Ch 84: Reborn to Raise My Husband

“The farther north we go, the less it seems to rain.”

Qi Beinan and Zhao Guangzong had been on the road for seven days. Once they left the borders of Linzhou Prefecture, they reached the main official road leading toward the capital.

It had rained on and off for days back in Linzhou, making travel miserable. They, riding inside the carriage, had fared well enough, but their driver had to endure the damp spring drizzle while urging the horses forward.

Fortunately, they had come well-prepared with rain capes and straw hats, keeping themselves from being soaked.

Now, upon the open northern highway, the sky was finally clear.

After being cooped up in the carriage for several days, Qi Beinan and Zhao Guangzong stepped out to stretch their legs, walking alongside as the horses trotted ahead.

Then the carriage slowed.

“What’s wrong? The wheel stuck on a rock?”

“Sir, I’ve checked—the wheels are sound.”

As they spoke, they noticed two other carriages halted ahead, blocking part of the road. A few men were gathered around, looking puzzled.

Qi Beinan squinted and saw that one of the carriages bore an official pennant—apparently from Jinling Prefecture.

“Most likely fellow examinees on their way to the capital. Let’s go see what’s happened.”

Zhao Guangzong nodded, and the two of them quickened their pace.

“Has there been some trouble? Do you need a hand?”

Qi Beinan signaled their driver to pull aside so their own carriage wouldn’t clog the road further.

“Apologies, gentlemen,” said one of the men near the broken carriage. “Our wheel won’t turn for some reason—it must be blocking your way.”

“It’s no bother,” Qi Beinan replied.

Just then, a young man in a moon-white robe stepped around from the far side of the carriage. His hair was bound with a jade pin, and a fine jade pendant hung at his waist. He was slender and refined, with a faintly languid air.

He lifted his chin, revealing a tiny crimson mole between his brows.

Something about his posture felt familiar to Qi Beinan. When he got a clearer look at his face, he paused in surprise.

“Are you two also examinees bound for the capital?” the young man asked.

He glanced at the pennant flying from Qi Beinan’s carriage, inhaled lightly, and rubbed the bridge of his nose as if suppressing a sneeze. Translated on Hololo novels. His eyes looked slightly drowsy, as though he had been woken too soon from sleep.

“Yes,” Qi Beinan said.

The young man smiled faintly and bowed. “My name is Jiang Tangyuan. I’m traveling from Jinling to sit for the examination.”

Qi Beinan’s lips curved in recognition as he returned the courtesy. “Qi Beinan, from Linzhou.”

Zhao Guangzong also introduced himself.

All three were young men of similar age, and meeting by chance on the same road to the capital made for easy companionship.

Qi Beinan called Qin Jiang over to inspect the damaged carriage together with Jiang Tangyuan. They soon discovered that the axle inside had cracked—fortunately before the entire carriage collapsed.

The nearest station was still twenty miles away, and there was only a small village along the route. Repairing the carriage here would not be easy.

“Jiang Langjun,” Qi Beinan said, “if you don’t mind, you and your people can ride with us for now. One of your men can stay behind to handle the repairs. Once we reach the next city, you can buy another carriage and catch up without losing time.”

After a moment’s thought, Jiang Tangyuan nodded. “Then I’ll gratefully accept your kindness.”

He walked back to his carriage and called softly, “A-Tuan, we’ll be traveling with the two gentlemen ahead.”

A fair-faced young ge’er stepped down, holding a plump round-eyed cat in his arms. The cat stretched lazily as it emerged, its soft paws opening like four little petals.

The ge’er bowed politely. “Many thanks to both gentlemen.”

Qi Beinan froze for an instant—he hadn’t expected to see Jiang Tangtuan here.

It had been over ten years since he’d last heard that name.

Jiang Tangtuan, Jiang Tangyuan’s only younger sibling, had always been quiet and gentle, kind to the bone.

When Qi Beinan studied in Jinling years ago, Jiang Tangtuan would often prepare extra food for his brother, and sometimes even made a second portion for Qi Beinan as well.

Much like how Xiao Yuanbao cared for Zhao Guangzong, Jiang Tangtuan had treated Qi Beinan like an older brother.

But his fate had been short.

When Jiang Tangtuan came of age, his family married him to one of their favored students. The man had seemed devoted before marriage, but once he gained office through the Jiang family’s influence, he began to change.

Away from his in-laws’ supervision, he first took in a childhood sweetheart, then, one drunken night, raised his hand against Jiang Tangtuan.

By the third year of marriage, Jiang Tangtuan died in childbirth.

Qi Beinan had been furious beyond restraint. He hunted the man down to his appointed post and beat him nearly crippled.

For striking a government official, he was impeached by the censors and subsequently demoted.

Zhao Guangzong, unaware of these buried memories, returned Jiang Tangtuan’s greeting politely. But when he saw Qi Beinan staring, motionless and blank, he discreetly tugged at his sleeve.

Qi Beinan came back to himself and quickly bowed in return.

“What’s wrong with you?” Zhao Guangzong muttered as they returned to their own carriage. “Did the journey rattle your brain?”

Then, with a sly grin, he added, “If you keep staring at people like that, I’ll tell Bao-ge’er when we get back.”

One carriage was arranged for Jiang Tangyuan to share, while the other carried some of his luggage so the space wouldn’t be cramped.

Qi Beinan chuckled. “Don’t think too much—I’ve no ulterior motives.”

Before long, Jiang Tangyuan came over with his belongings. Some were loaded onto Zhao Guangzong’s carriage, while he himself joined Qi Beinan in the other.

As the carriage swayed gently, Jiang Tangyuan kept rubbing his nose, itching for a sneeze that wouldn’t come.

A hand offered him a water pouch. “The farther north we go, the drier the air. Warm water helps.”

Jiang Tangyuan took it and sipped.

Qi Beinan said, “If your nose feels irritated, you can press the Yingxiang and Bitong acupoints—it helps clear the passage.”

Jiang Tangyuan looked over curiously. “Brother Qi seems well read—and even versed in medicine?”

He capped the pouch and smiled. “My physician said the same.”

Qi Beinan wasn’t actually knowledgeable in medicine, but he happened to recall such details from someone close to him.

“I just happen to know a little,” he said lightly.

That opened the conversation, and the two spoke for a while longer.

Though Jiang Tangyuan had initially been cautious—after all, they’d only met on the road—he found Qi Beinan’s manner easy and genuine. He still avoided mentioning family matters or his household, speaking only of books, studies, and scenery along the way, but before long he realized how naturally their thoughts aligned.

Their views on literature and discussion of ideas flowed as if they’d been friends for years.

The journey became unexpectedly pleasant.

When they reached Xiangyang City, Jiang Tangyuan bought a new carriage and horse, yet instead of parting ways, he proposed continuing together toward the capital.

Traveling again side by side, he seemed more at ease and familiar.

That night at the inn, Jiang Tangyuan brought out Jinling specialties—a saltwater duck and several salted duck eggs—to share.

Qi Beinan, in turn, produced the jar of oil-pickled vegetables that Xiao Yuanbao had made with him. The meat pies and braised dishes he had brought earlier had long been eaten during their days crossing Linzhou.

It was early spring, still cool enough for food to keep, but after ten days on the road, everything else would have spoiled. The pickled vegetables, however, were steeped in rapeseed oil and lasted easily over a month if kept clean and sealed tightly.

Because they stored so well, Qi Beinan had been reluctant to open them—saving them for when they reached the capital, as though sharing them then would bring someone closer across the distance.

Zhao Guangzong, watching him finally open the jar, grinned and said to Jiang Tangyuan, “You’re in luck, Jiang Langjun. Today you get to taste A’nan’s oil-pickled vegetables. You’ve no idea how stingy he’s been—begged him several times along the way and he wouldn’t touch them.”

Jiang Tangyuan laughed. “What kind of delicacy is this, that Brother Qi guards it so closely?”

Qi Beinan replied mildly, “It’s nothing special—just keeps longer, that’s all.”

As he spoke, he lifted the lid. A rich aroma filled the room, warm and savory.

Jiang Tangyuan’s sleepy eyes brightened. “Just the scent alone is worth it. No wonder Brother Zhao’s been thinking of it.”

Qi Beinan spooned some into a dish. “Please, have some. It goes well with porridge—or stuffed into steamed buns and flatbreads.”

Jiang Tangyuan took his chopsticks and tried it without restraint.

The moment he tasted it, the flavor bloomed—salty, fragrant, and layered. He thought to himself that with a bowl of hot rice, he could easily eat three servings.

“This is remarkable,” he said between bites. “How is it made to smell and taste so good?”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly as he watched him enjoy it. “It’s made with tender bamboo shoots, mushrooms, pickled greens, and minced meat, stir-fried in rapeseed oil that doesn’t solidify in the cold. As for the exact spices, I’m not sure.”

“Looks simple, yet the craftsmanship is precise. Was it made by someone at home?” Jiang Tangyuan asked, genuinely impressed.

He was used to eating plain pickles on the road—usually out of necessity, never for pleasure. This, though, was another matter entirely.

“Yes,” Qi Beinan said. His voice softened. “It was made by my… husband.”

The corner of his mouth lifted slightly as he said it.

Zhao Guangzong glanced at him, amused, but said nothing.

Jiang Tangyuan’s brows arched in a smile. “No wonder you’ve been reluctant to open it—not just for the taste, but for the affection sealed inside.”

Qi Beinan lowered his gaze with a small laugh. “You’re teasing me.”

Jiang Tangyuan only laughed and urged them to try the saltwater duck and duck eggs in return.

The duck was lean and fragrant, the salted yolks golden and glistening with oil, rich and savory on the tongue.

Qi Beinan hadn’t tasted Jinling’s flavor in years. He ate several pieces of duck and two full salted eggs before stopping.

Jiang Tangyuan, pleased, took a small dish of the oil-pickled vegetables and sent it to his younger brother, Jiang Tangtuan, to share.

That night, Zhao Guangzong soaked his legs, swollen and heavy from long hours of sitting in the carriage.

The hot water rose past his ankles, and after fifteen minutes, he felt the fatigue melt away.

Knowing they would resume their journey at dawn, he decided to skip reading that night and go to bed early.

When Zhao Guangzong tried to stand, his stomach felt tight and full. The saltwater duck that Jiang Tangyuan had brought was too delicious; he had never tasted it before and ended up eating far too much. It was hearty meat, too, so even now he still felt stuffed.

The moonlight spilled across the window. The night outside seemed clear, and since he was too full to sleep, he thought he might as well walk around the post station courtyard to ease his digestion.

A few constables were still gathered outside, drinking and chatting by the gate. When they saw Zhao Guangzong step out, one of them called, “Sir, don’t wander too far.”

“I’ll just walk around the station,” he replied.

The moonlight was bright, though not as luminous as in midsummer nights. Still, it was the sixteenth of the month, and the moon hung round and full.

He circled the post station three times, and by the time he returned, his stomach had settled. The constables had already gone, leaving only an old woman tidying up the yard.

Just as he turned back toward his room, Zhao Guangzong looked up and saw someone standing on the upper gallery — Jiang Tangtuan.

He was wrapped in a hooded cloak of deep blue trimmed with white fur. The moonlight bathed him in a soft glow, his small, fine-featured face looking almost translucent under its silver sheen.

Perhaps he, too, was admiring the moon; his gaze rested quietly on the distant hills beneath the round disk of light.

Zhao Guangzong meant to look away, not wishing to disturb the stillness of the scene.

Just then, a breeze swept past. The plum tree beside the gallery shook loose its blossoms, petals scattering past Jiang Tangtuan’s shoulder.

Zhao Guangzong’s eyes lingered on him — just a heartbeat too long.

The person above must have noticed, for he lowered his gaze slightly. At that moment, the wind lifted the handkerchief in his hand, carrying it off the balcony.

The delicate square of silk drifted downward, caught in the air currents, and landed right against Zhao Guangzong’s chest. His body blocked the wind, and the handkerchief hovered there for a moment before softly settling.

He reached out to catch it.

When he looked up again, Jiang Tangtuan was leaning over the railing, a faint trace of tension in his posture as he looked down.

Their eyes met in the pale light, and neither spoke.

After a moment, a young servant — one of Jiang Tangyuan’s attendants — came down from the stairs to retrieve the handkerchief from Zhao Guangzong’s hands.

Back in his room, Zhao Guangzong found his mind still adrift.

He sat by the window, holding the memory of the silk in his palm — smooth, soft, and embroidered with lifelike bamboo leaves. A faint scent lingered on his fingers, light and clean, though he couldn’t name it.

It suited Jiang Tangtuan perfectly — quiet, refined, understated.

Lying down on his bed, Zhao Guangzong found his thoughts drifting again. Jiang Tangtuan truly spoke very little.

Since their journey began, they had barely exchanged a handful of words. Other than that polite greeting when first introduced, their meetings had been limited to brief nods, never a proper conversation.

At some point, Zhao Guangzong fell asleep without realizing it.

The next morning, everyone else was already finishing breakfast when he finally stirred.

Qi Beinan, seeing him come out, ladled him a bowl of porridge and handed him a steamed bun. “Didn’t sleep well at the inn? You’re usually the first one up.”

Zhao Guangzong accepted the food and shook his head. “No, I just overslept.”

It had felt as though he’d dreamed all night, yet awake now, he couldn’t recall a single image.

By the time Qi Beinan and his party reached the capital, thirteen days had passed since they left Ling County.

The imperial city was grand and dazzling — wealth and splendor at every turn, enough to make any scholar from the provinces straighten his back with renewed vigor.

Their fatigue melted away, replaced by awe and excitement.

The Jiang family had served in official posts for generations and still had relatives in the capital, so the brothers naturally had places to stay. They exchanged addresses and parted ways there.

Qi Beinan, though appearing to visit for the first time, knew his way around well enough. He led Zhao Guangzong to a district between the inner and outer city walls called Qiangwu Ward, where they found a small courtyard house to share.

Once they settled in, Qi Beinan immediately began writing a letter home, arranging for the courier to deliver it swiftly to Ling County.

He had originally planned to have Qin Jiang carry the letter back when returning, but since the man had only just arrived in the capital, it wouldn’t be fair to send him off again so soon. He’d let him rest for a few days before making the trip to fetch Xiao Yuanbao.

Meanwhile, back in Ling County, Xiao Yuanbao had already been counting the days on his fingers. By his reckoning, Qi Beinan should have reached the capital by now.

He began preparing the things he would take for his own journey.

Bai Qiaogui, visiting the house, couldn’t help feeling envious when she heard he was going to the capital. “He didn’t even mention bringing me. Doesn’t miss me at all.”

She bit into a piece of fruit pastry — sweet on her tongue but sour in her heart.

“Even if Luo Langjun wanted you to go,” Xiao Yuanbao said gently, “Uncle Bai would never allow it.”

Not knowing what the weather in the capital was like, Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t decide what clothes to pack. He picked out two of his favorites and set them aside, waiting for Qi Beinan’s letter before finalizing anything.

Bai Qiaogui asked curiously, “Since you two are engaged, have you set a wedding date yet?”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked. “Not yet. Probably not until next year.”

“This year’s exam will keep him busy, whether he passes or not,” Bai Qiaogui said knowingly.

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. That made sense.

“On the ninth, when the exam begins,” Bai Qiaogui suggested, “let’s go to the temple together to offer incense and pray for him. We can leave a little donation, too.”

“Alright,” Xiao Yuanbao agreed with a smile.

Bai Qiaogui agreed. By the time April arrived and the weather had warmed, more people were going out on spring outings, and it felt right to join the liveliness for a change.

“With spring coming, I wonder if Madam Feng’s health has improved any,” she said.

Xiao Yuanbao let out a quiet sigh. Madam Feng’s condition had hardly improved through the whole of last winter. When he’d visited, the entire house had smelled faintly of medicinal decoction, heavy in the air, enough to make anyone worry.

“I’m free today—let’s go visit her,” Bai Qiaogui suggested. Madam Feng had taught Xiao Yuanbao cooking and had always treated him well. Each time he visited, he would bring her something tasty and sometimes small, rare gifts.

Xiao Yuanbao agreed readily and, before leaving, prepared a pot of chicken soup on the stove.

Madam Feng’s liver had been unwell. Bai Qiaogui had once told him that dendrobium and polygonatum were good for nourishing the liver. He thought that since Madam Feng took bitter medicine day after day, even the most tolerant person would tire of the taste. To make something she could enjoy, he stewed black-bone chicken with those two herbs and added some dried orange peel for fragrance.

He had checked with Sister Gui to make sure it wouldn’t weaken the medicinal effect—and that it would still taste good when cooked this way.

“The flavor is deep and soothing,” Madam Feng said after tasting it. “Even knowing it’s medicine, I’d gladly have more.”

The herbal black-chicken soup had brought color to her cheeks. Smiling, she praised Xiao Yuanbao: “You thoughtful child—always finding ways to look after me. The medicinal dishes you brought through the winter truly did me good.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “You flatter me, Madam Feng. I’m just happy to know you’re feeling better.”

“I’m not just saying it to please you,” she replied. “Your cooking is good—so good it makes the medicine easy to take. It tastes like a real meal, not a bitter draft, and that’s what’s nursed me back to health.”

She patted his hand. “This winter wasn’t nearly as hard as the last. Look—my complexion has evened out again.”

It was true. Madam Feng did look much better.

“That’s also thanks to Sister Gui,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “She’s the one who taught me which herbs to use. Without her, I’d never have figured out how to make these medicinal dishes.”

“You’re both good children,” Madam Feng said warmly.

After finishing the soup, she led them inside and took out two red lacquered boxes with gold trim, giving one to each.

When Xiao Yuanbao opened his, he found a delicate enamel mirror inside. He had never seen such fine workmanship—the reflection so sharp that every feature of his face stood out as if alive.

Bai Qiaogui’s box held a filigreed silver hairpin shaped like a dragonfly, its craftsmanship exquisite.

The gifts were so fine that neither dared accept them.

“I know you two are engaged,” Madam Feng said with a smile. “These are small tokens from an elder—take them.”

She pushed the boxes toward them. “It’s only a little gift for well-behaved juniors.”

They exchanged glances, then thanked her and accepted.

“The men you’re engaged to are both scholars,” Madam Feng went on. “They have fine prospects ahead—such good fortune.”

She was truly pleased for them, but as an older woman, she couldn’t resist offering a bit of advice. “I’ve lived long enough to tell you this—after marriage, don’t rely entirely on your husbands. You must find something of your own to do.”

Turning to Bai Qiaogui, she said, “You, I don’t worry about. Your medical skills are excellent—such talent will always bring you stability. As long as you keep up your craft after marriage, you’ll have your own standing, wherever you go.”

Then she looked at Xiao Yuanbao. “And you—you’re an ambitious child. You came to me to learn for the sake of skill, and that’s admirable. I’ve met your Qi Langjun a few times—handsome, intelligent, and steady. He’ll have a great future, I can see it. I’ve met many people in my life; I’m not mistaken about this sort.”

“When he becomes an official one day, though, it wouldn’t suit his household for his spouse to still be cooking at banquets. Among the gentry, people talk—even more than common folk do. They might praise an official’s husband who’s good at cuisine, but just as quickly, they’ll whisper that the official’s spouse is a common kitchen hand.”

She paused. “I know your bond is deep, but hearing such words again and again can wear on any heart.”

Xiao Yuanbao listened quietly. He knew she was right.

Ever since his A’nan brother had passed the county exam, people’s behavior around him had begun to change. Running banquets for work already made him feel a little embarrassed—if Qi Beinan were to rise even higher, become a jinshi, it would be another world entirely.

A “Qi official’s husband skilled in fine dishes” sounded like praise. But a “Qi official’s husband who works as a cook” did not.

Seeing his silence, Madam Feng said gently, “Don’t think I’m meddling. I’m saying this while your affection is still strong—so you can prepare your heart early.”

Xiao Yuanbao shook his head. “No, Madam Feng speaks very wisely.”

“I’ve learned many dishes under you,” he continued. “Enough to take on private banquets. If I wanted, families would be fighting to hire me. But I haven’t pursued it. Partly because the household’s been busy—and partly because, deep down, it didn’t feel right.”

With Qi Beinan gone to the capital, he’d had quiet days to reflect. And the more he thought about his own path, the more he realized how much he still had to figure out.

“I’ve trained in this craft since I was a child,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “If I stop cooking for banquets, wouldn’t all those years of learning be wasted?”

He felt conflicted.

Madam Feng smiled. “No skill is ever wasted. Knowing a craft is always a blessing. Even if you don’t cook for others, there will be other ways to use your talent.”

“You could open a small restaurant or a teahouse. When the owner knows food, business runs smoother.”

“There’s still a shop under your family’s name, isn’t there? Turning it into a dining house would be perfectly fine.”

He could hire chefs and oversee the operation himself—plan the menu, manage the quality, without standing over the stove. That way, no one would have reason to gossip.

But even then, the plan had its flaws.

If his elder brother achieved high office, he would never stay in Ling County. How would Xiao Yuanbao manage a business so far away?

Still, once the shop was established and running steadily, it wouldn’t need constant supervision. That would take at least a year or two, though.

Uncertain of what to do, he turned to Madam Feng for advice.

The old woman said gently, “Take your time. Learn about the trade first—how restaurants and taverns are run. Once you understand the business, you’ll know the right path to take.”

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