Ch 93: Transmigrated to become a Koi Husband

The next day, Jing Li’s scales still hadn’t faded.

Those translucent crimson fish scales scattered across the corners of his eyes, the side of his neck, and his waist. Though sparse, they shimmered with a radiant glow, looking more like a decorative adornment that made his pale skin appear even more luminous.

Even Qin Zhao couldn’t resist sneaking a few kisses on the scales at the corners of Jing Li’s eyes before getting out of bed.

“You’re doing this on purpose,” Jing Li said, annoyed.

With the scales refusing to disappear, Jing Li couldn’t leave the house and was forced to stay in the courtyard. Bored out of his mind, he decided to start teaching their little fish fry how to swim.

Yes, teaching a fish fry how to swim.

“You need to move your fins! If you don’t, you’ll sink. Come on, lift yourself up,” Jing Li said, sitting by the edge of the hot spring wrapped in a robe. He munched on a fruit platter while watching his little one flail around in the water.

Qin Zhao returned to the courtyard just in time to see this scene. His heart stopped for a moment before he remembered that their baby was a fish and couldn’t drown.

Feeling both exasperated and helpless, he stepped closer and noticed that beneath Jing Li’s robe, a fish tail was discreetly supporting the cub from below, keeping him afloat just in case.

“Clumsy little fish, what kind of fish swims as badly as you do?”

Jing Li’s tail gently propped up the chubby body of the fry as he grumbled, “It’s all your father’s fault for overfeeding you. You’re too heavy to float properly.”

“And yet it’s you who’s afraid he’ll go hungry and always sneaks him extra snacks,” Qin Zhao said calmly from behind him.

Jing Li shuddered, his fish tail instantly transforming back into legs. He quickly wrapped himself tightly in his robe, covering everything up.

That poor tail—it had been played with far too much the night before. Just thinking about it made Jing Li shiver.

Without the tail to support him, the little fish fry spun in place like a ball and sank straight to the bottom of the hot spring, landing with a plop.

Confused, he tilted his head up and stared at his two fathers through the water, as if he couldn’t understand why he’d suddenly sunk.

Qin Zhao looked at his adorable fry and couldn’t help but laugh. “Actually, it’s because his limbs aren’t strong enough yet. That’s why he can’t float, not because he’s fat.”

Jing Li slid into the water, scooped up the fry, and pointed at Qin Zhao. “Did you hear that? Your dad says you’re fat, not me.”

Qin Zhao: “…”

Childish.

By the hot spring, a small table was set up, holding the fruit platter Jing Li had been eating. Qin Zhao placed the food box he was carrying on the table and removed the lid.

Inside was a plate of mooncakes.

Today was the Mid-Autumn Festival.

Jing Li swam over with their baby in his arms and asked, “The magistrate called you over just to give you this?”

“No,” Qin Zhao replied. “He asked what my plans were—whether I’d take next year’s provincial exam or stay in the city.”

Jing Li said, “He’s probably trying to win you over.”

“That’s true.” Qin Zhao rummaged through the mooncake box, selected one, and leaned over to feed it to Jing Li.

Jing Li took it but didn’t have time to bite before the little fry in his arms started squirming. “Yee, yaa!”

“Do you want some?” Jing Li teased, holding the mooncake just out of the baby’s reach and peering into his mouth as he opened it. “You don’t even have a single tooth yet. Wait until you’ve grown some, okay?”

Then, he deliberately took a big bite of the mooncake right in front of the baby.

The fish fry furrowed his brow and was so upset he nearly burst into tears.

Qin Zhao, long accustomed to his husband’s antics, ignored Jing Li’s bullying of their baby as if it wasn’t happening. “The magistrate asked if I’d be interested in joining the county office as an advisor.”

Jing Li blinked.

An advisor was essentially a strategist or consultant, assisting local officials with governance and offering counsel. While not an official post, it held considerable prestige and usually required a provincial degree to qualify. Even in their county, Master Pei, the advisor, was a degree-holder.

It was unheard of for a magistrate to appoint a mere scholar as an advisor.

“Did you agree?” Jing Li asked.

“No.”

This was hardly surprising. After a pause, Qin Zhao added, “The county office pays advisors ten taels of silver per month. It’s too little.”

Jing Li: “…”

The reason for refusal was brutally honest.

The Gu family paid their tutor 25 taels a month for teaching only half a day, twice a week. Qin Zhao didn’t live at the estate, and they regularly sent him rice, cured meat, and other supplies. On top of that, Madam Gu’s homemade pastries were excellent.

By comparison, working for the county office was indeed a loss.

But still…

“The magistrate doesn’t know why you refused, does he?” Jing Li asked cautiously.

“He doesn’t,” Qin Zhao replied. “I told him I planned to spend the year reviewing my studies and preparing for the provincial exam, leaving no time for government work.”

A flawless excuse.

Relieved, Jing Li took another bite of the mooncake. After a moment, he frowned. “What’s in this mooncake?”

Qin Zhao headed inside to change clothes and replied casually, “I heard there are three kinds of fillings: salted egg yolk, fresh meat, and five-nut. But since they all look the same, I can’t tell them apart. What did you get?”

Jing Li: “…”

As expected, his luck was terrible!

By the afternoon, the scales on Jing Li’s body had completely faded.

Near dusk, the magistrate sent another messenger, inviting them to a gathering to compose poetry, admire the moon, and enjoy music and dance. Jing Li had no interest in such scholarly activities, so Qin Zhao politely declined on the pretext of not feeling well.

The two spent a quiet Mid-Autumn Festival in their small courtyard, soaking in the hot spring and playing with their baby.

After the festival, life returned to its usual calm.

Once the little fish fry assumed human form, his growth slowed to match that of an ordinary child. Considering Jing Li’s situation, they speculated that staying in fish form might speed up his growth. However, since the fry preferred to remain in human form, they let him be.

Of course, Jing Li suspected the real reason the fry preferred his human form was that it allowed him to eat more delicious food.

Qin Zhao resumed tutoring Gu Heng at the Gu family’s residence. Under his strict guidance, the once-arrogant young master gradually tempered his behavior and returned to a more proper path.

The change was significant but not transformative.

After the first half-month of strict discipline, Qin Zhao no longer restricted Gu Heng’s leisure activities. The boy could play and have fun as he pleased. However, his interactions with others and general demeanor showed marked improvement.

He was polite and well-mannered without losing his edge or becoming rigid.

A model of balanced upbringing.

Soon, rumors began to spread in the city about Qin Zhao’s parenting methods. Jing Li heard about it too and brought it up excitedly one evening while Qin Zhao was feeding their baby.

“I heard someone even went to the bookstore owner, asking him to invite you to write a parenting guide.”

“I wouldn’t know how to write something like that,” Qin Zhao replied calmly, feeding the baby another spoonful of porridge and wiping away the dribbled soup from his chest.

Jing Li propped his chin on his hand, looking regretful. “I heard writing for the bookstore pays a lot in royalties.”

Qin Zhao: “…”

The conversation quickly shifted. Soon, Jing Li was animatedly talking about a newly released book from the bookstore—a story about a frail scholar and his shuang’er husband. Unfortunately, only the first volume had been published.

For the rest of dinner, Jing Li enthusiastically recounted the plot to Qin Zhao.

Qin Zhao listened with a slight frown.

Why did it… sound oddly familiar?

However, Jing Li didn’t seem to notice anything amiss, so Qin Zhao didn’t elaborate further.

After finishing the story, Qin Zhao set down the spoon and offered his verdict: “It’s passable.”

Jing Li muttered softly, “I think it’s pretty good.”

Qin Zhao looked down at the baby, who was babbling and tugging at his sleeve. He frowned. “We agreed that was the last bite.”

The little fish fry: “Mmph…”

Qin Zhao: “No.”

The little fish fry: “Eee…”

Qin Zhao: “…Fine, one last bite.”

Jing Li: “…”

No one outside would ever guess how weak-willed the renowned Mr. Qin could be when it came to raising his own son.

If he really wrote a parenting guide, it would probably boil down to just one word: spoiling.

Jing Li silently grumbled in his mind as Qin Zhao finally fed the baby the last spoonful of porridge. The satisfied fish fry smacked a kiss on Qin Zhao’s cheek before being scooped into Jing Li’s arms.

Qin Zhao, meanwhile, took the dishes to the kitchen to wash.

Leaning against the kitchen doorframe with the baby in his arms, Jing Li watched Qin Zhao busying himself for a while before suddenly saying, “Why don’t we hire someone after all?”

Qin Zhao glanced over. “Didn’t you say you didn’t like the idea?”

“Just treat it as getting some help,” Jing Li replied. “I don’t want you to overwork yourself.”

The issue of housework had always been a point of contention between the two.

Qin Zhao thought Jing Li already had his hands full caring for their child and wouldn’t let him do any chores at all—not even small tasks.

Jing Li, on the other hand, felt Qin Zhao was being overly protective.

Qin Zhao had to work outside during the day, buy groceries, cook meals, and clean the house in his spare time. How could one person possibly manage all that?

When Qin Zhao was out, Jing Li would often secretly sweep the floors or tidy up the study. But every time Qin Zhao returned and discovered Jing Li had done some housework, he wouldn’t say anything. However, before his next outing, he would always preemptively finish all the tasks, leaving nothing for Jing Li to do.

It was absurd.

After weeks of this back-and-forth, Jing Li’s initial resistance to the idea of hiring help had completely dissipated.

On further thought, those children being bought and sold were destined for that fate anyway. If they didn’t buy one, someone else would. Bringing home a poor child and treating them well could actually be a kind act.

Jing Li shared his thoughts with Qin Zhao, who nodded in agreement. “I’ll go check the outer city tomorrow.”

Jing Li beamed. “Alright!”

While Qin Zhao had agreed with Jing Li in words, he had no real intention of going to the outer city to buy someone. The place was a chaotic mix of people, and given the secrets of his husband and child, Qin Zhao wasn’t keen on keeping too many outsiders in their home.

Instead, he had asked Gu Changzhou to help him find a suitable servant.

They needed someone to handle household chores, care for the child, and, if necessary, act as a guard to ensure their safety.

But now, almost a month had passed since the Mid-Autumn Festival, and Gu Changzhou still hadn’t given him an answer.

Was it really that hard to find a guard who could also care for a child?

As it turned out, Jing Li’s knack for saying things into existence hadn’t changed. The very next day, as Qin Zhao finished his lessons and left the Gu residence, he encountered someone.

The man wore coarse clothes and looked to be in his thirties. His skin was sallow from the sun.

Upon seeing Qin Zhao, the man greeted him cheerfully, “You must be Mr. Qin?”

“I am,” Qin Zhao replied. “And you are…?”

“I manage the human market,” the man said. “I was told Mr. Qin was looking for a household servant. We’ve found someone suitable and brought them for you to inspect.”

Markets for livestock were called cattle markets; markets for people were called human markets.

Qin Zhao certainly hadn’t sent anyone to the human market. Most likely, this was someone sent by Gu Changzhou.

Scanning the man briefly, Qin Zhao noticed the accessory at his waist and asked, “You said you brought someone for me to see—where are they?”

“They’re right here,” the man said with a grin, gesturing toward a nearby dark alley. “Mr. Qin, please follow me.”

He led Qin Zhao into the alley.

As they entered, a gust of wind swept past Qin Zhao from behind, followed by a low voice: “Mr. Qin, I’m here.”

A young man appeared out of nowhere.

It was only then that Qin Zhao understood what the manager meant by “following.”

Until this person revealed himself, Qin Zhao hadn’t sensed anyone nearby.

Impressive skills.

Qin Zhao turned back to look. The young man, dressed in coarse, worn clothes, knelt on one knee, his thin frame blending seamlessly into the shadows of the alley.

The manager’s earlier jovial demeanor vanished, and he spoke in a low voice: “This man is an orphan who has been trained since childhood. His martial arts are exceptional. The master instructed me to create a fabricated identity for him so he could blend into the human market and avoid drawing attention. What do you think?”

Qin Zhao frowned slightly and asked, “Can he do household chores?”

“He knows a bit,” the manager replied. “He’s spent years disguising himself in various circles, working as a servant and tending to people. But he has no experience taking care of children. These kinds of trained shadow guards are raised for killing, not for settling down and starting families.”

“That’s fine,” Qin Zhao said. “He can learn.”

“So, you’re willing to take him?” the manager asked.

Qin Zhao pondered for a moment before saying, “Come home with me first. I still need to ask my husband’s opinion.”

The manager: “…”

“Alright,” the manager said, clearly unaware of Qin Zhao’s true identity and simply acting on Gu Changzhou’s instructions. “You can take him back first. Whether you accept him or not, have him report back to me, and I’ll inform the master.”

Qin Zhao nodded. “Thank you for your trouble.”

The manager bowed and left the alley.

Qin Zhao turned his gaze to the young man still kneeling on the ground, his brows furrowed. “I feel like… I’ve seen you before.”

The young man remained silent for a long time.

Qin Zhao continued, “Stand up. Let me take a closer look.”

The young man slowly rose to his feet. He was slightly shorter than Qin Zhao, with a youthful, unremarkable face that exuded a sense of woodenness. It was the kind of appearance easily overlooked in a crowd, making him perfectly suited for the role of a shadow guard.

The young man lifted his head and softly called out, “…Master.”

Prince Rong once had a group of highly skilled, personally trained shadow guards who served as his close protectors.

These shadow guards not only safeguarded the prince but were also tasked with handling discreet matters that he could not deal with publicly.

This young man had been one of them.

Four years ago, when Prince Rong traveled to Jiangling, the young man had remained in the capital to complete a mission. It was during this time that all contact between them was lost.

After completing his task, the young man personally went to Jiangling in search of his master, only to find nothing. Prince Rong, along with his entourage of carriages, guards, and eleven other shadow guards, had vanished without a trace, as if they had disappeared into thin air.

“So it’s you,” Qin Zhao said, pulling himself out of his thoughts. He raised his hand and gestured at the young man’s shoulder. “I remember you were only this tall a few years ago.”

The young man’s eyes reddened slightly.

Qin Zhao asked, “Have you been working under Gu Changzhou all these years?”

The young man replied, “I was raised by my master from a young age. Without him, I didn’t know what to do. It was Master Gu who took me in. He gave me a new identity and told me to stay hidden in case I was ever needed.”

Qin Zhao nodded. “He does have foresight.”

Patting the young man’s shoulder, Qin Zhao asked, “Do you know what I need you to do?”

“To… care for the princess consort and the young heir,” the young man answered hesitantly.

The titles caught Qin Zhao off guard, and he corrected, “It’s to care for my husband and the young master.”

“Wipe your tears and come home with me,” Qin Zhao said. “But my approval doesn’t mean you’re hired. You’ll need to pass my husband’s test first.”

The young man nodded resolutely. “No matter what the challenge, I will do my utmost to prove myself!”

“…” Qin Zhao replied calmly, “It’s not as hard as you think.”

When Jing Li saw how quickly Qin Zhao had brought someone back, he was thoroughly surprised.

Jing Li looked the young man up and down for a long moment before leaning closer to Qin Zhao and whispering, “He doesn’t seem to be a shuang’er, does he?”

“He’s not,” Qin Zhao replied, sipping his tea. “But the manager said he’s worked as a servant, taken care of people, is quick with his hands, sturdy, and strong.”

“That sounds pretty good,” Jing Li remarked.

Qin Zhao continued, “He’s an orphan, lost his parents at a young age, and worked as a laborer in the human market, constantly beaten and scolded.”

“That’s so pitiful,” Jing Li said sympathetically.

“The most important thing,” Qin Zhao added, “is that he’s cheap. Just feed him, and he’ll be fine.”

Jing Li’s eyes lit up slightly.

And so, moments later, the young man was holding a new quilt Jing Li had found for him and moving into a small room in the front courtyard.

His expression was still a bit dazed.

What happened to the supposed test? Where was it?

…

Thandar: lol our Prince Rong really knows his husband well. He knew exactly what to say.