Ch 27: Reborn to Raise My Husband

“You’re too polite, Xiao Qi. We only called you over for a casual meal, yet you still brought such a big mountain pheasant—this mustn’t happen again.”

Chickens that ran wild in the mountains weren’t particularly fat, but they were lively and spirited, with firm, flavorful meat.

Madam Zhang accepted the pheasant from Qi Beinan, half-scolding, “Mountain pheasants are hard to come by, and you still went out of your way to bring one.”

“I was going to shamelessly come empty-handed,” Qi Beinan replied, “but my Uncle Xiao had just come down from the mountain. When he heard I was coming to dine at the Village Head’s home, he said the family had always looked after us and we had no other way to express thanks. So he told me to bring a pheasant.”

“What are you saying—coming empty-handed would’ve been just right.”

Though Village Head Zhao maintained a straight face, inwardly he was delighted by those words.

“So Xiao Hu is back from the mountain? Why didn’t you bring him along for a simple meal? I just tapped open a small jug of wine.”

With that, he called his hired hand to go invite Xiao Hu over.

Qi Beinan quickly stopped him: “It’s raining outside. Uncle Xiao only just returned and has things to take care of. It wouldn’t be convenient for him to bring Xiao Bao out again.”

When the Zhao family first extended the dinner invitation, Xiao Hu hadn’t been home yet, though they’d said to bring the whole family.

Qi Beinan had asked Xiao Hu if he wanted to come, but he’d said he needed to go to the estate to see if the new steward there still wanted mountain goods.

Village Head Zhao tried again to insist, but Qi Beinan gently declined, and seeing that, he had no choice but to give up, saying he’d definitely invite Xiao Hu next time.

“Come, come in for some tea. Why are you still standing under the eaves? The wind’s strong and it’s cold.”

Zhao Guangzong beamed when he saw Qi Beinan. “Dinner’s still a bit away.”

Village Head Zhao chuckled, “Yes, yes, you two boys get along best. Go on—sit and chat over tea.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Alright.”

“This is new tea from the tea gardens on the south side of the village. The boss there had his people send some over a couple days ago. Try it and see what you think.”

Zhao Guangzong eagerly poured him a cup. “If you like it, take a whole jin home! That boss is so generous, he always sends a ton over. We’ve got enough to last the whole year.”

Qi Beinan saw the tea liquor was clear, the mao jian leaves fresh. He took a sip from the cup. “Didn’t think the new tea would be ready this early.”

Zhao Guangzong said, “Exactly—this year, the tea sprouted early.”

The tea had a fresh, mellow aftertaste—far better than the rough tea he usually brewed at home.

Qi Beinan had tasted plenty of teas before, but he wasn’t picky. He could enjoy both the fine and the coarse.

He noticed the Zhao family used a matching set of black-glazed cups. Though the cups were of a simpler, more rustic style—clearly from a folk kiln—for a farming household, having a full set like that meant they really appreciated their tea.

He praised the tea, drank two cups, and soon smelled the aroma of stir-fried dishes wafting from the kitchen—it was nearly dinner time, and the smell was especially tempting.

Zhao Guangzong noticed Qi Beinan glance toward the kitchen and leaned in with a grin. “Not to brag, but you’re in for a real treat tonight.”

Qi Beinan looked over. “Every time I eat at your house, it’s a treat.”

“That’s not what I meant.”

Zhao Guangzong raised his brows. “My father had my little uncle pecially come cook today just because you were coming. He’s a trained cook, you know—when folks hold banquets in the ten surrounding villages, he’s the one they ask to take the lead in the kitchen.”

When Qi Beinan entered the courtyard earlier, he had noticed a stranger in the kitchen but hadn’t asked about it. Now that he heard, he asked, “What’s your little uncle’s surname?”

“Surname Jiang. Everyone in the village calls him Cook Jiang.”

Zhao Guangzong added, “What is it?”

Qi Beinan’s brow twitched—what a coincidence. It turned out that this Jiang Fulang was actually a relative of the Zhao family.

Though he’d been inquiring about local cooks these past few days, he’d yet to meet any of them in person.

He gave Zhao Guangzong a playful pat on the hand. “Mind if I go have a look at your little uncle’s skills?”

Zhao Guangzong laughed. “Why would I mind?”

So the two of them slipped into the kitchen.

Usually it was Madam Zhang who ran the stove and pots in the Zhao household, but today she’d stepped aside and was only tending the fire.

They saw Master Jiang—long-faced with high brow bones and a rather stern countenance.

Despite being a professional cook, he was surprisingly lean and tall.

At that moment, he was stir-frying. The wok was blazing hot; he tossed in half a ladle of rendered lard, letting it melt.

He hovered his hand above the oil to test the heat, then swiftly tossed in a handful of indistinguishable spices. Instantly, the kitchen filled with a mouthwatering aroma.

Thin slices of pork tripe followed, going limp before puffing up in the heat. Master Jiang’s spatula moved with practiced ease, as if dancing in his hand.

“Hungry yet? Just two more dishes and it’s all ready,” said Madam Zhang when she saw the two boys frozen in the doorway.

“Smelled the fragrance and couldn’t resist coming in. Had to see which master had such skills,” Qi Beinan said. “I wasn’t hungry before, but now even my cravings have crawled out.”

Madam Zhang laughed and introduced Jiang Fulang to him.

In just a few words, Master Jiang had already plated the dish. He glanced at Qi Beinan, didn’t say much—just gave the faintest of nods, acknowledging his presence.

Qi Beinan thought, This Master Jiang really is just as Madam Qiao described—someone who’s not particularly warm or talkative.

But everyone had their own nature. Some were sociable, others reserved.

If everyone were the same, where would the charm be in getting to know people?

Thick-skinned as ever, Qi Beinan stayed right there in the kitchen, listening to the rhythmic da-da-da of chopping and watching as Jiang Fulang stir-fried, simmered soup, and plated dishes.

Jiang Fulang cooked neither hurriedly nor lazily, but with impressive efficiency—everything he did was clean and orderly. He handled the whole kitchen alone, yet never looked flustered or scattered.

From Qi Beinan’s perspective, this sort of calm, methodical presence could only come from someone with genuine confidence and mastery.

And one thing stood out above all—Jiang Fulang had a clear love for cleanliness. After preparing several dishes, the stove area still showed no signs of splashed soup or scattered bowls. As he cooked, he tidied up, wiping down the counter with a cloth as he went.

By evening, the table was piled with dishes.

There was stewed dried mushroom with black-bone chicken, stir-fried pork tripe with garlic sprouts, steamed minced pork with egg custard, tofu and water-shield soup, and a whole fish glazed in a golden sauce.

The spread was even richer than what many families might serve for New Year.

Qi Beinan sat beside Zhao Guangzong, with Village Head Zhao on the other side.

“From the moment I first met you, I liked you,” said Village Head Zhao, raising a cup. “I didn’t expect fate had already arranged it. If Guangzong hadn’t met you, who knows how much longer he’d have had to suffer under that old bastard.”

He clasped Qi Beinan’s arm. “We’ve been tied up with all sorts of troubles these past days and haven’t properly thanked you. I invited my cousin over today to make a few dishes—just so we could get to know each other better over dinner.”

Qi Beinan replied, “I hardly deserve such praise. When I first came to the village, I didn’t even know the roads, let alone the people. If the Village Head hadn’t been so kind, I’d have frozen half to death outside the gate.”

“And as for Guangzong—I didn’t help all that much. Yet the Village Head still treats me so well, even bringing in Master Jiang to prepare tonight’s meal.”

Madam Zhang added, handing him a dish, “You really know how to talk, child—and so polite.”

“From now on, treat this as your home. Guangzong is your clumsy older brother now.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “If you and Madam Zhang don’t mind me, I’ll be thick-skinned and come by often.”

Zhao Guangzong beamed when he heard that, and immediately began playing the role of server, piling dishes into Qi Beinan’s bowl while telling him which ones were especially tasty—afraid he might be too shy to reach for them himself.

Jiang Fulang, meanwhile, hadn’t spoken a word since sitting down. He quietly observed the others at the table, noticing how warmly his cousin’s whole family treated this young man.

Qi Beinan tried every dish on the table. They didn’t just smell good—each bite was full of flavor.

These were hearty, street-style dishes, heavy on oil and seasoning—the kind of food that really filled your belly.

He had once climbed from commoner to court official, and the dishes at those high places changed along the way—refined, elaborate, and costly. But in truth, what he loved most was still humble home cooking.

Banquets at elite gatherings were all about display and sophistication—more a feast for the ego than the palate. Taste often took a back seat.

Having now met the cook and tasted his food, Qi Beinan—who had been making inquiries about kitchen masters through Madam Qiao—felt this chance encounter must be fate. He became all the more certain of what he wanted to do.

The only issue was that Jiang Fulang hadn’t spoken a word since dinner started. He ate quietly, bowl in hand. The more warmly the Zhao family engaged with Qi Beinan, the more distant Jiang seemed by contrast.

Qi Beinan had hoped to strike up a conversation with him during dinner, but no opportunity had arisen. Finally, he took the initiative.

“This pork tripe with garlic sprouts is really well done—crisp without being tough. I’ve heard it’s one of the hardest dishes to get right in terms of heat control. Master Jiang, your skills are excellent.”

At last, Jiang Fulang looked at him and said simply, “Just a small dish. Nothing special.”

Village Head Zhao, drinking his wine, saw them talking and exchanged a glance with Madam Zhang—who took the hint.

“Beinan,” she said, “I heard you’re looking for a cooking master for Bao Ge’er. Is that true?”

Qi Beinan’s brow lifted slightly. “Madam Zhang, your sources are impressive. Xiao Bao may be young, but I believe a craft is the foundation of one’s livelihood. I want him to have a future, so I’ve been considering this.”

Madam Zhang and Village Head Zhao shared a knowing smile.

“Don’t blame me for poking into other people’s business,” Madam Zhang said. “I overheard Madam Sun in the fields the other day asking around about cooking teachers, so I asked her a bit.”

“And? Have you found anyone?”

Qi Beinan understood now and answered, “I do have the idea, but I’m still unfamiliar with the village. Uncle Xiao is busy with mountain work, and I haven’t had much direction yet.”

Village Head Zhao patted him on the back. “Why didn’t you come to me with this? Even if I didn’t already have someone in my own family, I know the village like the back of my hand.”

“Luckily I heard about it from others, but that’s not reliable. So I figured I’d ask you myself.”

Qi Beinan’s eyes lit up. “To think you manage the whole village’s affairs and still remember something so small for me.”

Village Head Zhao puffed up. “Now don’t be saying things like that.”

He looked toward Jiang Fulang and said, “I already brought this up to my cousin. If you think his cooking is good enough, why not let Bao Ge’er learn under him?”

“What—truly?”

Qi Beinan’s senses sharpened all at once.

“Of course truly. Would I joke about something this serious?”

Qi Beinan was inwardly five parts surprised and five parts delighted, though on his face he showed full joy.

He quickly stood and bowed to the Village Head and Madam Zhang to express his thanks, then turned and respectfully saluted Jiang Fulang, who hadn’t spoken this whole time.

“I hope it won’t trouble Master Jiang too much.”

He was very courteous while quietly observing Jiang Fulang’s expression.

This really was a pleasant surprise, but he couldn’t help feeling a bit cautious. After all, if the person involved hadn’t said anything, no matter how smooth and confident the others sounded, there was always a chance they were exaggerating.

Yet Jiang Fulang’s demeanor remained as calm and indifferent as before—clearly, this had been discussed ahead of time.

He said, “Since my cousin spoke to you on this matter, I have no reason not to agree. Bring the child over sometime, and I’ll take a look first.”

“I’ll say the harsh words up front: though I’ve agreed to let him come, I’m not promising to accept him right away. Let him stay with me for three to five months. If he truly has the temperament for it, I’ll teach him everything I know. But if he lacks the patience, then take him back. Better to let him pursue something else early on than waste time with me and amount to nothing.”

Jiang Fulang’s words were strict, and Qi Beinan listened seriously.

In fact, hearing such a statement put him more at ease. If Jiang had agreed too warmly and eagerly, it would’ve raised his suspicions instead.

He immediately replied, “Master Jiang’s words speak directly to my heart. Rushing to commit to a lifelong craft would indeed be reckless. It’s only right to observe first and let you decide.”

Jiang Fulang said no more.

He’d seen too many parents eager to send their children to learn a trade, flattering endlessly at first—only for those children to quit halfway, disappointing everyone and wasting the master’s time.

Even in his own cousin’s household, this had happened.

Two of their sons had previously studied under him. Neither took it seriously—one got married early, the other burned his hand with soup and cried to quit.

He had wasted time and effort teaching them for nothing.

Since then, Jiang Fulang had stopped taking disciples. He always made his stance clear.

But this time, when his cousin asked again, it wasn’t easy to refuse. He had no husband, no children, and had received much kindness from this family. He owed them a favor.

Village Head Zhao, seeing that Jiang Fulang hadn’t rejected the request, beamed and said, “Good—then it’s settled!”

The dinner table grew even warmer with joy and closeness.

By the time Qi Beinan left, the sky had gone dark. Zhao Guangzong walked him halfway home before heading back.

Thankfully, the rain had stopped. Otherwise, walking home by torchlight while carrying an oil-paper umbrella, plus the jin of new tea Zhao Guangzong gave him and the bowl of meat Madam Zhang insisted on sending, would’ve made it all rather troublesome.

Back at the Xiao house, father and son were in the main room. Xiao Hu had just taken off Xiao Yuanbao’s shoes and socks and was about to carry him over to wash his feet.

But Xiao Yuanbao caught sight of the flickering torchlight outside the window and slipped off his father’s lap, running barefoot to the eaves.

“Brother’s home!”

Qi Beinan extinguished the torch in the water channel by the house and hung the oil-paper umbrella under the eaves. “Have you had dinner yet?”

“Mhm! Xiao Bao had meat cakes with father—we were just about to wash up.”

He happily grabbed Qi Beinan’s hand. “We also went to the estate!”

Qi Beinan looked down at his bare white feet, pinched his cheek, then picked him up and brushed the dirt off his soles.

He was just about to ask how the new steward at the estate was when the pheasants in the chicken coop clucked noisily.

“They didn’t take the mountain goods at the estate?”

Xiao Hu looked over at Qi Beinan and replied, “No, they didn’t.”

“How come?”

Xiao Hu shook his head. It was strange—he could accept that they no longer wanted mountain goods, but it seemed they only refused his.

That morning, he went to ask. The new steward, upon hearing his surname was Xiao, said nothing more—just shook his head and told him not to bother coming again.

Yet as he was leaving, he saw a hunter from the neighboring village carrying four live rabbits into the estate.

He asked casually and found out the goods were for that same Steward Zhu.

Xiao Hu was puzzled—there was no reason why Zhu would accept goods from a neighboring hunter but not from someone local.

Previously, hunters from nearby villages all sent their game to the estate. In the ten surrounding areas, there weren’t many who worked the trade. This made it feel personal—like he had offended the new steward somehow.

“Have you met him before?” Qi Beinan asked.

Xiao Hu shook his head. “I looked at the man—never seen him before.”

Qi Beinan furrowed his brows. “Strange. Maybe the estate just doesn’t want as much game anymore.”

Xiao Hu nodded. “It’s nothing. At worst, I’ll just walk a bit farther into town.”

That said, selling to the estate was easier than hawking in the city. The estate paid a decent price, and he could deliver it straight down the mountain—no need to stand in the market letting customers pick through the goods.

Besides, the longer it took, the more freshness and value the goods lost.

Without regular buyers in the city, it wasn’t easy to make good sales.

But Xiao Hu wasn’t one to beg or grovel. He asked once, and when no reason was given, he didn’t press the issue.

Qi Beinan offered comfort, “It’s normal—changing people is just a small matter.”

Then he turned to the father and son and shared the good news that there was now a clear path for Xiao Bao to become an apprentice.

Xiao Hu was overjoyed. “Truly?!”

“Master Jiang agreed in person. But really, we have the Village Head to thank for making the introduction—without that, it’s unlikely anyone else could’ve persuaded him.”

Qi Beinan said, “I’ll take Xiao Bao to see Master Jiang tomorrow.”

Xiao Hu happily replied, “That’s great! I didn’t think things would go this smoothly.”

He patted Xiao Yuanbao’s head. “When you meet Master Jiang, you must be on your best behavior. Whether or not you get to become his student depends on you.”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked, eyes sparkling as he looked at Qi Beinan. “So I have a master now?”

“Yes, but you’ll have to study for a while first.”

Qi Beinan explained gently, “Just like Brother told you before, only if you truly enjoy cooking—and keep loving it for a long time—will I find a teacher for you. Now that we’ve found one, the teacher also needs some time to see if you can truly stick with it. Only then can he really become your master.”

Xiao Yuanbao pressed his lips together, his eyes full of seriousness as he gave a firm nod. “Xiao Bao understands.”

Looking at the little guy’s expression, Qi Beinan couldn’t help but think it was a bit like his own face when he once stood before the emperor at the final imperial exam. Seeing such a look on a child so small—it was both touching and endearing.

He chuckled. “Don’t worry, Master Jiang is quite easy to talk to.”

That night, Xiao Yuanbao curled up in his blanket, lying on his pillow and unable to fall asleep.

Thinking about meeting his master early the next morning, his heart fluttered like a little bird—both excited and unsure, maybe even a little scared.

Though his temperament had grown more lively over the past months with Qi Beinan, at his core, he was still timid.

That kind of deeply rooted shyness wasn’t something that could disappear in just a few days.

He was about to meet someone new, and his thoughts kept circling—what would the new master be like? Would he be chubby, or thin?

Xiao Yuanbao fretted. He worried that the master wouldn’t like him, or that he’d mess something up and make the teacher annoyed.

All kinds of thoughts kept spinning through his mind, and even in the warm bed, he couldn’t fall asleep.

He eventually felt overheated under the quilt and stuck his feet out into the cool night air. The chill helped calm his nerves a bit.

That night was filled with dreams.

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