Ch 37: Reborn to Raise My Husband

“Bao Ge’er, picking vegetables?”

“Yep, picked some fresh greens and a few scallions.”

“Up so early, Bao Ge’er. Have you eaten?”

“Had breakfast as soon as I got up. Has Madam Qian eaten?”

“Has your father come down the mountain yet? Pass on a message for me—if he’s free, ask him to help fix up my fish pond.”

“Alright, father’s definitely coming down today. I’ll be sure to pass the message.”

Early in the morning, the fine grass lining the narrow dirt paths was still wet with dew. Xiao Yuanbao carried a basket as he headed home from the fields.

On the way, he ran into six or seven neighbors. What should’ve been a fifteen-minute walk turned into thirty before he finally made it home.

Once back in the courtyard, he set the basket on the small stone ledge by the kitchen shed and headed straight into the chicken coop. “Cluck cluck cluck~”

Carrying a bowl of feed, he called the chickens out.

He scattered a handful of bran on the ground, and the small-legged free-range hens darted over with a flutter of wings and claws to peck at the feed.

Quietly setting the bowl down, Xiao Yuanbao kept his eyes fixed on the plumpest, fastest of the bunch—a round-bodied, golden-feathered hen.

That sharp-eyed hen pecked the fastest, gobbling up the bran while shoving others aside with her tail feathers. In the blink of an eye, she lifted her head and gave a fierce peck to a nearby chick.

Xiao Yuanbao narrowed his eyes, reached out his hands, and with a swift move—“Cluck cluck cluck!”

Feathers flew everywhere as he caught the hefty golden hen and carried her out of the coop.

“You’re always bullying the other chickens and hogging all the feed. Today this great lord is sending you to the afterlife!”

He spat out a feather and tightly bound the hen’s wings and feet before taking her to the kitchen to butcher.

He wasn’t especially skilled at slaughtering poultry—perhaps because he was still a bit small and lacked the strength. When the birds were fat and flailing, he had a hard time holding them down.

Once, while out catering with his teacher, he botched a goose slaughter—the bloodletting didn’t take, and the goose actually staggered off mid-process.

After that embarrassment, he refused to kill poultry for quite a while.

But today was a good day, so he’d give it another go.

He tied the chicken up tight—if he couldn’t kill her right, at least she wouldn’t be able to run.

Today, he was making a full chicken banquet.

A pot of rich chicken broth to start, then slow-braised dried bamboo shoots simmered in chicken stock for one dish;

Shredded chicken tossed with aged ginger juice, minced garlic, cilantro, and sauce for a refreshing spicy cold plate;

Chicken offal—gizzards, intestines—thoroughly cleaned and stir-fried with celery;

And the soft, delicate chicken blood wouldn’t go to waste either.

He parboiled it to set the shape, added a scoop of chicken fat, a dash of salt, and a handful of tender radish greens—perfect for a warming soup.

On a good day, you eat a full chicken feast!

Chicken broth was good for everything, so he made a big pot and threw in two thick logs—didn’t need to worry about it for a while.

He drained the soaked dried bamboo shoots and kneaded a dough to rest.

Then he went outside to gather up all the scattered chicken feathers and laid them out on a sieve to dry in the sun.

In town, there were shops that bought up chicken and duck feathers.

Those feathers weren’t just for toys—they could be made into brushes, dusters… a pound could fetch several dozen copper coins.

After that, Xiao Yuanbao gathered the dirty laundry, added warm water, and tossed it into a basin to soak.

He unfolded one of Qi Beinan’s broad, ink-colored robes and furrowed his neat brows.

Strangely enough, nine out of ten of his brother’s clothes were dark—ink, navy, black—such sober tones.

Wasn’t fourteen or fifteen supposed to be the age of liking bright colors? Why was his brother so partial to dull shades?

He shook his head and added some soapnut pods to the basin.

“Xiao Bao, what good thing are you cooking at your place again? I could smell it from down the road!”

Xiao Yuanbao had just finished soaking the clothes when he saw Madam Qiao ambling toward their courtyard.

He went to open the gate with a smile. “Slaughtered a troublemaking chicken—today’s my brother’s birthday, figured I’d make a proper meal. Madam Qiao, come in and sit a while. Have a sip of wine before you go.”

“So that’s what smells so good—boiling chicken. But even other folks cooking chicken don’t smell half as good as yours. Look at you, just a kid, yet there’s no broth you can’t make.”

Madam Qiao didn’t step inside, just leaned against the gate. “That taciturn teacher of yours may not say much, but whenever he talks about you, it’s all praise—says you’ve got a natural talent for cooking and pick things up fast.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Don’t flatter me, Madam Qiao. If I’ve made any progress at all, it’s because my teacher teaches well.”

Madam Qiao chuckled, “You two really are something.”

“But I don’t have the good fortune today—can’t stay for your chicken soup. I’ve got to run a message. Wish your brother a happy birthday for me.”

“Of course, I will.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought their home was tucked far out of the way—folks usually only came by if they had something important to do.

So he asked, “So busy, Madam Qiao. Are you off arranging a marriage for someone again?”

“For your dear sister, Fang Jie’er,” Madam Qiao said, wiping sweat from her brow. “She’s grown up beautifully. Decent families are practically breaking down the Sun family’s threshold.”

“This family I’m speaking to today is surnamed Feng. They’re from town, run a cosmetics shop that does very well, and their house is over in Jiaozi Lane—spacious and grand.”

Fang Jie’er truly had turned out well, but what those families valued wasn’t just her looks—they likely also admired that she had a means to support herself.

Still, from what Madam Qiao said, that Feng family in the city did seem rather decent.

“Madam Qiao, don’t you exaggerate just to lure folks from our village.”

Madam Qiao gave a mock glare. “I wouldn’t dare! I might spin a yarn to outsiders, but I wouldn’t dare fool our own village folk. If I did, wouldn’t they come knocking straight on my door?”

Xiao Yuanbao figured that made sense and said, “Fang Jie’er also likes making hair oil to sell. That kind of ties in with a cosmetics shop.”

He blinked and lowered his voice. “Then, is that Feng family’s young master handsome?”

Madam Qiao covered her mouth and laughed. “You cheeky little thing! But I do like how bold you are.”

She leaned in and whispered, “Slender brows, small nose—a fair-faced young gentleman, very refined. Maybe because his family deals in cosmetics, he doesn’t have that rough edge you see in most boys.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought, well, that didn’t sound bad at all.

Madam Qiao teased, “But if you ask me, no matter how well-proportioned he is, he still can’t compare to your brother Qi.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes brightened, and just as he was about to speak, a voice as clear as a mountain stream dropped from above: “Talking about me behind my back again? That’s no proper behavior.”

Madam Qiao turned and jumped when she realized a tall figure—half a head taller than her—had appeared beside her without a sound.

She clutched her chest and gasped, “You nearly scared me to death! Not a sound out of you.”

Qi Beinan said calmly, “Or perhaps Madam was too engrossed in the conversation to notice my footsteps?”

Madam Qiao chuckled. “I was just telling Xiao Bao about your birthday today. No slander here—everyone knows you’re one of the finest young men around.”

Qi Beinan gave a quiet laugh.

“I’d best not linger. The hour’s getting late—excuse me.”

“Take care, Madam Qiao.”

Once she’d gone, Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao went inside.

He had just returned from a trip to the city, where he delivered the handwritten copies of books he had transcribed for the bookstore over the past few days.

They paid two copper coins per hundred characters. A full book could earn him dozens of coins. His handwriting was clean and neat, no smudges or mistakes, so the bookstore gave him a bonus copper per hundred characters. He found that pretty fair, so he brought two more books back to copy.

“Brother, take a break first. I’ll cook up some noodles for you.”

Xiao Yuanbao was overjoyed to see him return, took the things from his hands, and dashed inside to pour him a cup of warm tea.

Qi Beinan followed his quick-footed little figure into the main room and said, “Uncle Xiao hasn’t come down from the mountain yet. If you cook too early, the noodles’ll get soggy. I’m not even hungry yet.”

“You only had a bowl of porridge and a few pickled vegetables for breakfast, then went all the way to town. How could you not be hungry?”

While he spoke, Xiao Yuanbao had already dashed into the kitchen. His voice came drifting out: “It’s longevity noodles today, just for you, Brother. Father and I will eat later—our time hasn’t come yet.”

Qi Beinan sipped his tea and chuckled. “Alright then. Let me put away my things, and I’ll come help you with the fire.”

“You go tidy up. I don’t need help for this part.”

Xiao Yuanbao moved quickly. There was water in the pot, and once the stove was stoked up, he just had to wait for it to boil before putting in the noodles.

By the time Qi Beinan got to the kitchen, the noodles were already steaming in the strainer, and the room was filled with the rich aroma of chicken broth.

Back when he was little, Xiao Yuanbao used to need a stool just to reach the counter, but now at age nine, after two years of being well-fed under Jiang Fulang’s care, he’d grown so fast he was practically “Big” Yuanbao (Xiao = Little) now.

The old kitchen stool was sitting in the corner, nearly collecting dust.

“I’m going to fry a soft, runny egg on top of the noodles. Today’s longevity noodles are made with chicken broth—they’ll be delicious.”

As he spoke, Qi Beinan heard a sizzling sound—the egg had already been cracked into the hot oil and was bubbling away.

Xiao Yuanbao gently flipped it with a spatula, folding the yolk inside.

A savory egg aroma wafted through the air.

Before long, the bowl of noodles was ready.

Qi Beinan took a bite. The broth was rich, the noodles smooth—very tasty.

When he split open the fried egg, the golden yolk oozed out and coated the noodles, adding even more flavor.

Xiao Yuanbao sat across from him, resting his face in his hands, watching him eat.

“Brother, mix the noodles up a bit. I laid some tender greens at the bottom of the bowl. Once the hot broth hits them, they’ll cook through just enough—still crisp and sweet, not mushy.”

Qi Beinan didn’t like vegetables that were overcooked, and Xiao Yuanbao remembered every time.

Watching the calm, handsome youth eating across from him—with thick brows, bright eyes, and a high nose bridge—Xiao Yuanbao felt an inexplicable happiness and reached out to pinch Qi Beinan’s cheek.

Qi Beinan raised an eyebrow and swallowed his bite. “What was that for?”

Xiao Yuanbao pouted. “You used to pinch my cheeks all the time. Can’t I pinch yours once?”

Qi Beinan laughed. “I never said you couldn’t.”

Only then did Xiao Yuanbao smile and draw back his hand, eyes sparkling and feet kicking lightly under the table. “Brother, you’re really good-looking.”

Qi Beinan’s chopsticks paused, his eyes flickering with amusement.

He fought back the grin tugging at his lips and said in a mock-serious tone, “Don’t judge people by their appearance.”

Xiao Yuanbao cast a quick glance at Qi Beinan. “Got it.”

Qi Beinan was rather odd—there didn’t seem to be any sort of habit in their household of judging people by their looks.

Yet somehow, he noticed that Xiao Yuanbao seemed to have quite a liking for good-looking people.

Qi Beinan shook his head helplessly, chalking it up to personal taste.

“This bowl of noodles is even better than the ones sold at the noisy intersection downtown. No wonder the stall owner got annoyed when you stood there watching him cook last time,” Qi Beinan said with a smile.

“Too bad I already snatched the technique. Chasing me off wouldn’t do any good.”

“The noodles and wontons at the intersection are good because the dough is kneaded well, the wonton filling uses quality lean pork with a touch of egg—it holds together but remains tender. The broth is rich thanks to a pinch of dried shrimp.”

Qi Beinan lifted his eyes. “You really are something else.”

Xiao Yuanbao grinned and curved his eyes. “Of course I am. Eat more, quick!”

By noon, the early May sun had grown dazzling, and the sound of cicadas rang out louder.

Xiao Yuanbao had already looked toward the courtyard several times, but there was still no sign of Xiao Hu.

He was waiting for Xiao Hu to come home before stir-frying the dishes so they could all have lunch together.

“Did father forget what day he’s supposed to come down the mountain? It’s already this late and he still hasn’t returned. By this hour, he should’ve been back.”

Xiao Yuanbao went and unlatched the courtyard gate. “That’s impossible. I told him three times when he left to remember to come home today for Brother’s birthday. Even the food he brought was only enough to last until today.”

Qi Beinan also found it strange. Xiao Hu had always kept his word—if he said he’d return on a certain day, he would never be late.

There was no easy way to communicate from the mountain, and knowing how worried the folks below would be, he had never once failed to show up.

He comforted the increasingly anxious Xiao Yuanbao. “Don’t worry. If he still isn’t back by noon, I’ll follow the mountain path and go check.”

“Maybe he just got held up for some reason. It’s still early.”

Xiao Yuanbao pursed his lips and nodded.

But even after noon had passed, Xiao Hu still hadn’t returned.

Qi Beinan put on a straw hat and was about to head out.

Xiao Yuanbao hurried to say, “Brother, I’m coming too.”

Qi Beinan hesitated. The midday sun was harsh, and he didn’t want him to get overheated. But then he thought—if left behind, Xiao Yuanbao would only worry more—so he nodded in agreement.

The two of them followed the village road to the foot of the mountain, but before they even began to climb, they saw a familiar figure in the distance.

Qi Beinan’s expression changed at once. He could see Xiao Hu’s steps were sluggish—something was clearly wrong—and he rushed forward in a flash.

“Father! What happened?!”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes reddened and he almost burst into tears.

Xiao Hu’s head and face were crusted with dried blood. As they neared, a metallic scent of blood became obvious.

He was clutching his left side, with his right foot barely touching the ground—clearly injured.

He limped down the mountain, moving slowly, which explained the delay.

“It’s nothing. A wild boar caught me off guard and flipped me over.”

Seeing Xiao Yuanbao’s red, teary eyes, Xiao Hu comforted him: “Just a fall. Scraped some skin. Looks worse than it is.”

But Xiao Hu had always been tough, and now even his voice sounded weak. He clearly wasn’t fine.

Xiao Yuanbao held back tears and reached to take his father’s bloodied hand. “Let’s hurry home.”

Qi Beinan stepped in to support him. “Uncle, I’ll carry you. You can’t walk like this.”

Xiao Hu was burly and heavy. He was about to protest, but before he could even speak, Qi Beinan had already hoisted him onto his back.

“Xiao Bao, I’ll be walking slower with uncle on my back. You run to the village head and get Dr. Liu to come—don’t waste time.”

Xiao Yuanbao quickly nodded. “Alright, I’m going now!”

He turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

Qi Beinan steadily carried Xiao Hu back home.

Once they got there, he heated some water, helped Xiao Hu change clothes, and gently cleaned his wounds.

There was no visible wound on the left side of his abdomen, but it had sunken oddly. His right leg, however, bore a gash deep enough to expose bone—long as a palm and terribly gruesome.

His trouser leg was soaked—not with sweat or water, but entirely dyed with blood.

“What happened?!”

Qi Beinan frowned tightly, barely daring to wipe his leg clean.

Xiao Hu lay back on the bamboo couch. Only once Xiao Yuanbao was out of earshot did he speak:

“A black bear broke into the hut. I wrestled with it. Luckily the hut’s not big, and I managed to dodge into the cellar to escape.”

Qi Beinan felt a chill. He’d been to that mountain hut once before. It was already close to the deep forest. Though the trees had been cut back and it seemed open, for a bear to wander in like that… it was terrifying.

Looking at Xiao Hu’s bloodied injuries, he could only imagine how close it had come to death.

“Don’t tell Xiao Bao. He’s got a timid heart—he’ll be scared out of his wits. Might start having nightmares.”

Qi Beinan exhaled quietly. “I understand.”

Not long after, Qi Beinan had just poured a basin of bloody water into the gutter under the eaves when he saw Xiao Yuanbao running back, drenched in sweat.

Following close behind him was the barefoot village doctor.

Qi Beinan immediately ushered them into the house.

Xiao Yuanbao was about to run into the house when Qi Beinan reached out, grabbed his hand, and wiped the sweat from his face, saying:

“Uncle Xiao has lost blood and just came down from the mountain. He must be hungry by now—go make something for him to eat.”

Xiao Yuanbao paused mid-step and quickly said, “I’ll get a bowl of chicken soup for father and let it cool.”

“Good.”

Only once he saw Xiao Yuanbao head into the kitchen did Qi Beinan enter the house.

“You’re truly lucky to be alive, to escape from a beast like that,” said Dr. Liu with furrowed brows. “Two ribs on the left side are broken, and there’s a deep muscle wound on the right leg.”

“I’ll stitch the leg wound for now, but for the ribs, you’ll need a bone doctor from the city. That would be safest.”

Qi Beinan listened quietly to the doctor’s words, and upon hearing that, he replied, “I’ll go ask someone to fetch one.”

Turning his head, he saw Xiao Yuanbao standing at the doorway, holding a bowl of chicken soup.

His nose stung and his eyes burned as he held back his tears. “Brother, are you going to the city?”

“I’m going to the Fang family first to see if Brother Fang is free.”

“Okay.”

Xiao Yuanbao watched Qi Beinan leave and brought the bowl of chicken soup to Xiao Hu.

“Father, you’ll be okay. Don’t cry.”

Xiao Hu looked at Xiao Yuanbao’s worried little face and felt a tightness in his chest—it was even more uncomfortable than his physical pain.

Xiao Yuanbao sniffled and softly responded, then began feeding Xiao Hu the soup spoon by spoon.

Once he finished eating, Dr. Liu had also prepared the stitching tools.

Later that evening, the doctor from the city arrived. After much back and forth treating Xiao Hu’s injuries, it was already deep into the night.

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