Ch 73: Reborn to Raise My Husband

That night, the rain came in sparse sheets while the wind roared fierce and wild.

The gusts slammed the doors and windows so violently that they rattled and banged against their frames.

Xiao Yuanbao hurriedly called for Mama Liu and Brother Zhao Wu to run through the house, shutting every window and door. The trees in the courtyard bent under the wind’s pull, and the corridors were littered with swirling, dead leaves.

After a long spell of running about, they finally secured every room.

The sky, still pale from the earlier daylight, turned dim and gray under the storm. It almost felt like night had fallen early.

Inside, Xiao Yuanbao watched the flickering candlelight under the wind’s howl. Even with the lampshade on, the flame trembled unsteadily.

The storm’s fury outside made him restless.

By his count, the examination convoy had been gone for over three days. If they were traveling swiftly, they should have reached Pingzhou by now; if slower, they might still be on the road.

A storm like this was nothing to fear when one was home behind shut doors. But out there on the road—rain blinding the eyes, mud slick on the official paths, and winds fierce enough to fell branches—any traveler could be struck or worse.

And if they could not find shelter quickly, soaked through and chilled, how could they not fall ill?

That night, lying awake to the endless sound of wind and rain, Xiao Yuanbao felt suffocated by worry.

These past days, his heart had been uneasy. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong, as though they might meet misfortune on the road.

Yesterday, he had gone into town to burn incense at the temple, offering extra oil money—not for fortune or wealth, but simply to pray for the travelers’ safety.

The prayer had eased his heart a little, but now, with this storm raging again, his fears returned.

He could only hope the wind and rain stayed confined to Ling County—that those heading for the provincial exam were spared hardship.

By the next morning, every surface of the estate that saw the sky was soaked.

The osmanthus blossoms in the courtyard had all been shaken off by the storm, and the autumn rain had left everything bent and battered.

Everyone in the household was busy tidying up the aftermath.

Xiao Yuanbao waited anxiously—both for news from Pingzhou and for visitors from the farmstead.

This year, they had planted many mushrooms, and demand in town was high. Every two days, Tian Ken brought vegetables into the city to sell. Xiao Yuanbao wanted to ask whether the storm had damaged anything in the fields.

By late morning, Tian Ken finally arrived with his cart.

After drinking some tea, he handed over baskets of fresh melons and vegetables, and two chickens and ducks each.

“Nothing serious at the farm,” he reported, “but the village river rose and swept away the wooden bridge. The village head took men out at dawn to repair it—that’s why I’m late getting here.”

That afternoon, Xiao Yuanbao prepared to go out to the medicine hall to buy lily bulbs and lotus seeds.

Madam Feng had been coughing and felt weak lately. Since the household had just received fresh chicken, he planned to make a pot of pork-stomach-and-chicken soup to bring to her.

When he reached Bao Medical Hall, Second Sister spotted him and quickly pulled him into the inner room.

“What’s wrong? I didn’t bring any food today,” Xiao Yuanbao said in surprise.

“At a time like this, who’s thinking about food?”

Gui Jie’er added, “I was just saying I should go find you.”

Seeing their tense faces, Xiao Yuanbao grew alarmed. “What happened? Did something go wrong?”

Gui Jie’er lowered her voice. “Do you know Chen Fushi? The one who runs a private academy on Slanted Street?”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked. He didn’t know many tutors, but the name stirred a memory—ah yes, that old fellow who used to look down on Brother Zhao San.

“I know him. What about him?”

Gui Jie’er said, “Last night my grandfather was urgently called to the Chen residence to give treatment. When he arrived, he found that Chen Fushi had been beaten badly—two ribs broken, signs of near-drowning. When my grandfather saw him, the man was barely alive.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened. “Chen Fushi may be unpleasant, but he’s still a scholar. Who would dare to lay hands on him like that?”

“My grandfather thought it strange too, but the Chen family wouldn’t say much. He could only treat the injuries and leave it at that—thankfully, the man’s life was saved.”

Gui Jie’er continued, “I learned just this morning from Father that Chen Fushi had gone to take the provincial exam this year. On the road, he was attacked by bandits. If he hadn’t jumped into the river, he’d likely be dead.”

Xiao Yuanbao was horrified. “Bandits? Were they after money or what?”

“Ordinary robbers wouldn’t dare touch scholars. A scholar sitting for the exam already holds official status—there’s little money to steal, and attacking one risks heavy punishment. No, these men weren’t after riches—they were targeting scholars deliberately.”

Gui Jie’er glanced around before whispering near his ear, “Listen carefully, and don’t speak of this outside. These bandits aren’t common thieves. I fear they’re agitators, stirring unrest—to shake the empire’s peace.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s heart pounded. “Then… the people who went to the exam this time—doesn’t that mean…”

Gui Jie’er’s face went pale.

Luo Tingfeng was among the examinees—how could she not be terrified?

Xiao Yuanbao felt panic rising like a blade suspended over his head.

No wonder his heart had felt uneasy for days. He had thought it was just the storm, but this—this was the true cause.

He dared not imagine what might happen if Qi Beinan and the others had run into those men.

He couldn’t remember how he made it back home. It was as though his soul had drifted away.

He had no idea what to do—restless, agitated, and on edge all day—until at last he turned and went back to the farmstead.

He told Xiao Hu everything that Gui Jie’er had said.

“How could such a thing happen!” Xiao Hu was shocked. “Didn’t the authorities arrest those bandits before? I thought they were all punished already! How can there still be outlaws running loose like this?”

“The imperial court—what are they doing, sitting on their hands?” he burst out angrily.

“Even if we’re just talking at home, Father, you mustn’t say such things,” Xiao Yuanbao reminded him softly. “Brother always says, even in times of peace, there are things that are never truly peaceful.”

He added quietly, “He’s always telling me to be cautious when I go out, to watch over my own safety. Who could have thought he’d be the one to face such danger?”

“There’s no fear in over-preparing—only in being caught off guard,” Xiao Hu muttered.

Having heard the news, Xiao Hu quickly made up his mind. “I’ll inform the village head. Zhao Guangzong’s family also has someone who went to Pingzhou. I’ll ask the headman to find two good men, and I’ll lead a team there myself.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. It was the only thing they could do.

The matter had not spread widely—local officials were deliberately keeping it quiet to avoid unrest.

Still, word had leaked to a few wealthy households with sons taking the exam. Many were already scrambling to arrange escorts to check on their kin.

But just as plans were being made, the courier from Pingzhou arrived in the county.

Messages began to come in—letters of safety from those who had reached Pingzhou.

It was as if the whole town exhaled at once after holding its breath too long.

When Xiao Yuanbao received Qi Beinan’s letter in his own hand, it felt unreal, like waking from a nightmare.

He tore it open and read quickly. The worry that had sat like a stone on his chest finally lifted.

He read the letter three times over. Not a single word mentioned danger.

He wasn’t sure whether they truly hadn’t heard of the attacks—or if they knew, and were simply keeping it from their families to spare them fear.

Either way, the fact that he could write home meant he was safe.

Xiao Yuanbao felt a wave of relief so strong it made his knees weak, as if he himself had survived a disaster.

He carefully placed the letter into his drawer and let out a long breath. “Nearly made a widow before the wedding,” he muttered.

Now that he had the address in Pingzhou, he wanted to write back—but when he picked up the brush, his hand froze.

What could he even say?

He sat at his desk for a long time before he finally began to write.

On the ninth day of the eighth month, Qi Beinan carried his book chest and entered the examination compound with his fellow scholars, exchanging well-wishes at the gate.

The xiangshi was far stricter than the county exam had been.

Just the inspection process outside the exam cells—checking each scholar and verifying their identities—took over half an hour.

Qi Beinan glanced around briefly. Whether because of the bandit rumors or because Pingzhou was a smaller prefecture, there seemed to be fewer candidates—perhaps two hundred in total.

It was far less than what he’d seen years ago at the Jinling exam halls, though that was understandable. Pingzhou could hardly compare to Jinling’s prosperity, let alone to the imperial capital, where noble families filled the streets and scholars gathered in droves.

Once inside the exam cell, the gates shut behind them and the locks clanged into place.

Qi Beinan broke into a light sweat.

He took out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead and waited calmly for the exam to begin.

Each province had its own essay topic. Years ago, when he had served idly in the Hanlin Academy, he’d looked through the Ministry of Rites’ archives of provincial exam questions—but that had been years ago, and he couldn’t recall what Pingzhou’s themes were.

That made him all the more curious.

“Examinees, silence—reveal the topic!”

A clear, resonant voice echoed across the courtyard as the official unveiled the examination board. Qi Beinan straightened his back and carefully copied the question.

By the time the provincial exams concluded, it was already mid-August.

After handing in his final paper, Qi Beinan stepped out of the Gongyuan gate, his whole body loosening with relief.

After so many days cramped in that narrow cell, it felt as if his body had folded into itself. If he’d had to stay a few days longer, he thought wryly, he might’ve mastered the art of bone-shrinking.

Now, able to stretch freely, he almost couldn’t believe how good it felt.

Outside the examination compound, a crowd of family members had gathered, pressing shoulder to shoulder to greet the returning scholars.

“Sir! Over here!”

Tie’nan spotted him and squeezed through the crowd, smiling widely.

He took Qi Beinan’s bedding and book chest from his hands.

Qi Beinan laughed and patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.”

He didn’t wait for Zhao Guangzong or Ma Junyi. Though the weather had been mild during the exams, the stifling heat of the exam cell left them drenched in sweat with nowhere to wash.

Their clothes had dried and dampened again a dozen times—by now, the odor was beyond imagining.

When he reached their lodging, he realized he was the first to return.

He took a clean robe and a pouch of bath beans, and at last had a long, refreshing bath.

While he was toweling his hair dry in the courtyard, Zhao Guangzong appeared at the gate, dragging his book chest behind him, pale and weary, like someone who’d had his soul drained.

One look told Qi Beinan that things hadn’t gone well for him.

Pingzhou’s exam questions were straightforward—less cunning than Jinling’s had been—and Qi Beinan had found them manageable.

But what was easy for him wasn’t so for everyone else.

“I’m already preparing to take it again in three years,” Zhao Guangzong sighed. “This xiangshi truly is no small matter.”

He looked at Qi Beinan—hair loose, dressed in clean clothes, with the faint scent of bath herbs rising from his skin—and couldn’t help but laugh.

Zhao Guangzong lifted his sleeve and sniffed himself—then immediately held his breath. “No, this won’t do. I smell terrible. There’s still hot water, right? I’m going to wash up properly too.”

Qi Beinan said, “Go on. The exam’s done for today. Tie’nan’s boiled plenty of hot water—enough for everyone.”

Then he turned to Tie’nan. “Go fetch some more water for Zhao Langjun and bring it to his room.”

By the time Qi Beinan had dried and re-tied his hair, the others had all returned one after another. The first thing everyone did was clean themselves up.

After so many days confined in the gongyuan, nerves tight as wire, sleepless nights, and unappetizing food, a proper wash and rest were the only cure.

Qi Beinan didn’t disturb them. Taking Tie’nan along, he went out.

He crossed the North Main Street and walked straight toward the old residential lane he remembered—the one under reconstruction.

The old lane was called Yunping Fang. Down from Liuhua Stone Arch Bridge, the entire block stretched along the riverbank.

By now, the rebuilding was nearly finished. Only a few craftsmen remained, hauling out leftover bricks, tiles, and old timber. Street cleaners were sweeping the roads.

Qi Beinan wandered through with Tie’nan. Even after an hour, they hadn’t seen it all.

Looking at the nearly deserted Yunping Fang, Qi Beinan felt a pang of nostalgia. In his memory, this had once been a bustling night market—bright with lanterns and filled with chatter. Now, the quiet streets seemed like a ghost of that past life.

Even Tie’nan, walking through for the first time, was struck by the contrast. Coming from the busy main streets into this calm quarter, he couldn’t help his amazement.

These past days, while his master was in the exam hall, Tie’nan had explored Pingzhou thoroughly—talking with locals, drinking coarse tea by the roadside, and idly chatting half the day. As instructed by Qi Beinan, he had focused on learning about property prices in Yunping Fang.

He had already spoken to several fangya (property agents).

“The shops here aren’t expensive, Langjun,” Tie’nan reported. “A typical shop with a storefront and backroom costs between sixty and eighty strings of cash. In livelier areas, the same size goes for over a hundred. And in the real commercial districts, that’d be at least two hundred.”

Then he hesitated. “But Langjun, do you truly mean to buy a shop here? The price is good, yes—but the reputation’s poor.”

Over the days of inquiry, he’d heard plenty of gossip. Though Yunping Fang now looked neat and presentable, locals still turned their noses up at it.

“It used to be where the poorest city folk lived,” Tie’nan explained. “Families raised chickens, ducks, even pigs in their courtyards. The alleys stank of filth. The people here never had much money, and the wealthy wouldn’t come near. Only a few shops ever opened, and those sold cheap odds and ends.”

“Now it’s been rebuilt by the prefecture, yes, but it’s far from the main street. Prices have gone up by about twenty percent since reconstruction, but merchants still aren’t buying. Even if we buy one of these shops, rents will stay low—it’ll take years to earn back the cost.”

Of course, Qi Beinan already knew all this.

But that didn’t change what he foresaw: once the imperial curfew was lifted, this very place would become Pingzhou’s largest night market—the most prosperous quarter after dark.

If such potential were obvious to all, how could a mere outsider like him have the chance to buy in? The prices would’ve long since been snatched up.

“Langjun, you really have the mood to stroll through Yunping Fang, huh? Did you come just to walk along the river and catch the evening breeze?” Tie’nan teased lightly.

Qi Beinan didn’t answer.

Before they could go further, a man sitting by the road munching dried nuts noticed them. Seeing Qi Beinan’s clean robe and dignified bearing, he hastily shoved his bare yellowed foot into his shoe and hurried up with a smile.

“Are you a local here?” Qi Beinan asked.

“No, sir. I live over on North Lake Street. I’m a fangya,” the man replied.

A property agent—just what Qi Beinan needed.

“Ah,” Qi Beinan said, “so you’ve come here on business for the new housing, then?”

The fangya looked him over—his fine clothes, polished manner of speech. The man couldn’t tell whether Qi Beinan was a local or an outsider.

“That’s right,” he said. “Whenever a new block is finished, we agents get busy.”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly. “Busy elsewhere, perhaps—but business in Yunping Fang seems rather quiet, doesn’t it?”

The fangya chuckled. “You’re not from around here, are you, sir?”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “If you think so, why still come here seeking business?”

The man laughed and leaned closer. “Ah, well, Yunping Fang’s almost finished reconstruction now. The prefecture spent a fortune on it. If the shops can’t be sold or leased soon, the hufang (Household Department) will be in trouble.”

He glanced around, then said more quietly, “To tell the truth, the officials from the hufang have ordered us agents to help get the market moving.”

The central government had not yet lifted the imperial curfew, and it wouldn’t happen until at least next summer. The prefecture didn’t know when the decree would come, only that the current prefect of Pingzhou—recently appointed, just three years in office—was eager to show results.

Rebuilding Yunping Fang was one of his “three fires” as a new official—his bid to leave a mark before his next performance review.

After all, when the assessment officers came, he needed something to point to as evidence of achievement if he wanted promotion.

Rebuilding an old ward was certainly something that could be displayed as political achievement—but, as with all things, success depended on how it was done.

From what Qi Beinan saw, Yunping Fang’s reconstruction looked neat and well-planned, yet just as the fangya had said, the newly built shopfronts weren’t selling or renting. The hufang kept spending silver without earning any, and if this continued, Yunping Fang’s renovation would become nothing but a bad account on the prefecture’s ledgers.

That would turn what was meant to be a shining accomplishment into a costly embarrassment.

The prefect could never stand idle and let that happen. He would surely try every method to move those shops.

Hiring property agents to make the sales flourish—well, that was one such method.

Qi Beinan remarked, “So it’s a business arrangement after all. I imagine the hufang pays you agents a fair amount for your trouble.”

The fangya grinned. “Langjun sees clearly! The prefecture’s got deep pockets, so the reward’s nothing small. Otherwise, why would I come walking around this ghostly, half-dead place risking my neck, eh?”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly, saying nothing.

Seeing his interest, the fangya leaned in eagerly. “Langjun, you’ve talked with me all this time—are you perhaps thinking of buying a shop here?”

He continued quickly, “True, Yunping Fang’s old reputation was bad. But look at it now—wide streets, bright windows. Give it time, and it’ll thrive.”

Qi Beinan said, “I won’t hide it—I do have such intentions.”

He gave the fangya a measured look. “But the person I deal with must be reliable and well connected. Only such a man can get me the best price.”

Hearing that Qi Beinan genuinely wanted to buy, the fangya was delighted.

“Langjun, you’ve found the right man!” he declared, slapping his thigh. “In this city, I might not be first among agents—but if I say I’m second, no one dares claim first! Don’t be fooled by my rough manners; my family’s been in this trade for three generations.”

A fangya’s tongue was sharper than a blade—out of ten sentences, eight were false, and the rest were half true.

Qi Beinan knew better than to believe all his boasting. “Words mean little,” he said evenly. “I only trust what I see.”

The fangya clapped his hands. “You’ll see, Langjun! I can bring you the full property register of Yunping Fang. You can pick whichever shop you like. Even if you search the whole city, no one will offer you a cheaper price than I can.”

“Very well,” said Qi Beinan. “Come find me tomorrow.”

He gave the man the name of a teahouse—not his lodging. No need to invite strangers to his doorstep.

After parting with the fangya, Qi Beinan and Tie’nan walked back slowly.

He planned to compare prices carefully and buy as many properties as possible at the lowest rate.

Though he had a thousand guan on hand, in a populous and prosperous city like Pingzhou, that sum wasn’t much when it came to real estate.

He would have to pinch every coin and live frugally for a while.

But once the shops were rented out and turning profit, the household would finally breathe easier.

Later, selling just one or two could bring back a good share of the capital.

When Qi Beinan returned, dusk had fallen.

His fellow examinees, having rested a few hours, were refreshed and chatting in the courtyard.

“Qi Xiong, where have you been? You’re late coming back,” Ma Junyi called.

Qi Beinan replied casually, “I went to pay respects to an old acquaintance of my late father’s who works in the prefecture.”

He smoothly changed the subject. “Has everyone recovered from the exams?”

“Our bodies, yes,” someone laughed. “Our hearts, not quite.”

They spoke for a while about the exam’s difficulties, but none were too discouraged. The xiangshi was never easy; failing once or twice was normal.

Even if they didn’t pass this time, they were still xiucai—scholars in name and standing, free from labor tax and starvation.

And most of them were still young; even the oldest wasn’t yet thirty. There would be plenty of chances ahead.

The fifteenth night’s moon hung full and radiant, round as a silver plate.

The scent of osmanthus drifted through the courtyard. Though it was the Mid-Autumn Festival, they were far from home, unable to reunite with family.

Still, sitting under the moonlight, drinking wine together, they managed to make the night cheerful rather than lonely.

Later, Qi Beinan, slightly tipsy, returned to his room.

From his chest, he took out a small jar of oil-preserved minced pork with mushrooms—one of three Xiao Yuanbao had packed before his departure.

On the road, everyone had found it delicious; two jars had already been eaten. This last one, he had hidden away, or the greedy bunch would have devoured it too.

Tonight, he thought, he’d allow himself a little taste of home to ease his longing.

He broke a flatbread and ate with the fragrant mushroom meat, enjoying the familiar flavor—until the door suddenly creaked open.

Startled, he nearly tossed the bread out the window. If someone caught him sneaking food in private, he’d never live down the teasing.

He turned and saw it was Tie’nan.

“Trying to scare me to death, are you?” Qi Beinan sighed in relief.

Tie’nan scratched his head sheepishly. “Forgive me, Langjun! A courier just brought this letter from home. I was so excited I forgot myself.”

Qi Beinan immediately set aside the bread, wiped his hands, and took the letter.

“How has it only arrived now? A few more days, and I’d be leaving before it reached me.”

“The courier said mail was delayed during the xiangshi. This one got misplaced at the relay station—they found it only this morning and rushed it over.”

Qi Beinan frowned. “How careless of them. Do they not understand that a letter from home is worth a thousand pieces of gold?”

Tie Nan rarely ever saw Qi Beinan truly angry about anything. For him to frown over the postal relay nearly losing a letter—that was something rare indeed.

Sensing the shift in mood, Tie Nan quietly withdrew, leaving Qi Beinan alone to read.

Qi Beinan eagerly unsealed the envelope and unfolded the letter—then paused, brows slightly raised.

There were no words written. Only a few strokes of brush and ink.

Under a round, bright moon sat a small dog before a doorway, staring upward at the moon.

Qi Beinan chuckled softly, his gaze turning gentle.

He traced the little dog on the paper with the pad of his finger. His heart suddenly felt full—filled with something warm and alive, as if a quiet emptiness had just been made whole.

That night, he slept soundly and dreamed well.

The next morning, after washing, Qi Beinan went straight to the teahouse, planning to have breakfast there before meeting the fangya.

He arrived earlier than agreed, thinking he could eat first and discuss business after.

Unexpectedly, the fangya was already waiting at the door.

Qi Beinan, calm as always, finished his breakfast unhurriedly before speaking.

“Langjun, please have a look—are these drawings correct?” the fangya asked, sliding a rolled plan across the table.

He had been fidgeting like a cat while Qi Beinan ate, and finally exhaled once the gentleman set down his chopsticks.

“If there’s no mistake,” said the fangya, “you can mark the shops you’re interested in. Then we’ll go see them in person—if you’re satisfied, we can settle it.”

The map looked legitimate enough.

“Which shops have already been taken?” Qi Beinan asked. “Don’t have me pick one only to find it’s sold.”

The fangya quickly circled a few on the parchment. Truth be told, he should’ve done that earlier, but so few shops in Yunping Fang had sold yet that the map looked rather empty. He worried it might make the place seem unappealing.

Qi Beinan saw that the sold ones were the better spots—but many good locations still remained. After all, it was a large block.

He pointed to a three-story building by the river, in the central section. “What’s the price for this one?”

The fangya’s eyes lit up. “Langjun has an excellent eye! That shop sits in the very center, overlooking the river—perfect for a teahouse, restaurant, or—”

“No need to exaggerate,” Qi Beinan interrupted mildly. “I can judge its worth myself. Just state the price.”

“Not less than two hundred and forty guan,” said the fangya. “Langjun, you have fine taste—a small shop wouldn’t suit your standing, but this—”

Qi Beinan cut him off again. “You’re not particularly skilled at this. At that price, it’s no better than what I could get from any other agent.”

The fangya was momentarily silent. He had already quoted a low figure—most agents would start at two hundred sixty guan or higher—but this gentleman still found it steep.

Of course, buyers always said the price was too high.

“Langjun, this is a three-story building,” the fangya pressed on. “Even the smaller front-and-back shops go for over a hundred guan. For this, it’s already fair.”

“Don’t play riddles. Those one-hundred-guan shops aren’t even in Yunping Fang. You think I don’t know the market?”

The fangya hesitated. “Then why not name your price, Langjun? If it’s reasonable, I’ll negotiate for you.”

“Two hundred,” Qi Beinan said evenly.

The fangya’s eyes widened. “Langjun, don’t tease me. Even a cheap property outside Pingzhou wouldn’t go that low. Maybe in a county town you could manage it, but not here in the prefecture seat.”

Qi Beinan replied calmly, “At that same price in a county town, one could buy a two-courtyard residence in a prime neighborhood. This building may have three floors, but the footprint is small—not even the size of one garden from such a house.”

“Pingzhou may be a prefectural city, but prices must still make sense. I’m not bargaining wildly.”

The fangya stayed quiet, realizing this man was a hard bone to chew.

Qi Beinan added casually, “I’m only testing if your prices are fair. If they are, I might buy several more. But if not, why bother with Yunping Fang at all? Let’s be honest—the only reason to buy here is because it’s cheap.”

That bait worked perfectly. Hearing that Qi Beinan intended to purchase multiple shops, the fangya’s expression brightened.

“If Langjun plans to buy this building and more, then perhaps there’s room to adjust.”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “And how much for the smaller ones?”

“Langjun, you’re an astute man, I won’t overprice. The front-and-back shops—sixty guan each. Choose whichever you like.”

Sixty guan—the same lowest price Tie Nan had found out earlier. There was probably room to go even lower.

Though the fangya hadn’t reduced the number yet, offering free choice of location was itself a concession.

Qi Beinan nodded slightly. “Eight hundred guan for fourteen small shops. Add the building, round to one thousand even.”

“Well? What do you say?”

The fangya nearly fainted.

“Langjun, how about this deal now?”

Qi Beinan remained unhurried. “My offer stands as is. You have one day. If it goes through, all the better; if not, I won’t hold it against you.”

The fangya’s mouth felt bitter. He exhaled a long breath.

The prefecture had instructed the agents to sell the Yunping Fang shops with full effort, promising rewards. To handle matters for the hufang meant access to officials—and no one dared take it lightly. Everyone was eager to prove themselves.

Qi Beinan’s deal was clearly a large one. If the fangya could close it, he’d earn favor from the prefecture.

But the price Qi Beinan named was simply too low—below even the hufang’s base rate. Since the property wasn’t his own, the agent didn’t dare promise without approval.

“Langjun trusts me; then I’ll make another trip,” the fangya said. “Please mark the shops you’ve chosen. I believe you’re a man of your word, so give me a single day to settle it.”

“Rest easy,” said Qi Beinan. “Since I said one day, it’ll be one day. I won’t seek another deal before then.”

After bowing, the fangya hurried off.

Qi Beinan stayed at the teahouse, sipping another cup of tea, guessing the man had gone to report to the hufang.

He needed to return to the county soon, but business couldn’t be rushed. He could have struck the deal earlier, yet haste would have cost more silver.

If his price was accepted, perfect. If not, he’d drop one small shop to balance it.

That afternoon, the fangya came rushing back, sweating and excited.

“Langjun, I’ve never met anyone who bargains better than you. They’ve agreed—but the riverside shops can’t all go to you. Of the fourteen small shops, only seven can face the water. The other seven must be inland.”

Qi Beinan knew it was impossible to claim all advantages for himself. He chose seven more in decent spots away from the river, not too remote.

They went together to Yunping Fang again, inspected each property on site, and Qi Beinan paid a deposit of three hundred guan.

The next morning, the fangya arrived with stamped contracts. Qi Beinan carefully compared each one against his notes to ensure the shop locations matched exactly.

Once verified, he paid the remaining seven hundred guan.

The fangya had run back and forth many times; Qi Beinan gave him an extra tael of silver as a gratuity.

He didn’t know what commission the prefecture would pay the man, but what was owed on his own side he gave regardless.

“Langjun, not to boast,” said the fangya with a grin, “but if it weren’t for me, you could never have secured so many shops at that price.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Oh? Are you truly that capable?”

The fangya puffed his chest. “The hufang’s clerk in charge is my uncle. Tell me, which other agent in this city has my kind of connections?”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “Then it seems I’ve benefitted from your family’s divine favor.”

The fangya laughed too. “We’re helping each other, that’s all. I sell more shops, and my uncle worries less.”

Then he asked curiously, “But tell me, Langjun—why buy so many shops in a place most folks look down on?”

Qi Beinan said with a faint smile, “Because I dreamed once—a deity told me Yunping Fang’s shop prices would rise.”

“When they do,” he added lightly, “I’ll have you rent them out for me again.”

The fangya burst out laughing—whether at Qi Beinan’s superstition or his confidence, even he couldn’t tell. Still, he said, “If that day comes, Langjun need only summon me.”

Qi Beinan laughed as well, patting his shoulder. In a tone half teasing, half prophetic, he said softly, “Yunping Fang will grow lively yet. If you’ve got any sense, you should grab two shops for yourself while you still can.”

The fangya gave a helpless smile. “Ah, if I had spare silver, I’d buy one this instant.”

With that, Qi Beinan exchanged one thousand guan for a thick stack of deeds.

Together with his companions, he took his time returning to Ling County.

By the time the group safely arrived home, it was already the end of August.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚