Ch 117: Transmigrated to become a Koi Husband

The provincial governor and several Hanlin scholars were all present at the banquet, where toasts were exchanged, and singing and dancing enlivened the atmosphere. According to tradition, the newly appointed scholars came forward one by one to offer their toasts. Governor Deng Tianyou sat at the head of the table, with the prefect beside him, introducing each scholar by name as they approached to drink.

In the provincial examination, the Hanlin scholars were responsible for grading the papers, while the governor only reviewed the top-ranking papers to finalize the rankings.

Few names left a lasting impression on him.

Nevertheless, he showed no favoritism and maintained a kind demeanor toward every scholar who came to toast. When he heard of individuals who had persisted in their studies despite hardships and finally succeeded in the examination, he sincerely offered words of praise, encouraging them not to give up and to continue serving the country in the future.

Despite his youth, Governor Deng was known for his humility and decorum, earning the admiration of the new scholars. It was said that he, too, had risen from humble beginnings as a poor scholar and deeply understood the struggles of literary men. Some, overwhelmed by emotion, even shed tears on the spot.

Once the last scholar had offered their toast, Deng Tianyou turned to the prefect and asked, “Is this everyone?”

The prefect, understanding what he meant, replied, “To answer Your Excellency, there is one more—Top Graduate Qin Zhao—but he is bedridden and unable to attend.”

“Bedridden?” One of the Hanlin scholars frowned and remarked disapprovingly, “What illness could be so severe as to excuse him from attending the Banquet of the Deer Call? I suspect that, as the top graduate, he is simply arrogant and dismissive of Governor Deng.”

“Hanlin Li, please do not speak in anger,” Deng Tianyou said calmly. He then inquired, “What illness is he suffering from? Has a doctor been consulted?”

“I have already sent someone to his residence to check,” the prefect explained. “Your Excellency may not know, but this top graduate is notorious in the prefecture for being frail and frequently bedridden. It is said that after the provincial examination, he fell ill once again.”

“Such a constitution…” Deng Tianyou sighed with regret.

He had a strong impression of this top graduate.

The selection of the top graduate was usually a matter of deliberation among him and the Hanlin scholars, with several candidates vying for the position. However, this time, there had been no dispute.

Upon reviewing the examination papers, everyone had unanimously ranked his as the best.

Such unanimity was exceedingly rare in the civil service examinations, making it impossible for Deng Tianyou not to remember him.

He had intended to use the Banquet of the Deer Call as an opportunity to meet this exceptional scholar in person, but it was unfortunate that the latter was absent due to illness.

Although Deng Tianyou felt some regret, he did not dwell on it for long.

He admired the scholar’s talent based on the brilliance of his exam essay but felt no deeper connection to someone he had never met.

He said no more on the matter, and the Hanlin scholars only briefly commented about the scholar’s supposed lack of etiquette and missed opportunity to make a favorable impression on the governor before moving on.

As the banquet reached its midpoint and the attendees were well-fed and slightly intoxicated, the prefect spoke again. “Your Excellency, as a lover of poetry, you included a notice in the invitations for each scholar to bring their own compositions. Shall we have them present their works now?”

Deng Tianyou nodded. “Let them present their poems.”

Composing poetry at the Banquet of the Deer Call was a long-standing tradition, and as someone deeply passionate about poetry and verse, Deng Tianyou never let this aspect be omitted from any banquet, regardless of its scale.

The prefect waved his hand, signaling a guard to bring forward a tray. On it were neatly arranged slips of paper, each containing a poem.

Governor Deng Tianyou asked, “Prefect Yue, what is the meaning of this?”

The prefect smiled and replied, “To answer Your Excellency, these are poems composed by the newly appointed scholars. I thought of a new way to make things more interesting. Each of you esteemed gentlemen may select a favorite poem, and its author will then compose an impromptu poem on a topic you provide. The winner will receive a reward from me.”

“Intriguing,” Deng Tianyou remarked.

Appraising poetry was a routine part of such gatherings, though some often recycled their past works to pass as new. This method, where an old work was first evaluated and then a spontaneous composition determined the true talent, seemed more engaging than the usual tradition.

“In that case, I shall go first,” Deng Tianyou said, straightening his posture as he leaned forward to examine the slips of paper.

He scrutinized them for a while before nodding with a smile. “Prefect Yue, it seems Jiangling Prefecture has produced quite a few talented individuals this year—”

As he spoke, his eyes fell on one particular slip, and his words abruptly ceased.

The prefect, oblivious to the sudden change in mood, responded cheerfully, “It’s all thanks to the Emperor’s blessing.”

But Deng Tianyou did not reply. His gaze remained fixed on the paper, his brows furrowing as the warmth in his expression gave way to an uncharacteristically solemn demeanor.

“Your Excellency?” The prefect noticed the shift and asked, “Is something amiss?”

Deng Tianyou picked up the slip and asked coldly, “Who wrote this poem?”

The tone was far from one of admiration, and the prefect was taken aback. The attendant holding the tray hesitated before replying, “This… seems to have been written by Qin Zhao.”

Deng Tianyou’s eyes snapped up. “Who?”

“Qin—Qin Zhao, the top graduate,” the attendant stammered. “The one who is absent today due to illness…”

That morning, Qin Zhao had sent a servant to the prefectural office to request leave. However, as the invitation had clearly required a poem to be submitted, Qin Zhao had also sent one along, stating it was dedicated to Governor Deng.

The prefect had read the poem beforehand and found it unimpressive compared to Qin Zhao’s usual standards. Assuming it was due to his illness, the prefect had paid it little mind.

But seeing the governor’s reaction now… Was the poem truly so terrible?

Qin Zhao was famous for his poetic talent. Even if this work was considered average by his own standards, it was still likely superior to those of the other scholars. Was it really worth such a reaction?

Confused but unwilling to intrude further, the prefect refrained from looking closer. He hoped to hear the governor’s critique, but Deng Tianyou merely tossed the slip back onto the tray and casually picked another poem, handing it to the attendant. “This one.”

He then returned to his seat.

The other Hanlin scholars each selected their favorite poem. The chosen authors stood to compose impromptu poems on assigned topics. The atmosphere was lively, filled with poetic exchanges, yet Governor Deng Tianyou seemed weary, his mind elsewhere, his enthusiasm diminished.

When the Banquet of the Deer Call concluded and the prefect escorted his superior out, he finally remembered to revisit Qin Zhao’s poem.

However, no matter how many times he searched through the slips, he could not find the one containing Qin Zhao’s poem.

… Where had it gone?

Perplexed, the prefect had no choice but to give up.

…

As night fell, the glow of the kitchen fire flickered. Jing Li sat on a small stool by the stove, absentmindedly fanning the flames.

Ah Qi pushed the door open and walked in. Jing Li glanced back and asked, “Has the little fish finished eating?”

“Yes, he’s resting with the master now.” Ah Qi placed the empty dishes on the stove and came over to take over Jing Li’s task. “Madam, you should go eat something. I can handle brewing the medicine.”

“No need. Go rest.” Jing Li replied, “I’m not hungry.”

Ah Qi didn’t move. After a moment, he said, “You haven’t eaten much all day. If you go on like this, the master will be worried.”

Hugging his knees, Jing Li muttered awkwardly, “Why should I care whether he’s worried or not?”

The kitchen fell into an uneasy silence. Ah Qi stood there for a moment before stiffly changing the subject. “The master’s fever has gone down, and he looks much better now. Though he’s still sleeping, he should be able to get out of bed tomorrow.”

“He should rest for a few more days,” Jing Li said, his voice muffled. “The doctor said his overthinking has drained his energy. The more he sleeps, the better.”

As he spoke, he grumbled, “The provincial exam is over. What’s there left to worry about?”

Ah Qi remained silent for a while before offering reassurance. “Please don’t worry, Madam. The master will be fine.”

“You always say that.”

After spending so much time together, Jing Li had long considered Ah Qi a close friend, so he spoke without much reservation. “I asked you to help watch over him, but all you ever do is help him hide things from me. I don’t even know whose side you’re on.”

“I…” Ah Qi was not good with words and even worse at lying. He could only lower his head in silence.

Seeing Ah Qi’s wooden expression, Jing Li could only sigh in exasperation. Ah Qi was straightforward by nature, always bottling up his thoughts and rarely expressing them.

Remembering how Ah Qi had endured his temper earlier that day, Jing Li stood up and said earnestly, “I shouldn’t have been so harsh with you this morning. I’m sorry.”

Ah Qi froze.

From a young age, he had been trained as a shadow guard. His role was to obey without question, and it was unheard of for a master to apologize to him.

He opened his mouth, unsure of how to respond.

“I really didn’t mean it. I was just too anxious and angry at the time.” Speaking of it now, Jing Li felt an inexplicable pang of grievance. Lowering his head, he fiddled with his sleeve. “He clearly promised me he’d take good care of himself. I only left him alone for one night, and yet he…”

Jing Li paused, taking a light breath before continuing, “Ah Qi, I honestly don’t know what to do anymore.”

“Madam…” Ah Qi began softly.

“Qin Zhao is always like this, as if he has so many secrets, so many important things to take care of. I really want to help him, but… it feels like there’s nothing I can do.”

From the very beginning, he had been nothing more than a foolish little fish that Qin Zhao had to take care of, relying on him for everything. Even after all this time, he hadn’t made any progress. All he could do was follow behind that person, protected by him.

He couldn’t even figure out a way to do something for him.

Jing Li stared at the crackling flames in the stove. The firelight reflected in his eyes, which were slightly red.

Ah Qi: “…”

Help.

If the master found out that he had upset Madam to the point of tears, he might very well be skinned alive and fed to the dogs.

“Ma-Madam,” Ah Qi stammered awkwardly, “Please don’t be upset. The master just caught a cold. He’ll get better soon. Being like this won’t help his recovery…”

Clearly, Ah Qi had never been in a relationship, nor had he ever comforted anyone. His words only poured fuel on the fire.

Jing Li’s grievance deepened, and he muttered softly, “So you also think I’m no help to him at all?”

Ah Qi: “…”

He didn’t mean that, not at all.

A professional shadow guard who had never flinched in the face of sword or spear suddenly found himself wanting to use light-footwork to escape through the nearest window. Ah Qi was utterly unprepared to handle such situations. Though his expression remained calm, inwardly he was praying desperately for someone to interrupt the awkward moment.

Perhaps his prayers worked, as light footsteps echoed from outside.

The sound instantly caught Ah Qi’s attention. His trained ears recognized it as belonging to one specific person, and his back stiffened slightly.

Moments later, the slightly ajar kitchen door was pushed open. Qin Zhao leaned against the frame, his voice still weak. “What… are you two doing?”

Jing Li whipped his head around, startled. The tears that had been welling up in his eyes finally spilled over, a single droplet tracing down his cheek.

With a faint plop, it fell to the floor.

Seeing the scene before him, Qin Zhao frowned slightly.