Ch 98: Reborn to Raise My Husband

A chill lingered in the spring night, the wind carrying traces of winter’s sharp cold.

Xiao Yuanbao soaked his feet in hot water, doors and windows tightly shut, listening to the wind’s muffled roar outside. Inside, it was comfortably warm.

He glanced toward the study—the lamp there was still lit. He didn’t know whether Qi Beinan was occupied with official duties or something else, but after supper, he had gone straight to his desk. Knowing how busy things were at the office these days, Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t gone to disturb him.

Bored, his gaze drifted to the two storybooks lying beside the couch. He picked them up.

“What kind of story is said to be so enthralling? Let this old master have a look,” he muttered to himself.

When he was twelve or thirteen, after learning to read well enough, he had once spent a few coins in the county to buy a cheap storybook—about ghosts, spirits, rich girls, and poor scholars.

But after reading those ghost tales, he had nightmares, waking in terror and hiding under his quilt, trembling so hard he couldn’t sleep.

In midsummer, stifled under the heavy bedding, he had sweated through the night and gotten no rest, rising the next morning with dark circles and heat sickness.

When Qi Beinan found out, he was both angry and amused, and forbade him to read such books again.

He had told him: children of good families—especially the young ladies and masters—must never read those small storybooks.

It was one thing if they spoke of ghosts and spirits, but those tales of forbidden romance—rich young ladies and poor scholars defying family and honor to elope—were corrupting.

They never wrote about the consequences of such elopements, only painting vows and passion as noble and touching.

In truth, most of those stories were written by impoverished scholars who had failed their examinations, venting their fantasies on paper.

And yet, such vulgar stories sold well, so more of them were written.

Those with clear minds could read them for amusement, but the simple and naïve might be led astray, imitating what they read—that was dangerous.

Through those warnings, Xiao Yuanbao had been firmly taught that eloping was a serious and shameful act.

Lost in thought, he realized he’d already turned several pages.

After reading a bit, his cheeks flushed. The writer was hardly proper—so many words were indecent, overly explicit.

Legs, hips—described as smooth and rounded, not as beauty but as lewdness.

His brows drew tight. This wasn’t a tale of pure love at all—it was about a man’s illicit affair with his sister-in-law.

Feeling deceived, Xiao Yuanbao was about to throw the filthy thing away when an illustration caught his eye.

He was surprised. Such a cheap booklet even had drawings? That was unusual.

He leaned closer, trying to make out the lines, and once he understood what the image depicted, his face turned scarlet. It felt as if filth had been thrown into his eyes.

He had never seen such a picture. Translated on hololo novels. Disgust and embarrassment tangled in his chest, and his anger turned toward that street bookseller—peddling indecent filth and claiming it was written by some “Master Liu Xin.” He had clearly been duped.

Still barefoot, feet soaking in the basin, Xiao Yuanbao snatched the booklet and hurled it across the room as if striking the deceitful seller himself.

Before his temper cooled, the door opened. Qi Beinan stepped in, holding a letter.

He saw the younger man sulking on the chair, lips pursed, brows furrowed.

“What’s this?” Qi Beinan asked mildly. “Who’s upset you?”

Then he spotted the book lying on the floor and bent to pick it up.

Xiao Yuanbao froze, his mind blank. He jumped up, water sloshing from the basin, and ran barefoot across the floor to grab it back.

Qi Beinan raised an eyebrow and got to it first.

“What kind of story could make you so eager you’d run on wet feet to snatch it?”

Xiao Yuanbao reached up, but Qi Beinan easily held it out of reach.

“It’s just some random book from the market,” Xiao Yuanbao stammered. “Brother, please give it back.”

Qi Beinan, seeing his fluster, grew even more curious.

He didn’t relent. Instead, he guided Xiao Yuanbao back to his seat by the basin.

“Good things ought to be shared,” he said. “Why hide it so carefully?”

He sat down and began to flip through the pages.

Xiao Yuanbao felt his face burn—each turn of the page was like being stripped bare.

He wanted to sink straight through the floor.

Qi Beinan’s eyes paused on the page with the entangled figures. His gaze flickered faintly, though his face stayed calm.

He turned to look at the mortified Xiao Yuanbao—saying nothing, but the look said everything.

Catching sight of the corner of the picture, Xiao Yuanbao’s face went crimson. He hurried to explain, voice tripping over itself:

“It—it was that street seller who shoved it at me. I didn’t know what it was! I only read a couple of pages before realizing it wasn’t proper, so I threw it away!”

Qi Beinan said slowly, “How proper could a storybook ever be? The question is whether the one reading it is proper.”

Hearing his character questioned, Xiao Yuanbao panicked. “I truly only glanced at it once—one look already dirtied my eyes.”

He quickly promised, “I’ll never buy random storybooks again.”

Qi Beinan couldn’t help but laugh, afraid that teasing him further might actually make him cry.

He closed the booklet and set it on the table. “Look at you, frightened over nothing. It’s just that sort of thing. Even if you read it, it’s no big deal—you’re not a child anymore.”

At that, Xiao Yuanbao breathed out in relief, though his face still glowed red.

Qi Beinan pulled him close, tightening an arm around his waist and seating him on his lap. “Still, you won’t learn anything useful from these books. I might as well teach you myself.”

“T-teach me what?” Xiao Yuanbao stammered, meeting Qi Beinan’s deep gaze.

“What do you think?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s blush deepened, and he quickly turned his head away. “You’re being improper again!”

But as his mind cleared, he suddenly sensed something off. How could Qi Beinan see such explicit drawings without even flinching? He seemed too calm—like a man long accustomed to such things.

In a small voice, he asked, “How would you teach me?”

Qi Beinan looked at him in mild surprise—bashful as he was, he could still ask something so bold.

“You really want me to explain?”

Xiao Yuanbao caught the double meaning and hurried to clarify, “I meant—how would you even know? Don’t tell me you’ve read those indecent books before!”

The more he thought about it, the more sense it seemed to make. No wonder Qi Beinan could stay in the study for hours. He had assumed it was for work—but perhaps the man had other ways of “passing the time.”

Qi Beinan realized his own reputation was now under suspicion. He shook his head solemnly. “I don’t read such vulgar things. You could search the entire study and bedroom—you’d never find one.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened. He half believed, half doubted. Then another thought struck him, and he asked hesitantly, “Then how would you even know how to… to teach anyone? Don’t tell me you’ve already been with someone…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but just imagining it made his chest tighten unpleasantly.

Qi Beinan’s lips curved slightly. “Would you like to know?”

Seeing the mischief in his eyes, Xiao Yuanbao realized nothing good could come of the answer. “I don’t want to know.”

He tried to get up, but Qi Beinan didn’t let go.

“Why not? Once we’re married, we’ll have to do such things. Don’t you want to be closer to me?”

The words made Xiao Yuanbao’s ears burn. He fidgeted, voice barely audible. “I’ve never thought about that.”

He had only thought about marrying Qi Beinan—he’d long decided that. But what came after, how it differed from their life now, he hadn’t considered.

Until now, their closeness had gone no further than holding hands, brushing noses and ears, and once—on his birthday in February—a kiss.

Qi Beinan’s lips had been warm and damp; just remembering it made Xiao Yuanbao’s whole body tremble.

Beyond that, there had been nothing.

For years, he had never really understood what married couples did beyond sharing a life.

He’d only vaguely learned later—from the matchmaker Aunt Qiao’s teasing words—that husbands and wives did other things together.

It wasn’t simply that sleeping in the same bed made a child—there was a process between.

Even knowing that, he had never seen it nor read of it clearly; it all remained hazy to him.

So even when he secretly longed for Qi Beinan, it was only to imagine being kissed and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Qi Beinan sighed softly. “Still too innocent.”

He explained gently, “Don’t overthink. I’ve never been with anyone else. As for how I know—men are born knowing.”

That was the only answer he could give.

Had he said that he had once shared a bed with someone long ago, or that after losing him he had spent years alone finding no peace, Xiao Yuanbao would never believe it anyway.

The truth was, he was out of practice—after so many years, desire came and went, and all he could do was endure it alone. One man alone could never be the same as two together.

Xiao Yuanbao whispered, “Really?”

“When have I ever lied to you? I’m yours. How could I let anyone else touch me?”

Qi Beinan added, “Besides, you watch me so closely—when would I ever have the chance?”

Hearing that, Xiao Yuanbao pressed his lips together and felt his heart settle.

He leaned against Qi Beinan’s chest, listening to the steady, strong heartbeat. In a quiet voice, he said, “Then… then teach me now.”

“Now?” Qi Beinan asked.

Xiao Yuanbao nodded.

Qi Beinan was silent for a moment, then stood and lifted him into his arms—carrying him to the bed.

By late March, Xiao Hu arrived in the capital.

He was dusty from the road but finally there, bringing more than ten chests with him—his own things, and gifts sent by old friends back home.

Rather than leaving them behind to gather dust, he had decided to bring everything along in one trip, no matter the trouble.

“Father, was your journey smooth?”

It had been a long time since father and son last saw each other, and their reunion was filled with joy.

Fortunately, neither of them had changed much.

“Smooth enough,” Xiao Hu replied. “I only brought too many things along, so the travel went a bit slower.”

With that, his arrival in the capital was settled properly.

In early April, the staff from the Four Offices and Six Bureaus came to the new residence to hang red silk ribbons and paste paper flowers, decorating the house into a joyful wedding home.

Qi Beinan moved there first, while Xiao Yuanbao would ride in the bridal sedan chair from the rented residence on the wedding day.

The two would be apart for just a few days.

On the ninth day of the fourth month—the wedding day—everything would finally come together.

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