Ch 95: Transmigrated to become a Koi Husband

Upon hearing the teasing remark, Qin Zhao merely cast Jing Li a faint glance.

He could only get away with this because Qin Zhao was too feverish to move or speak. Otherwise, how could this little fish act so brazenly?

“Alright, I’ll stop teasing you,” Jing Li said, scooping up a spoonful of porridge, gently blowing on it to cool it down, and bringing it to Qin Zhao’s lips.

The porridge was just plain rice porridge, with nothing extra added, simmered for a long time to make it soft and thick. Yet, when Qin Zhao tasted it, there was a faint bitterness.

These were all symptoms of typhoid fever, something Qin Zhao, with his medical knowledge, understood well.

He furrowed his brow slightly, swallowing with difficulty despite the pain. Only then did he speak in a hoarse voice, “Increase the dosage of the preventive decoction by 30%. You and Ah Qi should take it morning and evening without fail—”

“I know,” Jing Li interrupted, feeding him another spoonful of porridge. “I’ve already asked Ah Qi to start brewing it. You don’t need to worry about these things; just focus on yourself.”

Jing Li lowered his gaze, sighing silently. “You didn’t see your son crying his eyes out outside the door. Even I felt bad for him.”

Qin Zhao swallowed another mouthful of porridge and responded quietly, “Alright.”

Not long after finishing the porridge, Jing Li brought him some medicine. By the time he drank it, Qin Zhao’s consciousness was already fading. In his daze, he felt his entire body ache unbearably, his muscles sore, and cold sweat soaking through his clothes.

Jing Li, however, was no longer as flustered as he had been the first time he saw Qin Zhao fall ill.

That entire night, Jing Li stayed by his side, giving him water, cooling him down, wringing out wet cloths, and repeatedly wiping him down.

The next morning, Qin Zhao opened his eyes.

His fever had subsided, though his limbs still felt weak and sore from the prolonged high temperature. A splitting headache lingered, making him draw a silent breath. As he tried to get up, his hand brushed against a cool, bare arm.

Jing Li was lying beside him, limbs sprawled over him, with his head resting in Qin Zhao’s embrace.

He wasn’t wearing anything on his upper body, and Qin Zhao’s chest was also bare, their cool skin touching directly.

Was this… to help him cool down?

Qin Zhao lowered his gaze and studied Jing Li’s sleeping face.

The boy didn’t seem to be sleeping soundly. His brows were tightly furrowed, and he looked exhausted. Even through his fevered haze last night, Qin Zhao could feel that Jing Li had stayed by his side the entire time.

Judging by his appearance, he probably hadn’t slept all night.

Qin Zhao gently ran his fingers through Jing Li’s hair. The latter wasn’t a deep sleeper; as soon as Qin Zhao moved, he woke almost immediately.

Jing Li sat up slightly, pressing a palm against Qin Zhao’s forehead. “The fever’s gone down a bit, but you’re still a little warm.”

“This is typhoid; it doesn’t go away so easily,” Qin Zhao replied, his voice still hoarse. Stroking Jing Li’s hair, he asked in a low voice, “When did you get any rest last night?”

Jing Li slid out from under the blanket, picked up the clothes tossed aside, draped them over himself, and rubbed his eyes. “I don’t remember.”

“You…”

Qin Zhao sighed, about to say something, when Jing Li continued, “Ah Qi said that the little fry was very well-behaved last night. He slept quietly on his own without needing anyone to soothe him.”

He knelt beside Qin Zhao, speaking softly, “It’s the first time I haven’t put him to sleep myself…”

Qin Zhao was silent for a moment, then propped himself up.

“Don’t move.” Jing Li quickly pressed him back down. “Whatever you need, I’ll handle it. The doctor said you need to stay in bed and rest.”

“Alright, I won’t move,” Qin Zhao said, then added, “Come here.”

Jing Li blinked. “Huh?”

Qin Zhao extended his arms. “Come here and let me hold you.”

Jing Li obediently leaned forward and was pulled into Qin Zhao’s embrace.

“I’m fine,” Qin Zhao murmured gently. “Don’t worry, I’ll be better soon.”

Jing Li responded with a quiet “Mm.”

He knew it was just typhoid fever—equivalent to a common flu in modern times. Though not easy to treat in this era, it wasn’t without solutions.

But seeing Qin Zhao’s persistent high fever still made his heart ache.

Because it was another reminder that Qin Zhao’s body was far from healthy.

From being poisoned to the damage caused by medicinal treatments, even with careful recuperation, his constitution remained weak—so weak that even a mild case of typhoid could bring him down.

Jing Li’s nose stung faintly with suppressed emotion.

He took a deep breath and quickly calmed himself. “It’s fine now. You rest a bit longer. I’ll ask Ah Qi to prepare breakfast for you and brew your medicine.”

“Alright,” Qin Zhao replied, letting him go.

Jing Li got out of bed, took an outer robe from the rack, and draped it over himself. He returned to the bedside. “Are you thirsty? The water’s probably gone cold. I’ll go to the kitchen and heat some.”

As he spoke, he picked up the teapot and teacup from the small table but froze mid-action.

Inside the teacup, there was still half a cup of untouched water. At the bottom of the cup lay a small fish, looking up at him innocently, tilting its little head.

Jing Li: “…”

“What’s wrong?” Qin Zhao, noticing the prolonged silence, turned his head to ask.

Jing Li, his expression dark, handed the teacup to Qin Zhao. “Nothing. Your son wants to add to your meal. Have some fish soup.”

When Qin Zhao saw what was in the teacup: “…”

The little fish finally spotted its father, wagging its tail happily. With a splash, it leapt out of the teacup and landed in Qin Zhao’s palm.

Over the past few days, they’d gradually realized that the little fry wasn’t like ordinary fish, which relied on water to survive. Perhaps due to its half-human bloodline, the little guy could stay on land for twice as long as Jing Li.

As a fish, it didn’t fear dehydration. As a human, it wasn’t afraid of drowning—a true amphibian.

However, this was the first time the little one had actively transformed back into its fish form since it had gained the ability to change into a human shape.

Qin Zhao steadied the little fish bouncing around in his palm, careful not to let it get too close. He asked, “Did you miss me?”

The little fish nuzzled its head against Qin Zhao’s finger.

Qin Zhao said, “But Daddy is sick right now and can’t play with you for the time being.”

The little fish froze at his words.

It tilted its head, locking eyes with Qin Zhao for a moment, and its fin brushed lightly against Qin Zhao’s fingertip, leaving a soft, cool sensation.

“He feels bad for you,” Jing Li remarked.

It wasn’t just Jing Li who was worried about Qin Zhao; the little fish and Ah Qi were just as concerned. After all, they were a family now.

“Mm,” Qin Zhao murmured, gently stroking the little fish’s head. “Daddy will get better soon, and then I’ll take you to play in the snow, okay?”

The little fish wagged its tail lightly in agreement.

Qin Zhao placed him back into the teacup.

“This little guy… Who knows when he sneaked out?” Qin Zhao wasn’t upset. On the contrary, he found it amusing.

Last night, it had been Ah Qi taking care of the little fish.

For someone like Ah Qi, whose skills were top-notch to qualify as a shadow guard, losing track of a child was unthinkable. Even though Ah Qi didn’t know the little fish’s true identity, the fact that such a small child could sneak out without alerting the guard was remarkable.

Qin Zhao watched the little fish swimming around in the teacup and chuckled softly. “This kid… so clever.”

Just then, Ah Qi’s voice came from outside the door.

“Sir, Madam, the young master is missing!” Ah Qi’s voice trembled with urgency. “I stayed outside the room all night and personally saw the young master asleep. He definitely didn’t leave. But just now… I went in to wake him, and he was gone!”

Jing Li: “…”

Qin Zhao: “…”

The little fish continued swimming in the teacup, seemingly unaware of the situation.

Qin Zhao rubbed his brow and handed the teacup to Jing Li. “Just tell him the truth. Ah Qi won’t spill the secret.”

Jing Li, trusting Qin Zhao’s judgment, took the teacup and headed out.

As Qin Zhao had predicted, Ah Qi was only momentarily shocked upon learning the truth but didn’t press further. Not speaking or asking questions was a shadow guard’s duty.

More importantly, the young master hadn’t gone missing, which was what truly mattered.

…

Qin Zhao remained bedridden for more than half a month.

Since recovering from the poison of the Chenhuan drug, he hadn’t fallen this ill in the past year. Yet this bout of illness seemed to make up for all the gaps from before.

The typhoid outbreak in the city, thanks to the prefect’s effective measures, had vanished before the Lunar New Year.

It seemed Qin Zhao was the only one in the entire city still occasionally running a fever, confined to his room under strict orders.

The only good thing was that no one else in the household had fallen ill.

Jing Li and the little fish had unique constitutions that made them resistant to illness, while Ah Qi’s robust health, honed through years of martial arts training, kept him safe. All things considered, Qin Zhao was the only sickly one in the family.

With the New Year approaching, Jing Li had Ah Qi purchase red paper and bamboo strips, and he spent his free time teaching him how to cut paper window decorations and assemble lanterns.

This craft was something Ah Yi had taught Jing Li the previous year, and now Jing Li had become quite skilled at it.

Qin Zhao was only allowed to move around the courtyard at noon when it wasn’t windy and the sun was shining. On this day, after a snowfall had ceased, Jing Li and Ah Qi were hanging lanterns in the courtyard, while Qin Zhao leaned by the window, watching them.

“What are you looking at? Careful not to catch a chill from the cold wind! Get back inside and lie down,” Jing Li scolded when he noticed him, hurrying to chase him back inside.

Qin Zhao sighed helplessly. “I’m already better.”

“You said the same thing two days ago, and then insisted on coming out to put up window decorations, only to end up with a fever again that night,” Jing Li said indignantly. “Back inside, now.”

Left with no choice, Qin Zhao returned to the bedside. He spread his hands in resignation toward the little one sitting on the bed. “You see, Daddy can’t go out, so I can’t build a snowman with you.”

The little fish, busy playing with a cloth doll, shook his head and chirped, “Ya!”

He wasn’t thinking about going out; it was obviously Daddy who wanted to go outside.

“You little rascal…” Qin Zhao noticed the new toy in the fish’s hands and asked, “Who gave that to you? Was it Ah Qi?”

The little fish shook his head again.

He was holding a cloth doll shaped like a small fish, its round body trailing a little tail. The scales were embroidered with cotton thread, and it was stuffed with soft cotton, making it very plush.

The little fish put down the doll, grasped Qin Zhao’s arm for support, and stood up. He stretched his arms in front of him, drawing a semi-circle in the air.

Qin Zhao understood. “Oh, Chen Yanan.”

A figure that unmistakably left an impression.

“It just arrived this morning,” Jing Li said, coming back inside after finishing with the lanterns. He closed the door behind him. “We got a letter from him as well. He said his mother is still angry, so he’ll have to spend the New Year in the village. He sent over a gift for the little fish in advance.”

Qin Zhao asked, “Because of Ah Yi?”

“Yeah.” Jing Li sighed. “I knew it wouldn’t be that simple.”

Chen Yanan’s mother placed great importance on wealth and status; otherwise, she wouldn’t have gone to such lengths to send Chen Yanan to study. For him to marry a shuang’er and want him as his legal wife—of course, she wouldn’t accept that so easily.

“And Ah Yi still doesn’t know about any of this,” Jing Li added with a wry smile. “Chen Yanan really is something. He’s gone through so much effort to convince his mother, but what if Ah Yi doesn’t even like him? What then?”

Qin Zhao replied, “He’s aware of that possibility.”

Even knowing he might be rejected, Chen Yanan had still decided to start by persuading his family.

This was a gesture of respect to the other person and a responsibility a man should shoulder.

Even Jing Li was surprised by Chen Yanan’s growth.

After all, that man had once been nothing more than an impulsive and reckless little chubby boy.

Jing Li thought of something else. “Ah Yi wrote to us recently, asking if we wanted to spend the New Year in the county. You were still sick at the time, so I didn’t reply. But looking at you now, I don’t think we can travel far. Should we skip it this year?”

Qin Zhao nodded. “Mm, I’ll leave it to you.”

Aside from sending a reply to Ah Yi and Chen Yanan, Jing Li also wrote a letter to the village chief of Linxi Village, explaining Qin Zhao’s illness and stating that they would remain in the prefectural city for the New Year.

He included handmade window decorations and Spring Festival couplets written by Qin Zhao.

Before sending the letter, Jing Li showed it to Qin Zhao, who found it meticulously prepared and flawless.

Jing Li asked, “Should we also send a pair of couplets to the Gu family and the prefect?”

This was optional.

Many people sought to curry favor with those two families. As a mere licentiate, Qin Zhao wasn’t particularly prominent among the literati in the prefectural city. Even if they sent the couplets, it wasn’t certain they would be noticed, let alone displayed.

However, not sending anything might seem impolite.

That’s why Jing Li was undecided.

“Send them,” Qin Zhao said. “It’s the thought that counts.”

As for whether they’d be displayed… The prefect, perhaps not, but the Gu family likely would.

Jing Li nodded. “Alright.”

Following Qin Zhao’s suggestion, Jing Li made the arrangements. Watching Jing Li’s departing figure, Qin Zhao exhaled silently.

Unknowingly, his young spouse had matured considerably and learned to take charge of things.

Meanwhile, he himself was still a burden.

Qin Zhao chuckled wryly.

…

On New Year’s Eve, the prefectural city lifted the curfew, and the people celebrated the New Year through the night. Fireworks lit up the sky across the river, and festivities filled the air.

Qin Zhao and Jing Li sat in their lakeside courtyard with the little fish and Ah Qi. The four of them shared a simple yet warm New Year’s Eve dinner.

Jing Li gazed at the distant lights and silently made his one New Year’s wish in his heart.

—That Qin Zhao would recover soon and no longer suffer from illness.

Perhaps Jing Li’s wish had worked, as Qin Zhao’s health indeed improved day by day after the New Year. However, Jing Li remained cautious and refused to let him resume teaching at the Gu residence.

Jing Li, unusually stern, said, “The doctor already said you can’t overexert yourself and need to rest.”

“I know medicine myself; I’m fine now,” Qin Zhao replied. “Besides, the Gu family can send a carriage to pick me up—”

“Haven’t you heard the saying, ‘A doctor cannot heal himself’?” Jing Li retorted firmly. “The answer is no. You need to rest longer before you can even think about it.”

Qin Zhao: “But I’ve already been stuck at home for nearly two months…”

From mid-November, when he first fell ill, to now, in early January, it had indeed been almost two full months. Recuperating from a minor case of typhoid for two months was already ridiculous, not to mention that without teaching, there was no income.

Half of his earlier earnings had gone toward repaying Fang Tianying, while the other half had supplemented household expenses. By the end of each month, Qin Zhao’s small salary barely left anything behind.

And on top of that, his medicinal decoctions hadn’t stopped for these two months.

How could their household savings possibly cover it?

Qin Zhao tried to reason with Jing Li, but Jing Li simply said, “You don’t need to worry about money. I have a solution.”

“A solution?” Qin Zhao, catching something in his tone, smiled and asked, “What money-making scheme have you come up with this time?”

Jing Li realized he’d let something slip and guiltily avoided his gaze. “I can’t tell you yet. Just focus on resting.”

Negotiations failed.

Qin Zhao had no choice but to comply.

But this time, he didn’t get to rest for long, because Ah Qi brought news from Gu Changzhou.

The National Guardian General, Xiao Yue, had completed the funeral arrangements for his mother and would be passing through Jiangling Prefecture in the coming days.