Ch 111: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Qi Beinan’s words had stirred something in Xiao Yuanbao’s mind, and after two days of thought, he finally found a way forward.

He hung a large sign outside the shop that read: Delivery Orders Accepted.

Many establishments in the capital offered this service—customers could stop by beforehand, give their order and address, and have the food delivered to their door at the appointed time.

When Xiao Yuanbao had guests at home and no dishes prepared, he too had used such services before; it was quick and convenient.

Delivery, of course, came with an extra fee. If a household servant brought the food box to fetch the order, that was one thing, but if delivery staff were sent to the customer’s residence, an additional three to five copper coins was standard depending on the order’s size.

When Changchun Ju first opened, Xiao Yuanbao had avoided the idea, worried the kitchen would be too busy with dine-in customers. And since the dishes were already priced high, he feared adding a delivery fee would make people complain even more.

Yet it was just as Qi Beinan had said: he had never truly considered who the restaurant was meant for. He had been preoccupied with keeping prices low so that ordinary townsfolk would come, without realizing that a health-food establishment was never meant to serve the same customers as his old pickle stall.

It was like the cloth trade: some dealt in fine silks for nobles, others in coarse linen for the common folk. The silk houses sold expensive goods, catering to the wealthy, and though a commoner might occasionally save enough to buy a bolt or two, the shopkeepers never lowered their prices to suit them.

Xiao Yuanbao had mixed up the order of things entirely.

Once he understood the problem, he didn’t lower prices—he raised them slightly for the signature dishes instead.

Within two days of offering delivery, results began to show.

Orders started coming in—five or six each day—and when combined with dine-in sales, the shop finally felt alive again. The staff were busy, no longer idle and muttering that the restaurant might close at any moment.

What amused him most was that the dishes ordered for delivery were nearly all tonic soups for vitality and strength.

Those too embarrassed to dine publicly could now eat in comfort at home.

However, Xiao Yuanbao noticed that these delivery orders came mostly from street regulars—the idle sort of the middle class. There were still no servants or maids from noble households.

That meant the very clientele Changchun Ju needed still didn’t know the place existed.

“These orders are mostly for tonic soups,” he analyzed with Bai Qiaogui. “Likely from those men who saw the menu during opening week, wanted to try them, but were too embarrassed to be seen ordering such dishes. So they send others instead.”

“In short, our customers are still ordinary folk.”

Bai Qiaogui said, “We must find a way to make the wealthy households hear of us.”

“I think so too,” Xiao Yuanbao replied, “but how, that’s the problem.”

He thought aloud. “I once heard of a merchant who tried to advertise by tossing printed flyers over the walls of noble mansions. People certainly learned of his shop—but his reputation was ruined, and everyone avoided him after that.”

“Exactly,” Bai Qiaogui said. “Promotion has to be done well; if done poorly, it backfires.”

Xiao Yuanbao reassured her, “At least the delivery orders are improving. We don’t need to rush. We’ll take it slowly. I’ve written to Xin-ge’er for business advice. His family has traded for generations, and his silk shop is thriving. He’s bound to have some ideas.”

Bai Qiaogui slapped her forehead. “Of course—how could I forget him? We should’ve written long ago.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “Only after managing a business do you see how truly demanding trade is. People say merchants are sly and stinking of copper, but before I ever ran a large venture, I thought the same—that traders were all of questionable character. Now I see it’s just the envy of those who lack the skill.”

He chuckled softly. “Only the truly capable can run a business properly—and still make a profit.”

Bai Qiaogui agreed. “That’s the truth.”

By the end of the month, a letter arrived from Ming Guanxin.

He congratulated them on opening Changchun Ju, wrote that he admired their life working side by side, and scolded them gently for not telling him sooner.

Then he filled several pages with detailed advice on how to build reputation among the upper class.

Xiao Yuanbao read every word carefully, his brows gradually relaxing. When he finished, he shook his head with a rueful smile—he truly was a novice compared to a family born to trade. The man’s methods were endless, clever and practical all at once.

He lost no time. He sent people out to inquire, paid a few coins to have things arranged.

By the second day of the second month—Dragon Raising Its Head day—Qi Beinan happened to be on leave.

Spring had come early that year. Translated on Hololo novels. The grass outside the capital was already green, and the air smelled of fresh earth and new shoots.

With the weather so mild and gatherings everywhere, Xiao Yuanbao took the chance to go with Qi Beinan to the temple fair at Little Dragon Hill for a day of spring outing.

As they left the city, the main road was already crowded with carriages and travelers. Once they reached the mountain, the crowd grew thicker still.

Little Dragon Hill was not a large temple, but it was close enough to the city that most who went out for spring walks came here, so people filled every path.

From the parking ground below, where carriages and horses were kept, Xiao Yuanbao and Qi Beinan climbed the stone steps hand in hand. The stairs were not very steep, yet by the time they reached the mid-slope, Xiao Yuanbao’s forehead was damp with a fine sheen of sweat.

“It’s been too long since I moved about outdoors,” he said, breath quick. “A few steps and I’m already winded.”

Qi Beinan smiled, taking out a handkerchief to wipe his brow. “We’re no longer boys running wild through the hills and fields. The body doesn’t keep up as it once did.”

Around them, the forest shimmered with new buds. The air was cool and clean, the distant noise of the city fading beneath the quiet rustle of the mountain.

While Xiao Yuanbao was taking in the view, his gaze fell upon a man standing beneath a pavilion not far away—a fulang in a long robe of violet silk, a jade pendant hanging at his waist, posture composed and straight. The lines jun jing ru ye, wen hua ruo jin—“graceful as jade, radiant as brocade”—flashed through Xiao Yuanbao’s mind.

He paused, glancing twice more, when unexpectedly the man’s eyes turned toward him as well.

Though Xiao Yuanbao did not know who he was, the four attendants at his side and his calm bearing made his rank clear: a man of high birth.

It was no surprise to see nobles or official households on Little Dragon Hill; he meant only to nod politely and move on.

Then Qi Beinan’s gentle voice sounded above him: “That is the junjun, Gu Yanxu.”

Xiao Yuanbao started slightly, then, following Qi Beinan’s lead, bowed from afar. Gu Yanxu returned the gesture with a nod.

When they had walked on, Xiao Yuanbao asked softly, “Is that the junjun who married Lord Lin?”

Qi Beinan nodded.

No wonder, Xiao Yuanbao thought, his presence carried such refinement. He had glimpsed Gu Yanxu only once before—at the wedding banquet, when the veil still covered his face. Meeting him now by chance, he found the man’s appearance indeed exceptional.

Yet Gu Yanxu’s expression seemed subdued, his complexion paler than most, as though he were not in strong health.

Qi Beinan murmured, “It’s precisely because of his frailty that the Duke would not let him enter the palace. Had he remained unmarried before the imperial selection, with his looks and lineage, his entry into the palace would have been near certain.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded in understanding.

At the pavilion, Gu Yanxu asked, “That was the Qi family couple, was it not?”

His attendant replied, “Yes, junjun. They’re likely here to burn incense and enjoy the spring air while Master Qi is on leave.”

Gu Yanxu had seen Qi Beinan once before—when he paraded as the top scholar of the imperial examination—and had heard that he was the tan hua of that year.

At that time, his father had known the emperor intended to hold a selection for the palace and had planned to find Gu Yanxu a match among the new scholars.

All three top scholars were outstanding in both looks and learning. Word was that the tan hua was already engaged, while the other two remained unbetrothed. One was the zhuangyuan, now his husband; the other was Ren Heng, from a noble family in the capital whom he knew well.

The Ren household was unruly; his father favored Lin Qingyu instead and arranged their marriage.

Gu Yanxu remembered seeing Qi Beinan again just now—walking hand in hand with his fulang, gently wiping his sweat away, nothing like the solemn, austere man he appeared at court.

“They seem deeply affectionate,” Gu Yanxu murmured.

His attendant fulang smiled. “I’ve heard they grew up together, betrothed since childhood. Master Qi cherishes his husband greatly.”

He went on to recount how, when Xiao Yuanbao first came to the capital and was nearly mocked by others, Qi Beinan had stepped in and taught the offenders a lesson.

Gu Yanxu listened with quiet fascination. Such a bond, he thought, existed only in plays—how tender, how enviable.

Seeing his master lost in thought, the attendant’s heart sank. He regretted speaking so freely and tried to comfort him. “My lord is only busy with official duties. That’s why he couldn’t accompany you today.”

But the words had the opposite effect.

“In the same office, holding nearly the same rank, yet he alone has no time? If he’s so endlessly busy, Father might as well assign him a leisure post.”

Every day Lin Qingyu came home only to shut himself in his study, often not emerging until the moon was high. Gu Yanxu would wait until he fell asleep from exhaustion, then make up the lost rest during the day just to stay up again at night, hoping to see him.

His attendant, Ye Fulang, knew this petulance well. “A man must put his future first. If he took a leisure post, how could he aid the Duke?”

Gu Yanxu’s voice turned dull. “Then go to the Temple of Marriage and donate two hundred strings of coins. Ask the abbot for a charm to bless the bond between husbands.”

He paused, then added, “Make sure it’s for husbands, not for husband and wife—they might give the wrong one.”

Ye Fulang frowned. “We just made an offering there the other day.”

Gu Yanxu pursed his lips. “If you don’t go, I’ll go myself—and if people see me again, they’ll start gossiping.”

Meanwhile, Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao finished offering incense and, seeing that it was already noon, decided to stay for the vegetarian meal before returning.

The temple’s meals were known for their delicacy; many nobles favored dining there.

They found a table and sat down, resting their legs after the climb.

Qi Beinan asked, “Xin-ge’er wrote you about trade and advertising. What method did he suggest?”

Xiao Yuanbao picked up a roasted bean and fed it into Qi Beinan’s mouth. Just as he was about to speak, voices drifted over from behind the screen that separated their tables.

The hall they were in served the most expensive temple meals—only officials’ households and the wealthy could afford it. Each table was enclosed by a screen, so though they shared the same hall, every group dined apart.

Through the carved lattice, Xiao Yuanbao could faintly see three or four figures at the next long table, talking idly.

“What rouge are you using? Your cheeks are glowing—so fair and rosy!”

“Do you really think my complexion’s better?”

“Truly,” said a plump woman. “Just look—ask the others if you don’t believe me.”

The companions nodded at once.

The woman being praised hid a laugh behind her round fan. “It isn’t rouge at all—I haven’t touched a bit of the stuff. You’re seeing the effect of a medicinal diet I’ve been taking lately.”

“Your color’s lovely—so bright it looks like you’ve powdered and painted your cheeks.”

At that, Xiao Yuanbao nudged Qi Beinan with his chin, gesturing for him to listen closely.

“What kind of medicinal diet works so well?” another asked. “Keeping it to yourself all this time, and only now you tell us?”

“My dear sisters, I wasn’t hiding anything,” the woman said cheerfully. “I’d only just started taking it myself and didn’t dare brag before I saw results. Now that you see me looking well, I’ll tell you plainly.”

“There’s a shop on Ping’an Street, outside the city wall—called Changchun Lou. They specialize in food for health and restoration. I heard of it from someone else and ordered their Blood-Tonifying and Beauty Soup. The flavor was delicious and rich. I treated it as an ordinary meal, not expecting much… and to my surprise—well, you’ve seen the result yourselves.”

She smiled, embarrassed by their praise, covering one cheek. “I suppose I should thank you for noticing.”

The others leaned closer. “Truly?”

“If you doubt me,” she said, “order from them yourselves. Changchun Lou has all kinds of dishes—tonics for blood and complexion, for yin and yang balance, sleep and digestion. Whether you want to slim down or fill out, they’ve a recipe for it.”

“I’m too poor with words to recall them all, but when I get home, I’ll send a servant to fetch one of their illustrated menus.”

The ladies murmured among themselves. “Imagine, a place like that in the capital! It sounds marvelous.”

Hearing this, Qi Beinan chuckled softly, leaning to whisper in Xiao Yuanbao’s ear. “Who’s that lady you know, speaking so well of your shop?”

“I don’t know her,” Xiao Yuanbao whispered back.

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “You don’t?”

Smiling, Xiao Yuanbao quietly explained.

When Ming Guanxin had written, he’d advised that if one wished to spread reputation among the wealthy, it had to come from within their own circles.

Back when Xiao Yuanbao first came to the capital, he’d thought to build some connections at banquets, but after being humiliated once, he’d lost all interest. Since then, he hadn’t cultivated any ties with official families—and besides, he’d always been embarrassed to advertise his own business.

What he hadn’t known was that among the noble households were people who made a trade of such promotion.

These were well-spoken, lively individuals—fond of socializing and always welcome at banquets, where hosts often paid them simply to liven the mood.

They would attend feasts across the city, dropping casual mentions of new goods or shops over wine and conversation—praising one thing here, another there. In a few days, the gossip spread like fire through silk.

Such word of mouth cost silver, of course; their own status was not low, and they wouldn’t stoop to such work for free.

When Xiao Yuanbao first heard of this, he was astonished—but after some thought, it made perfect sense.

Even among the gentry, not every household was rich. Some found their purses tight, and speaking a few flattering words at a banquet to earn a purse of coins was easy work indeed.

It was the Ming family—long in trade—who had used this very method to promote their fine timber among the noble houses. They knew how to find the right people, how to bargain the price.

Following their example, Xiao Yuanbao did the same—found a contact, paid the fee, and set things in motion.

With spring’s arrival, flowers opened across the capital, and banquets bloomed as quickly as the blossoms. The news spread fast.

“The woman I hired asked a hundred strings of cash,” Xiao Yuanbao whispered. “I thought it outrageous, but I had no better plan—so I gritted my teeth and paid. Now I see the money wasn’t wasted. She’s doing her job well. If I didn’t own the place myself, I’d be tempted to try it after hearing her talk.”

“I’ve also hired a painter and a print shop to remake our menu—illustrated and elegant. Just looking at it should make people want to order something.”

Qi Beinan laughed, tapping Xiao Yuanbao’s forehead. “You found the right teacher, and he’s set you on a good path.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded in agreement.

If not for Ming Guanxin’s guidance, he thought, he could’ve spent ten more years in business and never discovered such a method.

Why, had someone sung praises like that in his hearing before, he’d have thought them merely kindhearted—sharing something good, never guessing they’d been paid to do it.

From that day onward, the restaurant’s delivery business suddenly flourished.

At first, people came just to ask for menus; soon after, they began placing orders in earnest.

Where once there had been only four or five delivery orders a day, by the start of the second month there were no fewer than a dozen on slow days, and thirty or forty on busy ones.

The restaurant’s own staff could no longer keep up, so Xiao Yuanbao hired extra help—idle men from the streets who ran errands and deliveries.

Those same men had once dismissed Changchun Lou, seeing how quiet it was even after announcing home delivery. They thought the restaurant’s own workers had more than enough time to handle the few orders that came in, and saw no reason to wait there for business.

Now, seeing the constant flow of servants fetching food boxes and customers coming and going, they crowded outside hoping for a turn.

The restaurant treated them kindly. A great clay urn of coarse tea was set out in the courtyard, always kept hot and free for anyone waiting to drink.

By the fourth month, when Xiao Yuanbao and Bai Qiaogui went over the accounts again, both were smiling from ear to ear.

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