Ch 104: Reborn to Raise My Husband

It was only a few days later that Xiao Yuanbao received a letter from Bai Qiaogui, sent from Lantian County.

She wrote that she too would be coming to the capital. As for the food therapy business Yuanbao had mentioned, she proposed they discuss it in detail once she arrived in person.

Reading that line, Yuanbao shot up from his stool in surprise. He read the letter again, slowly, carefully, to be sure he hadn’t imagined it.

When he finished, a bright smile spread across his face.

Just then, Wen-ge’er came in carrying tea. Seeing Yuanbao grinning over a letter, he asked, “Is it a letter from the master? You look so happy.”

Yuanbao shook his head. “Not from him—Sister Gui is coming to the capital.”

Wen-ge’er set down the teacup. “Is Madam Bai coming especially to see you?”

“She’s not coming for me,” Yuanbao said, still beaming. “She’s moving here.”

In her letter, Bai Qiaogui explained that after the recent juren selection, His Majesty had expanded the number of appointments available, allowing more scholars to be assigned to posts.

Yet no matter how outstanding these men were, none could immediately serve in the capital; all had to begin their careers in the provinces. To make room, the Ministry of Personnel was recalling competent officials who had previously been sent out to local positions.

Luo Tingfeng, who had done well in the palace examination, had been posted to the provinces for lack of connections in the capital. Now, with new juren needing posts, he was being transferred back.

Bai Qiaogui didn’t specify what department Luo Tingfeng would serve in once they returned—her letter only said they would settle that after arriving.

For now, she asked Yuanbao to help make arrangements in advance; they would depart for the capital within ten days.

Since the juren selection exams were already underway—and these were simpler than the regular imperial exams, with results released quickly—the new appointments would follow soon after. Once the Ministry issued the recall order, the couple had to hand over their county duties and prepare for travel.

Though their time in office hadn’t been long, it was still enough that leaving required proper handover. Everything had just been put in order when the imperial decree arrived, bringing a rush of work.

Even if they hadn’t asked for help, Yuanbao would have stepped in. Upon learning they were coming, he immediately wrote back, assuring them to finish their business in Lantian County without worry—he would handle matters here.

The Luo and Bai families were modest but decent folk, with some means yet far from wealthy. Coming to the capital, the first concern was lodging.

Unlike a county appointment, where the magistrate and his family lived in the yamen’s official residence, capital officers had to rely on government quarters—and without connections, getting a decent one could take ages.

Even then, there was no telling whether one might be assigned a house near the outer wards or some cramped, noisy alley.

After his first appointment, Luo Tingfeng had learned what life in the capital was like. Rather than wait endlessly for a suitable official residence, he decided to rent a private home instead.

But to purchase one, as Qi Beinan and Yuanbao had done, was out of reach for them. They had only limited savings; they could not produce such a large sum at once.

So the most practical choice was to rent. Officials living outside their assigned quarters received a small stipend, but it wasn’t much. Luo therefore asked Bai Qiaogui to have Yuanbao help find a house before they arrived, so that settling in would go smoothly.

Yuanbao was more than happy to help—he only wished they might rent somewhere in the same lane.

Yet the inner city, where he lived, was expensive. Buying property was costly enough; even renting could be daunting.

Still, it wouldn’t do for them to live too far out—traveling to morning court from the outer districts would be tiring.

After thinking it over, Yuanbao suddenly recalled something.

Their previous rental house, before they had bought the new one, was in a good location and reasonably priced. They had lived there for nearly a year, and had it not been for the marriage and new home, they would have kept it longer.

Moreover, Bai Qiaogui had visited that house before and liked it.

Decision made, Yuanbao sent someone to find the property broker.

Fortunately, since they’d given up the lease in May and the big summer exams hadn’t yet begun, there weren’t many tenants searching. The house hadn’t been taken.

Renewing the lease was easy—no haggling over price; everything stayed as before.

Once the new keys were in hand, Yuanbao sent two idle servants to clean the place thoroughly.

Summer dust settled thickly; after a month closed up, the house had grown dull and gray.

By late June, the capital was sweltering. The air felt baked dry, as if scorched by fire.

Luo Tingfeng and Bai Qiaogui arrived with three or four wagonloads of belongings.

Having received their letter in advance, Yuanbao went to the city gate to meet them.

He had been waiting outside for some time, but the sun blazed down mercilessly, drenching him in sweat. He bought a block of ice from a street vendor, intending to cool off in his carriage—when, from afar, he caught sight of their caravan approaching.

“In this heat,” Bai Qiaogui called out as she stepped down, “whatever possessed you to wait at the gate? If you catch heatstroke, what then?”

Bai Qiaogui stepped down from the carriage, her face bright with both joy and mild reproach as she saw Xiao Yuanbao waiting there.

She drew out a handkerchief scented faintly with mint and dabbed the sweat from his forehead. “I still remember the way to that house. You needn’t have come all this way to the city gate.”

“I was waiting in the shade,” Yuanbao said with a laugh. “No matter how hot it gets, it’s not as bad as the heat you’ve suffered on the road. I’ve nothing to do at home anyway—coming out for a walk does me good.”

Then he turned and greeted Luo Tingfeng with a polite bow. “Master Luo, was your journey smooth?”

It had been a full year since they’d last seen each other. Luo Tingfeng was darker now, likely from the sun and wind of provincial service—no longer the pale scholar of old. Yet the tan suited him, lending a steadier, more mature air.

“The road was clear all the way,” Luo said. “Only the weather—sweltering. We kept shut in the carriage, it was stifling. We soaked indigo root in our water to fend off the heat; otherwise we’d surely have fallen ill after so many days on the road.”

He added with a smile, “If a few days’ journey was this trying, then Brother Qi’s examination tour through the provinces must be far worse.”

“He’s learned to ride now,” Yuanbao replied. “He doesn’t have to sit cooped up in a carriage all day—he’ll be fine.”

After a few more words, they climbed into the carriage and went to the house.

Yuanbao had already ordered water to be boiled—after such a journey, they would be soaked in sweat and nothing would feel better than a bath.

By noon he sent a servant to fetch hot dishes from a nearby tavern, and soon they were eating together.

Servants from both households busied themselves with unpacking. Luo and Bai had brought two attendants, but with a whole house to settle into, extra hands were welcome.

Yuanbao, having moved several times himself, knew well how troublesome it could be. Seeing everything clean, orderly, and ready for them to move in at once, the couple were deeply grateful for how thoughtful he’d been.

When the sun tilted westward, Yuanbao finally took his leave.

He had come empty-handed, but he went home carrying a chest.

Opening it, he found it filled with fine medicinal herbs—soft-dried wild goji berries, thumb-thick slices of danggui, crisp white lily bulbs, plump lotus seeds.

All could serve as both medicine and food: lily and lotus seeds made fragrant porridge, danggui enriched stewed chicken or pork, and goji berries had endless uses.

He guessed Sister Gui had gathered them herself back in Lantian.

Besides the herbs, there were local delicacies too: spicy-marinated smoked chicken, wrapped in oil paper that released a numbing aroma the moment he opened it. Steamed, it would surely be delicious.

He selected some lilies and lotus seeds into a round box, added danggui and goji berries, and packed two of the smoked chickens—sending the lot to Jiang Tangtuan’s household.

Just as his servant went off with the bundle, Wen-ge’er came in. “Husband, a letter’s arrived.”

He handed over not just a letter from the porter’s lodge, but also a small parcel.

Yuanbao had been sorting the chest; the strong scent of the smoked chicken had clung to his sleeves. He was rubbing his hands with bath beans when he heard there was a letter, and quickly wiped them dry before taking it.

The envelope opened easily, and on the back of the folded paper he saw a few familiar characters—To my beloved.

Seeing those four words, Yuanbao’s heart lifted. The letter was thick—four or five pages at least.

He didn’t open it right away but turned to Wen-ge’er. “Go tell the kitchen to make me shrimp dumplings for supper.”

“Yes, sir,” Wen-ge’er said, and went.

Then Yuanbao carried the letter into the main room and unfolded the paper.

Xiaobao, if you are reading this, I am well.

The examinations proceed smoothly; all is in order. Food and lodging are sufficient, though the night rains in Jinling come fierce and loud with thunder—I find it hard to sleep. I cannot help but think of those nights of rain when you and I were together…

Qi Beinan’s letter went on with small details of his days overseeing the provincial exams, asking how Yuanbao fared in the capital, whether he had missed him, and so on.

Because correspondence was slow, Qi had written at length. Yuanbao read carefully line by line. In later pages, Qi mentioned the bustling beauty of Jinling, its shops and wonders even grander than the capital’s.

During his free hours, he had bought a few gifts he thought Yuanbao might like and hoped they would please him.

Even before opening the parcel, Yuanbao was already smiling.

He hurried to untie the bundle. Inside was a long wooden box holding a delicately carved hairpin—simple and elegant, with a faint, refined fragrance rising from the wood.

There was also a small square box that fit in his palm. He opened it and found a pink pearl, perfectly round and luminous.

He lifted it between two fingers, marveling.

He had seen white pearls before, but never pink ones; such a gem must be rare and costly.

“Still spending money so freely,” he murmured—but the reproach was soft, full of warmth. He carefully set the pearl back into its box, smiling all the while.

Just when Xiao Yuanbao thought he’d finished unpacking everything, he noticed another folded length of fabric at the bottom of the parcel.

He glanced at it—it didn’t seem remarkable at first glance, just an ordinary piece of leather or cloth easily found in the capital. Why would Qi Beinan have gone to the trouble of sending this all the way back?

Curious, Yuanbao picked it up. It felt as though something was hidden inside.

He unfolded the cloth—and sure enough, a slim fabric-covered box was tucked within.

“What on earth—he even hid something inside…”

Before he could finish muttering, a flash of bright crimson caught his eye.

Inside the box lay a piece of red silk, no wider than a man’s waist, shorter even than a kitchen apron. A thin strap looped for the neck, two ribbons extended from the sides to tie around the waist—and across the middle, finely embroidered mandarin ducks played upon rippling water.

Yuanbao lifted the fabric in one hand; it was so small and soft he could easily crush the whole thing into his palm.

The material was supple beyond belief, cool and smooth to the touch, like dipping one’s fingers into a stream of spring water.

At the bottom of the box was a note. Yuanbao picked it up and read:

“Your skin is fair and your waist slender; this fabric is soft and gentle. You’ll look beautiful in it. When I return, I’ll have a proper look.”

In an instant, Yuanbao’s face turned crimson.

That tiny scrap of cloth—how could it possibly cover anything? It might reach the upper thighs at best, and behind, only two ribbons to tie it by. There was scarcely any difference between wearing it and wearing nothing at all.

Even holding it made his hands feel hot.

Flustered, Yuanbao shoved the silk back into the box and snapped the lid shut, his cheeks burning.

“This man—so shameless,” he muttered under his breath. “Out doing official business, and he still finds time to buy something like this?”

The nerve of him. Yuanbao couldn’t even stand to look at the thing without blushing; he could hardly imagine how Beinan had managed to buy it in broad daylight.

“And to write that he wants me to wear it for him when he comes back—if he dares bring it up, I’ll throw it in his face,” he fumed. “Utterly incorrigible.”

Muttering these fierce words, he dove under the quilt, face still red.

Yet for all his indignation, Qi Beinan’s teasing had stirred something.

Since their marriage, they had spent nearly every night together, intimate and frequent. Now Beinan had been gone almost a month, and Yuanbao had lived alone just as long.

It was like eating rich meat and fish every day—at first one tires of it and craves something plain, but after too many days of thin porridge, one begins to long for a single bite of meat again.

Lately, he’d been dreaming often—vivid dreams that left him flushed and sweating when he woke.

A few days later, Luo Tingfeng began work at his new post, their household finally in order. With things settled, Bai Qiaogui came by to visit Yuanbao.

“Though he’s been transferred to the capital,” she said with a sigh, “the position is a quiet one, with little future. The Ministry has assigned him to the Guozijian as a keeper of the archives. He spends his days tending to books—idleness itself. It’s not even as lively as serving in the provinces, where at least he could make something of himself.”

She gave a helpless smile. “Still, you know how he loves his books. When he studied at the county academy, he was just the same. There’s no real advancement in this post, but at least he’s doing something he enjoys.”

Yuanbao hadn’t known until then where Luo Tingfeng had been placed; he couldn’t help but feel a little sorry. In the capital, connections ruled everything. For those from small counties without roots or backing, progress was difficult.

“Let him work steadily a few years,” Yuanbao said. “With time and seniority, there’ll always be a chance to move up.”

“I know,” Qiaogui replied with a soft laugh. “I just needed to say it to someone. Truly, even if his career never rises high, I won’t complain. Living well together matters more than anything else.”

“You’re right about that.”

Then she smiled again. “In your last letter, you mentioned wanting to start a business. I think that’s wise. Once you have a household, you must find ways to sustain it. You know what officials earn—it’s barely enough to keep a family.”

“He has only the small properties from when he passed the examinations,” she went on. “They’re all rented out, and the rent covers our expenses, but what was comfortable in Lantian feels tight here in the capital.”

After only a few days in the city, Bai Qiaogui had already learned that Yuanbao hadn’t exaggerated in his letters—living in the capital devoured silver.

“This won’t do forever,” she said. “We’ve just been married, no children yet—but once they come, expenses will multiply.”

“I’ve been thinking of opening a medical hall while I have the time,” she added.

But that was no easy venture. She had no standing or connections in the capital, and skill alone seldom brought recognition. It was much like Yuanbao’s own beginnings when he first arrived in a new county.

And besides, opening a clinic would require a heavy investment to start.

Every step seemed difficult.

Yuanbao understood her worries perfectly. Had it not been for Qi Beinan’s foresight in buying those dozen shopfronts in Linzhou early on, their own life would have been no easier than Luo and Bai’s—perhaps even harder.

“Still, the two of you are fortunate to have some help from your families,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “It gives you something to fall back on. But now that you’re married, it’s not proper to keep asking for money from home.”

“No matter what, being willing to stand on your own feet and build a livelihood—that’s a fine thing.”

He paused a moment, then added, “Opening a medical hall in the capital is indeed difficult. Procuring herbs alone is an art in itself, to say nothing of the rest. And you’re an official’s wife—you can’t be sitting in the hall each day seeing patients. You’d have to hire someone trustworthy to do that for you. As for finding a suitable shop, that part is easier, but still not simple.”

Bai Qiaogui sighed. “Those are exactly the troubles I’ve been turning over in my mind.”

After thinking carefully, Yuanbao said, “Then why not join me instead? We could work together on food-therapy recipes—just as we used to. When the time comes, we’ll open a food-therapy shop together.”

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