Ch 72: Reborn to Raise My Husband

When June passed and mid-July arrived, another autumn came around.

The sweet scent of early osmanthus drifted along the roadside. This year, all the scholars in the county who intended to take the provincial exam (xiangshi) were tense with focus.

The August xiangshi would be held in the prefectural capital, and everyone was preparing for the journey.

The usually calm and leisurely scholar-gentlemen, serene as clear skies and moonlight, now wore faint anxiety upon their faces—worry for their futures.

“This time, the classmates from the county school plan to travel together to the prefecture,” said Qi Beinan. “It’s safer and more convenient to look after one another. Ma Junyi has arranged the carriages and horses for everyone, so we don’t need to make separate preparations.”

“How generous of Scholar Ma,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “I remember there are seven or eight scholar-gentlemen in your class.”

For the past few days, Xiao Yuanbao had been busy preparing all the items Qi Beinan would need for the exam trip. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone to the prefecture for exams, so the preparations went smoothly.

“These past years in the county academy, everyone’s gotten along well,” said Qi Beinan. “Now we’re classmates; one day, when we take office and stand in court together, that bond will matter all the more.”

“Maintaining ties now,” he added, “is also preparation for the future. When one remembers a classmate’s friendship later in life, one is more inclined to offer help.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought about it—every one of them already held the title of xiucai (licentiate). Even just passing the next level would make them juren (provincial graduates), eligible for government posts and exempt from labor taxes—a true mark of distinction.

He sighed softly. “So this is how sons of official families think—always planning so far ahead.”

Qi Beinan replied, “If one wants to live well, one must learn to plan carefully.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “Then I’ll prepare extra food for the road. You can share it with your classmates—it wouldn’t be right to only take advantage of their kindness.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Good idea.”

This journey to Pingzhou was not only for the exam. He also intended to finalize the purchase of a shop there—better to settle business while he was already in the prefecture rather than make another trip later.

But once the business started, it would still need someone to manage it. He decided to take Tienan along this time. It would give the boy experience in travel and trade, and later, he could watch over the leased shop and collect rent.

Over the past year, Tienan had improved a great deal—he could read, write, and do basic accounting. He was quick to learn, being still young.

At thirteen or fourteen, he was old enough to handle simple matters.

The work itself wasn’t difficult—managing leases and collecting rent—but it needed someone trustworthy to do it.

“Books are always too few when you need them,” Qi Beinan thought, “and so are people.”

Fortunately, he had made early preparations. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have known where to find the right help now.

From the money house, Qi Beinan exchanged his silver for two jiaozhi banknotes, each worth five hundred guan, convenient to carry.

He considered where to keep them—inside the luggage and book chest, there was a risk of loss.

After thinking it over, he decided to keep them on his person.

On the twenty-first of July, a group of ten travelers lined up their carriages and horses outside the city gate.

Families came to see them off, whispering final reminders, reluctant to part.

“Stay well at home,” Qi Beinan said to Xiao Yuanbao. “If you grow bored, you can go spend some time at the village estate.”

Standing by the carriage he was about to board, he added, “Don’t overindulge in cold foods or drinks—it’ll upset your stomach.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” Xiao Yuanbao protested. “I know.”

Then he added softly, “Brother, don’t stay up reading too late. It’ll strain your eyes. Be careful on the road—the exam result doesn’t matter as much as your safety.”

“Mm.”

Qi Beinan gave a quiet hum of assent, looking down at Xiao Yuanbao, who had grown taller—nearly up to his chin now.

The boy’s brows and eyes had opened beautifully with age; not only had he kept the sweetness of youth, he had grown even more handsome.

It is often only at parting that one looks closely, to hold a clear image for the days of longing to come.

Qi Beinan gently straightened the hem of Xiao Yuanbao’s robe and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, “Don’t forget to miss me, too.”

Xiao Yuanbao froze slightly.

The tips of his ears flushed red as he avoided Qi Beinan’s warm gaze, nodding quietly.

Ma Junyi had already taken his leave from his grandfather and great-uncle at home that morning. The elders were in poor health and couldn’t come to the city gate to see him off.

His uncle and aunt were away on business, so there was no one else to bid him farewell.

He waited in his carriage, where a basin of ice kept the interior cool.

Looking out the window, Ma Junyi saw that almost all his classmates’ parents had come to send them off—some who were already married had wives and children tearfully seeing them away.

The sight left him heavy-hearted.

This xiangshi trip—his father hadn’t come to send him off. Not even a letter of encouragement or advice had arrived.

He had told himself perhaps the letter was delayed on the road.

But deep down, he knew—his father, a powerful military governor, could never fail to have a single letter delivered on time if he truly wished it.

Sorrow welled up inside him. He silently blamed his father’s coldness, yet still longed, against reason, for some sign of fatherly affection.

He was just about to drop the curtain of his carriage window, not wanting to be further stung by the sight before him.

From the corner of his eye, Ma Junyi caught sight of Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao standing together. The two were talking quietly, expressions warm and gentle, a faint smile between them.

It was a rare sight—Qi Beinan had no parents or elders to see him off, only Xiao Yuanbao accompanying him.

Looking at Xiao Yuanbao, radiant with kindness and easy laughter, Ma Junyi couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

He felt utterly useless.

Before he had even fully gathered the courage to make his own request, he had already heard from his cousin that the other party had no intention of marriage for the time being.

He was no fool—he understood perfectly what that meant.

On one hand, he couldn’t help but feel regret at losing such a fine ge’er; on the other, he felt defeated. One disappointment after another—anyone’s confidence would begin to waver.

“Parting is inevitable, even after a thousand miles together. Time’s up—gentlemen, say your farewells. It’s time to depart.”

The lead driver, seeing Ma Junyi resting wearily inside his carriage, assumed he was growing impatient and raised his voice to call the scholars aboard.

The xiucai took their leave from family and loved ones, one after another stepping into their carriages.

Xiao Yuanbao reminded Tienan to take good care of things, waved to Qi Beinan, and said no more—he simply stood quietly, watching the carriages roll away into the distance.

When someone is still before you, parting doesn’t feel so painful. It’s only when they’ve truly gone—when the figures fade from sight—that a wave of emptiness rises from the heart.

He drew a deep breath, comforting himself that they would be reunited soon enough.

Then, with deliberate calm, he turned and walked back along the stone-paved street toward home.

The carriages moved steadily out of the city. It was still midsummer, hot and heavy in the air.

By the second day, the ice placed inside the carriages had completely melted, and the air grew stifling. Each carriage carried two people; to prevent heatstroke, they stopped at every post station to rest and breathe.

Qi Beinan went to fetch a jug of cool tea and poured it into a waterskin. Zhao Guangzong went off to the latrine and invited Qi Beinan along, but he declined.

As Qi Beinan turned to return to the carriages, he caught sight of Ma Junyi nearby.

“Doing all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Ma Junyi replied. “I’ve traveled far from home many times before—this is nothing new.”

Qi Beinan nodded. “Then I’ll head back.”

“Brother Qi,” Ma Junyi called out suddenly, “why not ride with me for a while? It’s too hot to read, and I find the road dull alone. It would be pleasant to have someone to talk with—unless I’d be disturbing you?”

“How could you?” Qi Beinan said. “I haven’t opened my book chest once since we set out—I’ve just been dozing.”

Though Ma Junyi had once harbored thoughts toward Xiao Yuanbao, Qi Beinan wasn’t the sort to hold petty grudges, nor was he suspicious by nature.

So, he joined him.

The two climbed into the carriage together.

“Earlier today, I noticed all our classmates’ families came to see them off,” Ma Junyi said, lifting a plate from the ice basin that held slices of chilled red melon. He offered one to Qi Beinan. “But I didn’t see your parents or elders.”

“I’ve never met them,” he added. “Have you none at home?”

Qi Beinan answered evenly, “My parents passed away when I was young. I was taken in by the Xiao family. It’s harvest season now—my uncle couldn’t leave the fields, and my aunt passed years ago.”

Ma Junyi’s eyes widened slightly, his chest rising and falling as guilt hit him.

He quickly folded his hands in apology. “I didn’t know your family’s situation. I spoke out of ignorance and made you recall sad memories—my fault.”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly and waved it off. “Brother Ma’s concern is kind, not offensive. The past is the past—if I can speak of it calmly, then it no longer wounds me.”

“You’re truly a broad-minded man,” Ma Junyi said quietly. “I can’t help but admire that.”

Qi Beinan tilted his head. “It seems Brother Ma has something on his mind?”

He was perceptive as ever; he’d noticed that Ma Junyi’s mood today differed from his usual composure.

“If you wish,” he said, “you can speak freely. I may not be able to solve your troubles, but I can at least listen without letting a word slip.”

Ma Junyi hadn’t known Qi Beinan for long—they’d met only after entering the county academy—but over the years, he had come to feel that Qi Beinan possessed a quiet power that drew others close.

Perhaps it was his calm steadiness, the kind that made people trust him instinctively.

He often saw Zhao Guangzong treating Qi Beinan like a brother—laughing together, sharing everything, both good and bad—and though he never said so aloud, he had always envied that bond.

He was surrounded by people, yet such genuine companionship had never been his.

After a pause, he said softly, “You’ll laugh, but when I saw everyone’s families seeing them off this morning, I felt… something awkward inside me.”

Ma Junyi, though the legitimate eldest son of the Ma family, was not favored by his father—the military governor of Jiangzhou.

When he was young, his birth father passed away. Barely a year later, the governor remarried—to Ma Junyi’s own childhood sweetheart, his cousin. The two were affectionate and soon had two sons and a daughter together.

From then on, Ma Junyi’s place in the household was that of an outsider.

There were plenty of children in the Ma household, including two born to concubines, but the governor doted only on the offspring of his new wife.

Even those born of concubines still had their mothers’ affection—but Ma Junyi had no father’s love and no mother’s care.

The Ming family, feeling guilty toward his late birth father, eventually took him in under the pretext of furthering his studies, bringing him to live with them in his teens.

His father’s union with his stepmother had been nothing more than a trade of political interests.

At that time, although the Ma family held official status, it was merely a minor sixth-rank post, and their finances were often strained. Life was rather meager.

Meanwhile, the Ming clan, established in Pingzhou, was expanding its business steadily but lacked scholarly or official pedigree.

Each side had what the other needed, so the Ming family offered a lavish dowry and married their youngest ge’er into the Ma family, in exchange for the Ma clan’s political backing.

Back then, Ma Junyi’s father and his childhood sweetheart—his cousin—were deeply in love. Forced to marry a merchant’s ge’er for the sake of family advancement, he naturally felt unwilling.

One could imagine the attitude he held toward Ma Junyi’s birth father.

Yet, since the marriage was founded on mutual interest, he dared not mistreat the Ming ge’er either.

But such restraint only deepened his resentment.

After the Ming ge’er passed away, Ma Junyi’s father no longer faced any restraint. With the help of family connections, he rose from a low-ranking bureaucrat to a fourth-rank official—his career thriving.

The family no longer needed the Ming clan’s support, and he began to follow his own heart freely—cherishing his beloved second wife while neglecting the son of his late spouse.

Qi Beinan, over the past two years, had already heard bits of this story. He knew Ma Junyi’s family was of high standing, but back when they studied in Ling County, he had sensed that something was amiss.

Still, classmates seldom pried into one another’s family affairs, so the matter remained unspoken.

Now, hearing the full story, he found it unsurprising.

Such marriages were common among great families; what was uncommon was the affection within them.

For when husband and wife lacked harmony, it was always the children who suffered.

Qi Beinan said, “If life were perfect from the start, one would never know what perfection means. Only when there are flaws can we understand what wholeness is worth.”

“Brother Ma grieves for lacking his father’s affection—that is your pain. My father treated me kindly when I was young, but he left this world too early—that is mine.”

“Then there’s a friend of mine—his parents are both alive and their family lives in harmony. But they are poor; meals are uncertain, and though he and the girl he loves care for each other, he fears she would suffer hardship with him. So he let her go. That is his regret.”

Qi Beinan looked at Ma Junyi. “When we meet others, we see only the bright side of their lives, and think we alone bear sorrow. But everyone has their hidden griefs.

Since this is true for all, why not cherish what we have and strengthen ourselves?”

“Strengthen ourselves…” Ma Junyi repeated quietly.

“Yes,” Qi Beinan said. “Strengthen yourself, and never treat yourself with neglect. Only then can you mend what is missing.”

“Brother Ma, you were born with more than most. Why not use what you have to carve out your own place in the world? Once you build your own world, you’ll no longer be bound by your father’s disregard.”

Yes… what was the point of chasing after a man’s approval who never cared whether he succeeded or failed?

Hearing Qi Beinan’s words, the bitterness that had weighed on Ma Junyi’s chest began to dissolve.

“Thank you, Brother Qi. No one has ever spoken with me so deeply before. I’ve gained much today.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “You were simply lost in your own storm. You’re a clear-minded person—understanding was only a matter of time.”

Ma Junyi, hearing this, felt his spirits lift and his admiration for Qi Beinan deepen.

In the past, he had often felt overshadowed by Qi Beinan’s talent and poise, which secretly stung his pride. But after this conversation, he found himself truly impressed—and respectful.

A man like Qi Beinan, he thought, would be wasted as just a casual acquaintance.

If only they could become kin—how perfect that would be.

The thought that had faded in him before now rekindled like rain on parched soil.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have given up so easily on pursuing Xiao Yuanbao.

If the boy felt their families were mismatched, he should show that he didn’t care about such things—that sincerity might yet move him.

His father didn’t care about him, and likely wouldn’t meddle in his marriage either.

After all, he was nearly twenty, and his father had never once brought up the topic of arranging a match.

If his father wouldn’t plan for him, then he would plan for himself—he would marry for affection, not convenience, never to repeat his father’s cold marriage.

Qi Beinan, seeing Ma Junyi’s eyes clear of their former gloom, was quietly pleased.

Then Ma Junyi, somewhat embarrassed but sincere, said, “Brother Qi, meeting you feels like fate long delayed—I only regret that we are not kin.”

Qi Beinan’s brow lifted slightly.

Brothers calling each other “brother” was normal among men, but “kin”? That was unusual.

He sensed something beneath the words—something faintly suggestive.

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but hearing such phrasing, he couldn’t help but think twice.

After all, though Xiao Yuanbao had already clearly expressed his feelings through Ming Guanxin, and Ma Junyi hadn’t approached him again, Qi Beinan still preferred to make certain.

He decided to add another layer of precaution himself.

“Brother Ma is an insightful man,” Qi Beinan said with a calm smile. “I enjoy the company of such people. To joke a little—if I had a sister or brother, I would truly wish to make kinship with Brother Ma.”

Ma Junyi, who had meant to test the waters with that remark, froze for a moment upon hearing this reply.

Ma Junyi quickly forced a smile and said to Qi Beinan, half-jesting, “Brother Qi must be teasing me with polite words. You clearly have a ge’er at home—how could you and I possibly become kin?”

Qi Beinan: “…”

So he had sensed it right after all! Whoever claimed men were less perceptive than women and ge’er clearly hadn’t met Ma Junyi.

Since the words had already been spoken, Qi Beinan decided not to beat around the bush any longer. Taking the chance, he said calmly, “Xiao Bao is not merely my younger brother. We have been betrothed since childhood. Once he reaches the proper age and I pass the provincial exam, we’ll be married.”

Ma Junyi: “…”

The smile he’d worn under the pretense of humor froze instantly on his face.

What he had thought was long-awaited rain after a drought turned out to be a scorching fire poured on dry land.

A bitter taste rose in his mouth. “Then when the time comes,” he said stiffly, “you must call me to drink your wedding wine.”

His cousin truly was something—how could he have not known about such an important matter and let him daydream like a fool?

“Of course,” Qi Beinan replied evenly.

After that, neither man spoke again.

The two sat side by side in the carriage, the air thick with an indescribable awkwardness.

The once-crisp cold melon had lost its sweetness; the ice in the basin melted away, and the heat grew heavier inside the carriage.

Just as Qi Beinan was considering how to break the silence, the carriage suddenly lurched to a halt, throwing both men forward.

“What happened?”

The convoy erupted in confusion.

Everyone leaned out their windows to look.

Up ahead stood an old man with a bundle on his back, looking frightened and exhausted, as if he’d been traveling from afar.

He asked nervously, “Are you scholars bound for the prefectural capital to sit the exams?”

“We are,” Ma Junyi replied from the front carriage. “Do you need water, old sir?”

“Don’t go! Don’t go!” the old man cried. “There are killers near Bainiao Temple—they attacked scholars heading to the exam!”

“If your convoy keeps forward, you might meet the same fate!”

At that, all the students’ faces changed. “The xiangshi is a national affair!” one of them shouted. “Old man, mind your words—spreading lies to hinder the exams is a serious crime!”

“I mean no harm,” the old man said, agitated. “If the gentlemen don’t believe me, so be it.” He clutched his bundle and turned to leave.

Ma Junyi frowned, glancing toward Qi Beinan.

Qi Beinan quickly called out, “Don’t be angry, sir. My classmate spoke out of shock, not accusation.”

He motioned for Ma Junyi to wait and stepped down from the carriage. Taking a water flask, he handed it to the old man. “The weather is hot, and the road long—have some water and rest your throat. Please, tell us clearly what happened up ahead.”

Seeing Qi Beinan’s courtesy, the old man accepted the flask and drank before speaking. “I came from Huai Township. Before I even reached the main road, I saw a gang of bandits—bearded men with long knives hanging from their arms—hiding in the hills. They don’t rob ordinary travelers, only the scholars heading for the exam!”

“I saw one scholar, riding in a carriage, dragged out and beaten bloody before being thrown into the river. I was so terrified I hid in the fields until they were gone. When I finally dared to crawl out, the scholar had already been carried off by the current—alive or dead, I couldn’t tell.”

The old man trembled at the memory.

Qi Beinan noticed dried water stains on his trouser legs and mud clinging to his straw sandals. The signs fit his story—he didn’t seem to be lying.

“Do you know which direction they went?” Qi Beinan asked.

“Toward Pingzhou,” the old man said. “If they’re targeting scholars, they might be lying in wait on that very road.”

Even though he had no scholar sons himself, the old man’s face showed genuine fear. To see such brazen violence in broad daylight—his heart was chilled.

Qi Beinan questioned him a bit more, then gave him another flask of water and several meat cakes for the road before sending him on his way.

The scholars, watching the honest old man depart, felt their hearts tighten with unease.

Qi Beinan thought back carefully. After the celestial anomaly earlier that year, there had indeed been unrest in several regions.

He vaguely remembered hearing that bandits had attacked scholars during the xiangshi in some provinces.

When he had tested in Jinling, the reports spoke of trouble only in remote counties.

Jinling was prosperous and heavily guarded—no brigand would dare stir trouble there.

But out here, in smaller places like Ling County… yes, it was entirely possible.

Seeing Qi Beinan deep in thought, silent for some time, the others grew even more nervous.

They were scholars, used to peaceful study, not bloodshed. To see even the calm, steady Qi Beinan fall quiet made their fear worse.

“Brother Beinan,” one asked, “could this really be true? How could anyone dare attack scholars during the exams? Are they mad?”

Another spoke up. “Do you remember last year, when the magistrate caught those men spreading seditious rumors and rousing commoners to rebellion? Maybe this is the same lot—now preying on scholars instead.”

Panic spread among the group. “Then what should we do?”

Qi Beinan hesitated, then said gravely, “Better to doubt a rumor than to ignore a warning. The exams are important—but staying alive to take them another day matters more.”

“Brother Beinan is right,” one of the scholars said. “But if we turn back now, won’t this year’s provincial exam be wasted?”

“Don’t panic, everyone,” another replied. “Fortunately, we’re traveling together—none of us are alone.”

Qi Beinan said calmly, “We have no weapons, no trained fighters, and no idea how many men they number. If we truly run into them, do any of you have confidence we’ll come out alive?”

At that, everyone fell silent.

No matter how tall a scholar might be, he was no match for a man trained in arms.

Qi Beinan knew a bit of fighting, but he could hardly claim he could protect others in a real encounter.

“Then should we turn back and prepare again?” someone suggested.

But they had already crossed out of Ling County’s borders. Turning back now would mean losing precious time—and likely missing the xiangshi.

They had grown careless, thinking that since they’d traveled to Pingzhou before and knew the route, they could afford to leave later. No one had foreseen danger on the road.

After much discussion, they decided that safety must come first and agreed to return.

Just as they were about to turn their carriages around, a group of men escorting cargo appeared from behind.

“Why are you gentlemen turning back?” the leader called out.

Ma Junyi hurried forward to speak with them.

“Bah!” the burly leader spat when he heard the rumor. “Those bastards dare attack scholars? Cowards! If they’ve got any guts, why not cause trouble at the yamen? Picking on the weak—shameless!”

He straightened up and added, “We’re a team of guards escorting goods to Pingzhou. If you scholars are worried, why not travel with us?”

“Truly?” the scholars exclaimed in relief.

“We’ve got weapons and aren’t afraid of bandits!” the man said with a grin. “If we meet them, I’ll teach them what a peaceful day is worth—with my fists!”

Seeing the guards’ strong builds and confident demeanor, the scholars were quickly reassured.

Qi Beinan considered it carefully. Returning home would waste time, and they were unlikely to find better protection than these biaoshi. So he agreed.

Still, cautious as ever, he suggested that everyone trade clothes with the guards. The scholars would disguise themselves as escorts, so as not to stand out.

Qi Beinan, tall and broad-shouldered, lacked the frail air of the classroom. Once he bound his sleeves and tied a strip of cloth across his forehead, he truly looked the part of a guard.

He walked near the front with the biaoshi, while the more delicate students stayed in the middle of the convoy.

Zhao Guangzong, sturdy enough, helped drive one of the carriages.

Ma Junyi, ever well-dressed, remained inside, posing as a merchant noble.

“Sir, that blue robe of yours looks fine indeed—truly the attire of a learned man.”

Qi Beinan turned. A youth of fifteen or sixteen stood beside him—broad-shouldered, tall, with thick brows and bright eyes.

“Foolish brat,” the biaotou (head guard) scolded with a laugh. “You think it’s the robe? You’ve no eye—it’s the man’s bearing that makes it fine. Pay the gentleman no mind, sir; the boy knows little.”

“No offense taken,” Qi Beinan said with a slight smile. “If you like the robe, I’ll trade with you. I think this guard’s garb suits me better—it feels rather heroic.”

“Thank you, sir!” the boy beamed and playfully punched the air.

His punch cut cleanly through the air—a move full of strength. Qi Beinan noted it instantly: this boy was well-trained.

“How old are you?” Qi Beinan asked.

“Call me Qin Jiang, sir,” the boy said proudly. “I’m thirteen.”

Qi Beinan looked surprised. “I thought you were fifteen or sixteen. You’re well-grown for your age.”

“I started running escort routes with my father when I was eight,” Qin Jiang said. “I’ve traveled north and south—guess it helped me grow up quicker.”

Qi Beinan nodded. “You’re a capable young man indeed.”

The biaotou laughed. “Don’t praise him too much, sir. The boy’s tough, that’s all. If I had another choice, I wouldn’t have him running escorts in wind and frost. If only he could find a post guarding a proper household—that’d be better than this life.”

Qi Beinan said, “Hardship builds skill. It’s no easy life, but what he’s learning now will serve him well one day.”

Traveling with the biaoshi was tiring but peaceful.

After several days, they finally arrived safely in Pingzhou.

The scholars thanked the escort team profusely, exchanging names and promising to repay the favor once the exams were over.

Settled in the residence Ma Junyi’s family had rented in advance, the group finally let out a breath of relief after days of tension.

Ma Junyi said with a laugh, “We’ve shared life and death together—truly an experience to remember.”

Zhao Guangzong added, “Indeed. Something to tell for years to come.”

They all laughed.

That night, Qi Beinan sat by lamplight writing a letter home to report his safety.

Zhao Guangzong entered carrying a lantern. “Still not finished?”

“Almost,” Qi Beinan said, eyes still on the paper. When he finally set down his brush and turned, he found Zhao Guangzong holding a quilt.

“What’s that for?”

Zhao Guangzong spread the bedding on the couch. “After what happened on the road, I’m still a bit on edge. I’ll stay here tonight.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “You’re a grown man, still afraid of shadows? You’ll have people laughing at you.”

“Easy for you to say! At dinner, you were the one saying that old man might have been lying to scare us. Yet now, after all that, how can anyone sleep easy?”

But before Qi Beinan could answer, Zhao Guangzong had already wrapped himself in the blanket and fallen fast asleep.

After days of tension and exhaustion, he’d finally relaxed—and sleep came swiftly.

Qi Beinan glanced toward the window. The bright moonlight shone through, and the branches of a cassia tree swayed gently in the wind.

He wondered if the moon over Ling County was just as luminous tonight.

Letting out a slow breath, he realized he had changed.

If this had been years ago, he would’ve charged headlong at any danger—hot-blooded, unthinking, determined to fight.

Now, he had chosen caution, even turning back midway if needed, all for the sake of safety.

He smiled faintly to himself. Perhaps it was because he had made a promise—to return safely.

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