Ch 116: Reborn to Raise My Husband

In early September, the air was thick with the scent of blooming osmanthus.

Qi Beinan and his party had been in Yuanping for over a month.

“It feels like another round of the provincial exams,” he thought. “Next spring will bring the metropolitan exam, and after the palace examination, more new officials will enter the court.”

At midday, returning from the salt administration office, Qi Beinan stepped into his quarters and was immediately greeted by a heady fragrance. Overnight, the osmanthus tree by the veranda had burst fully into bloom.

Clusters of small golden blossoms filled the branches. He paused beneath them, smiling faintly, and his thoughts drifted to the old days of the provincial examinations—to the classmates who would be taking the test again this year.

Earlier that spring, he had received a letter from Ma Junyi, saying he intended to try once more. The results must have been announced by now, though news from other provinces was hard to come by. Qi Beinan found himself hoping Ma Junyi had done well this time.

“Sir, the tea is ready.”

Hearing the servant’s voice, Qi Beinan turned from the tree and went inside.

He had spent the entire morning reviewing ledgers; his eyes ached with fatigue. A cup of tea and a short rest would do him good.

Back home, Xiao Yuanbao had always made him herbal soups to soothe the eyes. Thanks to that care, his vision had been sharp and clear. But after only a few weeks in Yuanping—staring day after day at mountainous piles of accounts—his sight had begun to blur.

He had wanted to work quickly, to finish the salt investigation sooner: partly to return home earlier, partly to see the corrupt officials punished without delay. But at this pace, he knew he would soon exhaust himself. Better, perhaps, to proceed steadily.

He was just thinking this when Qin Jiang came running in from outside. “My lord, a letter from the capital!”

At that, Qi Beinan set down his cup and rose at once. “At last! I’ve been waiting for days. A letter from home.”

He tore it open eagerly and sat down to read.

It was five or six pages long—he didn’t mind. He read it slowly, savoring each word.

It began with small household details—everything at home was well, everyone missed him and kept him company in his absence. Xiao Yuanbao had been busy managing the restaurant, and the days, he wrote, passed quickly enough.

Qi Beinan smiled as he read. But when he reached the third page, his expression suddenly changed.

He shot to his feet.

“The earlier pages were all trifles,” the letter read, “but there is one important matter to tell you. Before I say it, let me warn you not to worry—this is happy news.

“What you and I have long hoped for has finally come true. By the time you finish your duties in Yuanping and return to the capital, our home will have one more member. To tell you plainly: I am with child.

“I imagine when you read this, your first reaction will not be joy, but worry. So let me assure you—you should only be glad. By the time this letter reaches you, Father has already arrived in the capital, and Teacher has moved back into the house to look after me.

“I am well cared for each day. The tonics and decoctions are taken as prescribed, and the baby is quiet and well-behaved…”

Qi Beinan read on, the tightness in his chest slowly easing.

He gripped the letter hard between his fingers, a rush of emotion swelling through him.

What ill timing, he thought bitterly—and yet Yuanbao was right. If he had known earlier, he never would have come to the southwest.

Such is fate.

Though the letter described everything as well arranged—his father in residence, his teacher watching over Yuanbao, the household secure—his heart could not rest entirely.

After losing a child once before, that shadow never truly faded.

Now, hearing that he was to be a father again, any thought of rest fled him. The cautious plan to proceed “steadily” with the salt investigation vanished.

All he wanted was to sprout wings and fly back to the capital.

But he was already in Yuanping, and leaving midway was impossible.

Knowing that, he resolved to finish the work as swiftly as he could, then return home at once.

Fortunately, he had handled a salt case before, and the experience made everything move more smoothly.

Qi Beinan steadied himself and plunged back into the work—harder than before, driven by urgency and longing.

“Always diligent, but now even more tireless,” remarked the Duke Jingguo, watching him clear box after box of tangled accounts with astonishing speed.

He couldn’t help but praise the man’s ability when he later spoke with Lin Qingyu.

“Lord Qi has always been exceptional,” Lin Qingyu said simply.

The Duke’s eyes held clear admiration. Soon after, he assigned Qi Beinan to join him on the salt inspection tours rather than remain buried in ledgers at the office.

Free from deskwork and out in the field, Qi Beinan was in his element.

Working side by side with the Duke, he rooted out illegal salt traders and exposed the officials in league with them.

Step by step, the entire investigation unfolded in rapid succession.

In less than half a year, the Yuanping salt case was nearing its conclusion.

Of course, the corruption in the greater southwest could not be eradicated in a few months.

But the Duke’s commission extended only to the prefecture of Lianping; once that was done, he could return to the capital to report. Whether he would then be sent to continue the work elsewhere remained to be seen.

This time, everything progressed so smoothly that even if the investigation did not immediately extend to other southwestern prefectures, it would still shake the corrupt and force them into restraint.

“You truly are a man of talent,” said the Duke Jingguo with satisfaction. “I was right to recommend you for the salt affairs in the southwest.”

He was genuinely pleased, unreserved in his praise. “Once we return to the capital, I shall personally report your merits to His Majesty.”

“If not for your favor, my lord,” Qi Beinan replied, “how could I have gained such a chance to serve the people? I ask for nothing else—only that I might complete this work before the year’s end and return home in time to celebrate the new year with my family.”

The Duke laughed. “I knew you were a man with a heart for home. Half a year away already, and with the year’s end approaching—the cold air and the scent of the festivals do stir one’s longing for home. If we can conclude the last of this business swiftly, I shall see your wish fulfilled.”

Qi Beinan bowed. “I am deeply grateful for your consideration, my lord.”

Meanwhile, in the capital—

“The winters here in the capital are truly bitter. Once the snow starts, it falls for days and days. Step outside, and all you see is white—nothing else at all.”

Xiao Hu came in from outdoors shivering, muttering about how cold it was.

“Father, you refuse to take a carriage, fine—but why didn’t you at least bring an umbrella?”

Xiao Yuanbao looked up to see his father’s hair and shoulders covered in snow. He couldn’t help scolding gently as he rose from beside the brazier to brush the snow off him.

“You won’t sit inside with me, and when you go out, you don’t even take care of yourself.”

Jiang Fulang, who was sewing nearby, stood quickly and pressed Xiao Yuanbao back into his seat. “Sit properly. You’re heavy with child now—you can’t be moving around like before when you were alone.”

Jiang Fulang watched over him constantly, treating him like his own younger brother. Now that Yuanbao was expecting, he guarded him even more carefully.

Xiao Hu laughed, shaking the snow from his coat. “It’s not that I didn’t want to keep you company. I went out to buy you a treat.”

From inside his robe, he brought out a paper bag of freshly roasted chestnuts and handed it to Xiao Yuanbao.

“I didn’t go far,” he said, “but the snow came down harder than I thought—like a summer downpour. I only stopped a street vendor for some chestnuts, and just look at me now.”

Xiao Yuanbao took them eagerly, peeling one open. The chestnuts were still warm, large and sweet, the shells split for easy peeling. He ate two, soft and fragrant, and reached for a third before Jiang Fulang stopped him.

“Careful—you’ll get heat in your system.”

Yuanbao obediently set them down, smiling as he stroked his rounded belly. His gaze fell on the little tiger-head baby shoes in Jiang Fulang’s sewing basket. Picking them up, he examined them closely. “They’re almost finished.”

Winter had set in deep by then. Snow fell day after day; icicles hung from every eave, and the ground froze hard beneath the sweepers’ brooms.

Even with people clearing the paths daily, there was no guarantee someone wouldn’t slip.

Earlier, at the start of the winter month, Bai Qiaogui had given birth. Yuanbao had rushed over to see her.

There had been no snow that day, only a heavy frost. In his haste, he had nearly slipped at the doorway, frightening everyone half to death—including himself. But once he saw that Bai Qiaogui had safely delivered a daughter, his heart finally eased.

After that, the cold deepened, and he grew wary of going out. He stayed home instead.

Xiao Hu and Jiang Fulang, fearing he’d feel lonely, kept him company. When snow fell, they sat together by the fire, chatting and watching it drift outside—just as they had in their old village winters.

It wasn’t lively, but with the whole family gathered around the brazier, the days felt warm and steady.

“The year’s nearly done,” Xiao Hu said one evening, listening to the faint crackle of firecrackers outside. “Still no letter from Beinan. I wonder how cold it is down there. Looks like he won’t be back for the new year.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “Father misses him more than I do, it seems.”

“His last letter said the work there was heavy,” Xiao Yuanbao went on. “Salt administration isn’t a small matter. It takes at least half a year to complete. When he left, he took clothes for every season. I stopped expecting him to return for the festival long ago.”

Xiao Hu nodded. “He’s serving the state; his duty comes first. We’re here to mind the home.”

Jiang Fulang added teasingly, “You’re just saying that to keep Brother in good spirits. You dote on him enough already.”

Xiao Hu chuckled but couldn’t think of a retort. He was a restless man—barely a few weeks in the capital, and he had already persuaded Yuanbao to buy more land on the outskirts and start building a small manor. Come spring, he’d be off managing it again.

Xiao Yuanbao laughed softly. Watching the two elder men bicker good-naturedly was one of his quiet joys.

On the thirtieth of the twelfth month—the eve of the new year—fireworks and firecrackers lit up the capital one after another.

That night, the family gathered in the great hall for their reunion dinner.

Xiao Yuanbao, his belly round and heavy, insisted on cooking at least one dish himself—a chicken-braised bamboo shoot stew, fragrant and rich.

He had wanted to prepare a full feast as in past years, but his strength was no longer the same. After finishing that one dish, Jiang Fulang shooed him from the kitchen and told him to rest in the hall.

Sitting in the warm, fire-heated room, Xiao Yuanbao gazed out the window. The snow outside was falling thicker than ever, and above the rooftops, he could just make out the bloom of fireworks lighting the night sky.

He hadn’t meant to think of him. Yet amid the noise and cheer of the festival, there came a quiet moment—and in that stillness, thoughts of him rose unbidden.

Everywhere his gaze fell—inside the room, beyond the window—it seemed that man’s presence lingered. He could almost hear his voice at his ear.

Once the longing stirred, a heaviness settled in his chest, dull and restless.

Whether it was the snow that delayed messengers or something else, not a single letter had come through—not even for the New Year.

Xiao Yuanbao lowered his head and gently touched his rounded belly. “I wonder what your father is doing now,” he murmured. “Has he even a moment to think of us?”

No sooner had the words left his lips than a rough, familiar voice came from the doorway:

“How could mere longing be enough to speak of it?”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚