Ch 94: Reborn to Raise My Husband

After that incident, Qi Beinan no longer made things difficult for Director Bao. Each man performed his duties, and their cooperation gradually became smooth.

Some days later, snow fell over the capital, and the cold deepened until it seemed to bite through bone.

On his day of rest, Qi Beinan stayed home with Xiao Yuanbao, tending a bubbling pot of rabbit soup together.

That morning, despite the bitter wind, they had gone to the market to buy several catties of tender winter greens. They simmered a fragrant mutton broth to dip the vegetables in, warming the house with its steam.

Winter vegetables were few—mostly radish, cabbage, and winter mallow. They managed to find a small bundle of young radish shoots, the only ones still tender enough to enjoy before true deep winter set in. Once snow blanketed the fields, it would be impossible to buy fresh sprouts again.

Living in the capital had its conveniences, yet it lacked the ease of their old county life. Without farmland nearby, any good produce had to be bought, and at steep prices.

In the countryside, there was never such worry. Even after they’d moved to the county seat, the fields were close enough that fresh vegetables, fish, and poultry were sent every few days. They’d hardly needed to visit the market.

Still, the capital had its own advantages—everything could be bought if one had the coin.

There was no shortage of pork and mutton; even venison, donkey, and beef appeared on the market stalls from time to time.

In their old hometown, such meat was unthinkable—farm animals used for plowing couldn’t be slaughtered for food under imperial law.

But in the capital, there were licensed butchers who sold the meat of donkeys and cattle that had died naturally.

Xiao Yuanbao listened as Qi Beinan explained how each carcass had to pass through government inspection before it could be sold. The process was tedious and costly.

As a result, the prices were sky-high—five or six hundred copper coins per jin—and even so, supply never met demand. If one arrived late, the stalls would already be empty.

Wanting to taste something rare, they clenched their teeth and bought half a jin anyway, slicing it thin to swish in the hot broth alongside the greens.

The kitchen was lively and warm.

Xiao Yuanbao tended the pot, Qi Beinan peeled garlic, Mama sliced the meat, Hongtang washed the vegetables in warm water, and Wen Ge’er stoked the fire below.

Then Qin Jiang, the gatekeeper, came running in, stamping the snow from his boots. “My lord, there’s a real estate broker outside asking to see you.”

Qi Beinan looked up. “A broker? Is it the same one who showed us that house last time?”

Qin Jiang nodded. “That’s him.”

“Perhaps he’s found another property and wants to tell us about it,” Xiao Yuanbao guessed.

Qi Beinan placed the peeled garlic into a small dish. “I’ll go see.”

“Wash your hands first,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “They smell like garlic.”

Qi Beinan chuckled, washed with scented soap, and went out. He told Qin Jiang to bring the visitor to the side hall and serve him tea.

By the time Qi Beinan arrived, the broker, bundled thickly in winter clothes, had already drunk half his cup. Seeing Qi Beinan, he quickly rose to salute.

“In this cold weather, you must have come for something important,” Qi Beinan said.

The broker bowed. “Forgive the intrusion, sir. I came because there’s been a change with the house you and the young master once looked at.”

Qi Beinan gestured for him to continue.

Since the lifting of the curfew, the capital’s nights had grown boisterous indeed.

The property in question wasn’t far from a main road. It had once been quiet enough, but now, with the night market running till dawn, the area was no longer as peaceful.

The house Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao had liked was a fine one—they had hesitated only because of its high price. A few days later, an elderly gentleman fond of elegance had taken interest in it and quickly paid a deposit.

It should have been a settled deal. But once the curfew was lifted, the old man, after dining at the night market one evening, decided to visit the property again—only to find it far too noisy for his liking.

Displeased, he demanded to withdraw from the sale.

He quarreled for days trying to reclaim his full deposit, and in the end, they agreed to refund him half.

The broker told this honestly. He recognized Qi Beinan—after all, he had seen him on the day of the tanhua’s parade through the streets, resplendent in red robes upon a fine horse—and dared not conceal anything.

“At present, it’s not quite as quiet as before,” the broker explained, “but it’s hardly unbearable. The old gentleman was simply too sensitive to noise and wanted a place fit for retirement.”

Qi Beinan nodded. He knew everyone preferred peace—especially those older in years—but the disturbance from the night market was a temporary issue, hardly serious.

He himself had helped supervise the zoning for those markets and knew the Ministry of Works had already finalized which outer and inner-city areas would host them. That particular house was outside the designated zones.

Few others would know this.

“What’s the price now?” he asked.

“The owner is willing to lower it by another hundred strings of cash. He wants to sell quickly and return home before the new year.”

“Tell him this,” Qi Beinan said at once. “Eight hundred strings. If he agrees, we’ll sign the deed immediately—and I give my word there’ll be no withdrawal.”

The broker was startled when Qi Beinan named such a sharp price right from the start—it was a cut of more than a hundred strings of cash. The man thought he’d met someone truly fierce in negotiation.

“In that case,” he said cautiously, “I’ll go and inquire, but this price is rather low. I fear the owner may not agree. I only ask that my lord be prepared for that.”

“It’s no matter,” Qi Beinan replied calmly. “Not every deal is meant to be made.”

After the broker left, Xiao Yuanbao finished in the kitchen, untied his apron, and came to hear what had been said.

He hadn’t thought much about the house since they’d set it aside for being too expensive, but now that the broker had come again, the thought stirred in him once more.

When he entered, the visitor was already gone, so Qi Beinan explained the situation.

“You liked that house,” Qi said. “If the price turns out right this time, perhaps it’s worth finalizing.”

“After all,” he continued, “a house one truly takes a liking to depends on fate. It isn’t every day one finds the right one.”

His words rekindled Xiao Yuanbao’s curiosity. Of course he’d be happy to buy it, but worry crept in. “You offered them such a low figure. That’s already the lowest price for a two-courtyard home in the inner city. I’m afraid they’ll reject it outright.”

“If you open high,” Qi Beinan said, “the seller will only aim higher. A lower offer first softens their expectations.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought for a moment. “That’s true,” he admitted. Yet because he liked the house, he couldn’t help fearing the offer was too low, that the seller might refuse.

Two days later, the broker returned. As expected, the owner had declined.

“The master isn’t short of money,” the broker explained. “He says he’d rather wait for the right buyer than sell cheaply.”

But then he added, “Still, if you’d offer nine hundred strings, they’d let it go for convenience’s sake.”

Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help laughing. “Not short of money, yet still wanting that extra hundred? So are they rich or not?”

Since Qi Beinan was out, he didn’t answer on his behalf.

When Qi returned from work, he listened and smiled faintly. He had half expected this.

“If they’re that concerned with luck,” he said, “then we’ll make it eight hundred and eighty strings—a good, auspicious number.”

He sent Qin Jiang and the broker to deliver the message.

By the next afternoon, the reply came back: rejected again.

Qi Beinan didn’t budge. “Tell them this,” he said. “We’ve already raised the offer once. We won’t keep adding more. If they accept, good. If not, let it go.”

Two more days passed without any word.

Xiao Yuanbao sighed. “It seems that house is lost to us.”

Qi Beinan replied evenly, “Twenty strings may not seem much against several hundred or a thousand, but when you’ve earned each coin by hand, it’s no small matter. You can see it from my salary alone.”

“Even at eight hundred and eighty,” he added, “the seller still profits. A few years ago, city houses weren’t nearly this expensive. Even in our county, prices have risen twenty strings or more—it’s all climbing.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “You’re right. We’ll just keep looking.”

But two days later, the broker came running again with news: the owner had agreed to Qi Beinan’s offer.

He pleaded anxiously, “Please, my lords, don’t go back on the deal now that they’ve relented. I’ve worn out my tongue running between both sides.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “We’re not the kind of people who change our minds on a whim. The price we named stands. Let’s complete the deed quickly so everyone can rest easy.

“If we delay any longer, we truly won’t bother with it. The year’s end is close, and we’ve got more than enough to handle without house matters dragging on.”

The broker bowed deeply. “Yes, young master. We who make our living in this trade only hope both parties end satisfied.”

Xiao Yuanbao spoke with him a little longer, then handed over a promissory note for fifty taels as a deposit, along with two packets of pastries and a pair of large sweet pears for his trouble.

The remaining payment would be settled once the deed was processed and the title in hand.

When the broker left, Xiao Yuanbao sat back and laughed softly. “I’m happy and not happy at the same time. We finally bought our house, but all the money we worked so hard to save is gone in one breath.”

That night, he fetched the locked cashbox from the high shelf. Inside were their banknotes, silver drafts, and a few small gold ingots—altogether a thousand strings’ worth.

After taking out eight hundred and eighty for the purchase, only two thin notes remained.

Xiao Yuanbao groaned. “How can money be so easy to spend yet so hard to save?”

Qi Beinan chuckled and patted the younger man, who was hugging the box tightly. “Because every bite of food and every stitch of cloth depends on it.”

Xiao Yuanbao frowned. “After paying for the house, we barely have anything left. Will it be enough?”

He began to calculate. The hundred-some strings that remained would have been plenty back in Ling County—enough to last several years if they were careful.

But the capital was a different story; expenses here were far greater.

And with the wedding approaching, they’d soon need a large sum for the banquet, not to mention the other preparations along the way.

The wedding robes were nearly done, but two sets of jewelry were still missing, and many household items were yet to be bought.

As for the major furniture pieces—they hadn’t even started choosing.

The little money they had left was clearly not enough.

Qi Beinan had already thought of this. “I’m planning to sell the house in Linzhou,” he said. “It’s been empty all this time. It’s a two-courtyard residence—not worth as much as property here in the capital, but it’s in a prefectural city, so it’ll still fetch a good price.”

Xiao Yuanbao considered it. “That’s reasonable.”

“As for the major furniture,” Qi went on, “we’ve looked at several shops, but the quality hasn’t matched the prices. That’s why we haven’t made any decisions. Better to buy from someone trustworthy.”

Xiao Yuanbao immediately understood his meaning.

So Qi Beinan sent word to Tienan, who was now in Linzhou, instructing him to sell the house. Xiao Yuanbao also wrote to Ming Guanxin, saying that he and Qi Beinan would be marrying the next year and needed to purchase household items. He enclosed a list.

By early winter, they received the deed for their new home.

Looking at the official seal of the capital impressed upon it, Xiao Yuanbao felt a heavy yet satisfying sense of fulfillment.

Since it was the snowy season and many laborers were idle, he hired men at a low rate to clean the new house inside and out.

The former owner, still sour about selling below his asking price, sold off even the furnishings he’d said would be left behind, to make up the difference.

But even if he hadn’t, Xiao Yuanbao would have sold them himself—they were about to marry and needed all new furniture anyway.

If the previous owner later learned that the night market was being relocated elsewhere, he’d only feel all the more regret—but that, of course, was no concern of theirs.

“The house you bought is quite nice,” Jiang Tangtuan said one day when he came to visit. “It’s not far from where we live in the capital, so it’ll be easier for us to see each other.”

They sat inside, warming themselves by the brazier and eating crab custard pastries. Xiao Yuanbao thought this a pleasant surprise.

“In this city,” he said, “I know no one and nothing. You’re my only friend here. Now that we’ll be closer, I’ll be depending on you even more.”

Jiang Tangtuan smiled. “I’ll be glad of that. I’ve been to the capital many times, but I’ve made few acquaintances beyond my cousins and siblings. I hardly know anyone else.”

“Then that Lady Lü who hosted the banquet,” Xiao Yuanbao asked, “was she your relative?”

Jiang shook his head. “Not exactly. Her husband, Commander Qiao, knows one of my uncles.”

He hesitated a moment, then added, “You won’t laugh, will you? Lady Lü wants to form a marriage tie with our family—that’s why she invited me over.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened. “With your elder brother, Master Jiang, or…”

Jiang sighed softly. “The latter. Her eldest son is of age.”

Seeing his lack of enthusiasm, Xiao Yuanbao understood his unwillingness. He reached over and patted his hand. “Good things take time.”

Jiang smiled faintly. “Let’s not talk of such unpleasant matters. What do you do at home for leisure? I know your handwriting is fine, and you read—what books do you enjoy most?”

“If I were answering anyone else,” Xiao Yuanbao said with a grin, “I’d say poetry and the classics. But since it’s you, I’ll admit I like cookbooks. Lately, I’ve been reading some medical notes a friend from my hometown sent me.”

Jiang’s eyes lit up. “You’re honest, at least. When I traveled here for the exams with my brother, we once ate some pickled vegetables Lord Qi had prepared. The taste was excellent—my brother still talks about it. No wonder your cooking’s so good.”

“Don’t flatter me,” Xiao Yuanbao said, laughing. “You’ve eaten far finer food than I’ve ever cooked. Mine’s just simple fare—nothing that belongs on a grand table.”

“You don’t believe me,” Jiang replied with mock indignation. “Your pickled vegetables with wild mushrooms—aren’t those mountain delicacies? And since when should even food be ranked high or low?”

Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help feeling pleased. “Then when you go home, I’ll pack two jars for you to take.”

They talked on, and as the conversation drifted to their hometowns, Xiao Yuanbao suddenly remembered someone.

“Does your family have an estate in Geshan Village in Ling County? The steward there is surnamed Zhu.”

“I’m not sure,” Jiang said, thinking. “But I believe Steward Zhu is the husband of one of my mother’s attendants. I don’t know which estates they manage.”

“Then that must be it,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “Geshan Village is my hometown. I grew up there. Years ago, one of the boys from my village went to work for your family. It’s funny to think that after all this time, I’ve ended up friends with his master’s kin.”

Jiang was intrigued. “What’s his name? I know most of our household’s servants.”

“His surname is Wang, given name Chao. We called him Brother Chao back home.”

Jiang’s brows lifted slightly. “There is such a person. He was brought to our house by the same Steward Zhu I mentioned—his mother married him as a concubine.”

“Then that’s him,” Xiao Yuanbao said.

But Jiang’s expression turned a little grim. “He used to serve my elder brother. Diligent enough, and my brother treated all his attendants kindly, but he’s also a man of spotless character. Later, that servant offended my mother somehow and was sent out to work in the outer court.”

“I rarely see him,” Jiang Tangtuan said, “but he’s still in our household.”

He didn’t specify what wrong Wang Chao had committed—such things weren’t pleasant to speak of—so he left it vague.

But Xiao Yuanbao more or less understood from his tone. He guessed that Brother Wang Chao had probably tried to get close to Jiang Tangyuan, just as his mother had once become someone’s concubine. When it didn’t work out, he’d been sent away.

A quiet sigh rose in Xiao Yuanbao’s heart.

“What is it? Were you two close?” Jiang asked.

“We knew each other as children,” Xiao Yuanbao replied. “But after he left the village, we lost contact.”

He smiled faintly. “We grew up in the same place, and now we live worlds apart. Still, I couldn’t help asking.”

Jiang nodded. “True enough. Letters are hard to send, and once people move away, it’s difficult to stay in touch.”

Later that evening, Xiao Yuanbao saw Jiang Tangtuan off and handed him two jars of his pickled vegetables to take home.

Jiang was delighted.

Xiao Yuanbao noticed that everyone who’d tried his oil-pickled vegetables had liked them—no one ever said otherwise.

And now, with money running short, a new idea quietly began to form in his mind.

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