Ch 22: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Spring arrived, and the village fields came alive again—it was time for spring plowing.

The old green of the mountain slopes had been replaced by new sprouts. Pheasants and deer were likely growing more active too.

If it were a typical year, Xiao Hu would have already gone up the mountain after the new year and returned once around early February. But now it was already well into the season, and he had yet to depart.

He was torn—unsure whether he should continue making a living in the mountains, or give up the trade and stay by the village fields to farm.

Now that there were no adults left at home—just two children—if he still went into the mountains, he feared no one would be there to hold things down in case anything happened.

Yet if he didn’t go and stayed home to work the fields… he wasn’t much good at farming either.

And even that aside, most of the land had already been leased out at the end of last year. The tenants had already turned the soil twice—if he suddenly took the fields back now, it’d be inappropriate, especially since those tenants were long-time acquaintances.

The more he thought, the harder it became to make a decision.

“If you want to go into the mountains, just go without worry, Uncle Xiao. I can manage things at home.”

Qi Beinan had noticed Xiao Hu frequently gazing toward the mountains these past days, and could more or less guess what troubled him. Since Xiao Hu couldn’t decide for himself, Qi Beinan gave him a gentle push.

During breakfast, he brought it up.

Xiao Hu spooned his porridge and frowned. “How can I leave everything to a child?”

“I’m already eleven now. In large households, girls of that age are already learning to manage accounts and housework—and I’m a boy.”

Qi Beinan continued, “If you’re truly worried, just keep your mountain trips short. Come back every five or six days to check in, so Xiao Bao doesn’t miss you too much. I’ll be here in the village, and if anything comes up, we can have Brother Fang go into the mountains to find you. With the Fang family watching out for us, there’s nothing to worry about.”

“Most of the land is leased out. Of the few remaining acres you’ve already turned over this month, I’ll just take Xiao Bao and plant a few vegetable seedlings. It’s no hard task.”

Xiao Hu was reassured by the conversation and finally made up his mind.

After breakfast, he brought a slab of preserved meat and a bag of white flour to the Fang family to ask their help in watching over the house.

That very afternoon, he packed a basket with some rice and flour, plus a small piece of dried meat.

It was spring—no need to bring fresh greens. The mountains were full of wild vegetables: water celery by the stream, shepherd’s purse in the sun, Chinese toon, wild scallions, crown daisy, purslane…

But Xiao Hu, once in the mountains, rarely had time to gather or eat such things.

“Father’s going up the mountain?”

Xiao Yuanbao stared at his father as he packed grain into his basket.

“Mm, just for five or six days this time. I’ll come right back. While I’m gone, you have to listen to your brother.”

Xiao Hu cupped his son’s cheek. In just two months, the child had grown rounder and fairer. He used to look so scrawny and sickly, his chin all sharp—now his little face was plump and glowing with health.

Back then, he’d pushed himself into the mountains to earn more, hoping to give his family a better life. He never expected it would turn out the opposite.

Now he understood—money was necessary, but time spent caring for your children was just as important. Otherwise, all the money in the world wouldn’t truly benefit them.

From now on, whether he had goods or not, he would come home more often.

“Mm! Xiao Bao knows!”

Xiao Yuanbao spread his fingers: “Gege already taught me numbers. Now I can count when you’ll be home.”

“Good boy.”

Later, Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao walked him down to the foot of the mountain.

Xiao Bao bounced along the soft dry road and even asked for a little rabbit. But as Xiao Hu turned the corner and began to vanish up the path, the child’s lips quivered and his eyes turned red.

He had to be carried home in Qi Beinan’s arms.

Qi Beinan comforted him, saying they’d go dig some wild scallions later and make dumplings. That finally brought a reaction—Xiao Bao, face still streaked with tears, looked up earnestly and asked, “Who’s going to knead the dough and wrap the dumplings?”

“Gege can do it.”

Xiao Bao sniffled and whispered, “Grandma Sun knows how to make dumplings.”

Qi Beinan: “…”

He felt a bit personally attacked—his cooking wasn’t worse than Xiao Hu’s!

“…Fine, we’ll trouble Grandma Sun, then.”

Xiao Bao quickly added, “We’ll wait till Father comes back to eat them.”

“Okay, okay, we’ll wait.”

Qi Beinan patted the loyal little cub. “Our Xiao Bao is such a thoughtful boy.”

Back home, he cracked a hickory nut for Xiao Bao to snack on. The child, finally cheered up, trotted off with a small pan of vegetable scraps to feed the chickens and ducks, then went to check if the hens had laid any eggs.

Qi Beinan planned to go to the county town early the next day to buy some sturdy new seedlings—second and third month was just the right time to sow melons and beans.

If you didn’t plant now, there’d be nothing to eat later. A farming household with land had no excuse not to grow vegetables.

He also wanted to pick up some ready-to-heat meat and vegetables so Yuanbao could eat more heartily.

“Gege! Someone’s here!”

Qi Beinan was rummaging through the storage shed, looking for leftover seeds to avoid buying duplicates.

Just as he found some string bean and cucumber seeds, he heard Xiao Yuanbao dash inside, calling out.

 “Who is it?”

Xiao Yuanbao shook his head and simply said, “It’s a gege too, but Xiao Bao doesn’t know him.”

Qi Beinan found this strange. Who could be coming that even Xiao Yuanbao didn’t recognize?

He quickly stepped out and, sure enough, saw a young man outside the courtyard. He looked about the same age as Qi Beinan.

The youth’s hair was tied at the crown, with a West-Lake-colored ribbon hanging evenly at the back. He wore a well-fitted spring robe in a cross-collar style, the same blue hue as the ribbon.

When he saw someone approach, he smiled slightly and made a polite bow.

Qi Beinan immediately recognized him as a fellow scholar and had a guess in mind.

“I’m the third son of the Zhao family from the Ba area in the village. At the end of last year, Scholar Qi gifted me a copybook and a volume of Classic of Filial Piety. I’ve come today to personally offer my thanks.”

As expected—it was the son of Village Head Zhao.

Qi Beinan quickly invited him inside and poured him tea in the main hall.

“Receiving your books and copybook filled me with joy,” Zhao Guangzong said sincerely. “I had long wished to come and express my thanks, but my father said the Xiao household had family matters recently, so I didn’t dare intrude. Then private school resumed, and it’s only during this rest day that I could finally come by.”

Qi Beinan replied, “Scholar Zhao is far too polite. When I first arrived in the village, I was fortunate to receive village head’s help. I heard that you were a fellow student and thought to send over a copybook and an old classic—it’s good you didn’t mind how rough they were.”

“How could I mind! Books are hard to come by. Whether new or old, a book is still a treasure.”

Zhao Guangzong’s face was full of earnest seriousness—a clear appreciation and respect for books.

Qi Beinan felt some warmth toward him for that.

“I didn’t bring much today,” Zhao Guangzong continued. “Just a stack of coarse paper. Our teacher says at our age, our handwriting is starting to set—so the more we write, the better. It uses up a lot of paper.”

He took out a stack of broad writing paper—ten sheets thick, each large enough to be cut into eight pieces for letter writing. The texture was finer than the roughest grade.

Then he took out a parcel of cakes and offered it to Xiao Yuanbao, who had been quietly listening nearby.

“It’s been a while since I saw Bao Ge’er. I brought some fruit cakes along the way.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes lifted with surprise. He hadn’t expected this unfamiliar gege to bring something for him too.

But instead of reaching for it, he looked toward Qi Beinan first.

“Go ahead and take it. This is Third Gege from Uncle Zhao’s house.”

Only then did Yuanbao accept it, sweetly saying, “Thank you, Third Gege.”

Zhao Guangzong smiled at the soft, fair child and said to Qi Beinan:

“The last time I saw Bao Ge’er was when Aunt Sun was still around. It’s no surprise he doesn’t recognize me now. I study at a private school in town, gone early and back late—not as familiar with folks in the village.”

Qi Beinan joked, “Good on you to still remember the little ones in the village and even bring snacks—he’ll be calling you Gege from a mile away next time.”

Zhao Guangzong chuckled, then turned and asked:

“May I ask if Scholar Qi is currently studying anywhere?”

“No.”

Qi Beinan didn’t bother hiding anything. Since they got along well enough, he shared the story of how he’d come to rely on the Xiao family.

“I can’t sit for exams these two years. It’s just as well to help Uncle Xiao manage the household for now.”

“Sit for exams?”

Zhao Guangzong had already heard from his father about Qi Beinan’s background. Seeing how calmly he shared these heavy matters, Zhao Guangzong felt deep admiration.

When he realized Qi Beinan couldn’t take the exams due to mourning, yet had already been prepared to, envy flickered across his face—followed by a trace of discouragement.

“It must be a blessing to be able to take the exam,” he said quietly.

Qi Beinan noticed something off in his tone.

“There’s a child examination next year. Does Scholar Zhao not plan to attempt it?”

Zhao Guangzong immediately shook his head, eyes dropping.

“I’m too dull-witted. I’ll only embarrass my teacher.”

“Why would you belittle yourself like this?”

Qi Beinan noted that Zhao Guangzong wasn’t just being modest—it was genuine lack of confidence.

“The child exam is only the first of the civil exams. Unlike the later big competitions, one should take it often and gain experience. If you fear the child exam and worry about losing confidence, what happens when you one day travel to the provincial capital or even the capital itself? Enduring hardship only to fail—wouldn’t that be worse for your morale?”

Zhao Guangzong looked at him. At the mention of school and exams, his steady demeanor slipped, revealing the anxiety of someone still young.

“M-my handwriting is poor. I can’t answer the policy questions well either. I really am a useless student. My teacher won’t allow students like me to take the exam early.”

Qi Beinan paused.

It was true that schoolteachers sometimes advised students whether to sit for the exam or not, but ultimately, the student’s will came first.

It was rare to see a teacher so strict.

He didn’t know the full situation and didn’t want to speak poorly of someone else’s teacher, but Zhao Guangzong clearly had very little confidence in his studies.

So Qi Beinan leaned forward a bit and gently encouraged him:

“No one is born with good handwriting. All the great calligraphers became so through long, hard practice. I’ve rarely heard of a natural-born master. We’re still young—no need to fear just yet.”

“And if a student could answer all the questions easily, why would they still need a teacher? The point of studying is to discover your shortcomings and work on them.”

Zhao Guangzong’s chest heaved with a deep breath. After hearing Qi Beinan’s words, his emotions finally settled.

He cupped his hands toward Qi Beinan.
“Many thanks for your guidance, Scholar Qi. I’ve made a fool of myself.”

“Nonsense. For you to speak to me so sincerely, I’m only glad for it. Since I came from Qiu County, I’ve had only one relative here, and no friends. You and I are of similar age, and we both study the Classics—being able to chat like this today has brought me real joy.”

Zhao Guangzong smiled faintly.
“I feel the same. There are many boys in the village around my age, but most of them farm. I’ve been in school since young, so they speak to me politely but not closely. It’s hard to have a proper conversation.”

“Indeed. When you’re caught up in study, it’s easy to drift away from old friends.”

Zhao Guangzong saw how thoughtful and understanding Qi Beinan was. He tightened his lips and, testing the waters, asked:

“If Scholar Qi doesn’t mind me disturbing you… in the future, when I’m off from school, may I come by to speak with you again?”

Qi Beinan raised his brows.
“That would be wonderful. I was about to invite you myself, but I was afraid it might interrupt your studies.”

Zhao Guangzong was overjoyed that he hadn’t been rejected. He even felt a bit moved.

The two of them spoke for quite a while—so long that they had drunk three bowls of tea.

Eventually, Zhao Guangzong began to feel the need for the toilet and realized it was nearly time for the evening meal. Reluctantly, he took his leave.

By the time he arrived home, smoke was already rising from the Zhao family kitchen, and dinner was being drained in a bamboo sieve.

“Where’ve you been for so long?”

Village Head Zhao, now quite busy with spring approaching, had come home earlier and already drunk a bowl of wine. When he saw his son just arriving, he couldn’t help asking.

The boy was usually diligent in his studies. When he came home from private school, he either read or wrote, and rarely visited anyone in the village. Even if he did, he never stayed longer than it took for a stick of incense to burn. Today, he had spent over an hour at the Xiao household—truly unusual.

“I had a good talk with Scholar Qi, so I stayed a bit longer without realizing.”

Zhao Guangzong spoke with a cheerful air. Talking about his visit to the Xiao home put him in high spirits.

Then, more seriously, he said to his father:
“I think Scholar Qi is honest and gracious. He came all the way from Jiangzhou to our village and, apart from the Xiao family, has no kin or friends. Father, I hope you’ll look after him a little more in the future.”

His mother, Madam Zhang, had a skirt tied around her waist. Hearing their conversation, she carried a basket of vegetables over.

“Our Guangzong is usually buried in books and doesn’t concern himself with anything outside. Today’s really something—he’s even speaking on someone else’s behalf, asking his father to take care of them.”

Village Head Zhao put down his wine cup. He and Madam Zhang had three children altogether—the first two were daughters, both married. The youngest was this son. Being the only son left at home, Village Head  cherished him dearly.

He smiled and said:
“Even if my own son didn’t ask, I’d still look after that boy. His father was a xiucai—more learned than I’ll ever be. That child grew up listening and watching, so his learning surely surpasses most village boys. If you’re fond of him and want to be friends, it just proves you’ve got a good eye.”

Zhao Guangzong grinned and thanked his father.

The idea that he might finally have a friend made him almost giddy with happiness.

Zhao Guangzong, being the only son of the village head, wasn’t like the average farming household that worried about food and clothing. His parents doted on him and placed high hopes in his future, sending him off to study in town since he was young.

In the villagers’ eyes, he was blessed—learning from a proper teacher, associating with young city gentlemen, and possessing a bright future.

But what others saw as glory concealed the truth: once he got to the county’s private school, all his village prestige meant nothing.

His classmates were all sons of wealthy or noble families—arrogant and aloof, unwilling to speak to someone beneath their station.

In the city, Zhao Guangzong didn’t have a single close friend. In fact, he barely had anyone to talk to. What he got instead was snubs and exclusion.

When he returned to the village, he couldn’t even have a proper chat with his old playmates. Some envied his life in town; others just wanted to flatter him and beg favors from his father.

It left him utterly miserable.

But how could he explain that to his parents? And if he tried to tell his village friends, they’d only say he was ungrateful for all his blessings.

Over time, he simply stopped playing with his peers and kept to himself. Then the village said he’d grown proud and looked down on them.

He was heartbroken, but powerless to change it. So he stayed home whenever he returned, burying himself in books and writing.

Even when his parents urged him to go out more, he refused. Though he looked like a gentle and mild-mannered youth, his heart was burdened with countless worries. He was hesitant and never smiled.

When he first heard that a scholar had come to the village, he paid little mind.

It was his father who said: “You’re both students, about the same age. Go meet him. Share some thoughts on studying—it won’t hurt.” But Zhao Guangzong  was already too timid to make friends anymore. He didn’t want to go.

But then, the copybook and the book arrived from Qi Beinan’s hand.

Even if he dreaded socializing, manners and propriety demanded he go thank the boy.

He hadn’t expected much.

Yet now—he found himself thinking, “Why didn’t I go sooner?”

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