Ch 115: Reborn to Raise My Husband

“Every meal and drink depends on salt,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “We were both born common folk—we know how vital it is. Your assignment to manage the salt affairs is a fine thing indeed.”

When Xiao Yuanbao heard that Qi Beinan had been recommended by the Duke to go to Yuanping to oversee the salt administration—and knowing this was something Qi Beinan had long wished for—he was truly happy for him.

To serve as an official is to bring honor to one’s household. Yet once seated in such a position, one must work for the good of the state and the people.

Otherwise, to take the court’s stipend, enjoy its honors and privileges, and do nothing in return—what justice could there be in that?

Xiao Yuanbao knew Qi Beinan was never one without ambition.

The reason he had not striven harder in the bureaucracy before was only because he had been unwilling to leave Xiao Yuanbao unguarded.

When they first arrived in the capital, they had neither kin nor friends, and knew nothing of its ways.

Qi Beinan’s quiet, steady years in the Hanlin Academy had been spent so he could remain by Xiao Yuanbao’s side, to protect him and manage any trouble before it reached him.

But now, more than two years had passed. Their home was secure, their business thriving.

Xiao Yuanbao had grown adept at navigating life in the capital. With the restaurant running well, he was no idle man with empty days.

He had both old friends and new acquaintances, elders to turn to, and nothing left to cause worry.

“These years, you’ve done so much for our family—for me,” he said softly. “Now you should go and do what you’ve always wanted.”

“I can take care of everything at home. You needn’t worry.”

Qi Beinan took his hand. “I believe you can. Our little Bao has long since stopped being that child who used to hide from strangers—you’re more than capable now.”

“When I travel this time, I won’t have to leave with my heart hanging in my throat, as I did in my student days.”

He looked at the bright, gentle eyes before him and said quietly, “Only, Xiao Bao…”

“All I’ve done for you, for our home,” he went on, “I’ve done gladly, without regret. Never once did I feel I had lost anything for it.”

The years they had shared since childhood—those were the memories that visited him in dreams, the happiest he had ever known.

He truly… truly could not imagine a life more complete than this one.

Xiao Yuanbao suddenly lifted his arms and embraced him, resting his cheek lightly against Qi Beinan’s neck.

“Thank you… Anan,” he murmured. “Thank you for coming into my life.”

Perhaps it sounded overly formal, but it was something he had long wanted to say.

Thank you for your integrity.
Thank you for your constancy.
Thank you for every lesson, every quiet kindness since we were young.

He had once been too naïve to see it all. But after coming to the capital, after everything he had experienced, he finally understood—had Anan not been by his side all these years, guiding him step by step, he would never have found such steady footing, even here in the capital.

He often thought himself too fortunate, to the point of fear—that one day, he might lose this man who was too good for him.

But reality had proved otherwise: Qi Beinan always gave him peace.

Qi Beinan drew him close and said with a soft sigh, “If you wish to thank me, then spend the rest of your life doing so.”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed. “That’s a bargain in my favor. I’d be glad to agree.”

…

The expedition to the southwest for the salt investigation departed in late July.

The procession of carriages and horses was vast. Translated on Hololo novels. Though Xiao Yuanbao had said his farewell at home, he could not help running up to the city wall to see Qi Beinan off.

The flags snapped in the wind; his hair whipped across his brow.

He watched Qi Beinan, upright on horseback, as the convoy moved slowly toward the city gates—his heart seemed to follow after him.

This journey would last at least half a year, perhaps longer. With so many days and nights apart, how could one not feel the ache of parting?

Xiao Yuanbao took a deep breath, pressing down the heaviness in his chest.

Everything about the capital was fine—except its suffocating summer heat.

The air was stifling, the cicadas loud. Standing long beneath the burning sun, he soon felt weary.

He was just turning to go when he caught sight of Gu Yanyu beside him, weeping silently, eyes glistening like dew on jade.

“What’s this? Why are you crying?”

Gu Yanyu sniffled and dabbed at his eyes with a handkerchief.

“My father is so cruel,” he said, voice trembling. “All because Qingyu and I made a dish together without saving him any, and now—barely married a few months—he’s sent him away to the provinces!”

Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help laughing at the complaint.

“The Duke didn’t mean to separate you two. But once you enter official life, you must gain experience beyond the capital. It’s the only way to rise.”

“I know that,” Gu Yanyu said tearfully, “but knowing doesn’t make it hurt less.”

His voice wavered. “When he’s here, I can bear it. But now, he’s going so far to the southwest—what if he forgets me?”

“How could that be?” Xiao Yuanbao consoled him. “With the Duke overseeing things, Lin Daren wouldn’t dare forget the Junjun. Most likely, you’ll be getting letters every three days and gift boxes every five.”

“Truly?” Gu Yanyu asked, eyes red and hopeful.

“How could it not be true? When a man sees someone every day, he may take them for granted. But when distance divides you, he begins to long for what he’s lost. As the saying goes, ‘what is distant smells sweet; what is near, too familiar.’ Once he can’t see you, Lin Daren will surely miss you all the more.”

When Gu Yanyu heard that, his heart eased a little.

The two walked down together from the city wall, and Gu Yanyu begged Xiao Yuanbao to come home with him for a chat.

Xiao Yuanbao agreed and went with him to the Lin residence, where they lingered for half the afternoon.

By the time he returned home, the sun had already sunk behind the western hills.

“I don’t know why,” he murmured once inside his carriage, “but I feel so tired.”

He yawned twice, half-asleep as the wheels rumbled on.

Wen-ge’er, the servant driving him, said, “You rose early to see the master off, then spent half the day talking with the Junjun. In this summer heat, who wouldn’t be weary?”

“That may be true, but I haven’t done anything strenuous,” Xiao Yuanbao replied with a small frown. “Feels like I’m not as strong as before.”

Back at home, he ate a little and went to bed early.

He had gone out to see Qi Beinan off, feeling heavy-hearted, yet compared with Gu Yanyu—who was newly married and now parted from Lin Qingyu—his own sorrow was mild.

He had spent the morning comforting the Junjun, and whether his words had helped or not, at least he himself felt lighter.

That night, instead of lying awake missing Qi Beinan, he fell asleep quickly and did not stir until daylight filled the room.

Still groggy, he blinked at the brightness outside and sat up in alarm.

He’d slept so long—dreams tumbling one after another through the night.

But what exactly he’d dreamed, he couldn’t quite recall. Only fragments lingered: soft, fair little children with round bright eyes and plump cheeks, laughing at him, showing two tiny teeth.

They looked oddly familiar—so adorable that he couldn’t resist picking one up.

The child was even softer than he’d imagined, and when the little one planted a kiss on his cheek and called him “Little Father,” his heart melted.

Qi Beinan had been laughing beside him, teasing that he too had been that cute as a child.

Remembering it now, Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help smiling.

Then, with a start, he realized—it had only been a dream.

He pressed a hand to his forehead, then flopped back into the pillows.

That man was far away in the southwest now; for the time being, talk of children was no more than wishful thinking.

He kicked at the quilt a few times, then suddenly sat upright again.

Still, since Qi Beinan wasn’t home, he might as well take the chance to nourish his health. When he returned, wouldn’t it be all the easier to conceive?

The thought made him brighten. He climbed down from bed with new energy—only to pause mid-step.

If he meant to condition his body, he’d have to find someone to take his pulse.

That would mean going to Gui-jie’er, of course—but just the thought made him blush with embarrassment.

The last time he’d visited her, she had teased him mercilessly, urging him to hurry and have a child with Anan so their little ones could grow up and play together.

It was a lovely idea—but since nothing had happened yet, he had stubbornly said he wasn’t in a rush.

Now if he went to her for a consultation about “nourishing the body,” she’d laugh at him for sure.

He sighed, hesitated, then his eyes flickered with resolve. He dressed neatly, took his purse, and slipped out to the street.

Only, instead of going to Bai Qiaogui’s house, he quietly directed the carriage toward an apothecary outside the city gate.

“Has the young master felt any particular discomfort?” the physician asked.

“Not really,” Xiao Yuanbao admitted, a little shy. “I only wanted to have a check-up—to strengthen my body, so that… I might have a child.”

His examiner was an older man, clearly long accustomed to such matters. “Very well,” he said mildly. “Let me feel your pulse first, then we’ll speak.”

Xiao Yuanbao rolled up his sleeve quickly and held out his wrist.

He’d always been in good health, seldom ill, and rarely saw a doctor. With Gui-jie’er usually tending to him when needed, this visit felt almost furtive—like sneaking about for something shameful.

The old physician pressed his fingers lightly against the pulse for a while. Then his brow lifted in surprise as he looked up at Xiao Yuanbao.

The sudden expression made Xiao Yuanbao’s heart lurch. “Doctor—is something wrong with me?”

The physician withdrew his hand, still staring in mild astonishment. “You said you came to strengthen your body to have a child?”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded nervously, unsure what to make of it.

He was about to ask further when the physician said, “You’re already with child. For a moment I thought my hearing was failing—mistook ‘nourish the body’ for ‘nourish the pregnancy.’”

Xiao Yuanbao’s mouth fell open in shock.

It took him a long moment to find his voice again. “D-doctor… do you mean I’m already pregnant?”

The physician chuckled. “Would I jest about such things in my own clinic?”

“You truly are inattentive—already carrying for months and still unaware, coming here to ask for tonics!”

Seeing the doctor’s certainty, Xiao Yuanbao instinctively laid his hand over his lower abdomen.

Thinking back, he did recall lately feeling hungrier, sleepier—but he had blamed it on the summer weather, never imagining this.

“H-how far along am I?” he finally asked, almost whispering.

“Just over two months,” the doctor said. “I’ll prescribe a few gentle herbs to stabilize the pregnancy. Be cautious for the first four months. You’re fortunate—though unaware, you’ve managed these past weeks without harm. It helps, too, that your health is sound.”

“No matter how healthy the body, once there’s a child, you must take great care,” the physician had warned. “A moment’s carelessness could cost you the baby—and harm your health besides.”

Xiao Yuanbao drew in a deep, steady breath. His head was still light, as if he had just woken from a dream.

The surprise was almost too much to grasp—so sudden, so unforeseen—that for a moment he could not react at all.

He had come with the hope of conceiving, yet it turned out he already had.
And worse, he had just seen Qi Beinan off. If only he had known a day earlier, they might have shared the joy together.

Thinking this, he felt a pang of fear. The doctor was right—he truly had been careless. To think he’d gone about unaware, carrying a child for months!

When he left the clinic, his thoughts were still in a blur.

Perhaps because the blessing had come so easily and so unexpectedly, part of him dared not believe it was real.

Though he already held the prescription in hand, he turned his carriage toward Bai Qiaogui’s house all the same.

Only after she confirmed it with her own hands, he thought, could his heart settle.

When he arrived at the Luo residence, Bai Qiaogui was taking her midday rest.

Ordinarily, he would never have disturbed her at this hour, much less woken her from sleep.

“What urgent matter could be worth waking a pregnant woman?” she muttered, sitting up. She hadn’t been asleep long, but she was surprised to see Xiao Yuanbao at such a time.

She gave him a teasing look. “Now that Lord Qi’s gone to the provinces, you’ve learned to wander about at any hour, have you?”

“Good Gui-jie’er, don’t tease me,” he said, flustered. “It’s important.”

He helped her sit up, then rolled up his sleeve. “Quickly, take my pulse.”

Seeing his anxious expression, Bai Qiaogui thought something serious must have happened. She set aside her laughter and took his wrist, face turning grave.

A moment later, her brows lifted, and she broke into a delighted smile. “My dear boy—you’re with child!”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked at her, his face slowly relaxing before breaking into an astonished grin.

“So it’s true—it really is a pregnancy pulse!”

The two of them rejoiced together, talking excitedly for quite a while.

At last Bai Qiaogui sighed. “Ah, but how unlucky in timing. You’ve just conceived, and Lord Qi’s been sent off to the southwest. Who will look after you now?”

But Xiao Yuanbao was still lost in the wonder of it. He couldn’t stop laying his hand over his stomach—flat though it was. Just knowing that a tiny life had begun there filled him with a fullness of joy beyond words.

From the moment he heard the news, that simple gesture—touching his belly again and again—had already become instinct.

“I do think his timing was poor,” he said at last, smiling. “If I’d known sooner, he would have been so happy. But then again, perhaps it’s for the best. If he knew I was pregnant, he would never have agreed to go to the southwest.”

He laughed softly. “So this little one of mine is already thoughtful—doesn’t want to delay his father’s duties.”

Bai Qiaogui couldn’t help laughing. “Listen to you! You’ve only just found out, and already you’re praising the child. I can only imagine how spoiled it’ll be once born.”

“Loved, yes—but not spoiled,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “I won’t raise a wayward child.”

“Very well, very well. In any case, Lord Qi knows how to raise children—look how well he’s raised you.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s cheeks flushed faintly.

Bai Qiaogui smiled, then grew serious again. “Jests aside—you’re with child now, and Lord Qi’s away. I truly can’t rest easy about that.”

“I’ll be careful,” he promised. He’d never borne a child before, nor seen much of pregnancy up close; he dared not take it lightly. Everything must now revolve around the baby.

“I’ll make proper arrangements.”

When he returned home, he told Jiang Fulang the news.

Jiang was overjoyed—then immediately concerned, since Qi Beinan had just departed. Without hesitation, he packed his things and moved back into the house to watch over Xiao Yuanbao day and night.

Xiao Yuanbao discussed writing home to summon his father.

When they had last parted, Xiao Hu had said that he’d come to the capital as soon as there was a grandchild to dote on. Now that day had come, and with Qi Beinan away in the southwest, there was no reason his father would refuse.

And even if city life bored him, they had already bought land outside the capital, building cottages for the mushroom farmers there. When tired of the bustle, his father could always spend time at their own estate.

The man had always loved tending to fields and soil; now that they had money, Xiao Yuanbao planned to buy a few more plots and build him a small manor to manage—enough to keep him content.

Once his father arrived, Xiao Yuanbao would send another letter to Qi Beinan, telling him the happy news.

By then, with his father in the capital and Gui-jie’er watching over him, everything would be well in hand. Knowing that, Qi Beinan would be able to focus on his duties without worry.

When the letter home was written and sealed, Xiao Yuanbao went to stand by the window.

The moon outside was round and bright.

He felt a deep happiness as he imagined his father’s delight upon reading the letter—but beneath the soft summer wind, there lingered a quiet emptiness.

Anan loved children. They had long dreamed together of having one.

Now that dream had come true—but he was alone in the joy of it.

In his heart, he longed to tell Qi Beinan at once, to share it without delay.

But reason held him back.

The good news was not going anywhere; sooner or later, Anan would know. There was no need to rush.

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