Ch 112: Reborn to Raise My Husband

The restaurant’s revenue rose steadily—from sixty-three taels in the first lunar month to ninety-eight in the second, and then to a hundred and twenty in the third.

By mid-April, only half the month gone, the ledger already showed eighty taels.

Xiao Yuanbao ran a quick calculation. Apart from losing a little over ten taels in the first month after opening, the profits of the following two months had already covered that loss, leaving a surplus of fifty to sixty taels.

If business held steady, in another year or so they could recover the full investment.

Seeing Changchun Lou prosper so, both Xiao Yuanbao and Bai Qiaogui were delighted.

“Only, with few patrons dining in the hall, it’s hard to build connections that might later help you open the medical clinic,” Xiao Yuanbao said.

The shop was clearly thriving, but the dine-in trade still lagged behind other restaurants; only the food delivery orders were brisk.

Most who ate in the hall were ordinary townsfolk—middle-aged couples who cared little for gossip. They often ordered dishes and then went upstairs to the private rooms, where the female physician would take their pulse.

Business was neither empty nor bustling.

Bai Qiaogui said, “Now that things have settled, there’s no rush. Once the trade steadies, we can begin promoting individualized medicinal meals based on pulse diagnoses.

“If guests can have their pulses read and their condition understood, the food can be tailored to their needs, giving better results—and the process will help us build connections.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought that sounded sound. “Once the invested silver is earned back in a year or so, and you’ve built your network, you can open your clinic in peace.”

Bai Qiaogui nodded, then said a little shyly, “During this year or so, I’ll trouble you to keep a closer eye on the restaurant.”

“Don’t worry. It’s our joint business—I’ll naturally…”

He began to assure her, but then frowned, sensing something amiss, and turned toward her. “Why are you saying this all of a sudden?”

Bai Qiaogui pressed her lips together in a smile, meaning to tease him, but could not hold it in and said, “These past days I’ve felt something different in my body. This morning I was sure—I’m with child.”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked. “With what?”

She laughed even harder and scolded, “Has the abacus rattled your wits? What else can come of marriage between man and woman?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened in joy. “You’re having a baby!”

Bai Qiaogui nodded, one hand resting on her still-flat belly.

She and Luo Tingfeng had been married nearly two years. The coming of this child filled them both with happiness.

Their days were smooth now—a perfect time for pregnancy.

Xiao Yuanbao quickly helped her sit down carefully. “Come, sit here. You’re precious now. Don’t worry about the shop; just be the hands-off owner. What matters most is bringing this child safely into the world.”

Bai Qiaogui laughed. “It’s only been a month or two—such a tiny thing, yet you’re fussing already. What will you be like when I’m truly round-bellied?”

Her words made Xiao Yuanbao smile all the more; life, he thought, was growing fuller by the day.

Later that evening, Qi Beinan returned from the yamen.

That day the palace was holding the imperial beauty selection; the ceremony was grand enough that even in the outer offices the sound of court music could be heard. Translated on Hololo novels.

Six new consorts had been chosen, filling the harem once again.

By mid-April, the provincial autumn examinations were approaching, and the Hanlin Academy was busier than ever.

Qi Beinan reflected on how swiftly time passed—it had already been three years since he had taken his own provincial exam.

“Old Qi, any plans for your rest day in two days?”

Qi Beinan was packing his scrolls when Ren Heng called to him from the doorway.

“What, are you inviting me to drink?”

Ren Heng grinned. “You’ve never been much of a drinker, yet always speak of wine. The garden at my estate is in bloom—bring your husband when you come to admire the flowers.”

Then he glanced at Lin Qingyu, still at his desk. “Old Lin, bring the Junjun too. It’s my birthday.”

Knowing Lin Qingyu’s temperament, he repeated the last word for emphasis. Lin Qingyu could not very well refuse and agreed.

When Qi Beinan returned home, the family carriage was already at the gate, and to his surprise Xiao Yuanbao was still in.

Crossing into the garden, he saw him at a desk writing.

“You’re back,” Xiao Yuanbao said, setting down his brush and rising.

“Mm.” Qi Beinan lifted the teacup his husband had left half-full and finished it. “Writing to whom?”

“Xin-ge’er. Business at the restaurant’s going well, so I’m sending a letter of thanks—and telling him that Gui-jie has conceived.”

Qi Beinan set down the cup. “Lord Luo and Madam Bai are expecting?”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled.

“That is joyous news indeed. No wonder Lord Luo’s carriage has been racing of late. I’ve seen him at the palace gates a few times—he used to linger about, but now he’s gone in a flash.”

“They’re careful—it’s their first child,” Xiao Yuanbao said.

After handing Qi Beinan his robe, Xiao Yuanbao let out a long sigh.

He sat beside him, rubbing his stomach. “We’ve been married quite a while now, yet the only thing in my belly is still the pork knuckle I ate at noon.”

Qi Beinan found his sulking amusing. “Perhaps I simply haven’t worked hard enough then.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s face flushed; he shoved him lightly. “Nonsense.”

Qi Beinan slipped an arm around his shoulders. “They were married nearly two years before their child came. We’ve only just passed one—it’s not time to fret.”

“So you mean to wait until you’re over thirty to be a father?” Xiao Yuanbao raised his brow.

Qi Beinan frowned. “Do I seem that old?”

Xiao Yuanbao broke into laughter.

Qi Beinan pinched his waist in mock reproof, drawing a hiss from him.

“Come to think of it,” Qi Beinan said, “Guangzong’s letter back in the first month said his wedding with Tangyuan is set for June. It’s not far off now.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “Yes. Tangyuan’s so busy preparing for the marriage he hardly writes me anymore.”

Qi Beinan fell silent a moment. That mattered little.

He recalled teasing Zhao Guangzong once, saying by the time his child was running about the courtyard, he’d still be unmarried. Yet now, it seemed, the man hadn’t been so late after all—he might even become a father before Qi Beinan did.

He turned to Xiao Yuanbao. “True, children can’t be forced before their time. But one must still put in the effort, don’t you think?”

The tips of Xiao Yuanbao’s ears went red, though he could not deny the logic.

The official robes fell away; there was no hurry to dress again in ordinary ones.

Two days later, Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao went together to the Ren residence for a banquet.

It was not a grand celebration—Ren Heng’s birthday, small but lively.

They arrived dressed properly, and already several carriages lined the gate.

Peeking through the curtain, Xiao Yuanbao said, “For such a minor birthday, the Ren household certainly draws a crowd.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “It’s only a meal. If you tire of it, send Hongtang to tell me, and we’ll leave early.”

Xiao Yuanbao no longer feared gatherings like he once had, yet most of the guests today would be strangers, and he had no taste for idle social climbing. It promised to be dull.

He nodded. “All right.”

As they stepped through the gates, Ren Heng himself came hurrying out.

The birthday celebrant was splendidly dressed, moving with the quick lightness of good humor. “At last! You two finally arrive—Old Lin’s already ahead of you.”

Qi Beinan said, “Lin Daren lives closer to here. Seems we’re not late after all.”

Ren Heng shook his head with a laugh, unwilling to argue.

Then, with a sweep of his wide sleeves, he spun once before them. “Well? Do I not dazzle today?”

Qi Beinan gave him a helpless look. “Are you going to let your guests in or not?”

Xiao Yuanbao used the moment to offer his greeting. “Many happy returns, Ren Daren.”

Ren Heng sobered, smiling with courtesy. “My thanks. Please, come through the garden—the blossoms are at their peak.”

He called for attendants to lead them in.

They had taken only a few steps when the sound of a grand carriage procession reached them from the street. Both paused and turned.

A magnificent coach drawn by four horses was arriving, eight attendants following on foot.

It was the first time Xiao Yuanbao had seen such an impressive display, and curiosity flickered across his face.

Moments later, the coach halted smoothly.

Ren Heng went forward quickly to greet the guest.

From the carriage emerged a young lady of sixteen or seventeen, round-faced and bright-eyed, graceful yet lively.

“Your Highness honors my humble home,” Ren Heng said with exaggerated deference. “This lowly official is blessed beyond measure.”

She cast him a sidelong look. “You invited me yourself—must you pretend surprise?”

It was Princess Changping. She stepped down and asked, “Have you prepared my favorite butterfly pastries?”

“Of course,” Ren Heng said with a grin.

Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao, not wishing to intrude, turned instead toward the garden.

“I’ve never seen the princess before,” Xiao Yuanbao whispered.

“That’s the Third Princess, Changping,” Qi Beinan told him softly. “Her mother is the Empress herself. She’s of high rank, and the Emperor dotes on her.”

“Ren Daren seems quite familiar with her.”

Qi Beinan nodded. “He once served in the palace as study companion to the Crown Prince. The princess and prince share the same mother—they grew up together. Their bond runs deep.”

Xiao Yuanbao drew in a quiet breath. He had known the Ren family’s standing was high, but not this high.

Qi Beinan smiled faintly. Of the three top scholars from their examination year, Ren Heng, Lin Qingyu, and himself, it was Ren Heng who had learned best how to live.

In talent they had been equals; Ren Heng might appear carefree, but his learning had been unmatched. Otherwise, he would never have ranked as second scholar in the very first sitting.

That he had not risen to greater heights in court was no fault of ability—merely that his ambitions lay elsewhere.

The Ren family had three sons; Ren Heng was the youngest. With two elder brothers shouldering the family’s responsibilities, he bore no burden of inheritance. Blessed with talent and leisure, he lived freely and as he pleased.

From an early age he had set his sights on marrying a princess and becoming an imperial son-in-law, caring little for the weight of court affairs.

In those earlier years, Qi Beinan had grand ambitions, and to him, men like Ren Heng seemed frivolous—too content to drift through life. Their paths were different, and thus their friendship never grew deep; Qi Beinan had always admired Lin Qingyu more.

Yet decades later, when the three former top scholars of their examination year met again over wine, their lives—and hearts—had all changed beyond recognition.

At thirty, Qi Beinan had lost his husband and lived thereafter alone, devoting himself to service across the provinces, his temples soon silvered with toil and wind.

Lin Qingyu fared little better. His marriage to Junjun Gu Yanyu was distant and strained. Though they had a son, they quarreled often over how to raise him, and Lin Qingyu lived long under the Duke of Jingguo’s strict control and pressure. His brow never quite lost its weight of worry.

Both men, in their later years, carried the air of weariness.

Only Ren Heng remained serene and content, his face kindly and his spirit youthful—looking easily ten years younger than the others.

He and Princess Changping shared a harmonious marriage; together they had accompanied the Emperor on tours through Jiangnan, traveling and enjoying the world’s pleasures. They had several children, all well raised.

“This way, gentlemen to the men’s garden, ladies and family to the inner one,” the servant guiding them said politely.

Xiao Yuanbao exchanged a glance with Qi Beinan; the two nodded and parted, entering separate courtyards.

As soon as Xiao Yuanbao stepped into the garden, a sweet fragrance met him. Looking around, he saw the vast courtyard filled entirely with blooming peonies—large and lush, radiant with color. The sight alone lifted the heart.

Within, family guests were scattered about, each at their own amusement—some chatting in groups, some admiring the blossoms, some feeding fish by the golden pond.

A stage had been set up at the center, and an opera was in full flourish. Tables and chairs stood nearby, tea served to the guests.

Xiao Yuanbao thought to watch a while, then join the banquet when it began.

“That seems to be the Xiao Fulang I saw at Little Dragon Hill the other day,” said Gu Yanyu from a shaded pavilion where he sat viewing the flowers. His gaze had fallen on the figure seated by the stage; the face seemed familiar, and he asked the servant beside him.

“Yes, Junjun. Lord Qi and Lord Ren serve in the same office—it’s likely both were invited.”

Gu Yanyu was quiet a moment. He placed a salted plum in his mouth and said nothing.

His attendant, Ye Fulang, seeing him distracted, asked softly, “I heard Princess Changping has arrived. Would Junjun care to go greet her? There’s still time before the meal begins.”

Gu Yanyu replied, “She’ll have no lack of company. The princess delights in teasing me—I’d rather not offer her another chance. I’ll greet her later at table.”

Ye Fulang inclined his head.

After a pause, Gu Yanyu said, “Go and invite Lord Qi’s husband over to talk with me.”

Ye Fulang hesitated. “I heard he’s from a small county town. I don’t know if Junjun will find him much of a conversational match.”

Gu Yanyu smiled faintly. “There’s only one way to know—by speaking first.”

Thus Ye Fulang went as instructed.

Xiao Yuanbao, absorbed in the opera, looked up when a gray-haired gentleman approached, saying that his master, Junjun Gu, wished to speak with him.

Following the man’s gaze, he saw Gu Yanyu seated at a pavilion, composed and elegant, surrounded by blooming peonies. When their eyes met, Gu Yanyu inclined his head in gentle greeting.

Had Xiao Yuanbao noticed him upon entering, he would have already paid his respects. It was unexpected that such a refined, reserved figure would take the initiative to invite him over.

“Junjun,” Xiao Yuanbao greeted respectfully, bowing properly.

“No need for formality,” Gu Yanyu said with a faint smile. “When I glimpsed you at Little Dragon Hill, I felt a sense of familiarity. Seeing you again today, I couldn’t resist asking you over for a word.”

He gestured for Xiao Yuanbao to sit beside him.

“The weather has turned warm,” Gu Yanyu continued. “I seldom see you outside these days. How do you pass your time at home?”

“I spend most days quietly,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “If not reading a few light books, then making a bowl of soup or two. My hands are slow, but the hours pass easily enough.”

Gu Yanyu looked a little surprised that he could read. “A fine way to keep occupied. What sort of books do you enjoy?”

“I’ve little talent for the classics, to tell the truth. You’ll laugh, Junjun—I rarely read poetry or histories, preferring miscellaneous works.”

Gu Yanyu’s eyes lit slightly, as if he had found a kindred thought. “Ah, you like miscellaneous writings too? Do you read plays? Which playwright do you favor?”

Ye Fulang, alarmed, gave his master’s sleeve a discreet tug.

Gu Yanyu’s brow moved—realizing his misstep, he fell silent.

Xiao Yuanbao, too, was caught off guard. By “miscellaneous books,” he had meant medical texts—material for studying dietary therapy. But such things were better left unsaid; he could hardly reveal he was engaged in trade.

It was safest to claim an interest in poetry, though one could never predict whether the other might press further and expose his lack of refinement.

Still, he had not expected the stately Junjun Gu to ask such a question at all.

Anyone with half a mind could tell that Gu Yanyu truly enjoyed opera tales.

Xiao Yuanbao, having rarely conversed with someone of such high standing, had always imagined that nobles like him preferred only the most elegant pastimes. It surprised him that Gu Yanyu delighted in such stories.

He smiled a little. “I do read them now and then, but lately I’ve found the newer plays less to my taste. It’s the older ones that still seem well written.”

Lowering his voice, he added, “I like stories of perseverance and happy endings—the kind where a tofu-seller’s wife builds her fortune, or a husband disguises himself as a man to travel and heal the sick. But these days the market is flooded with tales of poor scholars and wealthy maidens. The plots repeat themselves, all a bit trite. Or else it’s about celestial maidens descending to wed mortals—so much drama, yet all the same. I’m not fond of those.”

Gu Yanyu laughed softly, drawing a little closer. “You’re quite right. I’m tired of those too. Lately I’ve been reading a couple of plays about frail scholars and their capable, spirited husbands—much more amusing.”

Ye Fulang, seeing the two of them leaning close and chatting about such undignified tastes, frowned deeply. He dared not interrupt for fear of annoying Gu Yanyu and causing another sulk that would end with him refusing dinner again, so he could only glance around anxiously, making sure no one nearby overheard.

The two talked for quite some time, and when the call for the banquet came, Gu Yanyu was still reluctant to part. He kept Xiao Yuanbao by his side and even had him seated together at the main table.

Among the noble ladies and gentlemen, Xiao Yuanbao’s face was an unfamiliar one. At such high-born gatherings, every seat was arranged by rank and intimacy. Originally seated midway down the hall, he found himself brought to the front by Gu Yanyu’s invitation, drawing many curious looks.

“Whose husband is that? I’ve never seen him before—how did he grow so close with the Junjun?”

“His lord is Qi Daren, the newly appointed Hanlin scholar—the last imperial examination’s Tanhua.”

“Oh, I thought he was from some old family. Turns out he’s just an official’s husband. Small households like that know how to curry favor—see how quickly he’s latched onto the Junjun.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s senses were sharp; of course he noticed the glances falling on him, the murmured whispers. He didn’t need to hear the words to know they weren’t kind.

If this had been in his first months in the capital, he might have sat stiff with unease, heart fluttering with anxiety, too conscious of others’ judgment.

But now, his heart was calm.

He had done nothing shameful, sought no one’s favor, and provoked no one. If the Junjun chose to speak with him, who could fault him for it?

So Xiao Yuanbao carried himself with poise, eating and conversing as he would anywhere else.

His composure, in turn, drew the curiosity of several officials’ wives, who came over to exchange a few words with him.

When the feast finally ended, he stayed to play a few rounds of pitch-pot with Gu Yanyu before a servant came from Qi Beinan’s side, quietly reminding him it was time to leave.

Only then did Xiao Yuanbao take his leave and return home.

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