Author Archives: Thingyan

Ch 101: Reborn to Raise My Husband

In the Hanlin Academy, Qi Beinan was working with the Ministry of Rites to organize the appointment of newly ranked scholars.

For this year’s scholar selection, the exam questions were to be composed jointly by the Grand Academician of the Hanlin, two shidu xueshi, and the Left Assistant Minister of the Ministry of Rites, then distributed to the prefectures and provinces. In due course, both the Ministry and the Hanlin Academy would send officials to oversee the regional evaluations.

Qi Beinan, newly married, had hoped to avoid being assigned out of the capital. He had escaped the earlier round of examination inspections, but this time there was no avoiding it. Still, such postings would not last long, so he was not overly troubled.

After a busy day, he finally finished work and headed home.

The new residence was far closer to the government offices. From the palace gates to his doorstep took less than half an hour by carriage. He no longer had to rise so early in the mornings, and the eight or nine hundred taels spent on the new home had been well worth it.

“You’re leaving so early today?”

As Qi Beinan stepped out from the Hanlin offices, he ran into Jiang Tangyuan, who was also heading home.

In June, the Hanlin Academy would conduct its annual review. Those who failed would be reassigned, often to lower posts. Everyone in the Academy was therefore on their best behavior, especially the shujishi.

Qi Beinan, however, had little to worry about. His written assessments would surely be solid, and since his appointment he had worked diligently—he had nothing to fear.

“There are guests at home today, so I’m heading back a bit earlier,” he replied.

Jiang Tangyuan slowed his pace to walk with him. Since Qi Beinan’s new residence was not far from the Jiang household, the two often left the palace together.

As they made their way toward the palace gate, Jiang Tangyuan said, “My mother came up from the provinces. She wishes to call on the Lü family, who used to visit us often.”

Qi Beinan understood at once.

Xiao Yuanbao had mentioned before that Madam Lü hoped to arrange a marriage with the Jiang family for her eldest son. Even without Yuanbao’s reminder, Qi Beinan had already heard of it.

“Then you’re right to go home early,” he said.

Jiang Tangyuan clasped his hands and smiled faintly, clearly hoping things would proceed smoothly. He had only one younger brother and was protective of him, always wishing to find a trustworthy and well-matched household.

Qi Beinan, knowing his thoughts, said nothing further. They parted ways at the palace gate.

When Qi Beinan reached home, he did not find Xiao Yuanbao there. He changed out of his official robes and ate a small plate of steamed yam cake before Yuanbao finally returned.

“Where have you been? It’s late already.”

Seeing the boy’s flushed cheeks, Qi Beinan took up a fan and gently waved it at him. The May sun blazed fiercely, and the heat was stifling.

Xiao Yuanbao gulped down half a cup of his tea before answering. “I went to finalize the shop.”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “Already? Why didn’t you let me go with you?”

“I’ve gone with you to look at several houses now, and seen how you negotiate shop rentals. Even if I were duller than I am, I should have learned something by now,” Yuanbao said, smiling. “You’re busy at the office—I can’t let you handle everything.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “It’s my duty to manage our own household affairs.”

Then he pinched Yuanbao’s cheek lightly. “But with such a capable little Bao, I really have nothing to worry about.”

Yuanbao sat down beside him, pried his hand away, and said with bright eyes, “I chose the shop on the busy street in the outer city. It’s a good spot—Teacher thought so too.”

“The front space isn’t large—just enough for seven or eight customers at a time—but there’s a small courtyard behind it with a kitchen, and a ladder leading to an attic that can house two or three people.”

“It used to belong to a couple who ran the business themselves, but they’re old now and wish to retire to the suburbs. That’s why they’re leasing it out. The rent is five taels a month—quite reasonable for a busy district. The space out front isn’t big enough for food stalls to set out tables, so those wanting to sell meals all turned it down.”

“The notice had been posted for months without anyone taking it.”

“I thought since we’re selling youjiangcai, we don’t need a large display area. Even our old street stall worked fine, so this little shop will do perfectly. It has a kitchen and sleeping quarters—ideal for us.”

Jiang Fulang had taken one look and agreed it was an excellent find. But instead of signing immediately, Yuanbao had first made inquiries—whether trouble often arose there, whether the elderly couple had debts or lawsuits.

After confirming there were no such concerns, he negotiated the price down to four taels and six qian, paid a year’s rent in advance, and with other fees spent fifty-five taels in total.

Qi Beinan couldn’t help but praise him. “Our little one is becoming ever more prudent and shrewd.”

Yuanbao corrected him softly. “Not little one—fulang.”

Qi Beinan laughed. “Quite right. My mistake.”

With the weather warming, Yuanbao had shed his thick winter clothes, wearing instead a white silk inner robe and a spring-green patterned gauze overcoat.

The curve of Xiao Yuanbao’s neck showed pale and slender beneath the collar, carrying a faint scent of green bamboo and jasmine.

Qi Beinan looked at him, brows lifting slightly. “You seem fairer than before.”

Xiao Yuanbao touched his cheek. “It’s this spring-green silk. It makes one look paler. Teacher said the same this morning, so I bought another length of the same fabric for him—to make a robe of his own.”

Qi Beinan barely caught the rest of his words. His eyes had already lost focus, drawn to the whiteness of that throat.

He slipped his arms around Yuanbao’s slim waist and, with one motion, lifted him, setting him atop the flower-carved table.

Yuanbao knew at once what mischief he was planning.

Qi Beinan loved to draw him close, perch him higher, and do entirely indecent things—especially in bed, where he was never content unless Yuanbao sat astride him, coaxed into shameful acts that left him speechless.

Now, as the man leaned in, his warm breath brushed Yuanbao’s neck. Yuanbao flushed scarlet and pressed a hand against him to stop the kiss.

Qi Beinan kissed the center of his palm instead. “What’s the matter?”

“You know perfectly well,” Yuanbao said, turning his head slightly toward the bright daylight spilling through the window. “It isn’t even a day since last night.”

He truly could not understand how Qi Beinan had so much vigor. In the first month after their marriage, they had been together once every few days—but as time passed and Yuanbao had learned a little of the rhythm, Qi Beinan lost all restraint, sometimes every two days, sometimes several nights without pause.

He had once thought Qi Beinan the picture of composure, never showing the least worldly indulgence, yet once married, it was as though another man had taken his place.

Still, in all other things he was the same as ever.

“That was last night,” Qi Beinan said. “We ate dinner yesterday—does that mean we shouldn’t eat today?”

“How could you compare such things?” Yuanbao retorted. The man could twist any logic to his liking. “Doing this in broad daylight—it’s like something out of those indecent storybooks.”

Qi Beinan raised an eyebrow and pinched his chin. “And how is it the same? We’re lawful husbands. Whatever we do together is proper. Those storybooks—aren’t they about aunties and younger uncles? Tell me, is that the same?”

Yuanbao pressed his lips together, speechless.

“And besides,” Qi Beinan added, “you reminded me yourself that you’re not my little brother, but my fulang.”

He smiled faintly. “I took it as a hint from you.”

Yuanbao’s eyes widened. He had spoken plainly, and somehow it had turned into a provocation. How could a man so thoroughly twist another’s words?

His chest rose and fell; he drew a quiet breath. There was no reasoning with an official from the Hanlin Academy.

“Then… then…” He lowered his gaze, his face burning. “At least close the window.”

Qi Beinan’s mouth curved. He kissed the edge of Yuanbao’s ear, then went to shut the window.

Yuanbao stole a quick glance as he turned his back. The moment the shutters drew together, he slid off the table, and by the time Qi Beinan turned around, the table was empty—Yuanbao had already darted out the door.

From the threshold he called, “I still have to get the shop fitted up. No time to waste!”

Qi Beinan frowned. “So that’s how you repay my sincerity?”

Yuanbao wanted to say, Sincerity? You mean your broad-daylight wickedness, but servants were passing outside, so he merely pursed his lips.

Qi Beinan narrowed his eyes. This little one was growing ever more cunning.

Two days later, Yuanbao arranged for craftsmen to repair and fit out the rented shop.

They needed to install a counter for receiving payments, fix several rows of shelves along the walls, and build a flat table in the center for tastings. It wasn’t much work—the carpenters had already measured everything the previous day. Four of them came that morning with ready-made shelving, and by day’s end the shop would be set.

Meanwhile, Jiang Fulang had heated water on the stove and scrubbed the attic until it shone. The elderly couple who’d run the shop before had been fastidious folk; everything was spotless, the air clean and fresh with the window open.

From the attic window one could see the entire small courtyard below—a round-bellied water jar stood in the middle, with three glossy green gourds floating inside, lending the space a cheerful life.

Jiang Fulang thought he might stroll to the pottery workshop later to pick up a few cracked earthen jars. He could fill them with soil and plant scallions, garlic sprouts, and chives, just as Tian Ken did back at the manor.

It wasn’t as spacious as the countryside, but this was the capital—convenient for buying and selling. The night market was close by. Once the shop opened, he planned to make braised delicacies in his spare hours, to sell at the market when they closed each evening.

And when Master Qi and little Bao had children of their own, he would take more leisure and help care for them.

The thought filled him with a quiet, long-forgotten anticipation for the days ahead.

Yesterday he had sent a letter to the Zhao family, reassuring them that all was well in the capital and that he was managing life there in good order.

“Teacher, you should rest,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “I can easily hire someone from the street to help clean. In the capital, it’s not hard to find workers, and they don’t ask for much.”

When he returned to the courtyard, he saw Jiang Fulang bent at the waist, scrubbing the attic floor with great effort. Yuanbao quickly called up to him, “That’s hardly enough work to tire you out—no need to do it yourself!”

“It’s a trifle,” Jiang Fulang replied, not pausing in his work. “If I stay idle any longer, my joints will rust.”

Seeing him so determined, Yuanbao gave up trying to dissuade him and turned back toward the front.

But when he reached the shop, the carpenters who had been working were nowhere in sight. Stepping outside, he found them gathered in the street watching some commotion.

“Brat, open your dog eyes and see who you’re dealing with! You dare steal my woman? Try weighing what your bones are worth first!”

“You’ve gone too far! I paid fair silver—why shouldn’t she accompany me? You think her face belongs to your household now?”

Yuanbao hesitated, then joined the onlookers at the edge of the crowd. Before the doors of Meiyin Tower—a famous pleasure house—two finely dressed young men were arguing fiercely.

Beside them stood a strikingly beautiful courtesan, head bowed, dabbing her tears with a thin silk handkerchief, the very image of fragile sorrow.

It was clear enough what they were quarreling over—a courtesan.

The capital’s pleasure quarters were crowded with singers and courtesans of rare beauty and talent, and it was common for such disputes to arise among the wealthy patrons who frequented them.

Yuanbao had little taste for such scenes and was about to leave when a dull thud rang out. The two men, who had been trading words, suddenly came to blows.

The women inside Meiyin Tower screamed, and the heavily painted madam rushed out to intervene, only to be kicked aside by one of the fighting men. She cried out and fell heavily to the ground.

The scene turned chaotic. The man wearing a gold coronet stood back, letting his hired guards handle it. They surrounded the other man—who appeared to be alone—and beat him until he could only crawl away on the ground, bleeding.

The guards showed no sign of stopping.

When a few bystanders started murmuring about reporting to the authorities, the gold-crowned man barked, “Who dares meddle and call the constables? I’ll make you regret it!”

At that, the crowd fell silent.

The beaten man’s groans echoed through the street.

Yuanbao quietly slipped away.

“In so grand a capital, under the Son of Heaven’s very eyes,” he said as he returned, “how can such arrogance still exist?”

Jiang Fulang, hearing of the disturbance, came out to take a distant look.

Yuanbao had seen this sort of thing before—even in their county, merchants who thought themselves powerful had bullied others. He remembered the day one tried to seize Zhao Guangzong’s shop, hiding behind borrowed influence. The man he’d just seen, draped in gold, was surely another who relied on his family’s power.

“No doubt he’s from a great household,” Jiang Fulang murmured.

A nearby carpenter, overhearing, joined in the gossip. “You’ve the right of it. That’s the young master from the Qiao family—son of Commander Qiao of the Capital Guard. A real dandy, that one.”

At this, Yuanbao’s brows knit slightly. The name struck a faint chord. “This Master Qiao—his wife’s surname wouldn’t happen to be Lü, would it?”

The carpenter scratched his head. “Can’t say, sir. Don’t know the lady’s family name.”

Yuanbao didn’t press further, but the thought troubled him. How many Commander Qiaos could there be, and how many with a wife named Lü?

He asked again, “You’ve seen him before?”

“Not I,” said the carpenter. “Only heard the talk. That young master not only keeps favorites at Meiyin Tower, he’s got a pretty boy hidden away elsewhere. Lives in my very street, that one.”

“The fellow’s handsome and always dressed in jewels. No proper work to his name, yet he rides in sedan chairs whenever he goes out. Sometimes late at night, men are seen slipping into his house. Happens all the time in the capital—rich men keeping lovers in secret lodgings. Folks here aren’t surprised anymore.”

“But the boy’s tongue is loose, and he likes to show off. Told more than one person which high official keeps him, and so the story’s out.”

Yuanbao paid little heed to the gossip itself, but what he’d seen was enough. The man’s conduct alone marked him as unfit for trust. How could Tangtuan be given to someone like that?

Back home, he told Qi Beinan everything.

“This Qiao young master is utterly without restraint,” Qi Beinan said, his voice cool. “A reckless youth. Even with family rank behind him, such arrogance goes too far.”

“Should we inform the Jiang family?” Yuanbao asked.

“Of course,” Qi Beinan said. “I’ll speak to Master Jiang myself. You needn’t trouble over it.”

Yuanbao nodded. With Qi Beinan handling it, there was no need for him to say more. He would simply visit Jiang Tangtuan when time allowed.

A few days later, Qi Beinan invited Jiang Tangyuan out for tea after court.

Jiang Tangyuan knew Qi Beinan was not a man for idle leisure. Realizing he must have something to say, he urged him to speak plainly. They were of similar age and long acquainted—no need for ceremony.

When Qi Beinan told him what Yuanbao had witnessed, Jiang Tangyuan’s face darkened with anger.

“There may be some misunderstanding,” he said tightly. “But I’ll make inquiries and confirm it.”

Qi Beinan replied, “Marriage arrangements concern not only your brother’s future but your family’s name as well. A man’s conduct speaks for his household—if he’s not upright, trouble will follow sooner or later.”

Jiang Tangyuan said, “Thank you for coming to tell me about this.”

Seeing that Qi Beinan had spoken out of genuine concern for his family, he did not hide the truth. “The Qiao family’s rank is higher than ours. My parents, being stationed away from the capital, never intended to seek a match here for Tangtuan. It was my uncle and aunt who kept pressing for it, saying how fine the Qiao family was. Since our family had been meaning to arrange a marriage for Tangtuan, they persuaded me to come to the capital for this purpose.”

“I’ve been occupied with my own affairs—exams, appointments, new duties. All I heard were my uncle and aunt’s praises, and when I met the Qiao family, they were gracious and courteous. I assumed they were good people and never took the time to look deeper into that Qiao son’s conduct.”

Qi Beinan said reassuringly, “The capital’s circles run deep. The Qiaos have been established here far longer than either of our families. If they wish to maintain appearances, it would indeed be difficult to uncover the truth quickly.”

What Jiang Tangyuan said was true—he had been busy enough with his own progress, newly appointed and constantly preoccupied. It was easy to be deceived by a family that knew how to present a fine face.

Jiang Tangyuan’s tone hardened. “If that man is truly like this, then my uncle and aunt have greatly disappointed us.”

After parting with Qi Beinan, he quietly sent trusted men to investigate behind his relatives’ backs.

And just as Qi Beinan had said, the rumors were no slander—if anything, the truth was worse.

The young master’s scandals were even more numerous than expected.

Jiang Tangyuan was furious, all the more because his mother had come all the way from her post to see the marriage through. Only days before, the two families had shared a cheerful meal and nearly finalized the betrothal.

No doubt, Qiao Lang had grown careless once he thought the marriage secure, letting his true nature slip.

The Jiang family had never sought the Qiaos’ influence—once they learned what kind of man he was, the engagement was off at once.

But Jiang’s uncle and aunt continued to speak in defense of the Qiaos. “Young masters from great houses all have their tempers,” they said. “A little indulgence is no sin. Once he marries, he’ll settle down.”

Tangyuan suspected they had accepted favors from the Qiaos—or perhaps simply coveted their connections. He could not bring himself to argue openly with elders, so he wrote to his father instead.

When Father Jiang received the letter, his rage was so great that he sent back three letters in succession, each more scathing than the last. Were he not bound by duty at his post, he would have come to the capital himself to give that brother and sister-in-law a proper reckoning.

The household had been in turmoil ever since.

Family discord was one thing—it remained private. But the Qiaos, insulted by the broken engagement, put on a show of magnanimity in public while nursing a deep grudge in secret.

Madam Lü’s own brother was a jinshi, serving in the Hanlin Academy as well. Older than Qi Beinan and Jiang Tangyuan, he had risen from shujishi to the rank of Doctor of the Five Classics, an eighth-grade official responsible not only for teaching but also for overseeing the Academy’s evaluations.

Thus, when Jiang Tangyuan entered the Hanlin as a newly appointed shujishi, he fell directly under the man’s authority.

The Lü official began to trip him at every turn—assigning him petty, menial errands one day, berating him in front of others the next.

As the academy’s assessments drew near, the intent was clear: to have him fail the review and be expelled from the Hanlin altogether.

“I understand well enough now what sort of people the Qiaos and Lü family truly are,” Jiang Tangyuan said bitterly. “Even suffering their spite is better than becoming kin to such households.”

He spoke with composure, yet his frustration was plain. For a man only just entering official life, such humiliation was hard to bear.

After work that day, he invited Qi Beinan to a quiet tavern in the inner city. Cup after cup, he drank in silence.

Qi Beinan stopped him. “If you endure their bullying without response, they’ll only grow bolder, thinking you’re weak and easily trampled.”

Jiang Tangyuan frowned. “My father is away on duty—he can’t intervene here. The only relatives we have in the capital are my uncle and aunt, and after our quarrel over the marriage, I can hardly count on them for help. They’re probably waiting to see me humiliated.”

Qi Beinan said calmly, “It doesn’t have to be them. There are always other ways. Remember the old saying—‘the enemy of one’s enemy is a friend.’ Do you know if the Lü family has any rivals at court?”

Jiang Tangyuan was a perceptive man. With that single hint, he already knew what to do.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 100: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Qin Jiang knocked on the door, but no one inside responded for quite some time.

He frowned. It wasn’t that late—surely they hadn’t gone to bed already?

Balancing the tray of food he’d brought from the kitchen, his arm was beginning to ache. He shifted the weight, preparing to knock again.

Just then, the older housemaid, who had been tending the stove to keep hot water ready for the night, saw him standing there motionless before the closed door. She hurried over and pulled him aside.

“Heavens above,” she whispered urgently, “what are you doing loitering here at this hour?”

“The master told me to bring some food for him and the young master,” Qin Jiang said. “But they haven’t answered. Should I knock again or just leave it?”

The maid chuckled, shaking her head. “You foolish boy, do you think anyone’s going to answer you right now? Go on, go rest somewhere. You’re no use standing here.”

Qin Jiang scratched his head, still reluctant to leave. He turned to carry the food back toward the kitchen but kept glancing over his shoulder, half expecting Qi Beinan to call out for him to deliver it inside.

The maid caught him doing it and waved him away with a laugh. “Truly a simple soul—no sense at all.”

It was close to midnight when she, dozing lightly on a stool by the corridor, finally heard someone call for hot water from within the bridal room.

She straightened at once. The master also asked for soup and some food to be sent along.

Grinning to herself, she bustled off toward the kitchen, full of quiet amusement. Their lord was not only handsome and learned, it seemed—he was also quite the vigorous man.

Inside the room, Xiao Yuanbao lay sprawled across the bed, a light quilt draped loosely over him.

His damp hair clung to his temples, and his skin still glowed faintly with warmth. It felt as though every inch of him had been washed in sweat.

He was hungry—but more than that, thirsty.

He hadn’t done much, really, yet his limbs felt weak, too heavy to move, not even a finger willing to lift.

Qi Beinan, on the other hand, seemed unaffected—calm as ever, rising and giving instructions as though nothing at all had happened.

If not for the slight disarray of his dark hair, one might have thought he hadn’t exerted himself in the least.

Before long, the maid brought in hot water, and Wen Ge’er arrived with soup and food.

Yuanbao hid under the covers and kept his eyes closed, pretending to be asleep.

“They’ve gone,” Qi Beinan said with a small smile, lifting the curtain and glancing toward the bed.

Yuanbao opened his eyes. The candlelight spilled in, dazzling him for a moment.

When his eyes adjusted, he noticed that the two red candles on the stand had burned halfway down. Thinking about all that time passing made his face heat again.

He couldn’t quite meet Qi Beinan’s gaze under the bright light, so he lowered his eyes, murmuring softly in reply.

Qi Beinan, seeing his embarrassment, didn’t tease him. He closed the curtain gently and asked in a quiet tone, “Would you rather eat first, or bathe?”

Yuanbao thought about it. His body felt limp; there was no way he could manage a bath. “Eat something,” he said.

The moment he spoke, he realized his voice had gone hoarse, almost rasping. Startled, he quickly pressed his lips shut.

Qi Beinan drew him upright into his arms. “It’s fine,” he said. “You’ll be better by morning. I had them mix some honey water for you.”

Yuanbao sat up, clutching the quilt around him. When Qi Beinan handed him the bowl, he drank quickly, the sweet taste soothing his dry throat.

Then, with a sudden thought, he looked up in alarm. “You asked for honey water—won’t they all know, then?”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “We’re a proper married couple now. We bowed before the guests, shared the wine—it’s nothing shameful. People knowing it’s only natural. If no one heard a thing, they’d think it strange.”

Yuanbao fell quiet, half convinced, though his face still burned. He wasn’t used to anyone knowing such private matters.

“What food is it?” he asked at last.

“Lean meat porridge and a few side dishes. Do you want some?”

Yuanbao nodded.

Qi Beinan brought the bowl to the bedside and fed him by the spoonful.

When he’d eaten, Qi Beinan carried him to wash, then changed the bedding before lying down beside him in clean robes.

Yuanbao nestled in his arms, glancing up at the faint shadow of his collarbone beneath the nightclothes. In a quiet voice, he asked, “Did I do badly?”

Qi Beinan lowered his eyes to meet his. “Why would you think that?”

“When I said it hurt, you stopped. I thought I spoiled your mood.”

Qi Beinan made a thoughtful sound, the tone drawn out. “A little.”

Yuanbao stared up at him in disbelief. “You’re too honest,” he said, pouting slightly, brows furrowed.

“Well,” Qi Beinan said lightly, “you asked, and I answered truthfully.”

Yuanbao huffed. “Then—then I didn’t enjoy it either. It wasn’t pleasant at all.”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “Nonsense. I know you better than that.”

Yuanbao had no reply for that and only pouted more.

Qi Beinan laughed softly and brushed a kiss across his lips.

“I only meant my own part,” he said. “You didn’t do anything wrong. If I wanted full satisfaction, how could you endure it your first time? I’d rather stop halfway than see you hurt.”

Yuanbao pressed his lips together, saying nothing, then shifted closer, curling against Qi Beinan’s chest, seeking his warmth.

“I’m sleepy. I want to rest.”

Qi Beinan drew him close, his voice warm and indulgent. “All right, sleep.”

The faint scent of bath herbs lingered on Xiao Yuanbao’s skin, soft and clean. Qi Beinan breathed it in, brushing his nose lightly against him.

He hadn’t been the least bit tired, yet before long both their breathing settled into a steady rhythm.

A peaceful night’s dream.

The next morning, Qi Beinan woke to the dull ache in his arm.

Opening his eyes, he saw Yuanbao still asleep in his arms and couldn’t help smiling.

Pulling the curtain aside just a little, he saw that the room outside was already bright with daylight.

He rarely woke this late; normally he rose before dawn. But today was different.

He slipped his arm back around Yuanbao, drawing him in again. Translated on hololo novels. So this, he thought, is what people mean when they say that tenderness makes men lazy.

Still, if life could go on like this, he wouldn’t complain.

There were no in-laws to pay respects to, so Qi Beinan stayed in bed, content to lie beside his sleeping spouse.

When Yuanbao finally woke, the sun was already high.

He washed up, ate breakfast, and then joined the others in the garden—Xiao Hu, Jiang Fulang, Bai Qiaogui—all drinking tea and chatting in the spring sunlight.

The flowers and greenery were in full bloom, the courtyard lively and full of color.

“When I married,” said Bai Qiaogui, teasing, “I only slept half an hour past dawn. Even then I had to rush to pay my respects to my in-laws. You, on the other hand, sleep until the sun’s halfway across the sky.”

She strolled beside Yuanbao through the garden, inspecting the new house.

“And your Lord Qi spoils you too—sleeping just as late! Truly, people like you make the rest of us look bad.”

Yuanbao’s cheeks reddened. “You make it sound as if life with Lord Luo is pure misery. Yet from the look of you—rounder cheeks, brighter complexion—you seem to be doing very well.”

“I didn’t say I was suffering,” Bai Qiaogui laughed. “I’m just saying your days are even better.”

Then, with a playful grin, she pinched Yuanbao’s waist. “You’ve grown sharp-tongued! I remember a little boy who used to hide behind others when strangers came by. Maybe that wasn’t you at all, and I’ve mistaken the child?”

Yuanbao winced. “You’re remembering wrong.”

Bai Qiaogui saw how he flinched from even that gentle pinch, her eyes gleaming with mischief. “Looks like your Lord Qi is quite formidable. You’re sore just from a little touch.”

Yuanbao glanced around quickly, making sure no one else was near, then slapped her hand with a red face. “When did your mouth get so wicked?”

She laughed. “If anyone’s wicked, it’s not me. Why don’t you scold him instead of me? Always picking the soft target.”

Knowing he couldn’t win an argument against Qiaogui, married nearly half a year now and far more practiced at teasing, Yuanbao let the matter drop.

“Your wedding was such a fine affair,” Qiaogui said, softening. “A pity Xin Ge’er couldn’t come.”

Yuanbao nodded. “He wrote to me. It’s too far from the capital—one trip would take a month or more. Even if he could come, I’d have told him not to go through the trouble. His heart’s what matters, and business keeps him busy.”

Qiaogui sighed. “He’s quite something, that one. Since he started working, he’s been unstoppable—ran the Mu family clean out of competition.”

The two talked and wandered for a long while, but halfway through the tour, Yuanbao grew tired.

It wasn’t that he didn’t want to keep her company; his body still ached from the night before. What had only been fatigue yesterday had become soreness everywhere now. Even lifting his arms felt like effort—especially in the places most tender to touch.

Seeing his discomfort, Qiaogui stopped teasing. She went out and had two herbal prescriptions written for him to keep on hand.

She stayed three more days in the capital before taking her leave.

Yuanbao was reluctant to part, but he couldn’t ask her to stay longer. She had a home and husband now; it wouldn’t be right to linger elsewhere.

After she left, he found himself missing the old days more than ever.

Back then, visiting her had been easy—a short ride from the village, or just a few streets’ distance when they both lived in town.

Now they lived far apart; even writing letters took effort, let alone seeing each other often.

So he packed food and fabric as gifts for Qiaogui to take back to Lantian County, tokens of his affection and gratitude.

Another week passed before Xiao Hu came to tell them he planned to return home as well.

“You’ve barely been here!” Yuanbao protested. “Why are you leaving so soon? Isn’t this your home too?”

“It is,” Xiao Hu said, trying to soothe him. “But the air here is too dry. My lips and nose feel parched every day. And summer’s coming—it’ll be worse then.”

Yuanbao said nothing, his expression sulky.

Xiao Hu looked helplessly at Qi Beinan, hoping for help.

Qi Beinan met Yuanbao’s pursed lips and dared not side with either of them. “Father, stay a little longer. If the dry air bothers you, I’ll have Qin Jiang fetch some tonic herbs from the apothecary.”

Now it was Xiao Hu’s turn to look displeased.

Qi Beinan pressed his fingers to his brow. Truly, he thought, there was no winning between the two of them.

Seeing this, Qi Beinan said, “If Father leaves, Jiang Fulang will surely follow him back. Once they’re both gone, Xiaobao will be left here all alone—it’ll be far too quiet. How about this: if Father insists on going, try to persuade Jiang Fulang to stay.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s brows lifted. “That’s a fine idea. If you’re set on leaving, then convince my teacher to stay. If you can’t, then you’ll both just have to stay in the capital a bit longer.”

Xiao Hu froze. “You want me to persuade Jiang Fulang?”

“Can my mouth persuade anyone?”

“Isn’t that Father’s job?” Yuanbao said, feigning innocence. “One or the other—you choose. Otherwise, I won’t agree to it. I’ll tell Qin Jiang to hide your horse and see how you plan to leave then.”

Xiao Hu felt as though he’d stumbled into a den of schemers—coming in was easy, but getting out was another matter entirely.

Since there was no reasoning with his son, he could only give in.

When he went to see Jiang Fulang, he blurted out awkwardly, “Why don’t you stay?”

Jiang Fulang blinked at him. “You’re the father and you won’t stay yourself. What would I stay for?”

“It’d be good if you did,” Xiao Hu said. “You could manage the business here in the capital.”

“I couldn’t live like that,” Jiang Fulang replied dryly. “I’m not suited for a life of bird cages and teahouses.”

“You don’t know how lucky you are,” Jiang Fulang continued, glancing sideways at him. “Plenty of people would give anything for that kind of peace, but you can’t even enjoy it.”

“I’ll enjoy it when there’s a grandson to spoil,” Xiao Hu said with a grin. “For now, you stay here. It’s not as if there’s much waiting back in the village.”

Jiang Fulang had been in the capital long enough to see clearly what was in Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao’s hearts. How could he not understand?

For them to care about him like this—how could he not be moved?

“I’ll think about it,” he said at last.

Xiao Hu left it at that.

Two days later, Jiang Fulang came to speak with Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao. “I’ll stay,” he said. “I’ll help Bao Ge’er look after the pickled goods business. But I won’t live here.”

Qi Beinan frowned slightly. “Why not? It’s convenient to stay in the residence. Living elsewhere would only make things harder.”

“I’ve lived alone for many years,” Jiang Fulang said. “I’m used to it.”

Qi Beinan looked toward Yuanbao for his opinion.

Yuanbao thought a moment and nodded. “So long as Teacher stays in the capital, it doesn’t matter where you live—we’ll still be close enough to take care of one another. The business shouldn’t always be run from the house anyway. I was thinking of renting a small shop. It could serve both as a workspace for making pickled goods and a storefront for selling them. You could even live there if you liked. Would that suit you?”

Jiang Fulang nodded. “That’ll do.”

By late April, the weather was mild and clear—neither hot nor cold, perfect for travel.

Qi Beinan and Yuanbao saw Xiao Hu off at the city gate.

When he had first arrived, there had been laughter and joy; now, as he departed, the air was tinged with quiet reluctance.

The lively noise of parting, like all bright moments, faded quickly—peace and stillness made up most of life.

Leaning lightly against Qi Beinan, Yuanbao watched the carriage disappear down the road. His heart felt much the same as it had long ago when he’d watched Qi Beinan leave—but this time, there was a different kind of calm beneath the ache.

On their way back, he looked up at the eaves where swallows darted and remembered a blessing once spoken at a spring banquet: “May we meet again, year after year.”

He and Qi Beinan now lived like those swallows—together every morning and evening—yet even so, he still wished his family could be near as well.

But he knew everyone had their own path, their own desires. Such things couldn’t be forced; they had to follow the heart.

Qi Beinan tightened his hold on Yuanbao’s hand. “Life is long,” he said softly. “Let’s take our time and live it well. One day, there’ll be another reunion, even better than this.”

Yuanbao smiled and nodded. He thought the same.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 99: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Though the wedding ceremony would not begin until dusk, preparations started before dawn.

Even without being called, Xiao Yuanbao woke early on his own.

The night before, he had gone to bed as soon as it grew dark, reminding himself that the next day was important and that he must rise early.

But though he went to bed early, he tossed and turned, unable to sleep.

When sleep would not come, his thoughts wandered—first wondering what kind of day it would be tomorrow. Would it rain or shine?

After today, all his bright and pretty clothes would be tucked away in chests. From now on, he would no longer be a “little young master” but a married man—he would have to dress with calm dignity.

It felt like such a pity. Those clothes were made of fine material, and he regretted not wearing them more often when he could. Now, he thought, they would likely never see the light again.

Then, inevitably, his thoughts turned to Qi Beinan. He wondered if, in the new house, Beinan was spending the night before the wedding reading as usual—or if he was already asleep.

He hoped he was sleeping well and resting enough to greet the guests tomorrow.

As for himself, all he had to do was sit in the sedan chair, wear the red veil, and complete the ceremony. Beinan would be the one to host and drink with guests.

Time drifted slowly. He began to think about the future—how many children would they have?

He didn’t know if Beinan liked children, but he himself did. Babies, soft and plump, were so adorable, and when they grew a little older, toddling around and calling him “Little Father,” the thought filled him with quiet happiness.

He smiled at the idea, rolling over contentedly—only to realize the moon outside had already sunk behind the hills.

Startled, he squeezed his eyes shut, forcing himself to sleep.

He didn’t know when he finally drifted off, but he slept lightly. At the first crow of the rooster, he was awake, alert, and out of bed without hesitation.

The first thing he did was bathe, sinking into the warm tub until all drowsiness vanished.

Fortunately, spring had already warmed the air; otherwise, he would have frozen.

Jiang Fulang helped him change into his wedding robes. Standing close, he caught a faint orchid fragrance from Yuanbao’s skin and chuckled.

“That scented soap is truly worth the price. It leaves such a clean, soft scent. No wonder it costs more—it’s far better than soap pods.”

Xiao Yuanbao sniffed his own sleeve. “I don’t smell anything.”

“How could you? You’ve been soaking in it for so long,” Jiang Fulang said, tying the belt around his waist.

That slender waist needed no extra cinching to show its shape—just a light pull of the sash, and his bearing was already elegant.

The older man smiled with quiet pride. His apprentice truly was well raised—fair, clear-skinned, with bright, lively eyes, just as charming as when he was a boy.

No wonder, he thought, even someone like Qi Beinan had fallen for him.

Lowering his voice, he teased, “Tonight, let Lord Qi smell for himself. See if he can tell.”

Xiao Yuanbao blushed crimson. “Teacher, even you’re teasing me now.”

“How is it teasing? You’re marrying today—if you still blush this easily, how will you manage?”

Before Yuanbao could respond, the door opened.

“Yuanbao! Guess who’s here!”

He turned his head—and froze. Standing at the doorway was Bai Qiaogui.

He blinked in surprise, at first speechless. “You—why are you here!?”

“What, do you sound unhappy to see me?” Bai Qiaogui said with a grin, stepping inside. “I only came from nearby—just a few days’ journey. Much faster than coming from Linzhou. How could I not drop by?”

Yuanbao’s face lit with delight. “Of course I wanted you to come! I just thought, since you only recently followed Lord Luo to his new post, you wouldn’t be able to leave yet.”

“It’s been long enough to settle in,” she said, taking his hand. “I actually meant to arrive yesterday, but the carriage broke down on the road. Still, I made it before you left for the ceremony.”

Yuanbao’s heart softened at her words, deeply moved.

“Enough chatting,” Jiang Fulang said. “Qiaogui, come help tidy him up—if the auspicious hour comes and we’re still not ready, we’ll be the laughingstock.”

Bai Qiaogui rolled up her sleeves playfully. “Don’t worry, I’ll make sure he’s perfect. I’ve got experience now.”

Yuanbao sat before the dressing table, smiling. “All right!”

As they worked on his hair and accessories, he asked her about life in the new post, while Jiang Fulang adjusted his robes with steady hands.

Meanwhile, at the new residence, Qi Beinan was already prepared.

He wore his red wedding robes—simple, refined, and perfectly fitted. Translated on hololo novels. Without any extra ornament, he looked every bit the graceful scholar from a painted scroll.

Still, he walked to the bronze mirror and glanced at his reflection.

A handsome face looked back at him, calm eyes softened by a faint smile.

He had always known he wasn’t plain, but he was not one to care about appearances.

Yet ever since learning how much Xiao Yuanbao liked well-kept, good-looking men, he had found himself taking more care with his appearance—if only a little.

Today was a day of great joy, and Qi Beinan hoped to leave the best impression in Xiao Yuanbao’s heart.

With the anticipation and happiness filling him, even the endless formalities of the wedding day became things he handled with patient ease.

By the time he mounted his horse, it was already late afternoon. The procession set off down the main street, drums beating and gongs ringing. Normally lively crowds paused to watch as the man in crimson robes rode by, the festive noise and color dimmed beside the sight of the groom.

When the wedding sedan arrived at the Xiao residence, Qi Beinan entered first to perform the formal bows and farewells with Yuanbao.

What should have been a moment of tears and reluctance turned light-hearted. Their situation differed from most families—before long, even Yuanbao’s father joined the guests headed to the new home for the banquet.

All the rituals were more ceremony than sentiment.

Xiao Yuanbao sat beneath the long red veil, able to see only his own feet; everything else was a blur of red silk.

He heard the noisy shouts outside—“The groom has arrived!”—and soon the supporting hand of Bai Qiaogui slipped away. Just as a trace of unease rose at not knowing which way to walk, a familiar warm hand caught his.

That hand he knew at once, and his heart settled.

Through the narrow opening beneath his veil, he glimpsed the red of Qi Beinan’s robe beside him, and a quiet thrill rippled through his chest.

Half-dazed, he was guided outside, then lifted into the bridal sedan.

At the call of “The auspicious hour is here! Lift the sedan!”, the bearers hoisted it up, and it swayed into motion.

Inside, Yuanbao was tempted to lift his veil for a breath of air. But Jiang Fulang had warned him earlier—if he lifted it now and a gust blew open the curtains, people outside might see the new groom’s face.

It wasn’t considered unlucky, but it would spoil the tradition that only the groom should see his spouse’s face first.

So he held back, contenting himself with listening.

Outside, laughter and chatter abounded; some praised how handsome the groom looked. Yuanbao couldn’t help a quiet smile of pride.

When they reached the new house, Qi Beinan helped him down from the sedan. At the step with the brazier, he lifted Yuanbao into his arms and carried him over, earning a cheer from the crowd.

“Who would’ve thought? That serious, steady Lord Qi from the ministry turns out to be quite the affectionate man.”

Ren Heng, standing nearby with Lin Qingyu, clicked his tongue twice. “Lord Lin, you’ve yet to marry—coming today wasn’t in vain. You can learn a thing or two about winning a spouse.”

Lin Qingyu gave him a sidelong look. “And you, Lord Ren, are hardly married yourself.”

Ren Heng laughed, tapping his folding fan against Lin’s chest. “Then I’ll be sure to remember what I’ve seen today.”

Lin Qingyu only smiled faintly.

The ceremony went on—bows, offerings, the final rites—and at last the couple was sent into the bridal chamber.

With the formalities done, the house filled again with cheerful chaos, firecrackers snapping in bursts.

Inside the chamber, all was quiet. Yuanbao lifted a corner of his veil and peeked around. Seeing no one else present, he finally took it off completely.

The room was just as he’d seen before, only now decked out in red paper cuttings, red candles, red lanterns—every corner alive with festive color.

Sitting at the edge of the bed, he couldn’t help swinging his feet slightly, his heart full of warmth and ease.

He remembered how, back in the village, brides and husbands who had married far away always grew homesick around the holidays. They would sigh, saying life had been simpler before marriage.

He had once thought the same—that leaving one’s family, entering a strange household, and spending a lifetime with someone not yet deeply known must be unsettling.

But now, looking back on everything that had led to this day, he felt none of those fears.

His thoughts drifted idly as he peeled and ate a few longans from a dish on the table.

He’d gone to bed late last night and risen early; after a full day of rituals, fatigue crept over him.

The light filtering through the window was still bright, so he pulled the veil back over himself and leaned against the bed, planning only to rest his eyes for a moment.

Before he knew it, he had drifted off to sleep.

By the time the sky dimmed and the banquet had run its rounds, Qi Beinan finally excused himself from the guests.

He hurried toward the bridal room but paused before the door, his heart unexpectedly quickened.

Turning to Qin Jiang, he asked, “Are my robes all right?”

Qin Jiang glanced him over. “They’re fine.”

Qi Beinan still fussed with his sleeves and collar, then lifted one arm to check his scent. “Do I smell of anything?”

Qin Jiang sniffed and answered, “Wine—and food.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “At least you’re honest.” Then he added, “The little one probably hasn’t eaten much today. Go to the kitchen and bring something for him.”

After Qin Jiang left, Qi Beinan drew a slow breath and stepped inside.

He hadn’t seen Yuanbao in several days—it was against custom before the wedding—and he felt an odd twinge of nervousness.

When he entered the room and looked toward the bed, he stopped short for a moment, then smiled.

There, fast asleep on his side, one leg dangling off the edge of the bed, was Xiao Yuanbao.

The sight made Qi Beinan quietly laugh.

Qi Beinan sat quietly on the edge of the bed and, with careful fingers, lifted the red veil just a little.

Xiao Yuanbao’s chin was pale and smooth, his face untouched by any powder. Only his lips seemed tinted with a faint red paper stain, deeper in color than usual, perfectly matching the red of his wedding robe.

Qi Beinan’s smile deepened. He didn’t lift the veil all the way, afraid the light might fall across Yuanbao’s eyes and wake him.

He guessed that Yuanbao must have tossed and turned the night before, unable to sleep, and was now worn out.

Watching him sleep so soundly, Qi Beinan felt a quiet happiness rise in his chest.

When they had married years ago, things had been different. They had not yet known each other well then. Qi Beinan had entered the bridal room with a restless heart, finding Yuanbao sitting stiffly on the edge of the bed, his back straight and hands folded, nervous and cautious.

When Qi Beinan lifted the veil and offered him the ceremonial wine, Yuanbao’s hands had trembled so much that he almost spilled it.

He had sat rigidly in the same posture the entire time, not daring to move an inch.

Qi Beinan had found it both funny and tender—Yuanbao, so cautious and afraid of displeasing him.

Now, stepping once more into a bridal chamber, facing the same person, everything felt utterly different.

How many people, he thought, could fall asleep so peacefully before the groom even arrived?

He found it endearing—proof of complete trust.

All the patience, all the gentle guidance of these years, had not been wasted.

Qi Beinan leaned closer, intending to quietly remove Yuanbao’s shoes. But just as he touched his foot, Yuanbao suddenly jerked awake.

Startled, the veil slipped from his head and fell to the bed.

Their eyes met—and for a moment, the air seemed to still.

Realizing what had happened, Yuanbao hurriedly reached for the veil, but Qi Beinan caught his hand first.

Yuanbao looked at him apologetically. “I thought it was still early, so I closed my eyes for a bit. I didn’t mean to fall asleep. You must have waited—”

“You’re beautiful.”

“…What?”

“I said,” Qi Beinan repeated softly, “you’re beautiful.”

He reached up to smooth the strands of hair that had come loose from the long hours under the veil.

“I’m very happy,” he said, “that I get to marry you.”

Yuanbao’s breath caught. He pressed his lips together and lowered his gaze, a little shy. “It was my teacher and Qiaogui who helped me dress.”

Then he looked up again. “Did you see Qiaogui? She came all this way just to be here.”

“I did,” said Qi Beinan. “We met during the banquet. She asked after Lord Luo as well.”

Yuanbao smiled faintly and nodded. He brushed his fingers against Qi Beinan’s hand and murmured, “You look handsome today too—just like when you rode through the streets as the top scholar.”

Qi Beinan’s smile curved higher. He simply looked at Yuanbao, quiet and intent.

Yuanbao shifted nervously under his gaze. “Why—why are you staring at me like that? Is there something on my face?”

He started to raise a hand to wipe it, but Qi Beinan caught it. “Nothing. I just want to look at you properly.”

He drew Yuanbao gently into his arms. “I once dreamed a very long dream,” he said. “In that dream, we were married too.”

Yuanbao rested his chin on Qi Beinan’s shoulder, catching the faint scent of wine on him. “And what was I like in that dream?”

“You were fine,” Qi Beinan said. “But it felt as though you didn’t like me very much.”

Yuanbao blinked, then sat back, indignant. “Truly? Who in their right mind wouldn’t like you?”

“Don’t say that,” Qi Beinan replied with a hint of wounded humor. “That was simply how I felt.”

“Then I’m sure the person in your dream liked you very much,” Yuanbao said, leaning forward to press a quick kiss to his lips. “He just didn’t say it aloud. So let me tell you instead—I like you, A’nan.”

Qi Beinan looked at him, warmth spreading through his chest like a soft breeze.

“Will you like me for the rest of your life?” he asked.

“I will,” Yuanbao answered without hesitation, his tone gentle but steady. “Even if there are hardships or disappointments, even if one day I see your flaws, I’ll still like you. I’ll like you all my life.”

Qi Beinan couldn’t help but laugh quietly. How easily he was moved by such simple words.

“I won’t make you swear, then,” he said.

“I can swear if you want,” Yuanbao replied earnestly.

Qi Beinan shook his head. “Oaths are easy to say and hard to keep. I don’t put much faith in them. What I want to see is sincerity.”

Yuanbao’s eyes flickered. “And how do I show you my sincerity? We’ve got a whole lifetime for that—”

He didn’t finish the sentence.

Qi Beinan had already pressed him down onto the bed.

Yuanbao’s breath caught. Those familiar eyes, usually calm and warm, now glimmered with a heated light. Every breath between them carried a pulse of warmth.

His mind jumped back to that night when Qi Beinan had spoken of teaching him “in person.”

The thought made his face burn.

“W-we haven’t drunk the wedding wine yet,” he stammered.

Qi Beinan nuzzled the curve of his neck, his voice low. “I can’t wait even a moment longer.”

He had waited for this day far too long.

In this moment, Qi Beinan had no desire to pretend at restraint or the airs of a virtuous gentleman.

He had never been one to feign that kind of righteousness anyway. He liked Xiao Yuanbao—and he wanted to be with him, completely and without pretense.

Even if he could maintain an appearance of composure for a day, marriage meant sharing the same bed and rising together each morning. Such feelings could not be hidden forever.

Xiao Yuanbao bit his lip. “I never knew you were… this impatient.”

Qi Beinan chuckled softly. “Didn’t you just say that even if you discovered my flaws one day, you’d still like me?”

“I said I’d like you,” Yuanbao protested quickly, “but I didn’t say I wouldn’t mind your flaws.”

“Mind all you want—it changes nothing,” Qi Beinan said, his voice low and amused. “Because this is who I am.”

He leaned closer, his breath brushing Yuanbao’s ear. “You can’t hide from me.”

Yuanbao’s face flushed a deep shade of red, like peach blossoms in spring. Of course he knew there was no hiding from him.

Further words were useless. So instead, he pleaded for two things: that the red candles be put out, and that the bed curtains be drawn.

Qi Beinan refused one of them.

He whispered close to Yuanbao’s ear, coaxing softly that his figure was worth seeing, not hiding.

After a quiet exchange, they compromised. The candles must remain burning until dawn—it was tradition, and extinguishing them was inauspicious. So only the bed curtains were drawn.

The red silk canopy softened the light but did not shut it out entirely. The chamber glowed like the faint shimmer of moonlight through mist.

Bare-chested, Qi Beinan brought the wedding wine inside and, to honor Yuanbao’s wish, they shared the ceremonial cup within the curtain’s shadow.

The faint scent of wine mingled with the heat between them.

In the dim light, Yuanbao caught a glimpse of Qi Beinan’s uncovered form. His face flamed, and he quickly turned his eyes away.

Yet even then, he saw the silhouettes moving against the curtain—two figures intertwined, their shadows rising and falling—and that was no better.

At last, he raised his hand and covered his eyes.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 98: Reborn to Raise My Husband

A chill lingered in the spring night, the wind carrying traces of winter’s sharp cold.

Xiao Yuanbao soaked his feet in hot water, doors and windows tightly shut, listening to the wind’s muffled roar outside. Inside, it was comfortably warm.

He glanced toward the study—the lamp there was still lit. He didn’t know whether Qi Beinan was occupied with official duties or something else, but after supper, he had gone straight to his desk. Knowing how busy things were at the office these days, Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t gone to disturb him.

Bored, his gaze drifted to the two storybooks lying beside the couch. He picked them up.

“What kind of story is said to be so enthralling? Let this old master have a look,” he muttered to himself.

When he was twelve or thirteen, after learning to read well enough, he had once spent a few coins in the county to buy a cheap storybook—about ghosts, spirits, rich girls, and poor scholars.

But after reading those ghost tales, he had nightmares, waking in terror and hiding under his quilt, trembling so hard he couldn’t sleep.

In midsummer, stifled under the heavy bedding, he had sweated through the night and gotten no rest, rising the next morning with dark circles and heat sickness.

When Qi Beinan found out, he was both angry and amused, and forbade him to read such books again.

He had told him: children of good families—especially the young ladies and masters—must never read those small storybooks.

It was one thing if they spoke of ghosts and spirits, but those tales of forbidden romance—rich young ladies and poor scholars defying family and honor to elope—were corrupting.

They never wrote about the consequences of such elopements, only painting vows and passion as noble and touching.

In truth, most of those stories were written by impoverished scholars who had failed their examinations, venting their fantasies on paper.

And yet, such vulgar stories sold well, so more of them were written.

Those with clear minds could read them for amusement, but the simple and naïve might be led astray, imitating what they read—that was dangerous.

Through those warnings, Xiao Yuanbao had been firmly taught that eloping was a serious and shameful act.

Lost in thought, he realized he’d already turned several pages.

After reading a bit, his cheeks flushed. The writer was hardly proper—so many words were indecent, overly explicit.

Legs, hips—described as smooth and rounded, not as beauty but as lewdness.

His brows drew tight. This wasn’t a tale of pure love at all—it was about a man’s illicit affair with his sister-in-law.

Feeling deceived, Xiao Yuanbao was about to throw the filthy thing away when an illustration caught his eye.

He was surprised. Such a cheap booklet even had drawings? That was unusual.

He leaned closer, trying to make out the lines, and once he understood what the image depicted, his face turned scarlet. It felt as if filth had been thrown into his eyes.

He had never seen such a picture. Translated on hololo novels. Disgust and embarrassment tangled in his chest, and his anger turned toward that street bookseller—peddling indecent filth and claiming it was written by some “Master Liu Xin.” He had clearly been duped.

Still barefoot, feet soaking in the basin, Xiao Yuanbao snatched the booklet and hurled it across the room as if striking the deceitful seller himself.

Before his temper cooled, the door opened. Qi Beinan stepped in, holding a letter.

He saw the younger man sulking on the chair, lips pursed, brows furrowed.

“What’s this?” Qi Beinan asked mildly. “Who’s upset you?”

Then he spotted the book lying on the floor and bent to pick it up.

Xiao Yuanbao froze, his mind blank. He jumped up, water sloshing from the basin, and ran barefoot across the floor to grab it back.

Qi Beinan raised an eyebrow and got to it first.

“What kind of story could make you so eager you’d run on wet feet to snatch it?”

Xiao Yuanbao reached up, but Qi Beinan easily held it out of reach.

“It’s just some random book from the market,” Xiao Yuanbao stammered. “Brother, please give it back.”

Qi Beinan, seeing his fluster, grew even more curious.

He didn’t relent. Instead, he guided Xiao Yuanbao back to his seat by the basin.

“Good things ought to be shared,” he said. “Why hide it so carefully?”

He sat down and began to flip through the pages.

Xiao Yuanbao felt his face burn—each turn of the page was like being stripped bare.

He wanted to sink straight through the floor.

Qi Beinan’s eyes paused on the page with the entangled figures. His gaze flickered faintly, though his face stayed calm.

He turned to look at the mortified Xiao Yuanbao—saying nothing, but the look said everything.

Catching sight of the corner of the picture, Xiao Yuanbao’s face went crimson. He hurried to explain, voice tripping over itself:

“It—it was that street seller who shoved it at me. I didn’t know what it was! I only read a couple of pages before realizing it wasn’t proper, so I threw it away!”

Qi Beinan said slowly, “How proper could a storybook ever be? The question is whether the one reading it is proper.”

Hearing his character questioned, Xiao Yuanbao panicked. “I truly only glanced at it once—one look already dirtied my eyes.”

He quickly promised, “I’ll never buy random storybooks again.”

Qi Beinan couldn’t help but laugh, afraid that teasing him further might actually make him cry.

He closed the booklet and set it on the table. “Look at you, frightened over nothing. It’s just that sort of thing. Even if you read it, it’s no big deal—you’re not a child anymore.”

At that, Xiao Yuanbao breathed out in relief, though his face still glowed red.

Qi Beinan pulled him close, tightening an arm around his waist and seating him on his lap. “Still, you won’t learn anything useful from these books. I might as well teach you myself.”

“T-teach me what?” Xiao Yuanbao stammered, meeting Qi Beinan’s deep gaze.

“What do you think?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s blush deepened, and he quickly turned his head away. “You’re being improper again!”

But as his mind cleared, he suddenly sensed something off. How could Qi Beinan see such explicit drawings without even flinching? He seemed too calm—like a man long accustomed to such things.

In a small voice, he asked, “How would you teach me?”

Qi Beinan looked at him in mild surprise—bashful as he was, he could still ask something so bold.

“You really want me to explain?”

Xiao Yuanbao caught the double meaning and hurried to clarify, “I meant—how would you even know? Don’t tell me you’ve read those indecent books before!”

The more he thought about it, the more sense it seemed to make. No wonder Qi Beinan could stay in the study for hours. He had assumed it was for work—but perhaps the man had other ways of “passing the time.”

Qi Beinan realized his own reputation was now under suspicion. He shook his head solemnly. “I don’t read such vulgar things. You could search the entire study and bedroom—you’d never find one.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened. He half believed, half doubted. Then another thought struck him, and he asked hesitantly, “Then how would you even know how to… to teach anyone? Don’t tell me you’ve already been with someone…”

He didn’t finish the sentence, but just imagining it made his chest tighten unpleasantly.

Qi Beinan’s lips curved slightly. “Would you like to know?”

Seeing the mischief in his eyes, Xiao Yuanbao realized nothing good could come of the answer. “I don’t want to know.”

He tried to get up, but Qi Beinan didn’t let go.

“Why not? Once we’re married, we’ll have to do such things. Don’t you want to be closer to me?”

The words made Xiao Yuanbao’s ears burn. He fidgeted, voice barely audible. “I’ve never thought about that.”

He had only thought about marrying Qi Beinan—he’d long decided that. But what came after, how it differed from their life now, he hadn’t considered.

Until now, their closeness had gone no further than holding hands, brushing noses and ears, and once—on his birthday in February—a kiss.

Qi Beinan’s lips had been warm and damp; just remembering it made Xiao Yuanbao’s whole body tremble.

Beyond that, there had been nothing.

For years, he had never really understood what married couples did beyond sharing a life.

He’d only vaguely learned later—from the matchmaker Aunt Qiao’s teasing words—that husbands and wives did other things together.

It wasn’t simply that sleeping in the same bed made a child—there was a process between.

Even knowing that, he had never seen it nor read of it clearly; it all remained hazy to him.

So even when he secretly longed for Qi Beinan, it was only to imagine being kissed and falling asleep in each other’s arms.

Qi Beinan sighed softly. “Still too innocent.”

He explained gently, “Don’t overthink. I’ve never been with anyone else. As for how I know—men are born knowing.”

That was the only answer he could give.

Had he said that he had once shared a bed with someone long ago, or that after losing him he had spent years alone finding no peace, Xiao Yuanbao would never believe it anyway.

The truth was, he was out of practice—after so many years, desire came and went, and all he could do was endure it alone. One man alone could never be the same as two together.

Xiao Yuanbao whispered, “Really?”

“When have I ever lied to you? I’m yours. How could I let anyone else touch me?”

Qi Beinan added, “Besides, you watch me so closely—when would I ever have the chance?”

Hearing that, Xiao Yuanbao pressed his lips together and felt his heart settle.

He leaned against Qi Beinan’s chest, listening to the steady, strong heartbeat. In a quiet voice, he said, “Then… then teach me now.”

“Now?” Qi Beinan asked.

Xiao Yuanbao nodded.

Qi Beinan was silent for a moment, then stood and lifted him into his arms—carrying him to the bed.

By late March, Xiao Hu arrived in the capital.

He was dusty from the road but finally there, bringing more than ten chests with him—his own things, and gifts sent by old friends back home.

Rather than leaving them behind to gather dust, he had decided to bring everything along in one trip, no matter the trouble.

“Father, was your journey smooth?”

It had been a long time since father and son last saw each other, and their reunion was filled with joy.

Fortunately, neither of them had changed much.

“Smooth enough,” Xiao Hu replied. “I only brought too many things along, so the travel went a bit slower.”

With that, his arrival in the capital was settled properly.

In early April, the staff from the Four Offices and Six Bureaus came to the new residence to hang red silk ribbons and paste paper flowers, decorating the house into a joyful wedding home.

Qi Beinan moved there first, while Xiao Yuanbao would ride in the bridal sedan chair from the rented residence on the wedding day.

The two would be apart for just a few days.

On the ninth day of the fourth month—the wedding day—everything would finally come together.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 97: Reborn to Raise My Husband

On the fifth day of the first month, Qi Beinan finally had no official banquets to attend. The new house was nearly ready, so he and Xiao Yuanbao brought Master Jiang along to have a look.

They had already hired workers earlier to repair the roof, garden, and damaged corners, and to clean the entire property.

Once cleaned, the place looked spacious—too spacious, in fact. Without furniture, it had seemed hollow and empty. But now, with all the household furnishings moved in, it finally felt like a true home.

The largest courtyard in the compound had been set aside for their marital residence.

Before the New Year, Qi Beinan had commissioned a craftsman to carve a plaque for it, which had just been delivered and hung. He had also bought a flowering tree from the market and planted it in the courtyard.

Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t visited for several days. Seeing the new house so transformed, he couldn’t help his surprise.

“‘Xinyi Pavilion’?” he read aloud, standing before the main courtyard and looking at the newly hung plaque.

In the middle of the courtyard stood a young tree, about the thickness of an arm. It was winter; all its leaves and blossoms had fallen, leaving only the dark, bare branches.

Even so, he recognized it at a glance.

Qi Beinan turned his head toward him. “Do you like it?”

Seeing the faint smile tugging at his lips, Xiao Yuanbao immediately understood. He pressed his lips together, holding back his own smile.

The meaning was one only the two of them shared.

He nodded. “The name suits it—and the tree fits the season.”

Master Jiang, who couldn’t read many characters, didn’t understand the reference. But catching the quiet look between them, he chuckled and shook his head slightly. “Young people.”

Inside the courtyard, the main reception hall was furnished with a long altar table and a square central table. Four grand armchairs faced each other on either side, with a smaller side table between them.

To the left was a smaller parlor, less formal in arrangement. Along the wall sat a luohan couch, with a flower stand to the left and a folding screen to the right, shielding the view into the bedchamber.

In the bedroom stood a canopy bed, wardrobe, dressing table, flower stand, and stools.

To the right was a spacious study, furnished with a bookcase that covered half the wall and a scholar’s desk beneath it.

The Ming family’s furniture was of fine quality. The main courtyard’s rooms were fitted with huanghuali, chicken-wing wood, rosewood, and ironwood—luxurious materials. The craftsmanship was meticulous, the carvings delicate enough to draw the eye.

Just the furnishings in this courtyard alone must have cost several hundred strings of cash.

There were other full sets in the surrounding courtyards as well.

Even though the guest quarters and minor rooms didn’t need showy displays and were furnished with beech, pine, or apricot wood instead, the sheer quantity added up.

They had originally agreed on a budget of four hundred strings with the Ming family, yet what had been delivered far exceeded that value.

The Ming family’s steward had said that the set of rosewood furniture for the main hall was a wedding gift, and that the elegant five-panel floral screen came as a present from Ming Guanxin himself. But even so, the rest was worth far more than the agreed price.

Qi Beinan silently took note of this kindness.

“Your courtyard’s so large, I nearly went soft in the legs walking it,” Master Jiang said with a laugh as they strolled through. “Feels even bigger than the one in your county.”

He followed Xiao Yuanbao from one courtyard to the next, admiring the elegance of the capital’s residences—every corner refined, every view different.

If not for his student, he would never have had the chance to visit the capital, much less tour such a fine house.

“I thought it looked bigger too,” Xiao Yuanbao said, “but it only feels that way because there are more walls dividing the courtyards. In truth, it’s not as wide as the one back home.”

Still holding Master Jiang’s arm, he said with a grin, “Even if this house isn’t as big as the county one, with just me, my brother, and a handful of attendants, it’ll feel empty. You should stay with us in the capital—it’d be lovely to have you in the new house.”

“Nonsense,” Master Jiang said with a chuckle. “You two are newlyweds. My being here would only be awkward.”

“What awkwardness? Even under one roof, the courtyards are separate—we don’t even enter through the same door.”

Master Jiang only smiled, and Xiao Yuanbao let the matter drop.

The house was nearly complete now, and all the wedding furnishings could soon be delivered and arranged.

With Master Jiang’s arrival, he helped Xiao Yuanbao manage daily errands and even lent a hand making pickles. Xiao Yuanbao could finally relax a little.

After the first month, Qi Beinan returned to official duty.

The night market supervision had been successfully completed, and the imperial household had expressed satisfaction with the Ministry of Works’ results. Qi Beinan, in turn, received commendation.

He resumed his position at the Hanlin Academy.

At the beginning of the second month, a letter arrived from Tienan.

“Has the house sold?” Xiao Yuanbao asked quickly when he saw the Linzhou seal.

Spring was nearly upon them, and everything seemed to require money at once. If that property still didn’t sell, their funds would soon run dry.

Qi Beinan read the letter, his brow faintly lifting.

Tienan wrote that a merchant had come to view their house. The man hadn’t seemed particularly enthusiastic, but he hadn’t tried to bargain either.

They had listed the property at five hundred strings—a deliberately inflated price. As long as a buyer offered no less than four hundred and twenty, they would sell.

Yet this merchant, curiously enough, agreed to the full five hundred without a word of negotiation.

Tienan met him in person and realized soon after that the man wasn’t some fool with too much money—he clearly had his own reasons.

No one knew quite how the merchant had found out that Tienan held property in Yunping Ward.

That autumn, when the imperial decree lifted the nationwide curfew, another order followed in the twelfth month requiring all prefectures to establish and regulate their night markets, ensuring they wouldn’t disturb local residents’ rest.

The Linzhou prefecture chose Yunping Ward for the new night market.

Yunping Ward sat along the river, with a fine view and a good distance from the crowded downtown streets—a perfect location for a bustling night bazaar.

As soon as word spread, merchants rushed to buy the once-neglected shops there. Within two months, every stall had been snatched up.

By year’s end, the night market was in full swing. With official support, merchants in Yunping Ward enjoyed reduced taxes, and during the Lantern Festival, the grand celebration was held right there. The public flocked to it, and the area thrived with noise and color.

Now, even more shops had opened, and the streets were lively day and night.

Rent prices for small storefronts had soared—from the original three strings of cash per month to five. Shops along the riverside, in especially desirable locations, went for six to eight strings, sometimes even higher.

And that was just for rent. Buying one outright was nearly impossible.

The merchant had set his eyes on a three-story building overlooking the river and was willing to pay a high price for it.

After asking around about the property’s ownership, he finally traced it to Tienan.

When he learned that the owner was unlikely to sell, he sent word through intermediaries but was firmly refused.

Unwilling to give up, he used a clever excuse—pretending to inquire about a house for sale—to get a meeting with Tienan.

Tienan, not yet having received Qi Beinan’s instruction on selling the property, didn’t dare decide on his own. He wrote to Qi Beinan for guidance.

“The merchant is offering eight hundred strings for the building,” Qi Beinan read aloud to Xiao Yuanbao, “and another five hundred for our residence, if we’ll sell both together.”

“So—should we sell or not?” Xiao Yuanbao asked.

He knew that Yunping Ward’s property prices had gone up but wasn’t sure by how much.

“At that price, we wouldn’t be losing money,” Qi Beinan said.

They had bought all fifteen shop units there for only a thousand strings total. Even though the three-story building alone was worth several smaller shops, this sale would still bring a considerable profit.

Still, the building’s location was excellent and bound to appreciate further.

But Qi Beinan’s funds were tight, and selling the house and shop together would be convenient—it would free up a large sum quickly and keep their finances flowing.

Since there was an offer on the table, he began to lean toward selling—but not at that price.

He took up his brush and dictated a reply to Tienan:

“For both the house and the building, one thousand five hundred strings. If the buyer won’t agree, we can instead lease him two riverside shops at the current rate—eight strings per month each, fifteen for both, guaranteed stable for this year. If he still refuses, our lowest price for sale is one thousand four hundred.”

He sealed the letter, enclosed a small payment for postage, and sent it by express courier.

Xiao Yuanbao waited anxiously, hoping the deal would go through.

If it did, everything—wedding, expenses, and investments—would finally fall into place.

He didn’t have to wait long. By late February, as the capital began to thaw, news came.

That day, Xiao Yuanbao was making pickles with Master Jiang. Qin Jiang had just dropped Qi Beinan off at the palace gates and was on his way back after grabbing a bowl of noodles from a street stall.

At the mouth of the lane, he spotted a figure looking around uncertainly. The man seemed familiar—and as he came closer, Qin Jiang realized it was Tienan.

It was his first time in the capital. Though he had the address, navigating the city’s maze of streets had left him wandering for quite a while before he finally found the house.

“You must be exhausted after such a long journey from Linzhou,” Xiao Yuanbao said warmly, having him shown in. He called for Wenge’er to serve tea and for Hongtang to bring out some pastries.

“The weather along the road was good, and the trip smooth,” Tienan said with a smile. “I’m not tired at all.”

He was now a tall, broad-shouldered young man, steady in manner after managing affairs in Linzhou.

“It’s just that I kept worrying about you and Lord Qi—couldn’t stand how slow the carriage seemed to go.”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed. “Your tongue’s gotten honeyed.”

Tienan knew that in this household, the young master managed affairs as ably as the lord, so he produced his travel bundle and handed over the documents.

The moment Xiao Yuanbao saw that Tienan had come in person, he knew the deal must have gone through.

The boy had surely brought the money himself—such a sum couldn’t be trusted to couriers alone.

Of course, they could have transferred it through a money house, but that would have been troublesome and cost a hefty fee.

“The merchant accepted the second offer,” Tienan reported. “He’ll pay fifteen hundred strings for both the house and the building. In addition, he’ll lease two riverside shops at full price. He didn’t haggle—agreed right away. Altogether, we’ve gained an extra hundred strings from it. The leases on the two shops are for one full year.”

Xiao Yuanbao opened the parcel to find one thousand six hundred and eighty strings’ worth of payment, along with two rental contracts.

He examined the banknotes—three worth five hundred each, three worth fifty each—and a pouch of loose silver totaling thirty taels. Satisfaction warmed his chest.

“Do you know what kind of business this merchant runs, to have such wealth?” he asked.

“I heard he deals in antiques,” Tienan replied. “He needed a large, elegant storefront in a prime spot. The small shops felt too cramped for his taste, but he took a liking to our riverside building.”

“As for the two leased shops, they were taken by his relatives in trade—one for selling food, the other for jewelry.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “So it really is a family of merchants.”

Tienan nodded. “Indeed. Without a solid fortune, no ordinary trader could afford property in Yunping Ward now.”

He had personally helped Qi Beinan handle the Linzhou property purchases back then, worrying at the time that they might not even rent the shops out and end up losing money. Seeing how much everything had changed, he felt nothing but admiration for Qi Beinan’s foresight.

That afternoon, after resting for a while, Tienan met with Qi Beinan when he returned from his post.

Qi Beinan looked him over. “You’ve grown taller and sturdier—truly looking like someone in charge.”

Tienan scratched his head, embarrassed. “My lord is teasing me. If not for your detailed instructions in your letters, how could I have managed anything properly?”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly. “I know exactly what you’re capable of.”

Hearing that, Tienan felt a swell of pride and gratitude.

He reported on the recent affairs in Linzhou, then added, “Speaking of your foresight, that broker who helped us find the shops back then—he’s still endlessly grateful to you. He followed your advice, bought two shops of his own afterward, sold one for a profit of several dozen strings, and rents the other now. Says life’s been quite comfortable since. I ran into him recently—he kept insisting I join him for a drink.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “Well, it’s his good fortune that he listened. If he hadn’t, he’d be regretting it now, just watching the prices soar. Still, he did help us negotiate those good deals back then, so it’s only right he gained something in return.”

Tienan nodded. “That’s true.”

Qi Beinan said, “There are still twelve shops left under our name. With the residence sold, you’ll need a place to live. Take one of the shops, renovate it for yourself. As for the others, rent them out slowly, at fair market prices, whenever you meet a good offer.”

Tienan agreed.

Qi Beinan continued, “Stay steady in your work there. Once things settle in the capital, I’ll speak with Yuanbao and have them look for a proper match for you back home—someone your parents will like. Then, when you return to Linzhou, you can start a good life together.”

He added, “Your parents have served diligently at the estate; the master is pleased. The household will not treat such loyal people poorly.”

Tienan, hearing the kindness and thought behind this plan, was deeply moved. He immediately knelt and said, “If not for you, my lord, rescuing me and my parents from hardship, how could we ever have the lives we do now? You’ve already done so much for us—how could I not be grateful? I’ll serve this household faithfully for as long as I live.”

Qi Beinan gave a quiet nod.

Tienan stayed two days in the capital before returning to Linzhou.

When he left, Xiao Yuanbao gave him travel money, an additional ten strings of cash, two bolts of silk, and a fine tea set as a gift.

With the proceeds from selling the house and the riverside building, their finances suddenly loosened.

They immediately paid back the four hundred strings owed to the Ming family for the furniture.

Next, they spent another three hundred strings purchasing farmland on the outskirts of the capital.

Spring was approaching; if the land wasn’t tilled soon, the season would be lost.

In just those two expenses, seven hundred strings were gone—half of the fifteen hundred Tienan had brought.

Eight hundred and eighty strings remained, plus about a hundred more they already had on hand—enough to round up roughly a thousand in total.

Qi Beinan reviewed the accounts and, satisfied, consulted the almanac. He chose April ninth, an auspicious day for marriage.

He sent word home and filed for official leave with the Ministry of Personnel. Weddings required advance notice—only then would a three-day leave be approved. Once entered in the records, the date became fixed; canceling it without cause could bring punishment.

With the date set, they began drafting invitations.

Qi Beinan hadn’t been long in the capital and knew only a few colleagues; most of his relatives were back home, so there wouldn’t be many guests.

After tallying everything, they decided eight banquet tables would suffice, though they prepared for ten to be safe.

“If this were held in the county,” Qi Beinan said, watching Xiao Yuanbao brush the ink across the red paper, “it would be lively—we could have forty or fifty tables easily.”

“How would we ever fit that many in the capital?” Xiao Yuanbao smiled, glancing up. “We’d have to rent another house just for the banquet. Too much trouble. Ten tables here in our own home will do nicely.”

From where he was packing chests, Master Jiang chimed in, “Exactly. Fewer guests mean less fuss. The important thing isn’t the crowd—it’s your union. A few close tables of family and friends make for the best kind of celebration.”

Qi Beinan nodded and said no more.

Looking over the preparations, he saw that Master Jiang and Xiao Yuanbao had already packed twenty chests’ worth of goods.

Two were filled with grooming items—wooden combs, bamboo combs, makeup boxes, wash basins, toothbrushes, tooth powder, hair oil, and such.

Six more contained bedding—embroidered mandarin-duck quilts for spring and summer, matching pillows, bed curtains and gauze canopies, thick cotton quilts for autumn and winter, rabbit-fur mats—eight full sets in all.

There were also seasonal garments, fabrics, medicinal herbs, and fragrant sachets—too many small things to list, costing modestly but requiring great care and patience.

By tradition, it should have been the Xiao family who prepared Xiao Yuanbao’s dowry, but given the circumstances back home, there was no way they could have arranged such things in advance.

Now that they were putting everything together, it was partly for appearance’s sake, but mostly because the items would truly be needed after the wedding.

“Have you not prepared any jewelry?” Qi Beinan asked, noticing that everything was daily necessities and not a single major ornament among them.

Xiao Yuanbao replied, “I didn’t think it was necessary. There’s already plenty here.”

He felt a little embarrassed that even his dowry had to be purchased under Qi Beinan’s supervision. With so many goods already, he found it more than enough.

Gold and silver jewelry could easily cost over a hundred strings of cash, and besides, he wasn’t much fond of wearing such things.

“For a young man, it’s not like with a maiden,” he added. “I already have a few jade hairpins and pendants from before—they’re quite enough.”

Qi Beinan understood his hesitation and said, “Even if a young man doesn’t wear as many adornments, he should still have some. We’re preparing both the betrothal and the dowry—it shouldn’t seem lacking.

“The other day, I saw a noble’s son wearing a filigree pendant collar—it was exquisite. You don’t have to like it, but buy a few to keep. It’s better to have them when you want them than to have none at all.”

Then he turned to Master Jiang. “You go with him to help choose. If I buy them myself, I doubt they’d suit his taste.”

Master Jiang smiled. “The lord is right. Jewelry doesn’t spoil—later, the children can even wear them.”

Persuaded by the two, Xiao Yuanbao reluctantly agreed.

They went out and bought a gold filigree necklace in the shape of a ruyi gourd, a silver one with auspicious cloud motifs, and pairs of jade and pearl sash ornaments—green jade, white jade, and pearl, two of each.

Altogether, eight jewelry boxes—three hundred strings of cash gone.

With that, nearly everything was ready. The only matter left was the banquet.

In the capital, arranging a banquet was easy enough. They simply went to one of the Four Divisions and Six Bureaus, entrusted the details, and everything would be handled perfectly.

There were endless options.

For tables and chairs: rosewood and huanghuali for grandeur, elm or walnut for simplicity.

For dishes and serving ware: official kilns, private kilns, even gold or silver sets if one desired.

For food and drink: countless choices of dishes, fruits, pastries, and wines.

The variety dazzled Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes. Even Master Jiang, who had spent half a lifetime catering banquets, had never seen such meticulous organization.

He couldn’t help but click his tongue—truly, the capital was no ordinary place.

After a long time of browsing, the two of them were still overwhelmed by the options. Fortunately, the officials at the bureau were experienced.

They asked what kind of banquet it would be—official, common, or merchant household.

Xiao Yuanbao explained everything clearly, and they quickly understood the tone.

Then they asked what rank the host held, and whether he wanted something grand or modest.

Xiao Yuanbao said only that the host was a newly appointed official—not seeking ostentation, but not wanting to seem too humble either. Something refined and respectable in between.

The staff recommended walnut tables and benches for a modest but decent appearance, and blue-and-white porcelain for the tableware—elegant, restrained, and befitting of an official household.

As for the dishes, with only ten tables, they proposed a refined and tasteful menu: five strings of cash per table, with lamb wine and cherry fruit wine as the drinks.

Fresh fruit would include pears and grapes, while pastries would feature seasonal flower cakes and wedding cakes.

Xiao Yuanbao saw that it was a mid-range selection—neither extravagant nor cheap. He and Master Jiang agreed it was fair and confirmed the order.

Back home, he told Qi Beinan everything. Hearing no objection, Qi Beinan sent word to finalize the deposit and fix the date.

Once the day arrived, the bureau would send their people to manage the event—veterans who had served both noble officials and wealthy commoners alike.

The total came to about eighty strings of cash—sixty for the ten banquet tables and another twenty for the hired staff.

It was a steep sum; ordinary families could hardly afford to have the Four Divisions and Six Bureaus run a banquet for them.

Master Jiang sighed in wonder at how convenient the capital was. “They even have people who handle the entire banquet for you. If you don’t want to cook, you can just sit at home and order whatever you like—they’ll deliver it right to your door. Amazing.”

“And ever since the night markets began,” he added, “the city never sleeps. It’s lively everywhere, with people coming and going. Folks here live freely, finding fun instead of gossip. Not like back in the countryside, where everyone’s eyes are always on someone else’s private matters.”

In early March, a letter arrived from their home county—Xiao Hu would be setting out for the capital this month.

Xiao Yuanbao was overjoyed.

He hadn’t seen Xiao Hu in quite some time and missed him dearly. Knowing he was already preparing to come, the days suddenly felt full of anticipation.

In his cheerful mood, he picked up a basket and decided to go to the market to buy a cut of lamb—to roast it for Master Jiang and Qi Beinan.

By March, the afternoons were warm, the market stalls lively, vendors’ cries rising and falling through the air.

The city was awakening, green spreading across the earth beyond the walls.

When joy fills the heart, everything seems beautiful—and to Xiao Yuanbao, that day, everything did.

“What’s that young fellow selling?”

Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t taken the carriage that day. He always found it strange to ride just to buy groceries, so he preferred walking.

As he strolled down the busy market street, he noticed a man ahead cloaked in black, standing with his arms drawn in like a giant bat folding its wings.

The man darted left and right, stopping to whisper to passersby—each waved him off impatiently.

Before Wen Ge’er beside him could speak, the young man spotted Xiao Yuanbao watching him and swooped over like a hawk that had locked onto a chick.

“Brother, care to read a new storybook? I’ve got every new title from Master Liu Xin of the Spring Sun Pavilion! His latest one’s a marvel—the noble lady and the poor scholar eloping in secret!”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked, realizing the man was selling popular storybooks.

Seeing that he didn’t immediately refuse, the bookseller threw open his cloak—inside were over a dozen sewn pockets, each stuffed with booklets.

Xiao Yuanbao had been in the capital nearly half a year, yet this was his first time seeing anyone sell books this way.

“Selling storybooks is an honest trade,” he said. “Why dress it up like this?”

The young man paused, then quickly answered, “Well, shouting in the street brings better business! Leave them in a bookstore, and who’ll bother to go inside? Out here, more eyes, more buyers!”

“Brother, take a few home. A way to pass the time—and you’d be helping me out, too. My poor father’s sick in bed, waiting for me to earn enough to buy him medicine.”

Xiao Yuanbao doubted the tale, likely a performance to draw pity. But buying a couple of stories cost next to nothing, so he picked two from the cloak.

The man beamed, thanking him profusely. “You’ll see, brother—once you read these, you’ll come find me again. I’m always under the Yang Bridge, same place every day!”

With that, he vanished into the crowd.

Wen Ge’er said, “That Liu Xin’s quite famous. I’ve heard his stories are touching and tangled—people can’t stop reading. I can’t read much myself, but I’ve heard the storytellers tell his tales twice now—captivating, truly.”

Xiao Yuanbao didn’t open the book right away, just tossed it into his basket. “So it’s that good? I’ll have a look at home when there’s time.”

That evening, Qi Beinan returned later than usual from the Hanlin Academy.

The court had begun assigning duties for the new year. Across the provinces, spring examinations were approaching, and the Hanlin scholars were to be sent out with the Ministry of Rites as regional examiners.

There were also many vacant official posts in the provinces, so the Ministry of Personnel wanted to hold a special examination to select capable scholars for appointments—another task requiring coordination between the Rites Ministry and the Hanlin.

Because of these discussions, everyone left late that day.

Qi Beinan didn’t mind; the position of provincial examiner was a lucrative one. The travel stipends from the Ministry of Revenue were generous—more than enough to cover expenses, with plenty left over. Such assignments were highly coveted.

But with his wedding scheduled for April, even though Senior Scholar Li had wanted to recommend him, Qi Beinan could only decline.

Since he couldn’t be sent out to the provinces, he’d instead help organize the selection exams in the capital.

The mention of examiners reminded him of Zhao Guangzong back in the county.

After supper, Qi Beinan went to his study and wrote him a letter.

He knew Zhao Guangzong had spoken of taking the metropolitan examination again, but now that examiner positions were opening, he wanted to inform him of the opportunity.

The metropolitan exam came only once every three years. Failing once or twice was normal—but each “normal” failure cost six years of life. How many sets of six years could a man afford to lose?

Qi Beinan didn’t urge him to quit, nor did he push him to persist blindly. He simply laid out both paths—the pros and cons clearly—and left the choice to him.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 96: Reborn to Raise My Husband

A few days later, the twelfth month arrived.

The capital was already steeped in the festive air of the New Year. On the very first day of the month, shops lining both sides of the streets began hanging red lanterns.

The designs were varied—no longer just the traditional round red lanterns. The restaurant on one corner hung two square silk ones; next door, the silk shop had a pair of eight-sided palace-style lamps. The shop after that, not wanting to be outdone, displayed elegant fan-shaped lanterns.

Every household tried to outshine the next. Even before the festival arrived, the streets dazzled with color and light.

Xiao Yuanbao sat in the carriage returning home, never once lowering the curtain. Lanterns of every kind lined the streets; some he had never seen even at the county’s Lantern Festival. Truly, the capital was in a league of its own.

He had been run off his feet lately, working day and night to make pickles.

Business was booming—by morning, they would send out several dozen jars, and by noon, they’d all be gone. On any given day, they sold no fewer than eighty jars, and on better days, more than a hundred.

He was astonished. It was the sheer size of the capital’s population that made such steady sales possible. In a county town, no matter how good business was, there would never be so many buyers.

Of course, selling more meant consuming more ingredients. Every couple of days, they were buying over ten catties of snow cabbage and dried bamboo shoots.

He began calculating and sent word to negotiate with the two shops that supplied him. From now on, he would buy exclusively from them, in bulk, and see if that could earn him a discount.

It wasn’t hard to bargain. Each shop cut two copper coins off the original price. Buying in volume meant he could save even more over time.

Next, he went to the pottery shop. Until now, the jars had cost two coins each.

He had been buying by the hundreds—each trip meant over two hundred coins for the shopkeeper. These were simple jars, not fine porcelain that sold for strings of cash per set, but such large orders were steady and reliable. A stable trade could be as profitable as luxury goods.

After some back-and-forth, the potter offered three jars for five copper coins and even agreed to inscribe the name “Xiangdangdang” on each.

Still not satisfied, Xiao Yuanbao had Qin Jiang negotiate again—three coins for two jars, with the same inscription. In return, they would tell customers that the jars came from that pottery shop and praise their quality.

Seeing mutual benefit, the potter agreed.

Xiao Yuanbao leaned back in the carriage, feeling pleased.

This trip had cut costs significantly. Their pickles, which used to earn twelve to fifteen coins per jar, would now bring in an extra one or two.

One or two coins didn’t sound like much, but across a hundred jars, that meant a hundred or two hundred coins more.

Small ventures had to be tight-fisted to turn a profit.

Back home, he went into the storeroom and began clicking his abacus.

After twenty-some days of business, even after expenses, they had earned thirty strings of cash.

Looking at the tidy profit, he felt certain—business was the true way to make money.

But joy quickly turned to worry. He hadn’t expected the pickles to sell so well, and their stock of mushrooms was running low.

He wrote a letter home, asking them to send more.

That, however, would take time—and cost a fair bit in transport.

Qin Jiang, who had worked with an escort company, explained: to send a full cart of goods from their county to the capital, even with connections, would cost ten strings at least.

If it was only a few crates, not a full cart, the company wouldn’t take it unless the route matched another job. In that case, it could be cheaper, just a few strings—but that kind of luck was rare.

Hearing this, Xiao Yuanbao felt uneasy.

Even though transporting mushrooms from home would still be cheaper than buying them in the capital, it would certainly raise costs.

That day, he had bought fermented beans to make a new flavor of oil pickle—partly to expand their offerings, partly to stretch out their remaining mushroom supply until more arrived.

Leaning back in his chair, he tilted his head and sighed. This was his first time running a business—full of pleasant surprises, but one problem after another, too.

Some of these issues, he realized, could have been foreseen. With foresight, he could have prepared solutions earlier.

Take the mushrooms, for example—the most important ingredient. He had a good stock at first but never thought about what to do when it ran out.

He hadn’t planned to turn this into a long-term trade anyway. It had started as something to pass the time in winter and earn a bit of spare money for the household.

He figured once he used up his stock of mushrooms, the business would naturally end.

But now, with profits this good, how could he possibly stop?

And since he’d already secured favorable prices for his ingredients and jars, there was no reason to give it up halfway.

Sitting in the storeroom, he scratched his cheek, deep in thought about how to strengthen the business.

Later that evening, Qi Beinan returned home and happened to meet the post courier on the way. There was a letter for them, which he carried inside.

Qi Beinan saw Xiao Yuanbao still scratching his cheek in the storeroom.

“Boss Xiao, what has you so troubled?”

Xiao Yuanbao didn’t tell him right away that their mushroom stock was running low. The man had just returned from a long day’s work, hadn’t even had a sip of hot tea yet—how could he pile on more worries about household matters?

“I’m doing the accounts,” he said instead. “Now that business has grown, the bookkeeping isn’t as easy as before. I regret not studying arithmetic properly.”

Qi Beinan tapped him lightly on the forehead. “You only realize the worth of learning when you actually need it.”

“Enough of that. Come look—I’ve finished your new boots.”

Xiao Yuanbao put his things down and led Qi Beinan into the room. From the couch, he took out a pair of tall deerskin boots.

Qi Beinan ran a hand over them. “Let’s see how they fit.”

Xiao Yuanbao had him sit, then knelt to help him try them on.

He pulled aside the old shoes, and a pair of large feet appeared—Qi Beinan was tall and lean, and his feet were correspondingly long. Xiao Yuanbao held one up and realized it was nearly the length of both his hands together.

“As the saying goes, big feet travel far. Your father named you ‘Beinan’—north and south. Seems that saying suits you perfectly.”

Qi Beinan looked down at him. “Now that you’ve made me shoes, you’ve trapped me. I won’t be walking north or south anymore.”

Xiao Yuanbao gave the boot a playful pat. “So now it’s my fault, is it? Go on, walk a few steps—see if they pinch.”

The leather was supple, reaching mid-calf, snugly tucking in his trousers. No matter how he moved, they wouldn’t slip off.

The soles were thick to resist water and mud, and the inside lined with soft short fur—barefoot, they were both warm and plush.

Qi Beinan turned this way and that, clearly pleased.

“They’ll do well enough with both court robes and casual wear.”

Xiao Yuanbao looked satisfied too. Qi Beinan was already handsome, and the new boots made him even more striking.

After pacing a few circles, Qi Beinan asked what the leather had cost.

“Less than five strings of cash,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “I found some cheaper scraps—not whole hides, so the price wasn’t high.”

Even so, five strings for a pair of boots was hardly cheap.

“I figured since the pickles brought in some silver, I’d spend a little of it to buy the leather for you,” he added.

Qi Beinan teased, “So now I’m eating soft rice, am I?”

They both laughed over it before remembering the letter.

Opening it, they saw it was from home. They read it together.

When Xiao Yuanbao finished, his expression changed at once. “Shameless! The teacher’s the one who suffered, and the villagers, instead of defending him, dare spread such vile gossip!”

It turned out that earlier that autumn, with more banquets being held in the countryside, Master Jiang had gone out to cater an event. There, a man from another village had taken a liking to him.

After hearing that Jiang had been widowed for years and lived alone, the man decided he wanted to marry him.

When winter came, he even sent a matchmaker—but Jiang refused.

Ordinary people would have let it go. But this man, seeing that Jiang looked young for his age, skilled in his craft, and capable of earning silver, grew spiteful when rejected.

He snuck into Jiang’s house and hid, then suddenly jumped out half-dressed while visitors were present, hoping to ruin Jiang’s reputation so that he’d be forced to marry him.

The village gossips seized on it, tongues wagging until Jiang’s name was blackened.

Village head Zhao was furious and went to demand justice, but the shameless man claimed it was Jiang who had invited him in.

When Xiao Hu heard of it, he sent two strong men to lie in wait. They caught the scoundrel outside and gave him a beating he wouldn’t forget.

A rogue like that couldn’t be reasoned with—but a few bruises taught him better manners.

Though the man later came forward to admit the truth and apologize, the matter didn’t quiet down. The gossip still lingered behind closed doors.

Whenever there was a gathering, people whispered.

Master Jiang, being quiet and sensitive, grew disheartened under their stares. He stopped attending banquets and had stayed home for many days.

Village head Zhao, worried, wrote to Xiao Hu—asking Xiao Yuanbao to send a letter in turn, fearing Jiang might fall into despair.

The more Xiao Yuanbao read, the angrier he became.

“I could tear that man to pieces! How could anyone be so shameless? The teacher’s been alone for years. Even when I was little, plenty tried to arrange matches for him—good, decent families too—and he refused every one. And now this worthless old bachelor dares set his sights on him, stooping to such vile tricks?”

“He soils a good man’s name and still dreams he’ll marry him—ridiculous!”

Qi Beinan’s brow tightened. “Trouble always comes to a widower’s door. Even with Village Head Zhao watching out for him, there are still snakes with filthy thoughts—thinking that winning Jiang means gaining the Zhao family’s favor as well.”

He fell silent a moment, then said, “It’s hard to comfort someone face-to-face, harder still by letter. When Ming Guanxin’s household sends the dowry items to the capital, why not write to Master Jiang and ask him to come along with the merchant convoy? Let him attend our wedding banquet. It might lift his spirits. After being shut up in that tiny village for so long, even the most cheerful soul would fall ill from the strain.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s brow lifted slightly. “Then why don’t we just have him stay in the capital for good? It’ll spare him from the gossip back in the village. He could help manage the pickle business too—I’m sure he’d settle in fine.”

Qi Beinan thought it over. It wasn’t a bad idea. In the capital, they had no relatives or elders around; having Master Jiang there would mean one more person to rely on.

Whether he’d agree or not was another matter, but it was worth bringing him first. He could help them with the wedding preparations, and if he stayed long enough, perhaps they could persuade him to remain.

Xiao Yuanbao then told him about the mushroom shortage and the need to arrange more shipments. The two discussed it well into the night.

Once they had decided everything, they wrote a reply and sealed it with some silver, sending it home by fast courier.

By the last day of the twelfth month—New Year’s Day—the Ming family’s caravan arrived in the capital.

Outside, snow was falling thickly, and everyone was bundled up tight against the cold. Faces were wrapped in scarves and hoods so that only eyes could be seen.

“Teacher!”

When Xiao Yuanbao saw Master Jiang stepping down from the carriage, wrapped thickly in furs, he ran forward like a sparrow taking flight and threw his arms around him.

“You’re not a child anymore—still acting like this!”

Though he scolded him, Master Jiang couldn’t hide his own joy. He unwound the cloth from his mouth, and his breath came out in a puff of white mist.

“I missed you so much,” Xiao Yuanbao said brightly. “I was afraid you wouldn’t come to the capital.”

“How could I not?” Master Jiang said warmly. “You’re my only disciple. You’re marrying Lord Qi—I wouldn’t miss it, no matter how far the road.”

He glanced at Xiao Yuanbao, then at Qi Beinan. “It’s colder up north, but the journey went smoothly.”

Qi Beinan said, “That’s what matters most. Xiaobao’s been worrying for days—seeing you arrive safely is better than anything.”

“Teacher, come inside quickly,” Xiao Yuanbao urged. “It’s freezing out here. I bought plenty of food—we’ll have a proper New Year’s Eve feast together, not spend the holiday on the road.”

Qi Beinan stayed behind to handle the caravan and the goods. He had the merchants brought inside for hot tea and a warm meal before sending them on to the new house. The workers still needed to unload and arrange the furniture.

Along with household furnishings came the mushrooms, New Year supplies, and two mushroom cultivators that Tian Kun had trained.

Xiao Yuanbao and Qi Beinan had discussed transport costs earlier and finally decided to bring the two growers from home. They had already found ten mu of land in the capital’s outskirts to start mushroom and vegetable cultivation. That way, they’d never have to worry about supply again and could live much as they had back in the county.

The land, however, hadn’t yet been purchased. Farmland near the capital was costly—ten mu would run at least three hundred strings of cash.

After buying their house, they didn’t have spare funds. The property in Linzhou hadn’t sold yet.

Recently, Tienan had written that Yunping Ward had been designated by the prefecture as a night market area. Shops there had sold out in just over a month, with prices doubling.

Merchants were still lining up to lease space, and even their old broker had inquired if they were willing to rent out their property.

Following Qi Beinan’s instructions, Tienan held off. He wanted to wait until the night market was fully thriving—then they could rent the place at a higher price. There were already plenty of eager tenants, but no need to rush when rent could rise further.

As for the furniture ordered from the Ming family, the total came to four hundred strings. They’d already explained that payment would come later, once their funds loosened up. With their longstanding relationship, it wasn’t an issue.

Though everything was a bit tangled for now, they managed to juggle funds and push each matter along step by step. Once things settled into rhythm, they’d no longer feel so strained.

That night, the capital was alive with fireworks and firecrackers bursting endlessly in every direction.

The night sky bloomed with color—fireworks flaring over the dark rooftops, brilliant and breathtaking.

Inside their warm house, Master Jiang, Xiao Yuanbao, and Qi Beinan shared a bubbling hotpot for their reunion meal.

It had been a long time since Xiao Yuanbao had last seen his teacher, and he couldn’t stop talking, asking after everyone at home.

“Your father wanted to come too,” Master Jiang said, “but he couldn’t leave the estate. He’s healthy, though he still feels pain in the bone that bear injured years ago whenever it snows. My cousin’s been telling him not to be stingy with charcoal—keep the brazier lit through winter and take care of himself, so you two can rest easy here in the capital.”

“He doesn’t listen to much,” Master Jiang added with a smile, “but when I mention the two of you, he does.”

Qi Beinan then asked about Zhao Guangzong. “How is he doing?”

“Well,” said Master Jiang. “Since returning from the capital, he’s grown steadier. When a cousin in the clan caused trouble in the autumn, he handled it neatly. He’s managing the family’s fields and trade on his own now.”

Hearing that everyone back home was doing well filled both Xiao Yuanbao and Qi Beinan with quiet warmth.

In the first month of the new year, Qi Beinan had several social obligations. His colleagues at the Hanlin Academy invited him to banquets, and it wouldn’t do to decline. The Ministry of Works also sent invitations—he was stationed there now, and since his work was solid and his relations good, he was well-liked.

Meanwhile, Xiao Yuanbao stayed home, organizing gifts to send in return.

Minister Zhang loved his wine, so they prepared a gift that was neither too cheap nor too costly; Minister Wang’s household was modest, so sending something extravagant would only burden him and make the return gift awkward; Minister Wu’s family, on the other hand, was wealthy, so the present had to be distinctive—something thoughtful enough to catch his attention.

Master Jiang stood beside him in the storeroom, watching Xiao Yuanbao skillfully sort through the gifts and their recipients, speaking with precision and tact. He truly had grown up.

Xiao Yuanbao sighed. “If only that were all I had to manage. But I’ve still got the business to look after too—and not just checking accounts. I have to do the work myself.”

“What business still needs you to work with your own hands?” Master Jiang asked.

Xiao Yuanbao explained the pickle trade. “We’ve spent so much preparing for the wedding and buying the house that money’s tight. I thought I’d start a small business to earn some grocery money, but it ended up doing well—too well to step away from.”

“If I had someone reliable to help me watch over things, I wouldn’t have to run in so many directions. But in the capital, with no family or friends, there’s really no choice.”

He didn’t ask Master Jiang outright to stay and help manage the business—just spoke lightly, letting the idea settle in his mind.

If he pushed too soon, the man might resist, feeling cornered. Then, even if they mentioned it later, it would only make things awkward.

Besides, how presumptuous would it sound—claiming it was “for Master Jiang’s good” just to keep him there?

So he let the matter rest and instead invited Master Jiang to come see the wedding garments he had finished.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 95: Reborn to Raise My Husband

The ingredients needed for oil-pickled vegetables were quite ordinary: scallions, ginger, garlic, star anise, cassia leaves, and peppercorns.

The main ingredients, however, were homegrown mushrooms, fresh bamboo shoots, and minced pork with snow cabbage.

He still had several boxes of dried mushrooms at home, and snow cabbage was abundant in the markets. Even if it wasn’t, it could easily be pickled from fresh greens.

What proved troublesome this season were the fresh bamboo shoots.

Xiao Yuanbao made a round through the city market. There were indeed plump, golden winter shoots for sale—dug up by sharp-eyed farmers with hoes, coaxed from the earth where they hid stubbornly beneath the soil.

He pinched a piece between his fingers: crisp and tender, with the clean, springlike fragrance that only appeared after the thaw.

These winter shoots would die after the frost; they could not sprout into tall bamboo, but their taste was sweet and delicate, as if nature had meant them to be eaten as a rare treat.

When he asked the price, it was astonishing—one shoot cost more than a hundred coins, pricier than meat. Clearly, they were unsuitable for pickling.

Besides, back in the village, his father had dug winter shoots before—delicious when stewed with pig’s trotters, but not as flavorful in pickles as the young spring shoots gathered in April or May.

Then Xiao Yuanbao slapped his forehead and went to a shop that sold dried goods.

Inside were racks of dried vegetables, meats, and seafood from river and sea alike.

When he asked for bamboo shoots, the clerk led him to the shelves and gestured for him to choose among many varieties: large, small, and medium—麻笋 (ma shoots), 鞭笋 (whip shoots), 苦笋 (bitter shoots), 红壳笋 (red-shell shoots), 白哺鸡笋 (white-feather shoots)…

The man recited the names as if telling a story.

When Xiao Yuanbao asked which kind suited pickled vegetables, the clerk produced a large hemp sack.

“These were harvested in spring and sun-dried to a crisp. Even through the damp winter, they haven’t molded or spoiled. Cheaper than fresh ones, too.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s face lit up as he took the bag of dried shoots.

That afternoon, Qi Beinan came home from work, the snow outside thicker than before.

He’d spent the day inspecting progress on the city’s night market construction. His feet were buried in snow for so long they’d gone numb.

Once he’d changed out of his official robes, he called for Qin Jiang to bring in a bucket of hot water.

“How are the insoles soaked through already?” Xiao Yuanbao exclaimed. He’d been in the kitchen, simmering pig’s trotter soup with the fresh winter shoots he’d bought that morning. Hearing Qin Jiang fetch hot water, he guessed Qi Beinan wanted to soak his feet, so he sliced ginger into the bucket and followed him in.

When he picked up the shoes Qi had taken off, he felt the damp fabric and frowned. He pressed his hand inside; the lining was soaked as well.

“When did you get these wet?” he scolded. “If it happened while you were out, you could’ve just sent word—I would’ve asked Qin Jiang to bring you dry ones.”

Qi Beinan dared not say they’d been wet for hours; it hadn’t been sudden, but rather that the snow had slowly seeped in.

Even changing into cloth boots at home didn’t help much—they soaked easily too.

He smiled, coaxing, “Maybe it happened when I was clearing snow from the roof this afternoon. It was almost time to finish work, so I didn’t want to trouble anyone.”

“Trouble?” Xiao Yuanbao huffed. “The capital’s winter is far colder than the county’s. If you don’t keep warm, your body won’t withstand it.”

“When you’re young, you think strength means you’ll never fall ill,” he added. “It’s only later, when your bones ache, that you learn otherwise.”

Qi Beinan laughed. “Yes, Teacher Xiao speaks true. Tomorrow, if my shoes get wet again, I’ll have someone fetch dry ones—agreed?”

Xiao Yuanbao hesitated. “It’s not your fault. Tomorrow, I’ll go to the leather shop and get two pieces of hide. I’ll cut and sew you a pair of boots, lined thick and soft inside. They’ll be warmer for your official duties.”

“Leather boots are expensive,” Qi Beinan said. “Wouldn’t that be too extravagant?”

“Hmph. And if you fall ill, won’t medicine cost even more?” Xiao Yuanbao retorted.

Then his eyes brightened. He set aside what he was doing, sat beside him, and said, “Actually, I’ve thought of a way to earn money. If it works, buying one hide—or ten—won’t matter.”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “And what sort of business is this?”

“My oil-pickled vegetables,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “Everyone says they taste good. I used to think they were just ordinary side dishes, nothing special. But in a city like this, where people can eat all kinds of delicacies—even street food is decent—yet Tangtuan still said mine were delicious… perhaps they really are.”

Qi Beinan understood immediately that this was what the younger man had in mind.

He nodded. “You’re not wrong. At the Hanlin Academy, Lord Ren asked me for a jar not long ago—offered to trade his best lamb wine for it, too. I refused, but it shows something. His palate is as sharp as any courtier’s, and even he wanted more. That speaks for the flavor.”

Hearing that, Xiao Yuanbao’s heart filled with delight.

He told Qi Beinan about his plan to gather ingredients.

“What do you think?” he asked eagerly. “It may not be a grand enterprise like your past ventures, but even a few small coins coming in are better than none at all.”

Qi Beinan thought for a moment, then said, “Pickled vegetables are a common food—every household can make and afford them—but no two recipes taste the same. And when it comes to taste, yours leaves little to be improved.”

“Next comes the matter of price,” Qi Beinan said. “As I’ve said before, pickled vegetables are common fare, not a rarity. If you’re going to sell them, the price can’t be too high. What makes ours different from others’ is the use of those fine mushrooms—but since they’re grown at home and cost us nothing, our expenses stay low, which gives us an edge.”

He looked at Xiao Yuanbao. “With both taste and price in our favor, as long as you don’t mind running a humble business, it’s a sound one.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s heart leapt at his agreement—he was already full of plans.

The very next day, he took Wen Ge’er and Hongtang out to buy enough ingredients to fill half an iron cauldron.

They boiled water to soak the dried bamboo shoots and smoked mushrooms.

He minced pork, ground ginger and garlic to paste, and crushed star anise and peppercorns into powder.

Preparing all that took the whole day.

This time, besides minced pork, he bought a free-range chicken, intending to make another version—shredded chicken with oil and pickled sauce.

By the next morning, all the ingredients were ready.

Wearing his apron, Xiao Yuanbao followed the proportions he had worked out in his head: snow cabbage as the base, equal parts bamboo shoots and mushrooms, and a smaller share of minced meat to stir-fry.

He heated a wok with clear oil, frying scallions and coriander until golden, then scooped them out.

The minced pork went in next, sizzling as its aroma filled the room.

After a quick stir-fry, he added the mushrooms, bamboo shoots, and snow cabbage in order, seasoning and tasting as he went.

In the past, his batches were small—he knew by instinct how much seasoning to add—but this time, with a full pot, he made sure the flavor stayed balanced by tasting constantly.

Everyone helping in the kitchen was dazed by the smell.

It was rich and homey, yet mouthwatering. Just a small dish of it, they thought, could make one eat three bowls of rice.

By the time Qi Beinan came home, the big pot had cooled, and Xiao Yuanbao was spooning the pickles into round-bellied clay jars.

Five neat rows lined the wooden shelf against the wall.

Qi Beinan lifted a lid; even cold, the glossy pickles still gave off their fragrance.

The jars were small enough for one hand to hold most of the way around.

“The scent seems a little different from before?” he asked.

“You’ve got quite a nose,” Xiao Yuanbao said, smiling. “This time I used chicken for a new flavor.”

“Wen Ge’er and Hongtang both said it was good. You try and tell me which you like better.”

He placed two small dishes in front of Qi Beinan, one of each kind.

“Because these are made with dried bamboo shoots and mushrooms, the taste has a subtle difference.”

Qi Beinan had eaten already and wasn’t hungry, but once he tried them, he couldn’t stop. The minced pork version was hearty, the bamboo crisp; the shredded chicken one was lighter and more fragrant.

Both were excellent—if food could taste good even when one wasn’t hungry, it meant it was truly well made.

“It’s hard to say which is better,” he said. “Each has its own charm—it just depends on what one prefers. But having multiple flavors is always better than just one.”

“That’s what I thought too,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “If these sell well, I’ll make another with cured pork and fermented beans.”

Still, he didn’t rush to make too many varieties—if they didn’t sell, it would be a waste. They could eat them at home, of course, but there was no need to hoard jars upon jars.

That night, they discussed the business plan. The pickles didn’t need a proper shop—just a stall in the marketplace.

Pickled vegetables weren’t like tea leaves, silk, or ginseng—they didn’t need fancy storefronts to attract customers. A simple stand was enough.

And since the price was modest, too elegant a stall might actually drive common buyers away. Only the wealthy paid high prices for everyday foods.

In the capital’s bustling market, stalls were far from shabby—some sold exotic creatures and rare goods. Sometimes, the quality at a street stall even surpassed that of an established shop.

Many well-off people enjoyed shopping the markets themselves.

So they decided: rent a stall in the main outer-city market by day, and if sales went well, take one in the night market too.

After asking around, they learned a stall cost 180 copper coins per month.

The market was lively, but the price was steep—nearly what it cost to rent a small back-alley shop in the county.

After some haggling, they secured one for 150 coins a month.

Now that Xiao Yuanbao was an official’s spouse, it wouldn’t do for him to appear publicly shouting to sell pickles—if the wrong eyes saw, gossip would follow.

So he had Qin Jiang find a talkative helper to mind the stall.

Qi Beinan tested applicants carefully. He gave each a sample jar to taste and asked them to come back the next day with a sales pitch. The one who could describe the flavor best would get the job.

By early morning, the main market street outside the city was coming alive.

After breakfast, Xiao Yuanbao and Qi Beinan lingered at home for a while, then around mid-morning—when the market was at its busiest—they went out to see how the pickles were selling.

The two rode out by carriage. Though the winter roads were slick with ice, it did little to dampen people’s enthusiasm for shopping and strolling.

In a city as vast as the capital, there was never a quiet day.

The carriage moved in fits and starts through the crowded streets until they finally reached the outer market.

Getting down, they slipped into a nearby teahouse, climbed to the second floor, and leaned over the balcony. From there, they could see their pickle stall across the street, clearly visible in the flow of people.

It was a modest stand covered with an oilcloth canopy, a signboard hanging in front with the bold words: “Xiangdangdang Pickled Delicacies.”

Rows of jars were stacked on tiered wooden racks—nothing especially striking among the long stretch of market stalls.

But the man minding the stall was quick-tongued and lively.

With a bamboo clapper in one hand, he chanted a catchy rhyme:

“Pickles so fine, pickles so strong,
Want the best pickles? Xiangdangdang!”

“There’s meat, there’s veg, there’s broth so nice,
Fragrant and rich, worth every price!”

All the while, his free hand beckoned passersby closer.

“What’s so special about your pickles?” one onlooker called out.

“Wouldn’t dare boast,” the man said, grinning. “But my pickles taste so good, you’ll think you’ve eaten the food of immortals!”

As he spoke, he opened a jar for them to see.

“Smell that—doesn’t it make your mouth water?”

“Smells wonderful,” the customer admitted, eyes lighting up. “Can I try a bite?”

“How could I not let you?” the seller replied. “We sell food here—it’d be a shame if fine folks like you didn’t taste for yourselves.”

He tore a bit of thin flatbread, dabbed it in the pickles, and handed it over. “Just try it—you’ll be hooked where you stand.”

The man took the bite, and everyone watching leaned in.

After chewing, the customer slapped his thigh. “You weren’t lying—this is good stuff. Worthy of your signboard! How much for a jar?”

“Thirty copper coins a jar,” the seller said smoothly. “Two jars for fifty-five. You just tried the minced pork flavor—take another with shredded chicken, they pair well.”

The man paid on the spot and left with two jars in hand.

At once, a bystander muttered, “Thirty coins for a jar of pickles? That’s outrageous! The Seven Flavors shop sells bigger jars for twenty-five—and yours are smaller! That man was probably your shill!”

“By heaven and earth, madam, you wrong me!” the seller protested loudly. “I swear before the magistrate, I don’t know that gentleman at all!”

He tore another piece of flatbread, scooped up some pickles, and held it out for her to see. “Look here, madam—this isn’t just any pickle. See what’s in it—mushrooms, dried bamboo shoots, snow cabbage, real meat! That’s mushroom you’re smelling—go find me another stall in this market that dares use such fine ingredients!”

The woman frowned skeptically but took the offered bite.

Her eyes lit up after chewing. “There really are mushrooms in this!”

“Would I lie to you, madam?” the man said with mock dignity. “Still think that other customer was my accomplice?”

The woman chuckled, embarrassed. “Good lad, my old eyes just didn’t know quality when I saw it. Be kind now—give me a better price, eh? I’ll take a jar home for the New Year and tell everyone how good your pickles are.”

“It’s not that I won’t give you a deal, madam,” the man said, smiling. “But you’ve got a keen eye—you know this price is already low. If I cut any more, I’d be selling at a loss.”

The woman huffed, clearly reluctant but tempted all the same. The aroma was too much to resist.

Finally, grumbling, she took out a handkerchief, untied a string of coins, and handed them over. “You’re a stingy one, boy—but fine, you win.”

“Come again if you liked it,” he said cheerfully, pretending not to hear her muttering. He passed her the jar tied neatly with straw twine.

From their seat above, Xiao Yuanbao and Qi Beinan watched with fascination. Their tea had long gone cold, untouched.

Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t hide his grin. “The people in this capital really are clever. Look at that clerk—rhymes, clappers, and all. He’s got a full act going.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “The city’s prosperous. Folks here have to be sharp to make a living.”

He added, “And don’t forget—we’re paying him over a whole string of cash. If he didn’t have the skill, we’d be the ones losing money.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded, still amused.

The business seemed to be off to a good start. He barely needed to lift a finger—he just had to make the pickles, and everything else, from buying ingredients to selling, was handled for him.

It all seemed easy enough, though he knew costs were adding up, and real profit might not be much.

Before he could dwell on that, a messenger came by noon from the stall: the pickles were nearly sold out. If they couldn’t restock soon, they’d have to close early for the day.

When Xiao Yuanbao heard the message, he felt both delighted and anxious.

That morning, they had sent forty jars to the stall—yet in just a few hours, nearly all were gone. At this rate, by day’s end they might sell a hundred jars of pickles.

But he had only made a little over a hundred jars in total. If they sent everything at once, there’d be nothing left to sell tomorrow.

So he decided to send just twenty more jars for now and told the clerk to close up once those were gone.

Meanwhile, he called the servants to hurry out and buy more spices, dried bamboo shoots, snow cabbage, and jars. The dried shoots and mushrooms had to be soaked tonight so they could start a new batch of pickles in the morning.

Qi Beinan watched as Xiao Yuanbao gave his orders efficiently, busying himself around the house. He looked no less occupied than Qi Beinan himself was at work.

When everything was arranged, Xiao Yuanbao turned and caught sight of Qi Beinan leaning against the study doorframe, half-hidden and silent.

He frowned. “Why are you spying on me?”

“Boss Xiao, prosperous across the four seas, wealth pouring in from every direction—this humble man can only stand in awe,” Qi Beinan said solemnly.

Xiao Yuanbao pursed his lips, immediately realizing he was being teased.

With his hands on his hips and chin raised, he replied proudly, “In honor of your admiration, when Boss Xiao becomes rich, he’ll build you a golden house.”

Qi Beinan chuckled, reached out, and pulled him close, closing the study door behind them.

“A golden house, hmm? To hide your beloved in?”

Xiao Yuanbao pressed his lips together, thinking bitterly that he could never earn enough to build such a house—and besides, his brother wasn’t exactly a fragile beauty to be hidden away.

Qi Beinan saw his silence and lightly pinched his cold, reddened ear.

Xiao Yuanbao, fearing he’d go further and kiss his ear again, quickly covered both ears with his hands.

“What’s this?” Qi Beinan asked, laughing at the sight.

“Cold,” Xiao Yuanbao muttered.

Qi Beinan looked down at those round eyes gazing up at him—like a startled little rabbit.

He narrowed his eyes slightly, then bent down to kiss the tip of the little rabbit’s nose.

It was cool and soft, like a grape freshly dipped in well water.

“Still cold?” Qi Beinan asked gently, watching his blushing face.

Xiao Yuanbao thought to himself, this man really is terrible.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 94: Reborn to Raise My Husband

After that incident, Qi Beinan no longer made things difficult for Director Bao. Each man performed his duties, and their cooperation gradually became smooth.

Some days later, snow fell over the capital, and the cold deepened until it seemed to bite through bone.

On his day of rest, Qi Beinan stayed home with Xiao Yuanbao, tending a bubbling pot of rabbit soup together.

That morning, despite the bitter wind, they had gone to the market to buy several catties of tender winter greens. They simmered a fragrant mutton broth to dip the vegetables in, warming the house with its steam.

Winter vegetables were few—mostly radish, cabbage, and winter mallow. They managed to find a small bundle of young radish shoots, the only ones still tender enough to enjoy before true deep winter set in. Once snow blanketed the fields, it would be impossible to buy fresh sprouts again.

Living in the capital had its conveniences, yet it lacked the ease of their old county life. Without farmland nearby, any good produce had to be bought, and at steep prices.

In the countryside, there was never such worry. Even after they’d moved to the county seat, the fields were close enough that fresh vegetables, fish, and poultry were sent every few days. They’d hardly needed to visit the market.

Still, the capital had its own advantages—everything could be bought if one had the coin.

There was no shortage of pork and mutton; even venison, donkey, and beef appeared on the market stalls from time to time.

In their old hometown, such meat was unthinkable—farm animals used for plowing couldn’t be slaughtered for food under imperial law.

But in the capital, there were licensed butchers who sold the meat of donkeys and cattle that had died naturally.

Xiao Yuanbao listened as Qi Beinan explained how each carcass had to pass through government inspection before it could be sold. The process was tedious and costly.

As a result, the prices were sky-high—five or six hundred copper coins per jin—and even so, supply never met demand. If one arrived late, the stalls would already be empty.

Wanting to taste something rare, they clenched their teeth and bought half a jin anyway, slicing it thin to swish in the hot broth alongside the greens.

The kitchen was lively and warm.

Xiao Yuanbao tended the pot, Qi Beinan peeled garlic, Mama sliced the meat, Hongtang washed the vegetables in warm water, and Wen Ge’er stoked the fire below.

Then Qin Jiang, the gatekeeper, came running in, stamping the snow from his boots. “My lord, there’s a real estate broker outside asking to see you.”

Qi Beinan looked up. “A broker? Is it the same one who showed us that house last time?”

Qin Jiang nodded. “That’s him.”

“Perhaps he’s found another property and wants to tell us about it,” Xiao Yuanbao guessed.

Qi Beinan placed the peeled garlic into a small dish. “I’ll go see.”

“Wash your hands first,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “They smell like garlic.”

Qi Beinan chuckled, washed with scented soap, and went out. He told Qin Jiang to bring the visitor to the side hall and serve him tea.

By the time Qi Beinan arrived, the broker, bundled thickly in winter clothes, had already drunk half his cup. Seeing Qi Beinan, he quickly rose to salute.

“In this cold weather, you must have come for something important,” Qi Beinan said.

The broker bowed. “Forgive the intrusion, sir. I came because there’s been a change with the house you and the young master once looked at.”

Qi Beinan gestured for him to continue.

Since the lifting of the curfew, the capital’s nights had grown boisterous indeed.

The property in question wasn’t far from a main road. It had once been quiet enough, but now, with the night market running till dawn, the area was no longer as peaceful.

The house Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao had liked was a fine one—they had hesitated only because of its high price. A few days later, an elderly gentleman fond of elegance had taken interest in it and quickly paid a deposit.

It should have been a settled deal. But once the curfew was lifted, the old man, after dining at the night market one evening, decided to visit the property again—only to find it far too noisy for his liking.

Displeased, he demanded to withdraw from the sale.

He quarreled for days trying to reclaim his full deposit, and in the end, they agreed to refund him half.

The broker told this honestly. He recognized Qi Beinan—after all, he had seen him on the day of the tanhua’s parade through the streets, resplendent in red robes upon a fine horse—and dared not conceal anything.

“At present, it’s not quite as quiet as before,” the broker explained, “but it’s hardly unbearable. The old gentleman was simply too sensitive to noise and wanted a place fit for retirement.”

Qi Beinan nodded. He knew everyone preferred peace—especially those older in years—but the disturbance from the night market was a temporary issue, hardly serious.

He himself had helped supervise the zoning for those markets and knew the Ministry of Works had already finalized which outer and inner-city areas would host them. That particular house was outside the designated zones.

Few others would know this.

“What’s the price now?” he asked.

“The owner is willing to lower it by another hundred strings of cash. He wants to sell quickly and return home before the new year.”

“Tell him this,” Qi Beinan said at once. “Eight hundred strings. If he agrees, we’ll sign the deed immediately—and I give my word there’ll be no withdrawal.”

The broker was startled when Qi Beinan named such a sharp price right from the start—it was a cut of more than a hundred strings of cash. The man thought he’d met someone truly fierce in negotiation.

“In that case,” he said cautiously, “I’ll go and inquire, but this price is rather low. I fear the owner may not agree. I only ask that my lord be prepared for that.”

“It’s no matter,” Qi Beinan replied calmly. “Not every deal is meant to be made.”

After the broker left, Xiao Yuanbao finished in the kitchen, untied his apron, and came to hear what had been said.

He hadn’t thought much about the house since they’d set it aside for being too expensive, but now that the broker had come again, the thought stirred in him once more.

When he entered, the visitor was already gone, so Qi Beinan explained the situation.

“You liked that house,” Qi said. “If the price turns out right this time, perhaps it’s worth finalizing.”

“After all,” he continued, “a house one truly takes a liking to depends on fate. It isn’t every day one finds the right one.”

His words rekindled Xiao Yuanbao’s curiosity. Of course he’d be happy to buy it, but worry crept in. “You offered them such a low figure. That’s already the lowest price for a two-courtyard home in the inner city. I’m afraid they’ll reject it outright.”

“If you open high,” Qi Beinan said, “the seller will only aim higher. A lower offer first softens their expectations.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought for a moment. “That’s true,” he admitted. Yet because he liked the house, he couldn’t help fearing the offer was too low, that the seller might refuse.

Two days later, the broker returned. As expected, the owner had declined.

“The master isn’t short of money,” the broker explained. “He says he’d rather wait for the right buyer than sell cheaply.”

But then he added, “Still, if you’d offer nine hundred strings, they’d let it go for convenience’s sake.”

Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help laughing. “Not short of money, yet still wanting that extra hundred? So are they rich or not?”

Since Qi Beinan was out, he didn’t answer on his behalf.

When Qi returned from work, he listened and smiled faintly. He had half expected this.

“If they’re that concerned with luck,” he said, “then we’ll make it eight hundred and eighty strings—a good, auspicious number.”

He sent Qin Jiang and the broker to deliver the message.

By the next afternoon, the reply came back: rejected again.

Qi Beinan didn’t budge. “Tell them this,” he said. “We’ve already raised the offer once. We won’t keep adding more. If they accept, good. If not, let it go.”

Two more days passed without any word.

Xiao Yuanbao sighed. “It seems that house is lost to us.”

Qi Beinan replied evenly, “Twenty strings may not seem much against several hundred or a thousand, but when you’ve earned each coin by hand, it’s no small matter. You can see it from my salary alone.”

“Even at eight hundred and eighty,” he added, “the seller still profits. A few years ago, city houses weren’t nearly this expensive. Even in our county, prices have risen twenty strings or more—it’s all climbing.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “You’re right. We’ll just keep looking.”

But two days later, the broker came running again with news: the owner had agreed to Qi Beinan’s offer.

He pleaded anxiously, “Please, my lords, don’t go back on the deal now that they’ve relented. I’ve worn out my tongue running between both sides.”

Xiao Yuanbao smiled. “We’re not the kind of people who change our minds on a whim. The price we named stands. Let’s complete the deed quickly so everyone can rest easy.

“If we delay any longer, we truly won’t bother with it. The year’s end is close, and we’ve got more than enough to handle without house matters dragging on.”

The broker bowed deeply. “Yes, young master. We who make our living in this trade only hope both parties end satisfied.”

Xiao Yuanbao spoke with him a little longer, then handed over a promissory note for fifty taels as a deposit, along with two packets of pastries and a pair of large sweet pears for his trouble.

The remaining payment would be settled once the deed was processed and the title in hand.

When the broker left, Xiao Yuanbao sat back and laughed softly. “I’m happy and not happy at the same time. We finally bought our house, but all the money we worked so hard to save is gone in one breath.”

That night, he fetched the locked cashbox from the high shelf. Inside were their banknotes, silver drafts, and a few small gold ingots—altogether a thousand strings’ worth.

After taking out eight hundred and eighty for the purchase, only two thin notes remained.

Xiao Yuanbao groaned. “How can money be so easy to spend yet so hard to save?”

Qi Beinan chuckled and patted the younger man, who was hugging the box tightly. “Because every bite of food and every stitch of cloth depends on it.”

Xiao Yuanbao frowned. “After paying for the house, we barely have anything left. Will it be enough?”

He began to calculate. The hundred-some strings that remained would have been plenty back in Ling County—enough to last several years if they were careful.

But the capital was a different story; expenses here were far greater.

And with the wedding approaching, they’d soon need a large sum for the banquet, not to mention the other preparations along the way.

The wedding robes were nearly done, but two sets of jewelry were still missing, and many household items were yet to be bought.

As for the major furniture pieces—they hadn’t even started choosing.

The little money they had left was clearly not enough.

Qi Beinan had already thought of this. “I’m planning to sell the house in Linzhou,” he said. “It’s been empty all this time. It’s a two-courtyard residence—not worth as much as property here in the capital, but it’s in a prefectural city, so it’ll still fetch a good price.”

Xiao Yuanbao considered it. “That’s reasonable.”

“As for the major furniture,” Qi went on, “we’ve looked at several shops, but the quality hasn’t matched the prices. That’s why we haven’t made any decisions. Better to buy from someone trustworthy.”

Xiao Yuanbao immediately understood his meaning.

So Qi Beinan sent word to Tienan, who was now in Linzhou, instructing him to sell the house. Xiao Yuanbao also wrote to Ming Guanxin, saying that he and Qi Beinan would be marrying the next year and needed to purchase household items. He enclosed a list.

By early winter, they received the deed for their new home.

Looking at the official seal of the capital impressed upon it, Xiao Yuanbao felt a heavy yet satisfying sense of fulfillment.

Since it was the snowy season and many laborers were idle, he hired men at a low rate to clean the new house inside and out.

The former owner, still sour about selling below his asking price, sold off even the furnishings he’d said would be left behind, to make up the difference.

But even if he hadn’t, Xiao Yuanbao would have sold them himself—they were about to marry and needed all new furniture anyway.

If the previous owner later learned that the night market was being relocated elsewhere, he’d only feel all the more regret—but that, of course, was no concern of theirs.

“The house you bought is quite nice,” Jiang Tangtuan said one day when he came to visit. “It’s not far from where we live in the capital, so it’ll be easier for us to see each other.”

They sat inside, warming themselves by the brazier and eating crab custard pastries. Xiao Yuanbao thought this a pleasant surprise.

“In this city,” he said, “I know no one and nothing. You’re my only friend here. Now that we’ll be closer, I’ll be depending on you even more.”

Jiang Tangtuan smiled. “I’ll be glad of that. I’ve been to the capital many times, but I’ve made few acquaintances beyond my cousins and siblings. I hardly know anyone else.”

“Then that Lady Lü who hosted the banquet,” Xiao Yuanbao asked, “was she your relative?”

Jiang shook his head. “Not exactly. Her husband, Commander Qiao, knows one of my uncles.”

He hesitated a moment, then added, “You won’t laugh, will you? Lady Lü wants to form a marriage tie with our family—that’s why she invited me over.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened. “With your elder brother, Master Jiang, or…”

Jiang sighed softly. “The latter. Her eldest son is of age.”

Seeing his lack of enthusiasm, Xiao Yuanbao understood his unwillingness. He reached over and patted his hand. “Good things take time.”

Jiang smiled faintly. “Let’s not talk of such unpleasant matters. What do you do at home for leisure? I know your handwriting is fine, and you read—what books do you enjoy most?”

“If I were answering anyone else,” Xiao Yuanbao said with a grin, “I’d say poetry and the classics. But since it’s you, I’ll admit I like cookbooks. Lately, I’ve been reading some medical notes a friend from my hometown sent me.”

Jiang’s eyes lit up. “You’re honest, at least. When I traveled here for the exams with my brother, we once ate some pickled vegetables Lord Qi had prepared. The taste was excellent—my brother still talks about it. No wonder your cooking’s so good.”

“Don’t flatter me,” Xiao Yuanbao said, laughing. “You’ve eaten far finer food than I’ve ever cooked. Mine’s just simple fare—nothing that belongs on a grand table.”

“You don’t believe me,” Jiang replied with mock indignation. “Your pickled vegetables with wild mushrooms—aren’t those mountain delicacies? And since when should even food be ranked high or low?”

Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t help feeling pleased. “Then when you go home, I’ll pack two jars for you to take.”

They talked on, and as the conversation drifted to their hometowns, Xiao Yuanbao suddenly remembered someone.

“Does your family have an estate in Geshan Village in Ling County? The steward there is surnamed Zhu.”

“I’m not sure,” Jiang said, thinking. “But I believe Steward Zhu is the husband of one of my mother’s attendants. I don’t know which estates they manage.”

“Then that must be it,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “Geshan Village is my hometown. I grew up there. Years ago, one of the boys from my village went to work for your family. It’s funny to think that after all this time, I’ve ended up friends with his master’s kin.”

Jiang was intrigued. “What’s his name? I know most of our household’s servants.”

“His surname is Wang, given name Chao. We called him Brother Chao back home.”

Jiang’s brows lifted slightly. “There is such a person. He was brought to our house by the same Steward Zhu I mentioned—his mother married him as a concubine.”

“Then that’s him,” Xiao Yuanbao said.

But Jiang’s expression turned a little grim. “He used to serve my elder brother. Diligent enough, and my brother treated all his attendants kindly, but he’s also a man of spotless character. Later, that servant offended my mother somehow and was sent out to work in the outer court.”

“I rarely see him,” Jiang Tangtuan said, “but he’s still in our household.”

He didn’t specify what wrong Wang Chao had committed—such things weren’t pleasant to speak of—so he left it vague.

But Xiao Yuanbao more or less understood from his tone. He guessed that Brother Wang Chao had probably tried to get close to Jiang Tangyuan, just as his mother had once become someone’s concubine. When it didn’t work out, he’d been sent away.

A quiet sigh rose in Xiao Yuanbao’s heart.

“What is it? Were you two close?” Jiang asked.

“We knew each other as children,” Xiao Yuanbao replied. “But after he left the village, we lost contact.”

He smiled faintly. “We grew up in the same place, and now we live worlds apart. Still, I couldn’t help asking.”

Jiang nodded. “True enough. Letters are hard to send, and once people move away, it’s difficult to stay in touch.”

Later that evening, Xiao Yuanbao saw Jiang Tangtuan off and handed him two jars of his pickled vegetables to take home.

Jiang was delighted.

Xiao Yuanbao noticed that everyone who’d tried his oil-pickled vegetables had liked them—no one ever said otherwise.

And now, with money running short, a new idea quietly began to form in his mind.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 93: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Xiao Yuanbao told Qi Beinan about what had happened at the banquet, still feeling stifled and uneasy.

“Only today did I truly understand the value of what you taught me—reading and writing,” he said. “They thought that, since I came from a small county and couldn’t recognize more than a few characters, they could humiliate me through it. If I really had been that ignorant, I’d have fallen right into their trap.”

He spoke with a kind of shaken gratitude.

“I used to think those noble families—those ladies and fulangs—would be the most cultured and well-mannered of all. Who’d have imagined they’d take such cruel delight in mockery?”

Qi Beinan listened, his brows drawn tight. He pressed for every detail—who the hosts were, what was said, how things unfolded. His anger rose and fell with each word, though he forced himself to keep calm until Xiao Yuanbao finished.

“The lady’s surname was Lü,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “Her father is a Vice Minister at the Court of Imperial Banquets, and her husband, surnamed Qiao, is a military officer.”

Qi Beinan understood at once. “The Court of Banquets oversees the palace feasts—it’s a lucrative post. The Lü family’s clearly wealthy. No wonder she holds gatherings; it keeps her in the social current.”

He exhaled slowly. “At least you were quick-witted. Otherwise, that scheming Fulang Jia would have succeeded in making you his pawn.”

He remembered that after one earlier banquet, Xiao Yuanbao had suddenly stopped wanting to go out. He had suspected that something unpleasant had happened, but Xiao Yuanbao had avoided explaining, always brushing it off.

Now that he heard the full story, Qi Beinan realized that must have been the same kind of humiliation.

Though time had passed, the thought made his stomach burn anew.

Seeing the anger in his eyes, Xiao Yuanbao reached out and patted his arm. “Now that I’ve had this experience, I won’t be so trusting again. I won’t attend these half-strange, half-familiar gatherings anymore. Don’t worry about me.”

He knew making connections in the capital was important, but going to such banquets without any grand family name to shield him could only end badly—one careless step and he’d become someone’s entertainment.

“Still,” he added, “there was one good thing that came of it.”

“Oh?” Qi Beinan asked.

“I met Lord Jiang’s younger brother. I’d seen him twice before, but we hadn’t really talked. This time we shared tea and fruit, and it turns out we get along quite well. He’s even invited me to visit the Jiang household.”

“That’s fine,” Qi Beinan said. “The Jiangs are upright people—I’ve met them myself. You can feel at ease dealing with them.”

Xiao Yuanbao had already sensed as much. Jiang Tangyuan was quiet and self-contained, the sort who spoke little but never out of turn. He might seem distant at first, but once familiar, he was genuine and measured.

Jia Fulang, in contrast, had seemed warm and cheerful at the start—but that warmth was shallow. He spoke without restraint, poked at others’ private matters under the guise of blunt honesty.

With Qi Beinan’s assurance, Xiao Yuanbao felt fully at ease. “Then I’ll accept his invitation.”

Qi Beinan smiled and pinched his cheek. “Good.”

After they talked a while longer, Xiao Yuanbao went to the storeroom with Bai Qiaogui to prepare wedding items.

Once he was gone, Qi Beinan’s smile faded, his gaze darkening.

For Jia Fulang to treat someone like a plaything was a direct insult—not just to Xiao Yuanbao, but to him.

It was true Xiao Yuanbao hadn’t been humiliated, but that was thanks to his own ability, not mercy from others.

And Jia Fulang? After the fact, he’d slunk away, offered not a single apology, as though the matter could simply disappear. The world didn’t work like that.

In the past, Qi Beinan hadn’t been able to defend Xiao Yuanbao’s dignity. This time, he would not allow anyone to trample on him again.

He couldn’t publicly quarrel with a mere official’s spouse—but that man’s husband also served in the government. And there were other ways to make a point.

By October, winter had set in.

The court decreed the lifting of curfews, and the capital was the first to test it.

The Ministry of Works grew busy with renovations; the Ministry of Revenue was counting labor levies and taxes; the Ministry of Rites was preparing for year-end ceremonies. Every bureau was running itself ragged.

At the Hanlin Academy, during a brief midday rest, officials returned from lunch with steaming cups of tea to fend off the cold.

Kyoto’s winters chilled to the bone. The side halls were already heated with smokeless charcoal, but even the short walk from the dining hall left one shivering.

Only once inside the hall did warmth return to the body.

Lunch breaks were short, and food made men drowsy, so even in winter, strong tea was essential to stay alert through the afternoon.

One official sighed, cradling his cup. “Since the curfew lifted, the daytime markets close early, and the night markets run until dawn. When the weather’s fair, it’s one thing—but even in freezing rain, they’re still open.”

“Indeed,” another said. “It’s only been a few weeks. At first there were just a few stalls, but now it’s whole streets filled with night vendors.”

“Their trade is booming,” added a third. “There are as many customers at night as in the day. Once merchants smell profit, how could they not flock there?”

Qi Beinan listened, smiling faintly. He and Xiao Yuanbao had gone walking there twice.

When the night markets first opened, they sold only snacks and street food. Gradually, curiosities, trinkets, and crafts appeared—things unseen in daylight bazaars.

The streets glowed like rivers of gold, dazzlingly alive, a beauty the day markets could never match.

“Lively, yes,” said another official, “but noisy. The capital’s magistrate has been flooded with complaints—residents near the markets can’t sleep. The patrols have tripled in number.”

“When new ordinances are issued, they can’t possibly be flawless at the start,” one official said. “Perfection only comes with time and long practice.”

“I heard the Ministry of Works is already drafting plans,” another added. “They’re mapping out official zones for the night markets. Once the capital sets a proper example, the prefectures will follow suit—it’ll save everyone some needless detours.”

As they chatted idly, Scholar Li entered the side hall.

All rose and saluted. “Scholar Li.”

“Did you all eat well at noon?” he asked.

Lord Lu replied quickly, “The kitchens added mutton hotpot for the winter, quite warming—one bowl and the whole body feels comfortable. We might even save on charcoal in the halls now.”

At that, the room fell silent.

Yes, there had been mutton soup—but it was so salty and sparse in meat that most couldn’t finish a single bowl. Everyone grumbled about it privately.

And if, because of that miserable soup, the halls were now to save on heating—well, they might as well freeze to death in the Hanlin this winter.

Lord Ren spoke lazily from across the room. “If Lord Lu feels so warm he doesn’t need his share of charcoal, why not hand it over to me? My bones can’t take the cold.”

No one else dared to mock Lu, but Ren never held back.

Lu’s face stiffened; he shot Ren a sidelong glare, too irritated to stay silent but too cautious to retort.

Scholar Li cut in, “Enough. Winter workdays are never as pleasant as spring or autumn. His Majesty is compassionate—your coal allotments won’t be cut short. Just remember, the Emperor encourages frugality. Use the smokeless charcoal wisely, and that alone is service enough.”

He himself wasn’t fond of Lu either. The man lingered in the hall every evening long after dismissal, idly warming himself by the brazier. If he would just finish his duties on time, they could have saved plenty of charcoal. Yet here he was, shamelessly preaching thrift.

Still, as his superior, Scholar Li couldn’t reprimand him too harshly.

He changed the subject.

“With the Ministries of Revenue, Rites, and Works all buried in year-end affairs, they’ve requested temporary staff from the Ministry of Personnel. The Hanlin Academy may seem idle, but we’ve become a source of assistance.”

Scholar Li believed this was a fine chance for practical learning.

Everyone knew the saying: Without the jinshi, one cannot enter the Hanlin; without the Hanlin, one cannot enter the Inner Cabinet. But being a jinshi didn’t guarantee entry into the Academy—and being here didn’t ensure promotion.

Each year, Hanlin scholars faced examinations; those who failed were reassigned elsewhere.

Yet those written tests, in Li’s view, were limited—they couldn’t reveal a man’s true ability.

Now that the ministries were busy, it was the perfect time to send scholars for temporary assignments—to handle real affairs, to temper themselves. It would only benefit their futures.

But not everyone saw it that way.

It was the dead of winter, the cold biting; each already had enough work at hand. To take on another office’s burdens meant long hours outdoors and the risk of failure—if things went well, credit went to the host ministry; if not, blame fell squarely on the one assisting.

When no one volunteered, Scholar Li sighed inwardly and said, “Those willing may come see me before dismissal. If not, I and the Grand Academician will assign a few ourselves.”

That afternoon, Qi Beinan went to his office.

He had already finished most of his current duties. Idle days in the Hanlin were dull, and he preferred to keep busy.

Scholar Li was pleased to see him.

“You work diligently, and your results are excellent. The Grand Academician praised your recent archival compilations just yesterday. The Hanlin Academy isn’t a place for resting one’s laurels—those willing to endure hardship will go far.”

Scholar Li had once served at the Imperial Academy. The Emperor, impressed by his teaching, had transferred him to the Hanlin to guide new jinshi.

He carried himself as a mentor, wanting the scholars under him to cultivate both skill and integrity—to become useful servants of the court.

Among the recent recruits, he had a particularly good opinion of Qi Beinan—steady, capable, and methodical.

Now, seeing his eagerness, he was all the more satisfied.

“You’re good with numbers,” he said. “Careful and precise. Go to the Ministry of Revenue and help verify tax accounts.” He pulled out a transfer document as he spoke.

The Ministry of Revenue, second only to Personnel, managed the empire’s finances—a fine posting indeed.

But Qi Beinan did not immediately accept. “If it pleases you, Teacher, I would rather serve at the Ministry of Works.”

Scholar Li looked up, surprised. “The Works? You realize they’re overwhelmed just now—repairing streets, surveying night-market sites, handling construction orders. You’ll be working outdoors in bitter cold. Others say it’s thankless toil. Are you certain?”

Qi Beinan bowed. “Every task must be done by someone. If the Ministry of Works weren’t desperate, they wouldn’t be asking for help. I imagine many of my colleagues will prefer the easier offices; since I came early, it wouldn’t be right to claim the most comfortable post for myself.”

Scholar Li was silent for a moment, then nodded. “If you’re willing to endure hardship, I have no reason to stop you. The Left Vice Minister there is a friend of mine—he’ll see you treated fairly.”

Qi Beinan clasped his hands in gratitude. “Thank you for your consideration, Scholar.”

Within two days, the appointment was finalized.

Qi Beinan was transferred to the Ministry of Works.

It was the first time the Ministry of Works had ever received a first-rank jinshi to assist with administrative matters, so everyone treated Qi Beinan with extra courtesy. Even the Ministry of Personnel, when issuing his transfer, felt it a waste of talent and granted him supervisory authority over the department’s work.

Thus, at the Ministry, Qi Beinan was paired with Director Bao, who oversaw the city’s curfew, market zoning, and renovation projects.

They made rounds together across the capital’s wards and marketplaces. Qi Beinan rarely interfered but kept a watchful eye on every detail—and on Director Bao himself.

Although Director Bao held a formal post of sixth rank, technically higher in grade, Qi Beinan’s jinshi background and his granted authority to inspect placed him on stronger footing. The Left Vice Minister had even instructed him to work harmoniously with colleagues.

In other words, both in status and influence, Qi Beinan now stood above him.

Under such scrutiny, even an innocent official would feel constrained in his work.

And Director Bao was not entirely blameless. He had quietly taken small advantages here and there—nothing serious, the sort of thing everyone did and the higher-ups usually ignored. But with an “outsider” now watching his every move, he could no longer take even the smallest liberty.

These things could never be brought to light. Everyone did them, yet everyone knew they violated regulation.

He tried to curry favor with Qi Beinan, but Qi remained polite and unmoved.

The discomfort was unbearable. Director Bao eventually went to the Vice Minister to suggest, ever so tactfully, that perhaps Qi Beinan could be reassigned elsewhere.

Instead, he was sternly scolded.

The Vice Minister rebuked him for failing to appreciate good help. “The Ministry of Personnel sent an able man—faultless, efficient—and you have the nerve to complain? Shameful.”

Now despised both above and below, Director Bao dared not anger his superior further. He could only think of appeasing Qi Beinan himself.

He quietly asked around and learned that the man was said to be steady and reasonable by nature.

That only made things worse. If such a calm, fair-minded person was keeping him under watch, then he must have truly offended someone without realizing it.

One evening after work, he deliberately waited for Qi Beinan outside. They lived in the same ward—an easy excuse for casual conversation.

He spoke at length, trying to sound friendly, but Qi only smiled politely without offering more than a few words.

Finally, Director Bao asked bluntly, “Have I done something to offend you, Lord Qi? I can’t think what I might’ve done wrong, yet there seems to be some misunderstanding between us.”

Qi Beinan smiled lightly. “How could there be, my lord? We even live on the same street—fate, wouldn’t you say? Besides, your Fulang and one of my household are already on good terms.”

With that, he took his leave.

Director Bao stood there, turning the words over in his mind.

When realization struck, his face changed. He hurried home, going straight to Jia Fulang’s quarters.

“I thought you said you never wanted to see me again for two months. What brings you back now?” Jia Fulang said, surprised and pitifully pleased. He’d been confined at home for weeks, bored to despair, and thought perhaps his husband’s anger had cooled.

He started to complain playfully, but Director Bao seized him by the arm and yanked him up from the couch. “Tell me—have you been keeping company with the family from the Qi residence down the lane?”

“What are you doing? You’re hurting me!”

Hearing the name, Jia Fulang froze. He tried to play dumb. “I don’t know any Qi family.”

“The household of the new tanhua! Don’t feign ignorance. Speak plainly, and tell me everything!”

Seeing his husband’s fury, Jia Fulang swallowed hard. “I—I’ve met him, yes, but we hardly know each other.”

He began with vague half-truths, but Director Bao’s roar cut him off. Terrified, he confessed the whole story—the banquet, the humiliation, everything.

A loud crack rang through the room as Bao slapped him across the face.

“Useless wretch! You’ve brought disaster on me again! First the Lü family snubbed us because of you—and now I learn you angered Lady Lü herself? And to think you stooped so low, scheming to embarrass some poor outsider just for sport! Now it’s our name dragged through the mud!”

He paced, voice rising. “That Qi Beinan—the tanhua himself—has been sent by the Ministry of Personnel to supervise our work! He watches me like a hawk! I couldn’t figure out why—now I do!”

The more he looked at Jia Fulang, the more his fury boiled. How had he ever been foolish enough to remarry such a useless ornament?

“I should kill you! You can’t manage a household, can’t keep out of trouble, and all you do is bring shame to this family! The Bao line will be ruined because of you!”

Jia Fulang wept, clutching his stinging cheek.

“He’s just some provincial jinshi,” he sobbed. “How can he wield so much power?”

“He’s a first-rank jinshi! And you—illiterate and brainless—dare compare yourself to him? Know your own worth before you try to imitate the Lü family’s cruel games!”

Jia Fulang kept crying, dazed and frightened. He’d never imagined his petty malice would cause so much trouble. Why was it that they’d both come from small places, yet Xiao Yuanbao could read, write, and now even outrank her husband?

“What do we do now?” he asked through tears.

“What do you think?” Bao snapped. “We bring gifts and beg forgiveness! Idiot!”

At that very hour, Xiao Yuanbao was at home, sewing by the brazier.

Winter had set in, and there was nothing cozier than working by the warmth of the charcoal fire.

He was halfway through finishing the wedding robes, the bright fabric now taking shape beneath his fingers. Each neat stitch filled him with quiet happiness.

He had just taken out his sewing basket when Wen Ge’er came in to announce that Jia Xinyi had arrived.

Xiao Yuanbao glanced toward Qi Beinan, who was writing at the desk, and said angrily, “He still has the face to come here!”

Qi Beinan thought Director Bao moved rather quickly. Setting down his brush, he looked at Xiao Yuanbao. “Shall we go see him?”

Xiao Yuanbao pouted. “After what he did, who knows what he’s plotting this time? I’m already being polite by not driving him out with a stick. I don’t want to see him at all.”

Qi Beinan smiled and rose. “Don’t be angry. I’ll go with you.”

Seeing this, Xiao Yuanbao had no choice but to put down his basket and follow him to the front hall.

To his surprise, Jia Xinyi had come to apologize—together with Director Bao.

Jia’s eyes were red and swollen from crying, and not even a layer of powder could hide it.

“I must’ve been possessed by a ghost,” Jia began tearfully. “That Lady Lü—her family’s so highborn—she always looks down on us lesser households. She forced me to bring someone to her banquet, and I didn’t dare refuse.

“But no matter what, I never should have dragged such a kind and decent person like Brother Bao into it. I’ve regretted it every day since, blaming myself at home, too ashamed to face him. Today, with my husband accompanying me, I finally had the courage to come and beg forgiveness.”

Listening to him heap all the blame onto Lady Lü, Xiao Yuanbao thought it made Jia sound like a helpless victim himself.

Though Lady Lü’s conduct had been cruel, Jia’s way of shirking responsibility was nothing but one dog biting another.

Seeing that Xiao Yuanbao remained silent, Jia panicked and poured out more of his ugliness, nearly kneeling before him in remorse.

Xiao Yuanbao quickly stopped him. “Your apology is given, and I’ve heard it. From now on, it’s best we go our separate ways and stay clear of each other.”

Director Bao felt deeply humiliated, but he said nonetheless, “It is my failing as a husband that my household has behaved without propriety. I will see that proper discipline is maintained from now on.”

Then he offered his own apology as well.

Whether for the sake of his official career or other motives, the couple at least showed sincerity in making amends.

Qi Beinan therefore chose not to press the matter further. He stated plainly that from now on, work between them would be handled strictly by the book, nothing more.

Only then did Director Bao finally relax.

But Qi Beinan quietly took advantage of the occasion to let certain words spread through the circles of official households: that a man from a lower household had once tried to take liberties with Xiao Yuanbao, only to be taught a hard lesson for his scheming.

It served as a warning—if anyone else dared harbor such thoughts toward Xiao Yuanbao, they had better consider carefully whether his family would truly sit by and let him be bullied.

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