Ch 89: Reborn to Raise My Husband

After earning his title, Qi Beinan found that one social obligation followed another without pause.

Though he had risen from the provinces and had no relatives or close acquaintances in the capital, which spared him the burden of hosting private banquets, there were still public ones to attend.

Three days later, he went to the Qionglin Banquet, held for the new jinshi and personally attended by the emperor. Qi Beinan served as an attendant at the imperial table and, despite his strong tolerance, ended up quite drunk that night.

Five days after that, he reported to the Ministry of Personnel, was formally assigned to the Hanlin Academy, familiarized himself with his future place of duty, met his colleagues, and received his official robe and cap.

That same day, after morning court, the Grand Academician of Hanlin hosted another banquet, inviting him to join. Though it wasn’t as heavy a drinking affair as the Qionglin Banquet, as a newcomer surrounded by superiors, he couldn’t easily refuse toasts.

Soon, a few other officials extended invitations as well; Qi Beinan carefully selected a couple of them and attended two more gatherings.

By the time the Ministry of Personnel approved his request for home leave, it was already the end of June.

He was granted a month and a half, with instructions to travel swiftly and return on time.

It was common for newly appointed jinshi to be given a long leave after their first posting—once they entered official service, such lengthy absences would be nearly impossible.

The purpose was to allow provincial scholars to return home, settle affairs, and then begin their careers fully focused.

Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao wasted no time. They prepared the carriage and horses at dawn and hurried back to Lin County.

The weather was clear, the roads smooth, and they already knew the route. The return journey took only twelve days.

Upon arrival, they divided their tasks to handle the county’s social obligations.

Qi Beinan went to pay his respects to the magistrate, teachers, and former classmates. Xiao Yuanbao delivered gifts from the capital to families they had long been close with.

In turn, they received a steady stream of return gifts.

Once the county visits were finished, they went back to their manor and stayed a few days.

That night, the family gathered in the main hall to soak their feet, just as in the old days.

Only now, instead of sharing one basin, each had their own.

Qi Beinan spoke with Xiao Hu about his future plans.

“I’ll be serving in the capital for now, and it won’t be easy to change posts. Even if I’m later sent to a provincial office, that wouldn’t be for at least three to five years.

“For that reason, I should start establishing a household in the capital. I want to plant roots there.”

For most officials, there were only two places worth investing in: their home province or the capital.

Qi Beinan’s start was a high one. As a jinshi, he would serve directly in the capital, unlike many of the second- and third-rank jinshi who were immediately sent to regional posts by the Ministry of Personnel.

Those men often spent their entire careers being transferred from one local office to another, never once entering the central government.

Even among those who never managed to serve in the capital, many still bought property there—if not for themselves, then to pave the way for their children and grandchildren.

Qi Beinan, however, was not thinking that far ahead. Translated on Hololo novels. He simply knew that he and Xiao Yuanbao would be living in the capital for some time and would need to settle down properly.

“That’s the right thought,” said Xiao Hu. “It’s not good to have all your property in the countryside. When you need funds, it’s harder to get them quickly. The farm has earned well these past two years. I had Tienan organize the accounts recently—if you hadn’t come back, I was planning to send money to you anyway.”

“I’ve heard from Guangzong that the capital is prosperous but expensive,” he added. “You’ll need some silver on hand. Life might feel tight otherwise, and I don’t want others looking down on you.”

Qi Beinan was warmed by the old man’s thoughtfulness. “We won’t lack for expenses,” he said. “The rewards from my examination are still more than enough to live on for a good while. What I wanted to say, Uncle Xiao, is—would you be willing to come live with us in the capital?”

“The county is far from the city,” he continued. “It’s not like the distance between town and village—news can’t travel in a few hours. We’ll miss you if we’re so far apart.”

Xiao Yuanbao added quickly, “Yes, Father. We came all this way partly for the county visits, but also because we wanted to bring you to the capital with us.”

Xiao Hu looked at him, smiled faintly, and said, “I’m old now, not like when I was young and ready to wander. I once lived my whole life in the mountains, then turned to farming. It took time to get used to that, but now I find it far happier than hunting ever was.

“To give all this up and go live in the capital—spending my days with caged birds? I’m not suited to such a life.”

Qi Beinan had already guessed his answer. The manor and fields could easily run themselves now.

He and Xiao Yuanbao had invited him to the county town before, but he had refused each time—just like the Fang elders, who only agreed to move because of illness.

Xiao Hu, still strong and healthy, had no such excuse.

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Next year, Brother Anan and I will be married. Once we’re busy with official duties, we won’t have much time to come back. The wedding will probably be held in the capital—surely Father won’t miss seeing us married?”

“Of course not,” Xiao Hu replied with a small chuckle. “I’ll come early when the time comes. No need for you two to make the long trip back.”

Xiao Yuanbao pursed his lips but said nothing.

“You’re both grown now,” Xiao Hu said gently. “You can look after yourselves. As long as I know that, I can stay here at the manor without worry.”

Instead of being persuaded, Xiao Hu began persuading Xiao Yuanbao instead. “Now that Beinan has achieved such success, everyone in the village treats me with utmost respect. If I were to go to the capital, I might not enjoy such days again.”

That was, indeed, the truth. In the county and the village, everyone knew him, and everyone knew his son-in-law served as an official in the capital. Even the magistrate gave him due courtesy.

But in the capital, he would not hold the same kind of honor.

Seeing he could not persuade the old man, Qi Beinan softened his tone. “It’s all right not to rush. After all, we haven’t yet settled everything properly in the capital. Once things are in order—perhaps in a couple of years—when there’s a child, then Uncle Xiao won’t be able to refuse to come.”

At that, Xiao Yuanbao’s face flushed red. He gave Qi Beinan a quick glare, thinking they weren’t even married yet, and he was already talking about children.

“Agreed,” said Xiao Hu, laughing aloud. “When there’s a grandchild, I’ll come to the capital and help take care of the little one.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought to himself that his father’s idea of ‘helping’ might be questionable, but he didn’t argue further. That was enough to make everyone happy.

“Then it’s settled,” Qi Beinan said.

Outside, the stars were scattered thick across the sky, and the moon hung round and bright.

The countryside was quiet, filled with the chirring of insects and croaking frogs.

Xiao Yuanbao stood in the courtyard for a while, the night breeze gently cooling his face.

In the past, a few short steps would take him to the village lane to look at summer nights. Now it took a long walk through the larger estate.

The village itself had not changed much. The trees were the same, the fields the same.

Only the saplings had grown taller, and the fields broader and more fertile.

At the entrance to the village stood a new stone stele—raised in honor of the tanhua. It gleamed with pride and respect.

Xiao Yuanbao thought, if life went well for him and Beinan in the capital, his father’s days here would not be bad either. With that thought, his heart settled.

“Aren’t you afraid of mosquito bites? What are you staring at?”

Qi Beinan came out through the main gate and saw Xiao Yuanbao standing under the night sky, lost in thought.

Lamp oil was expensive, and most of the village had long extinguished their lights. Only a few well-off households still glowed faintly with yellow oil lamps, soft against the moonlit night—a quiet warmth.

“Just thinking about childhood,” Xiao Yuanbao said.

“Happy memories or unhappy ones?” Qi Beinan asked.

Xiao Yuanbao turned and smiled. “I can’t really think of anything unhappy enough to still remember.”

Back then, he’d had more cakes and sweets than any other child in the village. There wasn’t a single pastry shop in town he hadn’t tasted, nor a single new snack from the street stalls he hadn’t tried.

He had two new sets of clothes each season—bright silks in spring and summer, and soft, thick cotton in winter.

He owned more than a dozen pairs of shoes, for every season.

Every child in the village had envied him; only the wealthiest farmer’s children lived anything like that.

Granny Fang, the Fang brothers and sisters all doted on him. The village headman always had something sweet in his pocket to give him.

And Jiang Fulang—whatever good thing he found, he always saved some for Xiao Yuanbao: fresh fruits, marinated chicken legs, fragrant duck thighs.

Every country path was dear to his memory now.

The years learning his craft, the days spent with his father and Beinan—when those times returned in dreams, they were wrapped in peace and warmth.

“Talking about it makes me wish I could go back,” he said with a small laugh.

He remembered being so easily content as a child—one piece of cake could make him happy for days.

Now that he was grown, he’d eaten finer things and seen more of the world, but the pure joy of childhood could never quite be regained.

Still, he thought, life now was good too.

Qi Beinan listened as he reminisced, the delight in his tone, the warmth in his eyes, and felt a tide of emotion rise in his chest.

He stepped forward and quietly embraced him. “I’m glad your childhood was so happy.”

Xiao Yuanbao, unaware of the deeper feeling behind the words, simply replied, “I was happy because I had you.”

He hadn’t forgotten the years when Madam Qin had been in the household, nor the occasional hardships that came from it. But those memories were brief—overshadowed by all the peaceful days that followed.

To Qi Beinan, this moment of fulfillment was no less than the triumph of passing the imperial exam.

Ten years of study had forged his success in the examinations, but it had also shaped Xiao Yuanbao’s life—and his own heart.

The next day, they visited Jiang Fulang and shared a meal at Headman Zhao’s house.

When they returned to the capital, it was already August.

Their rented residence awaited them, and the golden osmanthus in the courtyard was in full bloom. As they pushed open the door, a soft fragrance filled the air.

After days of travel, Xiao Yuanbao felt his body nearly falling apart.

Thankfully, they had returned early—five days remained before his leave ended.

They shut themselves in for two full days of rest before their bodies finally felt whole again.

Then they began unpacking the mountain of luggage brought from Lin County—an entire cart’s worth, more than ten chests in all.

Since they planned to settle permanently in the capital, they had brought everything they might need: seasonal clothes, bedding, washbasins, and toiletries. Qi Beinan had even packed part of his library and a few of his own calligraphic works.

Among the things they brought back were foodstuffs from their own estate: fragrant mushrooms they had cultivated, smoked and roasted chicken, duck, fish, cured ham, and mutton.

Such items might not seem valuable, but in the capital, where prices were steep, even these humble foods would cost a great deal to purchase.

Xiao Yuanbao did some quick calculations. Buying that much in the city would easily take several dozen strings of cash, so he chose instead to endure the trouble of transporting them by cart—saving a good sum of money.

Though they still had a decent amount of silver on hand, he knew well that what seemed sufficient here would mean little in the capital.

Settling in a new place and building a life required more expenses than one could imagine.

To begin with, they had no property, no farmland, and no shop in the capital.

Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t yet found time to inquire about the going prices for such holdings, but even the rent for their current small house cost ten strings of cash a month—enough to show how exorbitant it would be to buy a home.

When they had left, Xiao Hu had given them five hundred taels in jiaozhi banknotes. Counting their own savings and the imperial rewards Qi Beinan had received for his success, they had about twelve hundred strings in total.

Such a fortune would make one strut like a peacock back in the county, yet in the capital, it was barely enough to keep one’s tail tucked between the legs.

Their old house in the county had taken much time and care to renovate, piece by piece turning an empty, run-down place into a comfortable home. Unfortunately, they hadn’t enjoyed it for long before having to move again.

“Someday, when we’re old and ready to retire,” Qi Beinan said, “that home will already be well set up. We can return and live there in comfort, without scrambling for lodging in our later years. It won’t have been in vain. For now, we’ll slowly build things up in the capital—something for us, and for the children who come after.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “You’re thinking far ahead—already preparing an inheritance for children who don’t exist yet.”

Qi Beinan sighed softly. “Because they’d be ours, I can’t help but want to plan for them.”

Xiao Yuanbao, a little embarrassed at the mention of children, steered the conversation away. “Even if we don’t have much in the capital right now, at least you have a respectable position.”

Qi Beinan rubbed his nose with a wry look. “Respectable, yes. As a Hanlin compiler, the post is prestigious—but the salary, well… not so glorious. When I collected my robe and cap from the Ministry, I happened to glance at the pay scale. I hadn’t told you yet.”

A seventh-rank official earned seventy-two strings a year—about a hundred with the year-end bonus.

The stipend also included two pigs, a small bit of gold and silver, three bolts of cloth, one cart of charcoal, and two shi of rice.

Xiao Yuanbao counted on his fingers, eyes widening. “That means your monthly pay is barely ten strings?”

Qi Beinan nodded. “The bonus only comes at year’s end. Month to month, it’s six.”

Xiao Yuanbao felt faint. “Then just paying this house’s rent would swallow it whole.”

“Exactly,” Qi Beinan said. “We’re surviving on the emperor’s generous rewards.”

Bitterness filled Xiao Yuanbao’s mouth. He had always imagined being an official meant power and glory—no one had told him how little it actually paid.

He had seen local prefects and education commissioners living comfortably and assumed their salaries were large. Now he realized—those who lived well either had family wealth or found other means.

With such meager pay, how could anyone feed a household?

He finally understood why Qi Beinan had always been so intent on acquiring property and starting small ventures, even after years of exhausting study.

It wasn’t greed—it was foresight.

He admitted to himself that the generous gifts and prizes from the examinations had spoiled him. He had believed that once Qi Beinan became an official, the money would only increase.

“The court rewards its new scholars,” Qi Beinan said evenly, “so that they can establish themselves and not depend on their stipends alone. But those rewards are fleeting. Only the top scholars receive them, and only once or twice in a lifetime.”

“The empire has to support thousands of civil and military officials, and still inspire future scholars by providing stipends. How wealthy would a dynasty need to be to do all that?”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded slowly. He understood, but still felt uneasy.

Merchants, after all, spoke in hundreds and thousands of strings, while even respected officials seemed poor by comparison.

“The pay may be low,” Qi Beinan continued, “but everyone still dreams of office. It must have its compensations.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Then I’ll be careful with our spending. We’ll manage.”

Qi Beinan smiled, reaching out to ruffle his hair. “Thank you, my dear Yuanbao. I’ll be relying on your thrift.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s ears flushed red, and he jabbed him lightly in protest.

Of the three remaining days of leave, they spent two finding a broker and purchasing two servants—a young maid and a boy, both about twelve or thirteen, for thirty strings of cash.

The girl was called Hongtang, the boy Wenge. They had been born into a wealthy household but were sold after their master’s family fell into ruin.

Both were well-trained and literate—ideal for service.

The older woman who had managed their rented house before was willing to stay on, so Qi Beinan signed her for a three-year contract, letting the previous male servant go.

It wasn’t out of vanity or indulgence. Now that Qi Beinan held an official post, it was unseemly to have guests and colleagues visit without anyone to greet them or pour tea.

After finishing the matter of hiring servants, Luo Tingfeng came to visit their home.

On the first day after returning to the capital, Xiao Yuanbao had already asked Qin Jiang to deliver the gifts from Sister Gui and the Luo family to him. Luo Tingfeng was staying with a relative in the outer city, which was quite a long trip from their place.

Ever since the results had been released, he had been waiting for the Ministry of Personnel to assign his official post. Because of that, he hadn’t gone back to the county with Qi Beinan, and his family had been worrying about him.

The Ministry had been slow to issue appointments, and with no connections to ask for updates, he didn’t dare to inquire on his own. Nor could he leave the capital without permission—if the Ministry summoned him while he was gone, he might lose his position entirely.

Qi Beinan knew such things had happened before: when a new official wasn’t in the capital to receive his post, the Ministry simply replaced him with someone else.

For scholars from small provincial towns like them, with no ties to powerful families, one had to be especially careful and deferential.

Before Qi Beinan returned home for his leave, he had met Jiang Tangyuan in the palace. Jiang had already received his appointment five days after the Chuanlü ceremony: a temporary post at the Hanlin Academy as a Shujishi (probationary scholar). After three years of satisfactory service, he could be promoted to a full compiler.

For a second-rank jinshi, entering the Hanlin Academy was considered an exceptional placement.

Qi Beinan also knew that Jiang’s quick and favorable posting came thanks to generations of official lineage—his family’s background smoothed the way.

Now Luo Tingfeng said, “I came today to bid farewell to Brother Qi.”

Qi Beinan asked, “The Ministry has assigned you a post?”

“Yes,” Luo Tingfeng replied. “County magistrate of Lantian County, under Jinxiang Prefecture.”

Qi Beinan was silent for a moment. Jinxiang Prefecture bordered the capital—close enough—but Lantian was its most remote and least prosperous county.

Given Luo Tingfeng’s examination rank, a prefectural appointment would have been well within reason. Yet the Ministry had placed him at a distant county office.

Still, there was no sense in complaining now. Qi Beinan said, “Jinxiang Prefecture isn’t far from the capital. The trip to court won’t take long. When do you take up the post?”

“I’ll stop by my hometown first,” said Luo Tingfeng, “then head there directly.”

“Well,” Qi Beinan said, “at least the wait is over. Many jinshi are still without posts. Jiang told me some might wait until next year before they’re assigned.”

Luo Tingfeng, however, had no bitterness in his tone. He understood well enough—without influence in the capital, it was difficult to remain. A county posting, though not what he had hoped for, was still a start.

The two talked for some time before Luo Tingfeng finally took his leave.

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