Ch 1: Reborn to Raise My Husband

T/N note: This world has three genders: men, women, and gers (Ge’er – look like men but smaller than men and could give birth).

In the 35th year of the Kaide reign, it was the seventh month. The morning glow had faded from atop the palace walls, replaced by blinding sunlight as morning court had just ended.

A line of officials dressed in court robes and holding their ceremonial tablets filed out of the main hall in an orderly procession.

The layered robes were heavy and cumbersome, and in the increasingly stifling heat, the backs of the officials had already started to sweat.

Fortunately, the matter of illegal salt trade in the southeast had been resolved today. The official in charge handled it well, which greatly pleased the emperor.

Although no promotion landed on their own heads, the fact that the man on the dragon throne was in a good mood made the court session easier for all.

At that moment, several officials walked in groups of three or five, speaking in low voices, debating whether to go to Anhua Pavilion to try the new seasonal fruits, or to Hantian Pavilion for chilled drinks to escape the heat.

Before a decision was made, a cool breeze swept past, and a tall, upright figure strode quickly through it.

“Lord Qi assisted His Excellency in properly handling the private salt matter. Not only was he personally recommended by His Excellency, even His Majesty praised him. He was promoted in one leap from a fifth-rank regional salt tax supervisor to the Ministry of Personnel. He’s barely in his thirties—his future is limitless!”

“With such a rise, yet he shows hardly a hint of joy. These young men nowadays—it’s hard to tell what they’re thinking.”

Several officials looked toward the figure walking away. His bearing was striking.

His brow ridge was prominent, and he was handsome—not exuding youthful exuberance, but rather shadowed by a solemn melancholy that made him seem distant and hard to approach.

“Tsk. That reminds me—I’ve heard that Lord Qi’s husband is in poor health, almost at the end of his rope. Don’t know if it’s true.”

“It’s not a rumor. Lord Xiao’s residence is in the same alley as mine. Physicians come and go often. Lord Qi always sees them out personally, courteous but never looking at ease.”

“He’s risen from the provinces to this position, and yet still holds steadfast to his ailing spouse. Truly a devoted man…”

Qi Beinan exited the imperial city and boarded a carriage just outside Donghua Gate.

He had just been promoted. In recognition of his efforts in the salt case, the emperor granted him three days’ rest before reporting to his new post at the Ministry of Personnel.

As such, he didn’t have to go with the other officials to handle routine affairs today.

Still, he ought to pay a visit to the Duke Jingguo’s estate—His Excellency had offered him great help in the salt affair.

But Qi Beinan lifted his chin and instructed the driver to take him home first.

His mind was on someone dear; he had no headspace to tend to the details of officialdom.

Last night, Xiao Yuanbao had coughed and been breathless most of the night. Only near dawn did he fall into a fragile sleep. Seeing his increasingly emaciated frame and pale complexion, Qi Beinan had gone to court full of worry.

Several doctors had come over the past months, yet not one offered a diagnosis that gave any peace of mind. It all felt like a damp, dark nightmare.

Cramped inside the small carriage, Qi Beinan was overwhelmed with a restlessness he couldn’t contain. He lifted the curtain slightly and urged the driver to hurry.

By the time they reached his residence, his inner robe was completely soaked in sweat.

Qi Beinan dismounted with a heavy heart, eyes cast down. Just as he stepped onto the ground, a faint scent of mint and orchid drifted to his nose.

A neatly folded handkerchief landed gently on his forehead, dabbing away the sweat.

“It’s getting hot. The carriage service has been busy, but the new one we ordered finally arrived today. The windows are much larger than this one—you won’t be as stifled heading to court anymore.”

Qi Beinan looked up and met a pair of soft, gentle eyes.

Xiao Yuanbao was not breathtakingly beautiful.

His hair was fine, brows light. His looks were warm and suited to domestic life—comforting, easy on the eyes.

His speech was calm and measured, soothing to the heart.

Only now, illness had left him so thin his features were almost unrecognizable.

“You…”

Qi Beinan was momentarily too shocked to speak.

Seeing this man—tidy in appearance, even with a faint flush on his face—tenderly wiping his sweat, so different from the frail, barely-breathing person he’d seen before heading out, it felt like seeing a ghost.

He reached out and caught the wrist before him.

If not for the fact that the wrist was so bony it seemed like it might break with the slightest pressure, Qi Beinan might have believed time had reversed, taking him back to his early days in office.

Back then, Xiao Yuanbao was still healthy. Each day he waited at the gate to welcome Qi Beinan home from court, just like now.

The two of them would return to the house hand in hand, Qi Beinan chatting about trivial court matters, Xiao Yuanbao speaking of household affairs.

Now, seeing him up from bed and full of energy again, Qi Beinan felt a joy that was hard to describe, yet unease crept in from the edges.

Noticing Qi Beinan’s bewilderment and worry, Xiao Yuanbao smiled and said, “The new physician is quite skilled. I drank the decoction you made this morning, and I already feel much better.”

“Not only is my spirit lifted, but I have strength again. Walking is easier. I sent someone to the market early this morning for fresh produce, and even made a few of your favorite dishes.”

He continued gently, “It’s been a while since I’ve been in the kitchen—don’t know if I’ve gotten rusty. Come in and see if it still tastes alright.”

Qi Beinan, hearing that he felt better, was about to inquire in detail, but upon hearing he not only got out of bed but cooked, panic crept in.

These past days, there had been no new physician. The medicine was from the old prescription.

Forcing a smile, he grasped Xiao Yuanbao’s cool hand and swallowed the tightness in his throat. “Then I’m lucky to have such a good meal today.”

He walked with his beloved toward the house. “After so long at court, I’m completely empty inside. Let’s wash up and eat—alright?.”

Qi Beinan changed into a set of light, casual robes.

On the carved peachwood round table, the dishes were already laid out.

There was a plate of chilled sliced pork with dipping sauce, a dish of pickled snow vegetables with tender bamboo shoots, and another of braised eggplant with bitter herbs.

On the side, tofu dressed with sesame oil, and spicy marinated jade tofu.

These were all simple homestyle dishes they often had during his years as a local official.

Qi Beinan dried his hands and sat down at the table, a glimmer of moisture flickering in his eyes.

He didn’t dare look up at Xiao Yuanbao. His voice came out stiff and dry.

“I’ve been craving pickled snow vegetables. The kitchen hasn’t made them in ages.”

Xiao Yuanbao was about to reply but couldn’t help the cough that rose in his throat.

He quickly covered his mouth with a handkerchief, suppressing the cough.

When he moved the cloth away, a striking red blotch in the shape of a crabapple blossom had bloomed across it.

He calmly folded the handkerchief and tucked it into his sleeve, lifting a hand to stop Qi Beinan from reaching to pat his back, and instead said gently, “Then eat more today. I’ll make it for you often from now on.”

“These pickles are from Wu’s shop in the north of the city. First time buying from them—let’s see how they taste. If they’re good, we can buy from them again.”

Xiao Yuanbao picked up a pair of chopsticks and placed a serving of snow vegetables and bamboo shoots into Qi Beinan’s bowl. The tips of the shoots had been trimmed, leaving the crunchy part extra tender.

Qi Beinan ate the vegetables with his rice. The flavors were just as good as always, yet everything tasted like wax in his mouth. “The taste is fine, but not quite as good as the ones we used to pickle ourselves back in Linzhou.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Then when we get the chance, we’ll buy some fresh greens and make our own. I saw two big empty jars in the kitchen that aren’t being used.”

Qi Beinan knew there likely wouldn’t be such a chance again. But hearing Xiao Yuanbao speak like this, it almost made life feel peaceful again. “Alright. We’ll go together then.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “You just got promoted. How would you have time for such trivial things?”

“Farming and food are the foundations of life. Eating and drinking are the most important of all. How could that be trivial? Even if I don’t have the time, I’ll make time—besides, I enjoy going with you.”

“Alright~ whatever you say.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought for a moment. “Then we should go on a day off. Only early in the morning can we get the freshest vegetables. If we go after court, what’s left won’t be any good.”

Qi Beinan picked up a bit of vegetable and placed it in Xiao Yuanbao’s bowl. “I have the next few days off. Isn’t that just perfect?”

The two of them exchanged a smile.

And so they tossed aside formalities at the table, discussing plans for their three days off—what to eat, what to buy, what to use—and ate together for quite a while before finalizing things.

After the meal, drowsiness set in, and they retreated to the back courtyard to cool off.

The afternoon sun was bright.

In the courtyard, banana trees stood against the wall, their broad leaves a vivid green. Two rows of bamboo cast dappled shadows.

Qi Beinan gently fanned Xiao Yuanbao, who was reclining on a cooling chair.

They both looked toward the basin of bowl lotus in the pavilion, where vibrant flower buds were starting to emerge.

“They say it’s a southern variety, blooms easily. When I saw its yellowing leaves on the street before, I didn’t believe it.”

Xiao Yuanbao turned his head to look at Qi Beinan. “It looked so withered. Why did you still bring it home?”

“It was an old woman’s stall. I spent a few coins for one plant, thinking I’d bring it back for you to tend.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes curved in a smile.

“I don’t know anything about tending flowers. I just had someone water it, and it grew on its own.”

“You say you don’t, but when we moved into this garden, the back courtyard was nothing but some dogtail grass and a pond full of stagnant water. Now the water’s clear and the flowers bloom. Doesn’t look like someone who doesn’t know what they’re doing.”

“Lord Qi always knows how to flatter.”

Xiao Yuanbao gazed at the lush summer scenery, chatting idly with Qi Beinan.

Though they had been together for nearly ten years, he thought, an afternoon like this—a day like this—was something he could never get enough of.

Many official wives in the capital mocked him for being uneducated, illiterate, a fool.

But in that moment, it was as if he suddenly understood the weight and beauty of the phrase a lifetime of companionship.

He smiled faintly. He probably wasn’t as foolish as they said. Having figured it out, the thick haze that had long pressed on his chest suddenly lifted.

Only, for some reason, his body began to feel a bit weightless—maybe it was sleepiness creeping in. He felt overwhelmingly tired.

Had he come to this understanding earlier, thought less, worried less, perhaps his frail body wouldn’t have declined to this point.

“In a few days I’ll buy some more plants, fill up this courtyard even more. It’ll be even nicer to relax here then.”

“But what to choose?”

“Jasmine? Or magnolia? Maybe jasmine—it smells nice and keeps the mosquitoes away.”

Qi Beinan kept talking, slowly and steadily, like a nagging old tutor.

After a while, he realized Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t answered. He lowered his gaze to the reclining chair.

“Xiao Bao.”

Qi Beinan called softly.

The man on the chair had his eyes gently closed. His lashes cast a shadow over his cheeks.

His expression was peaceful, as if asleep—but so still it held not a trace of life.

The only sound that answered Qi Beinan was the rustling of wind through the garden.

The fan in Qi Beinan’s hand fell to the ground with a thud.

He already knew, deep in his heart, that everything today had been a final flicker of vitality before death. But now that the truth was right in front of him, he was still stunned into senselessness.

The nightmare had finally become reality.

Qi Beinan knelt on the ground, his face buried against the chest of Xiao Yuanbao, who lay peacefully on the cooling chair. His back trembled as he whispered in a voice full of grief:

“Xiao Bao… don’t go, don’t go… If you leave, I won’t have a home anymore…”

The sunlight remained bright, and the bamboo shadows danced.

That year, on that afternoon, the just-over-twenty-year-old Xiao Yuanbao turned into a breeze brushing past the temples in summer and quietly drifted away.

…

The crackling sound of firecrackers burst through the alleyways, leaping over white walls and gray tiles, falling into the ears of those inside.

During the New Year, firecrackers were set off to ward off evil and bring blessings for the coming year; for birthdays and weddings, they brought festivity and cheer.

And when someone passed away, firecrackers were lit all the same.

Ever since his thirties, Qi Beinan could no longer bear to hear the sound of firecrackers.

The explosive bursts, the shaking echoes, always seemed to peel open the dead-still surface of his heart—

Forcing him to recall the moment of that death, the drumming and firecrackers that filled the sky.

Though many years had passed since then, the overwhelming emotions that had once brought him to his knees would still rush into every corner of his body, draining all his strength, as if that scene were being replayed before him again.

For many years after turning thirty, he had drifted about numbly, tirelessly solving the emperor’s troubles.

He was the people’s beloved magistrate, the court’s trusted minister. No one dared set off the firecrackers he loathed in front of him.

So when the sharp, unmistakable sound of firecrackers once again filled his ears, Qi Beinan was startled—startled to wonder where they were coming from.

He paused, then understood. Perhaps these firecrackers had been lit for him.

He was old now, his temples gray, his body wrecked, lying on his sickbed for some time already.

While his mind was still clear, he had told the household of disciples that it was alright to light firecrackers after he died.

At his age, with this body, dying quietly while lying down was hardly a surprise.

And there was no real sorrow in it—ever since that person had left all those years ago, he had felt little attachment to this world.

But then… why could he still hear firecrackers after death?

Qi Beinan couldn’t understand. His chest ached with a familiar, dull pain brought on by the sound, prompting him to instinctively lift a hand to cover it.

As his palm pressed to his chest, he suddenly opened his eyes.

In that instant, he was shocked to realize—

He was in a dim, small room, lying on a narrow wooden bed.

By the faint light seeping through the paper-covered window, he could make out an old, worn wooden table.

On it were tall stacks of dog-eared books, coarse hog-bristle brushes, and poor-quality ink stones.

An old man’s mind holds too many memories. Qi Beinan stared in a daze for a moment before realizing—

This was the small home where he had lived with his father in Qiu County when he was young.

Thinking of this, he slowly raised his hands—fingers long and slender, skin still tight and smooth. They were the hands of a boy not yet grown.

He got out of bed and saw that the cloth shoes by the bedside were no more than five or six inches long.

A realization struck him.

He rushed to open the door. With a creak, a bleak wind blew in, making his trouser legs flutter. The sharpness of the chill made it unmistakably real—this was no dream.

The firecrackers were still popping outside. It must have been near the New Year.

In the county town, the holiday atmosphere always came earlier and stronger than in the villages.

“Father!”

Qi Beinan called out with emotion, running to the other end of the small courtyard.

But the two white lanterns hanging under the eaves slowly cooled his joy.

The courtyard was lifeless and bleak, shrouded in the gray desolation of the winter month. Aside from the cutting wind, once the firecrackers outside stopped, the only sound left was the echo of his own footsteps.

If he remembered correctly, this should be the fifteenth year of the Kaide reign—he was ten years old.

This was the year his father passed away. He arranged the funeral by himself and stayed here alone to observe mourning.

They weren’t originally from Qiu County—Qi Beinan and his father had moved from Yunshui Village in Jiangzhou when he was five.

Father Qi was a refined scholar who had once earned the title of xiucai and relied on it to make a modest living.

At the beginning of the Kaide era, when the new emperor ascended the throne, he valued scholars greatly. Even low-ranking xiucai were granted land and a monthly stipend.

Father Qi had no great ambition. After marrying, he opened a private school in the village to make a living through teaching.

The couple was loving, and the villagers respected them. Life had once been warm and harmonious.

But fate is fickle. In the fifth year of Kaide, when Qi Beinan was born, his mother died in childbirth. Father Qi was devastated.

His in-laws, seeing that the child was young and weak, tried to marry his wife’s younger sister to him as a second wife.

Such things were common.

But Father Qi knew well that during his wife’s girlhood, her parents had treated her coldly. After marriage, they frequently visited, supposedly out of concern, but in truth asking for money and goods.

Before the coffin was even in the ground, the in-laws were already proposing a second marriage.

It didn’t seem like they were thinking of the child at all—more like they were eyeing the Qi family’s comfortable life, not wanting wealth to pass into another family’s hands.

Father Qi was a deeply affectionate man. He had no intention of remarrying. Even if he had, he would never have considered his wife’s younger sister.

He had always been gentle, but on this matter, he refused them firmly.

Even so, the in-laws did not give up. They kept coming around, pestering again and again.

Five years passed like this. Eventually, Father Qi could no longer endure it. Seeing that his child had grown, he steeled himself and secretly sold off their possessions, taking Qi Beinan far away to settle in Qiu County, cutting all ties with the family behind them.

Though they had no close relatives or friends in Qiu County, it was peaceful.

Father Qi continued teaching to make a living, and under his influence, Qi Beinan read many books.

Years later, after Father Qi passed away, somehow the family from Yunshui Village caught wind of the news and actually came looking.

They assumed Qi Beinan, being young, would be easy to manipulate. They spoke sweetly, claiming they’d come out of pity for an orphan after hearing of his father’s passing, pretending they were there to look after him—when in fact, they intended to take over the house.

Qi Beinan had always matured early. Though they’d lived in Qiu County for five years, he had never forgotten the reason they moved in the first place. So he politely asked them to leave.

Seeing he wouldn’t be swayed by kind words, the family revealed their true faces.

They pointed at his father’s memorial tablet and cursed him, blaming him for killing their daughter, claiming he ruined their younger daughter’s prospects by leaving her an old maid—demanding compensation.

They threw a tantrum and refused to leave.

Furious, Qi Beinan reported them to the authorities. His father had been a xiucai, a scholar, and a teacher with a decent reputation in the area.

The county magistrate, understanding the whole story, sympathized with Qi Beinan as a child—but domestic affairs are the hardest to judge.

The family hadn’t committed any major crimes—just greedy and unreasonable at most—so the court could only send them back to Jiangzhou.

After that, Qi Beinan also left Qiu County. He journeyed across mountains and rivers, seeking knowledge everywhere he went.

At seventeen, he passed the provincial exam. By twenty, he earned an official post.

That year, he felt that having established himself, he was now ready to start a family.

So he took the keepsake token and sought out the fiancé who had been betrothed to him since childhood—Xiao Yuanbao.

Xiao Bao’s mother and Qi Beinan’s mother had been close as sisters, and in their deep bond, had once agreed that if they each had children, they would become in-laws.

Though they had never formally married off one side to the other, the two families remained in contact even after marriage—until Qi Beinan’s mother passed away.

When Qi Beinan was four, Xiao Bao’s mother came to visit, carrying a baby in her arms. He didn’t understand what the adults discussed, only vaguely remembered how happy his father had been that day.

He had told him that the baby in swaddling clothes would one day be his husband, and told him to hold him.

Later, when father and son moved away from Jiangzhou, they still kept in contact with the Xiao family through occasional letters. But within a couple of years, they heard that Xiao Bao’s mother had also passed away.

Father Qi grieved for a long time upon hearing the news. He urged his son to study diligently, to earn titles and one day take good care of his betrothed, who had also lost his mother at only three years old.

A year later they learned that Xiao Bao’s father had remarried. By then, Father Qi was already bedridden—it was Qi Beinan who sat at his bedside and read the letter aloud.

Afterward, Qi Beinan wandered from place to place, and though he remembered the Xiao family’s address and wrote, he never received a reply.

He didn’t know whether it was because he moved around too much and the letter never reached its destination, or because his young fiancé couldn’t read and had no way to respond.

After all the twists and turns, the two met again—sixteen years after that first meeting.

Xiao Yuanbao was sixteen then, frail and pale, quiet and timid.

Seeing him stirred something tender in Qi Beinan’s heart.

But upon learning of the engagement, Xiao Bao’s stepmother actually complained that Xiao Yuanbao’s health was poor and wouldn’t last long—trying to marry off her own biological son instead.

At that moment, Qi Beinan knew that his fiancé, having lost his mother so young, must not have had an easy life. He regretted not finding him sooner.

Married life afterward was relatively smooth. The two got along well and shared deep affection.

Having spent half his life wandering, Qi Beinan cherished this regained home with everything he had.

But Xiao Yuanbao’s health was never good and couldn’t withstand constant moving around. In those early years of Qi Beinan’s career, court duties kept him busy, and they spent more time apart than together.

He always thought, once he was promoted, once things were stable, everything would be fine. They wouldn’t have to part anymore.

But time has its limits—not everything can endure the wait.

Thinking of this, Qi Beinan felt a sharp ache in his chest.

Suddenly, he shook off his thoughts and rushed back into the house.

He opened the hidden compartment beneath the desk and carefully took out a square wooden box. The lid, wiped clean, opened to reveal a cloud-patterned silver lock, meant to be worn on a cord around the neck.

Looking at the familiar silver lock, his gaze softened. He brushed his fingers gently across its surface. In the next moment, his eyes regained their resolve.

This time, he would no longer wander from place to place in search of knowledge.

This time, he would go to him early—before it was too late.

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