Ch 90: Reborn to Raise My Husband

On the second day of the eighth month, it was Qi Beinan’s first official day attending court.

Before dawn, when the sky was still dark, the lamps in the house were already lit, and the water on the stove had been boiled twice.

The new maid, Hongtang, carried a basin of hot water, adjusting the temperature before bringing it to her master’s room.

Qi Beinan rose from bed in plain white underclothes, rinsed his mouth with tooth powder, washed his hands and face, and cleared his mind.

When he had finished washing, he took a green official robe with wide sleeves and a round collar from the clothes rack, fastened the leather belt at his waist, and stepped into his black boots.

By the time Xiao Yuanbao entered the room, still half-asleep, Qi Beinan was already dressed and holding a black futou cap in his right hand, ready to go outside and see if Qin Jiang had prepared the carriage.

He turned and saw Xiao Yuanbao leaning sleepily against the doorframe, eyes puffy and unfocused.

Qi Beinan reached out and cupped his chin, lightly pinching his cheeks. “Why are you up?”

Xiao Yuanbao rubbed his eyes, his voice still thick with sleep. But when he looked at the tall, composed figure before him—the elegant Hanlin scholar in full official attire—he woke up a little more. Smiling with half-lidded eyes, he said, “I thought since today is your first day at court, I should send you off.”

Qi Beinan couldn’t help but smile at how endearing he was. “It’s only the morning audience, and I’ll be in a carriage. You didn’t have to get up so early.”

“It’s just this once,” Xiao Yuanbao said, taking the futou from his hand and heading outside. “When it’s a regular workday, don’t even think about waking me up.”

The garden was still shrouded in darkness. A few roosters crowed faintly in the distance, and the sound of the night watch beating wooden clappers echoed down the street.

“When I was studying, I had to get up early because the village was so far from the academy,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “Now that you’re an official, you still have to rise before dawn—earlier, even.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “It’s better to leave early than be delayed on the road. Once I get near the palace gates, I’ll have time for breakfast.”

He reached out to tousle Xiao Yuanbao’s soft, unbound hair. “Go back and sleep a little longer after I leave.”

“I can’t,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “The thought of you working hard at the Hanlin Academy while I’m still in bed makes me feel guilty.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Attending court isn’t as tiring as you imagine. Don’t worry yourself.”

Xiao Yuanbao didn’t answer. When they reached the side gate, he tugged at Qi Beinan’s sleeve and whispered, “I have something to tell you—bend down.”

Qi Beinan leaned forward without suspicion, turning his head to listen. Suddenly, a warm touch brushed against his cheek.

Before he could react, Xiao Yuanbao, face flushed red, turned and ran off.

“Is that all the send-off I get?” Qi Beinan called after him.

Without looking back, Xiao Yuanbao waved a hand. “Go quickly and come back soon.”

Qi Beinan stood for a while, watching him disappear inside. He lifted his fingers to the spot on his face that had just been kissed, a quiet smile spreading across his lips.

“Master, we can go now!”

Qin Jiang, waiting outside, saw him still standing by the side gate and called out.

Qi Beinan came to himself. “All right, let’s go.”

The carriage wheels rolled, and they set off down the narrow lane.

At dawn, the capital stirred like early spring earth not yet fully awakened. Translated on Hololo novels. Shopkeepers swept the streets and washed their thresholds; the rhythmic scrape of brooms and the splash of water carried through the quiet.

Qi Beinan lifted a corner of the curtain. The cool morning breeze brushed his face, and though the sky was still dim, the faint light and stillness of the streets filled him with calm. Even the stray cats darting by the roadside seemed charming.

By the hour of the Rabbit, the carriage passed through the palace gates.

He first reported to the Hanlin Academy, then went to the Ministry of Personnel to end his leave, and returned to the Academy afterward.

By the time he arrived, his colleagues were already at their desks.

His assigned workspace was in a small side hall connected to the main hall—a modest, tucked-away room reached by several turns of corridor.

Glory in the examinations counted for little here. The Hanlin Academy was full of former zhuangyuan and tanhua scholars; even a first-rank tanhua was no remarkable figure among such talent.

Many of the officials here had served for years, experienced and composed. Compared to them, new arrivals were still green.

At the entrance, a friendly Shujishi greeted him. “Lord Qi, I’m Lu Zheng,” the man said warmly. “Would you like some tea? I can pour it for you.”

Qi Beinan thanked him politely and went to his desk. Beside him sat the second-place jinshi, Ren Heng; in front was the zhuangyuan, Lin Qingyu.

Two other Shujishi occupied the far corners—strangers to him.

When Qi Beinan entered, Lin Qingyu looked up from his work and nodded courteously before returning to his documents.

Ren Heng, however, was more talkative—though his tone carried a certain languid arrogance. As he spoke, his gaze wandered to the pile of scrolls before him.

“Lord Qi, you’ve returned at last. You were gone for quite a while. May I ask where your home is?”

“In a small county of Linzhou,” Qi Beinan replied. “It’s quite far, which made the journey rather long.”

“Linzhou? I’ve never been,” said Ren Heng. “But I have an uncle who served there. It’s remote indeed—far from the capital, and even farther from places like Yangzhou or Jinling.”

He adjusted his hat in the reflection of a bronze mirror, tilted his chin, and gave himself a small, satisfied smile.

Only then did Qi Beinan realize that Ren Heng had slipped a small mirror between his stacks of documents and was admiring his own reflection.

The corner of Qi Beinan’s mouth twitched slightly before he answered, “Indeed.”

He was just about to get back to his work when Ren Heng leaned over again.

“Hey, does your county have any special foods or local goods? Did you bring some to the capital?”

Qi Beinan replied, “I brought a few rustic things from home. If Lord Ren doesn’t mind, I can send some your way.”

To his surprise, Ren Heng immediately agreed. “Excellent! I’ll have someone pick it up from your house tomorrow after court. Can’t do it today—I’ve already been invited to a banquet.”

Qi Beinan thought the man was remarkably straightforward and gave a small smile. “Very well.”

Once Ren Heng went back to fussing over his “radiant perfection,” Qi Beinan finally turned to business.

A compiler’s duty was to help record national history and draft imperial decrees.

His direct superior was a provisional academician overseeing the new scholars. When Qi Beinan reported for duty, Academician Li gave him two draft booklets to condense and polish.

Opening them, he found that the topic was the proposed abolition of the nightly curfew.

The court had debated it fiercely—many officials supported the change, while others opposed it—and the emperor had yet to make a decision, with another round of deliberation pending.

Qi Beinan felt a quiet spark of delight. The timing was favorable.

If the curfew were lifted, the shop he leased back in Linzhou could reopen for evening business, easing their finances. That, in turn, might allow him to start looking for a proper house in the capital.

Meanwhile, Xiao Yuanbao had gone back to bed but couldn’t fall asleep. His body was tired, yet his mind refused to settle.

After lying there for about an hour, he rose, washed up, and stepped outside.

The August sky was clear and bright. The capital was hotter and drier than Ling County.

After breakfast, he picked up a basket, planning to buy some good meat at the market for supper.

Qi Beinan might have to leave home early for court, but he also finished early—if the meal were ready when he returned, they could rest and eat at ease.

The streets were already busy at this hour. Vendors called out, carts rattled by, and people streamed toward the market.

He beckoned Wenge to come along. After they had walked a short distance, the boy leaned close and whispered, “Master, there’s a man behind us who’s been staring at you.”

Startled, Xiao Yuanbao turned around—and indeed, a man in a blue robe was watching him from not far away.

Their eyes met, and when the stranger saw he’d been noticed, he smiled and approached at a brisk pace.

“Good morning, brother,” he greeted warmly.

Xiao Yuanbao saw that he was perhaps not yet thirty, dressed in a soft silk cross-collared robe, a jade pin fastening his neatly bound hair. His complexion was pale, his eyes almond-shaped—refined and striking.

Judging from his bearing, he was no common townsman. Xiao Yuanbao returned the greeting politely. “Good morning, sir.”

The man said, “Forgive my forwardness, but might you be from the household of the newly appointed tanhua scholar down the lane?”

“I am,” Xiao Yuanbao replied. “But how did you know?”

“I live on this same street,” the man said with an easy smile. “My husband serves in the Ministry of Works. After the palace examination, I heard the drums and gongs of the announcing officers, so I opened my door to watch the procession. I happened to see you from afar in front of your house that day. When I saw you again this morning, I thought you looked familiar, but I wasn’t certain until now.”

Hearing that he was an official’s spouse, Xiao Yuanbao grew more courteous, though he did not yet know how high the man’s husband ranked.

“We’ve just settled here,” he said. “We didn’t yet know who lived in the area. Had we known there was a Ministry of Works official nearby, we would’ve come to pay respects sooner.”

The man waved it off. “Not at all. My husband and I had meant to visit you as well, but he said newly appointed scholars are always busy, so we didn’t wish to disturb you. Since we met by chance today, I couldn’t resist coming to say hello.”

Xiao Yuanbao found him pleasant and well-spoken, so he didn’t hold back from chatting a bit more.

They exchanged names—the man was Jia Xinyi—and since both were headed to the market, they decided to go together.

Walking side by side, Jia Xinyi glanced at Xiao Yuanbao’s clothes: a plain light-blue cotton robe, simple and neat, without a trace of silk. Perhaps he had dressed humbly for the market, or perhaps their household finances were tight.

“I haven’t seen you around before,” Jia Xinyi said lightly. “Where are you from? If I’d met you sooner, we could’ve had more company on these morning walks.”

“We’re from Linzhou,” Xiao Yuanbao answered. “A small county under its jurisdiction.”

He wasn’t trying to hide it—such things were easy to find out anyway. And there was no shame in being provincial; the capital was full of people from every corner of the empire. Even many court officials were not natives of the city.

“Ah, I see,” Jia Xinyi said.

Then he asked, “Is your house here rented?”

Xiao Yuanbao hesitated a moment before answering.

Noticing that, Jia Xinyi smiled and patted his own chest. “Forgive me, I didn’t mean to pry. I only worry newcomers might be cheated by the city brokers. My husband says the housing agents in the capital are the craftiest sort—they size people up before naming their price.”

He went on, “There’s a provincial official who rented a small single-courtyard house out in Plum Alley—it’s narrow, damp, and crowded with all sorts of folk. Yet the agent charged over ten strings of cash per month! That place smells foul in the summer. Hardly worth the price, wouldn’t you say?”

Xiao Yuanbao sighed. “Those housing brokers are bold indeed—daring to cheat even officials out of their silver!”

Jia Xinyi chuckled. “Wealth is born from risk. That’s why people call them clever—clever and sly.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Our place is rented too, but it didn’t cost nearly as much as that gentleman’s.”

At this, Jia Xinyi’s brows lifted slightly. He paused, then smiled. “That’s all the better. I imagine Lord Tanhua isn’t someone who can be easily deceived. Forgive me if I seem too nosy.”

He thought to himself that this household must not be particularly well-off—the young man’s fabric was plain, and the small house was rented.

Xiao Yuanbao said warmly, “How could it be nosy? You’re simply kindhearted.”

Jia Xinyi laughed.

They spent the morning together at the market, buying vegetables, meat, and melons. Then, sitting by a tea stall, they shared a cup of tea and some osmanthus cakes before heading back.

“You’re still quite young,” Jia Xinyi said as they parted, taking Xiao Yuanbao’s hand in friendly affection, “but we get along so well. In a few days, if you have time, would you come sit with me at my house? I’m home alone most days, either doing embroidery or drinking tea—it’s dreadfully dull.”

Xiao Yuanbao found him pleasant company. He had few acquaintances in the capital, and his correspondence with friends back home took weeks between letters. Making a few friends here could only be a good thing—whether for companionship or connections.

It was no different from when he had first arrived in the county years ago.

He smiled. “You flatter me, calling me young and ignorant. Since fate has placed our households on the same street, how could I refuse heaven’s arrangement?”

“If you invite me, I’ll surely come.”

Jia Xinyi beamed at that and finally took his leave.

After lunch, Xiao Yuanbao tied his apron around his waist and picked up a kitchen knife to prepare softshell turtle and pigeon soup for Qi Beinan.

When he’d been living in the county, he and Sister Gui had perfected this dish—braised turtle and pigeon simmered with a special blend of medicinal herbs. The broth was rich and savory; it strengthened the body and mind for men, smoothed the skin for women and gers, and nourished longevity for the elderly.

The secret herb blend was Sister Gui’s creation. She had given him the recipe, which he had memorized after cooking it a few times with Madam Feng.

Xiao Yuanbao thought Qi Beinan worked tirelessly at the academy, straining his mind daily. If he didn’t take care of his health now, he would surely suffer aches and fatigue later in life.

“Master, this soup smells incredible! You really have the hands of a chef!”

Wenge and Hongtang, who didn’t have much to do around the house, came to help as soon as they saw him at the stove. Watching how deftly he handled the knife, they knew he had true skill.

Once the pigeon and turtle were blanched and simmering in the pot, within a short while the kitchen filled with an irresistible aroma.

The two servants couldn’t help leaning over to peek. The soup shimmered a clear golden-green, fragrant and beautiful to look at.

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “Do you think this kind of cooking would do well in a city restaurant?”

“More than well, Master! You’re better than most professional cooks!” they said eagerly.

He knew they were flattering him, yet the praise still pleased him. He had been thinking seriously about opening a small eatery—their family funds were limited, and investing in a business would help them save for a proper house in the capital.

“You two are practically drooling,” he teased. “When your master comes home, I’ll let you each have a bowl.”

Wenge and Hongtang lit up with delight. “Thank you, Master!”

By mid-afternoon, the workday at the Hanlin Academy ended.

Qi Beinan had nearly finished his tasks. The zhuangyuan worked diligently all day, while the bangyan managed to spend half of it “busy relaxing.”

Stretching his shoulders, Qi Beinan was just preparing to leave when Ren Heng came over again.

“Lord Qi, take a whiff—how do I smell?”

Qi Beinan blinked, then caught a distinct whiff of borneol incense. At some point, this man had even found time to perfume himself. Qi Beinan looked at him askance. “Lord Ren, are you going on a date?”

“What nonsense,” Ren Heng said. “Just attending a banquet. Even if it’s only a room full of coarse old men, one must still appear at one’s most refined.”

With a flick of his sleeve, he added grandly, “A new jinshi must embody elegance.”

The zhuangyuan, Lin Qingyu, who was just standing up to leave, shook his head slightly. The calm look in his eyes said clearly that he’d already endured plenty of Ren Heng’s antics in Qi Beinan’s absence.

He nodded politely to them both and strode out first.

Ren Heng clicked his tongue. “That zhuangyuan has no taste whatsoever—always buried in scrolls, barely looks up once a day. If I hadn’t heard him speak before, I’d think he was mute.”

Then he turned back and blocked Qi Beinan’s path. “Come now, tell me—how’s the scent?”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly. “It’s good. Though, Lord Ren, you’re wearing official robes to a banquet?”

“Of course not!”

“Then isn’t it a waste to perfume your court clothes?”

Ren Heng grinned. “I only put it on for you to test it. If it smells good, I’ll use it again. If not, I’ll switch to another.”

“Thoroughly methodical,” Qi Beinan said dryly.

“This borneol scent is fine,” he added, “but it’s rather strong. For someone as graceful as yourself, I’d suggest something gentler—orchid and bamboo perhaps, more refined and airy.”

Ren Heng’s eyes lit up. “I didn’t expect Lord Qi to be such a connoisseur!”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly and started walking out of the office. Ren Heng quickly followed at his side.

Inside the side hall, one head cautiously poked out after the three had left.

Though he hadn’t actually smelled any borneol incense, his expression suggested deep disdain as he fanned the air before his nose and muttered under his breath, “How could a person like that ever enter the Hanlin Academy? And ranked among the top three, no less—clearly unworthy of his title.”

The speaker was Lu Zheng, the very same who earlier had eagerly offered to pour tea for Qi Beinan. He too was a new jinshi this year, though from the second tier.

Like Jiang Tangyuan, he served as a Shujishi at the Hanlin Academy—only in a different hall.

Lu Zheng had long disliked Ren Heng. Now, seeing Qi Beinan chatting easily with him instead of paying him any mind, his dislike spread to Qi Beinan as well. In his eyes, they were birds of a feather—frivolous, vain, and corrupting the Academy’s dignity.

“Lu Zheng, you’re still here?”

The voice came from the side window. Startled, he turned and saw that it was Academician Li. His heart lurched, but he quickly composed himself, rising to salute.

“Sir, as a newcomer to the Hanlin Academy, I find my colleagues all exceptionally talented. I’m ashamed of my own inadequacy. So, I thought the clumsy bird should fly early, and stayed behind to put in extra effort. I only wish not to fall too far behind my peers, hence I haven’t left yet.”

Academician Li gave him a long look, silent for a moment before saying, “It’s good to have such diligence. But don’t stay too late—you’ll need rest before tomorrow’s court.”

Lu Zheng brightened. “Yes, sir!”

Li glanced toward the main hall.

Noticing that, Lu Zheng thought he must be looking for Qi Beinan and Ren Heng. Seizing the chance, he said, “Is Your Excellency perhaps looking for Lord Ren or Lord Qi? They left quite a while ago. If there’s any message, I could deliver it on your behalf.”

Li’s gaze flicked back to him. “No need.”

With that, the academician exchanged a polite word and departed.

As soon as he was gone, Lu Zheng’s chest swelled with satisfaction.

He imagined he’d just earned a reputation for being diligent and conscientious—while conveniently planting the impression that Qi Beinan and Ren Heng were negligent in their duties.

Outside, as Li walked with a fellow academician, his companion asked, “Who recommended that Lu Zheng fellow as a Shujishi?”

“Not sure,” Li replied. “Likely a Ministry of Personnel assignment. Why?”

“He seems… rather unimpressive. The others from this year’s class finished their work long ago and went home. He alone stayed behind, still struggling with simple drafts.”

Li frowned slightly. “The Academy’s workload is light now. If he’s already this slow, how many tasks will he manage when things grow busy?”

“Perhaps he’s just trying to make a good impression,” the other scholar suggested. “A newcomer wanting to show diligence isn’t necessarily a bad thing.”

Li shook his head, recalling Lu Zheng’s earlier words about “those two already having left.” His unease deepened. “Ah, he certainly has plenty of scheming in him. If only his talent matched his cunning.”

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