Ch 114: Reborn to Raise My Husband

In mid-June, the weather was stifling.

After the morning court session, the sun burned high above the palace eaves, and even a faint breeze could not be found.

Today’s audience had lasted far longer than usual. Still, every minister listened with solemn attention.

In the fifth month, the Ministry of Appointments had completed its annual evaluations of all officials and submitted the memorials to the emperor. This day, the emperor personally announced the promotions and demotions.

Many received honors and advancement, while just as many were reprimanded or dismissed.

By the time court was dismissed, Qi Beinan’s legs were stiff from standing so long.

He made his way slowly back to the Hanlin Academy. Three officials in their office had been promoted, and when he arrived, the hall was full of congratulatory laughter.

Qi Beinan offered his own words of felicitation before returning to his desk.

Without realizing it, he had already spent a full year at the Hanlin. His record for the year was solid; among the new scholars, his performance was one of the best.

Yet most of his duties were routine. The few notable cases he had taken part in were temporary assignments to other offices—more as an assistant than an independent official.

Thus, when the results were announced, his rank remained unchanged.

Life in the Hanlin was mild and steady, peaceful enough, yet he knew that at his age he could not afford to drift along without achievements.

To rise, he needed tangible merit—but opportunities for merit were not his to choose.

With so many officials in service, the emperor might never recall his name unless someone spoke for him, and without recommendation, advancement was near impossible.

After work, Qi Beinan rode home in the sweltering carriage. As he turned into their lane, he saw a fine carriage pulling out from his gate.

He recognized it immediately—it was the carriage of Junjun Gu Yanyu.

“Junjun has been here?” he asked upon returning home.

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “He came by this morning. He invited me to go with him in a few days to offer incense at Little Dragon Hill.”

Qi Beinan wiped the sweat from his brow while Xiao Yuanbao called for water from the kitchen to prepare his bath.

“Little Dragon Hill is shaded with tall trees,” Xiao Yuanbao added. “It’s cooler than the city, and they say one doesn’t even need ice there to feel refreshed.”

As Qi Beinan loosened his official robe, he said, “You two seem to have grown quite close these past couple of months.”

Once, it had always been Gu Yanyu inviting him out for idle amusements. At some point, though, the Junjun himself had begun calling on them in person.

Qi Beinan had once doubted Xiao Yuanbao’s description of Gu Yanyu as “easy-going,” but now it seemed true enough—their friendship had clearly deepened.

“Indeed,” Xiao Yuanbao said cheerfully. “He came early this morning to learn how to make pickled cucumbers from me—said Lin Daren likes that dish. Once he’d mastered it, he hurried home to cook it for him before noon.”

Qi Beinan stared. “He came here to learn cooking for Lin Qingyu?”

“I’ve no reason to make that up,” Xiao Yuanbao replied, amused by his disbelief. “The Junjun can already make several dishes now. He even learned to make fish soup—says Lin Daren taught him.”

Qi Beinan took a long moment to absorb that. Recently, Lin Qingyu had been more talkative than before, and he often left the office earlier. Qi Beinan had thought it was some sign of promotion; who knew it was because life at home had finally turned harmonious.

“They used to be like oil and water,” he said, half in wonder. “How did they make peace?”

Xiao Yuanbao tilted his chin in mock pride. “A man becomes brighter in the company of the good.”

Qi Beinan couldn’t help laughing. “Was it your doing? For someone as proud as the Junjun, to roll up his sleeves and cook—surely that took some persuasion.”

“You misjudge him,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “He cares for Lin Daren deeply. He even asked me how to get along with one’s husband, so I told him how you and I live together. I don’t know exactly what passed between them afterward, but it’s plain enough they’re happier now.”

Xiao Yuanbao was truly glad for Gu Yanyu. He and Lin Qingyu were a golden pair—handsome, talented, and well-matched. It was only right that they should live in harmony. To become resentful spouses wasting each other’s lives would have been a pity.

Qi Beinan looked at Xiao Yuanbao for a long moment, his gaze thoughtful.

Once, his feelings for Xiao Yuanbao had been pure affection—whatever Xiao Yuanbao did, right or wrong, he cherished him without question.

But now, seeing the calm confidence in him, that affection had deepened into admiration.

He took Xiao Yuanbao’s hands and drew him closer.

“What is it?” Xiao Yuanbao asked, looking down at him, his expression puzzled but gentle.

Qi Beinan tilted his head up and smiled. “I think I’m growing fonder of you by the day.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes curved with laughter. “So before, you didn’t love me enough?”

Qi Beinan pulled him into his lap, arms circling his waist. “Then tell me—have I not done well enough?”

Xiao Yuanbao thought for a moment. “Roughly speaking, no faults come to mind. And if I think carefully…” He paused. “Still none.”

Qi Beinan laughed softly. “If I’m so good, shouldn’t I be properly rewarded?”

That morning Xiao Yuanbao had spent his time teaching Gu Yanyu how to make summer pickles. He hadn’t done much else, and, perhaps from skipping his nap, felt a pleasant drowsiness.

He hadn’t meant to indulge Qi Beinan’s teasing, yet he recalled visiting Sister Gui two days ago—her pregnancy was over five months along, her belly already rounding gently. Translated on Hololo novels. Watching her resting in the garden’s shade, he had felt a quiet envy.

Each time he saw her, he found himself sighing, wondering when he and Qi Beinan might have a child of their own.

With that thought in his heart, this time he didn’t refuse him.

When Qi Beinan lifted Xiao Yuanbao into his arms, Xiao Yuanbao clung to his shoulder and murmured, “Don’t make it last too long.”

“There’s nothing else to do. The sun outside is blazing—surely you don’t mean to go out?”

Xiao Yuanbao pressed his lips together. “I just feel a little tired. I want to sleep.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “That won’t spare you.”

But Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t been bluffing. After a brief while, with the heat of the bed curtains and the steady warmth at his side, he truly drifted off.

Qi Beinan looked down at him—his breathing even and soft.

He pinched the pale, faintly flushed cheek before him. Xiao Yuanbao didn’t even stir, not pretending in the least.

Qi Beinan gave a helpless sigh, bent to kiss his forehead, and stayed where he was, holding him as he too dozed for a while.

Meanwhile, at the Lin residence, Gu Yanyu had hurried home, eager to try his hand in the kitchen.

He made a plate of cool, crisp pickled cucumbers—bright in flavor, tart and refreshing.

Tasting one, he thought it even better than the batch Xiao Yuanbao had praised at the Qi household. Hearing that Lin Qingyu had returned from court, he joyfully took up the dish and went to meet him.

“Ayu! You’re back—I learned a new recipe today, come and try—”

Gu Yanyu came out smiling, but when he saw that Lin Qingyu was not alone, the words caught in his throat. Standing beside him was the stern-faced Duke of Jing. He lowered his head and said softly, “Father.”

The duke stared at the sight before him—his son wearing an apron and carrying a plate of cucumbers—and for a moment didn’t recognize him.

After a long pause, he finally said, “Since when have you learned to cook?”

Gu Yanyu bit his lip. “I was… just trying it for fun.”

Lin Qingyu stepped forward, took the plate from his hands, and gently wiped away a stray cucumber seed from Gu Yanyu’s cheek. “Father-in-law and I have business to discuss. I’ll eat it later.”

Gu Yanyu brightened at once. “All right.”

The Duke of Jing watched the exchange as if seeing an apparition. For a while, he said nothing. Then, glancing at the cucumbers in Lin Qingyu’s hands, he remarked, “I happen to be a little hungry. Business can wait—bring those cucumbers here.”

“I made those for—”

Seeing his father’s gaze, Gu Yanyu quickly closed his mouth.

The Duke remained in the Lin household through supper, talking of nothing at all. When he finally prepared to leave, he called Gu Yanyu’s attendant, Ye Fulang, aside in the garden.

“How have the Junjun and Lin Daren been getting along of late?”

Ye Fulang smiled. “Very well, my lord. The past two months they’ve grown more harmonious than ever. A while back, when Lin Daren had leave, he even took the Junjun to Little Dragon Hill for a day’s stay.”

“When Daren returns from the office, they’re seldom apart,” he added. “Even when he works in the study, the Junjun insists on sitting with him.”

Once, the Duke would have taken such words as a servant’s foolish flattery. But after what he had seen today—how natural their closeness seemed—he could not doubt it.

When they had first married, the two had been distant. He had heard servants whisper that his son was often unhappy, that Lin Qingyu buried himself in work and seldom kept him company.

The match had been the Duke’s own arrangement; it had weighed on his mind to see his son unhappy. Yet since Gu Yanyu had never complained, he could not easily interfere.

Now, at last, it seemed he need not worry.

Still, he asked, curious, “What caused such a change between them?”

Ye Fulang thought for a moment. “Nothing in particular. Only that in the fourth month, the Junjun tried to make soup for Lin Daren, burned his hand, and from that day, things improved.”

The Duke of Jing understood his son’s temperament too well. For him to enter the kitchen—much less burn himself doing so—was no small matter.

“Has the Junjun been seeing anyone new lately?” he asked.

“No one unfamiliar,” Ye Fulang replied. “Only those he used to visit. Though early this year, at a banquet in the Ren residence, he met Qi Daren’s husband, Xiao Yuanbao. They’ve become close. In fact, today the Junjun went to the Qi household to learn that dish from him.”

“Qi Daren,” the Duke mused. “The one who serves in the same bureau as Lin Daren?”

“Yes, my lord. They were top scholars of the same examination year.”

“The family of the Qi who took third place, then—the tanhua?”

“Exactly so,” said Ye Fulang. “Qi Daren and his husband are deeply devoted. The Junjun, I think, was influenced by their example.”

The Duke nodded slowly. “I see.” After a pause, he added, “Serve your master well, and you’ll not go unrewarded. If anything important happens, send word to the Duke’s manor. Don’t hide matters.”

After leaving these instructions, he departed.

Days later—

“Private salt trade in Yuanping has grown rampant,” someone murmured as the court dispersed. “His Majesty was furious today—half the officials present were reprimanded.”

“It’s been festering for years,” another replied.

The ministers left with dark faces, few daring to speak.

Qi Beinan and Jiang Tangyuan left the palace together, whispering quietly as they walked.

“Looks like His Majesty means to take real action over the salt trade this time,” Jiang Tangyuan said.

Qi Beinan let out a slow breath.

In the southwest, corruption between officials and merchants had driven the price of salt sky-high. A single jin now cost several strings of cash; ordinary people could hardly afford their daily supply.

By the look of things, the emperor would soon appoint the Duke of Jing as Imperial Censor of Salt Affairs—to set things right.

In earlier years, when Qi Beinan had been serving in the provinces, he had happened to work under the Duke of Jing on salt administration. The duke had taken notice of his diligence and promoted him, setting him on the path of steady advancement.

Now, the salt issue had resurfaced—but the circumstances were no longer the same.

Qi Beinan wished to join the effort again, not merely for ambition’s sake, but because he knew how much the people of the southwest suffered under the corruption of the private salt trade. He could not, in good conscience, look away.

Still, he wondered how he might reestablish ties with the Duke of Jing—how to make himself useful enough to be brought into the affair.

Within days, the emperor indeed announced in court that the rampant salt smuggling in the southwest must be investigated. The Duke of Jing was appointed Imperial Censor of Salt Affairs, tasked with handling the matter and selecting capable assistants.

The duke’s first recommendation was his own son-in-law, Lin Qingyu.

That was expected. Lin Qingyu’s talent and composure were widely acknowledged; even had he not been the duke’s son-in-law, such a recommendation would have been deserved. None could object.

The emperor gave his assent.

“Furthermore,” the Duke said, “the task of auditing and accounting requires someone meticulous and steady. In the Hanlin Academy, Compiler Qi Beinan ranked top in last month’s evaluation. His previous work assisting the Ministry of Works on the night market project was well-executed. This minister believes he is a man of ability, fit for the assignment.”

Qi Beinan was taken aback to hear his name.

“Minister Qi,” the emperor said, his tone composed, “would you be willing to accompany the Duke to the southwest and assist in the salt administration?”

The moment he heard the emperor’s voice, Qi Beinan knew for certain—he had indeed been recommended by the Duke himself.

He stepped forward at once, raising his court tablet. “Your servant will, of course, do his utmost for the realm.”

After court, Qi Beinan saw the Duke of Jing leaving for his carriage and hurried forward to offer thanks. “Your Excellency, I am deeply grateful for your recommendation.”

The duke smiled. “You are a capable man. My intent in naming you is only that the southwest salt affair might be handled well. The matter is tangled and far-reaching—see that you devote your full effort to it.”

“I will, without fail,” Qi Beinan said.

Still, he could not quite discern the duke’s reasoning. By talent alone, there were many in court more accomplished than he. Why choose him?

Perhaps, he thought, Lin Qingyu had spoken a word on his behalf—but that didn’t quite suit Lin Qingyu’s temperament.

Perplexed, he brought the question to Lin Qingyu later that day.

“It was not by my doing,” Lin Qingyu said. “The Duke chose you himself.”

“I’ve had no dealings with him,” Qi Beinan said, frowning slightly.

Lin Qingyu put aside his papers, looked around to ensure they were alone, and then said quietly, “My father is… quite pleased with how the Junjun gets along with your husband.”

He left it at that.

Qi Beinan understood immediately.

He was silent for a moment, then broke into laughter.

Outside the window, the late June sun gleamed bright across the glazed roof tiles, scattering light like ripples.

Qi Beinan sat amid a pile of scrolls, momentarily dazed. A rare breeze lifted the edge of his robe; the air smelled dry and sun-warmed.

Who would have thought that one day he, too, would owe his rise in part to his little Xiao Bao?

The feeling in his heart was hard to name—surprise, quiet joy, and, most of all, a kind of tender pride.

The fledgling he had once shielded beneath his wing had grown strong enough to soar across mountains on his own.

He thought to himself that the June sky had never been so clear.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚