate, and benefited the people—a commendable achievement.”

“If not for Your Highness—” Gu Changzhou paused and corrected himself, “If not for you, sir, I wouldn’t have come this far. Truthfully speaking, you are the true master of the Jiangling Weaving Mill.”

“Enough of that. I’m not interested in managing commerce; that’s your expertise.” Qin Zhao chuckled lightly and then asked, “Are any of your old contacts still reachable?”

Gu Changzhou’s expression froze. “You mean…”

Qin Zhao continued, “If I wanted to restart the intelligence network, how long would it take?”

“I… I…”

Qin Zhao raised an eyebrow. “You said that network was your life’s work. It couldn’t have been entirely dismantled just because I said so, right?”

Cold sweat broke out on Gu Changzhou’s back. He fell from his chair, kneeling. “Forgive me, Your Highness. Back then, I did disband the network as you instructed, but after hearing of your supposed execution, I… I gathered some contacts back. They’ve been lying low in the civilian world all these years, never taking action.”

Qin Zhao narrowed his eyes. “What were you planning? Rebellion?”

Gu Changzhou bowed his head to the ground and said solemnly, “Revenge.”

Qin Zhao asked, “How far did you get?”

“After you left, the emperor purged the court. Most of your supporters were either executed or dismissed. Today, the influential ministers are all loyal to the emperor, leaving little room for infiltration.” Gu Changzhou hesitated before adding, “Except for one.”

“Who?”

“The general, Xiao Yue.”

Hearing this name stirred fragments of memories. Qin Zhao closed his eyes, then slowly spoke, “He’s accomplished in battle, holds military power, and has always clashed with me. Shortly after the emperor ascended the throne, he requested to guard the border and hasn’t returned to the capital for five years. How is he now?”

“It’s said the emperor has been trying to reclaim his military authority, causing quite a stir.”

“Have you reached him?”

“Not yet,” Gu Changzhou replied. “According to our spies, General Xiao remains stationed at the border with no signs of rebellion. I dare not make any moves without caution.”

“Good thing you haven’t.”

Qin Zhao gave a faint, ironic smile but didn’t explain further. He then instructed, “Keep my survival a secret for now. I need you to restore the intelligence network as quickly and quietly as possible. When it’s ready, give me a list of contacts, and also…”

Qin Zhao asked, “Do you have any skilled, loyal subordinates who haven’t been exposed?”

Gu Changzhou responded, “You need an attendant? I have a group of shadow guards, highly trained and fiercely loyal since childhood.”

After a moment’s thought, Qin Zhao asked, “Any good with children?”

Gu Changzhou was puzzled. “?”

When Qin Zhao and Gu Changzhou emerged from the courtyard, they saw Jing Li squatting by the roadside, holding their baby. Upon seeing Qin Zhao, two pairs of eyes looked up at him simultaneously, gazing at him with an identical, pitiful expression.

Jing Li muttered softly, “You took so long.”

The little fish fry echoed, “Yaya!”

Qin Zhao: “…”

Qin Zhao stepped forward, first lifting the little fry into his arms before reaching out to help Jing Li up. As Jing Li stood, his leg went numb, and he fell into Qin Zhao’s embrace. “Careful.”

Jing Li rested his forehead against Qin Zhao’s shoulder, hissing, “Squatted too long; my legs went numb…”

Qin Zhao shook his head with a soft sigh, supporting Jing Li as they walked inside. It was then that Jing Li noticed Gu Changzhou following behind Qin Zhao and instinctively straightened up a bit. “And you are…?”

Gu Changzhou kept his gaze steady, giving a respectful bow. “I am Gu Changzhou. Apologies for the disturbance. I will take my leave.”

With that, he turned and walked away, leaving Jing Li staring after him in confusion.

Jing Li blinked and muttered, “Gu Changzhou… could he be that Lord Gu of the Gu family? He seems courteous enough. With such good manners, how did he end up with a son like that?”

Qin Zhao didn’t respond, instead guiding Jing Li back inside.

He placed the baby on the inner side of the bed and helped Jing Li sit down, gently massaging his legs.

“Ow… take it easy!” Jing Li winced, eyes watering slightly. He casually asked, “Why was Lord Gu here? What did he talk to you about?”

“This villa belongs to him; he lent it to the magistrate for the banquet,” Qin Zhao replied. “Nothing much—just a bit of small talk.”

“About his precious son?”

Jing Li chuckled. “Since you’re tutoring Gu Heng so well, he should thank you properly—maybe even give you a raise.”

Qin Zhao smiled. “Alright, I’ll ask him about that later.”

They lingered a bit in the room, and by the time they arrived at the banquet hall, they were slightly late.

The banquet hadn’t yet started; several small tables were arranged in rows in the hall, and people were mingling, chatting with one another. Most of the attendees were top performers in the recent provincial exams. Those from the city had brought their families, while out-of-towners tended to come in groups.

Qin Zhao held Jing Li’s hand as they entered, scanning the room but finding no familiar faces.

Of the three scholars from their town, only Qin Zhao, Chen Yanan, and Yan Xiu had passed. Chen Yanan, having scored near the bottom, hadn’t received an invitation, and Yan Xiu, who scored moderately, had either not been invited or had hurried back home to deliver the good news.

At the front of the hall, the magistrate sat at the main seat, with Gu Changzhou on his right. They were leaning toward each other, chatting. Noticing Qin Zhao’s arrival, the magistrate paused his conversation and looked up at them.

Some of the scholars sitting near the front also noticed and turned to look toward the door.

More people became aware of Qin Zhao’s presence, and the conversation in the hall gradually quieted. Under numerous gazes, Qin Zhao led Jing Li to the front and bowed to the magistrate. “Greetings, Magistrate.”

The magistrate, unbothered by their lateness, smiled warmly. “No need for formalities.”

“Everyone, this is Qin Zhao, this year’s top scholar.” The magistrate half-joked, “For those of you who asked me for an introduction, here’s your chance to meet him.”

He spoke without any airs and then raised his voice, “It’s my good fortune to have such talented young men and women in our city. Now that the exams are over, let’s put aside our scholarly talk for tonight and enjoy ourselves—drink to our hearts’ content until we’re all happily drunk!”

“Let the banquet begin!”

To show respect for the guests, there was no assigned seating at the banquet. Apart from the initial mention of Qin Zhao as the top scholar, the magistrate refrained from discussing rankings. Everyone chose seats as they wished, and Qin Zhao and Jing Li found a quieter table off to the side. Shortly after, attendants came in to serve food and wine.

However, as soon as the osmanthus wine was placed on the table, Qin Zhao moved it aside.

Jing Li: “…”

It seemed Qin Zhao really didn’t intend to let him have even a drop.

“Stingy…” Jing Li muttered under his breath, feeding a spoonful of porridge to the little one.

Though they had chosen a secluded table, it didn’t stop people from approaching Qin Zhao for conversation. Throughout the meal, Qin Zhao was so busy responding to others that he barely had a chance to eat.

The magistrate noticed this from a distance and instructed the attendant beside him, “Once the banquet is over, prepare another meal and send it to Qin Zhao’s courtyard.”

Hearing this, Gu Changzhou asked, “Brother-in-law, do you truly hold him in such high regard?”

“Of course. Just think about it—how many years has it been since our city produced a scholar of such talent?” The magistrate replied calmly, “If nurtured well, his future achievements could far surpass ours.”

Gu Changzhou lowered his gaze without replying.

The magistrate turned to him and asked, “Are you certain he isn’t the relative you were searching for?”

“No.” Gu Changzhou lied smoothly, “At first, I thought his handwriting and appearance seemed familiar, so I wanted to meet him alone. Unfortunately, I asked earlier, and he isn’t the person I’m looking for.”

The magistrate still found it odd. “But he works at your residence. Couldn’t you just wait to see him when he’s there? Why go to the trouble of arranging all this?”

Gu Changzhou smiled. “I also wanted to help you. Hosting a three-day banquet gives you more time to observe him and decide if he’s worth recruiting.”

“I think he is.” The magistrate, without a hint of doubt, smiled. “I introduced him on purpose, yet he remained humble and courteous with everyone. I like that.”

Gu Changzhou turned his gaze back to Qin Zhao, nodding. “Indeed, that’s just how he is.”

Even when he once held a position of unmatched prestige, this man never looked down on others.

That’s why, even after the news of Prince Rong’s death, so many former followers returned. What they respected was never his power or status—it was the person himself.

After transforming into human form, the little fish fry’s energy burned quickly, and he slept more than before. Now, with his belly full, he nestled in Jing Li’s arms, rubbing his eyes.

Qin Zhao noticed and turned to him. “Hold on a bit longer, and I’ll take you both back soon.”

It wasn’t ideal to leave so early, as the banquet had only just begun.

Jing Li understood and whispered, “Why don’t I take him back first? It’s too noisy here, and he can’t sleep. If he gets too tired and accidentally reverts to his original form…”

That would be a huge problem.

Jing Li’s concern was valid. The little fish fry had a habit of surprising them, and this was a situation they couldn’t afford to risk.

Since the hot spring resort belonged to Gu Changzhou, there was no real concern for safety. Qin Zhao called over an attendant to guide Jing Li back to the courtyard.

The little fish cub had been active all day, and before long, Jing Li had lulled him to sleep. Leaning against the bed, Jing Li patted the fry’s back absentmindedly, his mind drifting back to the confiscated pot of osmanthus wine.

Most people tend to rebel when restricted. If Qin Zhao hadn’t been so strict, Jing Li probably wouldn’t have given the wine much thought. But because of Qin Zhao’s control, Jing Li wanted to try it even more; the thought of not drinking it left him feeling restless.

He licked his lips, secretly deciding that once they returned home, he’d sneak out and buy some wine the next time Qin Zhao wasn’t around.

Just as he was musing, someone knocked on the door. “Madam Qin, the magistrate said that Master Qin didn’t eat much at the banquet, so he asked us to bring some food.”

Jing Li opened the door and saw the attendant holding a tray with several dishes and… a pot of osmanthus wine. His eyes lit up.

At last, his koi luck had come through for him.

An hour later, Qin Zhao finally managed to slip away from the banquet and returned to the small courtyard.

The moment he pushed open the gate, he saw his little husband lying by the edge of the hot spring, tilting his head to look at him.

The warmth from the spring had turned Jing Li’s skin a faint shade of pink. He propped his chin on his hand and gave Qin Zhao a silly smile. “You’re back.”

Qin Zhao: “…”

Something was off.

Several lanterns illuminated the courtyard, providing a clear view. Qin Zhao approached the spring, peering through the steam to see the scene at the bottom of the pool.

Jing Li’s hair had come loose, damp strands clinging to his face and trailing down to the water.

And below… he wasn’t wearing anything.

Qin Zhao turned his head and saw the culprit—a pot of wine—lying empty by the side of the pool.

Drained to the last drop.

Qin Zhao’s gaze darkened.