Author Archives: Thingyan

Ch 101: Bringing a Farming Game System to the 1970s

🌸 Notice: Unedited Chapters 🌸

Originally, this novel was dropped because there were only a few readers. But thanks to the heartfelt requests from some of you, I couldn’t just leave it unfinished. 💕

So, I decided to continue uploading the unedited chapters from that point on. This means that since a few chapters back — and until the end of the novel — everything will remain unedited.

There might be small inconsistencies in names, terms, or locations, so please forgive me for that. 🙈

Thank you so much for your understanding and for still being here with me! 😊💖

….

Tian Erzhuang knew that the old commander was trying to help him out by sending his son to lend a hand. The old commander must have known about his situation. Tian owed several of his comrades money; if he relied on farming alone, he could pay them back eventually, but it would take a long time. On top of that, he still had three unmarried sons—more pressure on his shoulders.

Farming guaranteed food, yes, but it all depended on the weather. If heavy rain came during harvest season, the crops would shrink. If drought or flooding struck, there might be no harvest at all.

Tian Erzhuang made up his mind—this time, he would guard the goods properly and not fail his duty. He might lack confidence in other things, but his sturdy frame wasn’t for nothing.

He pulled himself together, packed some clothes, and handed the household chores over to Sun Guihua and their sons. The boys knew he was leaving for paid work, so they were all eager and reassured him that they would take good care of things at home.

Tian got in the truck and left. After that, people in Liucun had plenty to talk about.

“Soldiers really are different.”
“When they serve, they get stipends; when they’re discharged, they get resettlement money—and they have comrades.”
“If those comrades are dependable like Tian Erzhuang’s, then when things get rough, they can lend a hand. Now he’s got himself a job with wages.”

After the visitors left, Sun Guihua opened the things they’d brought. Nothing fancy—just a box of fruit, two bags of candy, and a pound of pastries. Pastries don’t keep long, so she took out a few and locked up the rest. Nobody was allowed to touch them.

Tian Mao tugged on her sleeve. “Mom, do you think Dad will make money out there?”
Sun Guihua snorted through her nose. “How should I know?”
Tian Mao crouched down and went quiet again.

On the truck, the two twins Lin Yihong and Lin Yining—who were usually quiet at home—were now chatting endlessly with him.
“Grandpa, you were once the runner-up in a boxing competition? That’s amazing!”

He was of the same generation as Lin Houping, so the twins had to call him grandpa.

Tian Erzhuang smiled bashfully. “Nothing much. There were many who were better than me…”

Lin Chuanbai drove straight to the special zone warehouse. When Tian arrived, he immediately recognized a familiar air—those uniformed men guarding the goods had the same military bearing.

They noticed it too; one came up and slapped Tian’s arm. “Hey, want to spar a little?”

A test of skill between brothers-in-arms.

Watching them exchange moves, Lin Yihong and Lin Yining exclaimed, “Wow! So cool!”

They clapped so much their hands turned red. Lin Yining even considered learning martial arts herself—it looked so impressive—but thinking about the pain and the rough hands, she gave up on the idea.

Lin Chuanbai had exaggerated a little earlier, but not entirely without truth. Beauty, skincare, and cosmetics were doing well in Hong Kong’s market, squeezing out older sellers’ shares. Hong Kong gangs were active—spend some money, and trouble would come your way. They wanted to sabotage shipments so that the business couldn’t deliver, damaging its reputation until the market shrank. Last time, they almost lost an entire batch; if not for timely help, those goods would have ended up in the sea.

Having learned from that close call, Yu Xiangan asked Lin Houping to introduce some reliable men.

That was why Lin Houping had been angry when Tian hid his situation. They had agreed: after discharge, if anyone ran into trouble, they must not keep it secret. Downsizing was beyond anyone’s control, and veterans often struggled to readjust to civilian life. Lin Houping always tried to help when he could.

When he was a factory director, he’d hired many veterans. Later, when his second daughter-in-law started a business and needed staff, he introduced people too. If jobs weren’t a fit, he’d send money or supplies to help them get through tough times. He always helped when he could, never turned his back.

So when Tian’s parents fell seriously ill and he faced hardship, but never said a word to his old commander—it stung. He used to be one of his men, under his wing, and now it felt like they were strangers.

People today might not understand that kind of bond. Take Qin Shenghua for example—he’d been comrades with Lan Wangshan’s son. When that man died, Qin treated Lan Wangshan like half a father, caring for him and his children ever since.

They’d made that vow long ago: on the battlefield, death had no eyes. Whoever died first, the survivors would treat his parents as their own and raise his children as their own.

It wasn’t uncommon.

Tian Erzhuang had received a resettlement payment back then—enough for a normal life—but poverty often followed tragedy. His parents’ illnesses had drained everything, and then his eldest son’s accident left him disabled. That forced him to borrow money from comrades just to get his eldest married.

When Lin Chuanbai learned all this, he decided to help. Before heading out, he discussed it with Yu Xiangan.

Yu said, “Bring him over first. Pay him a normal wage. I have an idea—let’s see how it goes.”

The guards they hired now were officially part of Wuwei Factory’s Security Department. Yu Xiangan was debating whether to spin it off into an independent security company.

It seemed a waste for trained veterans to go back to farming—after all the effort it took to build those skills. Security work had its risks, yes, but it paid far better than farming. And since the market was wide open, there was great potential.

Yu Xiangan felt tempted.

She had money; Lin Houping had connections. Starting up wouldn’t be hard.

At that point, it was just a rough plan with no finalized details—until something happened that sped everything up.

A factory owner in the special zone, who made radios, had his son kidnapped. The boy didn’t survive. The ransom alone cost nearly two hundred thousand in cash, plus a lost life.

It was a premeditated kidnapping.

Normally, families didn’t keep that much cash at home, but by coincidence, he’d just brought it back—and the kidnappers came right after.

The case caused an uproar in the special zone.

There were plenty of investors and wealthy people here, some quiet but making big money. If kidnappings like this kept happening, who would dare to invest? The government couldn’t just sit back; investor confidence was at stake.

But they were too late—the dead couldn’t be brought back.

Yu Xiangan was shaken. She had plenty of money too; what if kidnappers targeted her next? Would she be safe?

When Yu Qingshan heard the news, he stuck close to her and told Lin Chuanbai to watch over the twins carefully.

Yu Xiangan looked into the details: there were four kidnappers, three with criminal records—murderers among them. Two were shot dead, one captured, one escaped.

Yu Xiangan was horrified. What if that fugitive struck again in the special zone?

So she decided to move faster with her plan.

She called Lin Houping: “Dad, do you still know any trustworthy veterans? I want to start a proper security company. For the first batch, I’ll need thirty men.”

Lin Houping was surprised—but thirty? Even three hundred wouldn’t be a problem for him.

Too many soldiers had gone home to farm after being discharged.

Some military units kept only the top elite; the rest were disbanded.

After hearing Yu Xiangan’s idea, Lin Houping also named someone—Chen Jun—to join.

Yu Xiangan made some arrangements at home first. Her driver was fixed—Song Dong from the former security department—and she reassigned Zhao Shanhe to stay with Lin Chuanbai and the children, just in case.

When Tian Erzhuang and his crew delivered goods to Hong Kong, they got caught in a gang fight. Fists flew, and innocent bystanders got dragged in—but they knew the “bystanders” the gang was after were really them.

The enemy hit hard, but their side didn’t hit soft.

On one side were trained veterans; on the other, street thugs. It was clear who would win.

After the incident, Tian Erzhuang kept traveling for other deliveries—six or seven days out of ten on the road. In the middle of the next month, they settled accounts: 120 yuan for the month.

Everyone earned the same.

A coworker told him not to be surprised.

At first, Tian Erzhuang thought he was being given special treatment—120 yuan a month sounded too high—but when he learned everyone was paid that much, he relaxed.

He used to save only one or two hundred yuan in a whole year. Now he could make that in a month. No wonder everyone wanted to leave farming for work.

After working there for about two months, they were transferred to another location—more spacious, with room for drills—and suddenly many new people joined.

There, Tian Erzhuang ran into an old acquaintance: Chen Jun!

Chen Jun was in his thirties, short, with an unremarkable face—one of those people you could pass on the street and forget moments later.

He’d been a reconnaissance soldier. After discharge, he worked in a factory, but most of the time had nothing to do. When Lin Houping asked if he’d like a change, Chen Jun agreed immediately.

He didn’t want his life to stagnate.

Seeing so many new faces didn’t faze Yu Xiangan. She simply arranged dorms and handed the men over to Wang Yi, the former head of the security department.

As for Chen Jun, she wasn’t familiar with him yet. She’d watch and see—if he had real ability, he’d rise naturally.

While discussing business, Yu Xiangan also promoted her new security service.

Riding on the wave of public concern after the kidnapping case, business came quickly.

The line of work was risky, but Wang Yi and the others didn’t mind.

Ordinary stable jobs were safe but paid little. Here, they could use the skills they’d trained for—and earn well. Everyone was grinning.

Once Tian Erzhuang had settled in the special zone, he brought his son Tian Mao over too.

That boy had his heart set on marrying the Li family’s sixth daughter. But Tian, as his father, couldn’t afford the bride price—and even if he could, he refused to pay it.

If the boy wouldn’t give up, then he’d have to earn it himself.

“If he can make that much money, he can marry. If he can’t, he’ll stay single,” Tian said firmly.

When Sun Guihua learned about his new wages, she urged him once, “Why not agree to your second son’s marriage with the Li girl? You earn good money now. Save up, and you’ll have enough. The boy’s so stubborn.”

Tian refused outright. “I might be earning now, but I have to repay my comrades first. And don’t we have other children? Everyone should eat from the bowl they can hold. If he earns enough himself, fine, he can marry. If not, let him stay a bachelor.” He wouldn’t indulge the boy.

He made himself clear: “Soft-hearted mothers spoil sons. I’ve already found him a job—he should work hard. Don’t interfere. If you help him behind my back, don’t blame me for being harsh.”

There were too many expenses—debts to repay, and a new house to build.

The current house was too small. It barely fit one family. Once grandchildren came, there’d be no space.

Tian Mao couldn’t get into the security company—he was an ordinary man—so he found a menial job nearby, earning about thirty yuan a month. If he wanted to save a thousand yuan, it would take two or three years.

Tian Mao thought about it… Two or three years wasn’t that long. They were both young. He wrote a letter to Li Liujin, telling her to wait two or three years, then buried himself in work.

Facing his naïve son, Tian Erzhuang said nothing.

If the boy needed to hit a wall to learn, so be it. Only pain would teach him his limits.

Yu Qingshan, meanwhile, had a huge soft spot for soldiers—he admired them deeply. He often dropped by the security company to hang out for a few days, learning a few fighting moves. But at his age, it was already too late to master them.

Lin Yining, who had never practiced martial arts before, even signed herself up for a Sanda (Chinese kickboxing) class.

They had known the boy who was killed in the kidnapping. He’d been only two years younger than them, a sweet kid with dimples when he smiled.

When tragedy strikes someone you know, it feels completely different—you can feel life slipping away before your eyes.

Even Lin Chuanbai and Yu Xiangan started taking courses on self-defense and first aid for emergencies.

Yu Qingshan said, “If someone opened a training school for that, it’d probably do good business.”

Chen Jun happened to overhear and was intrigued. But having just come south, he decided to observe the scene first.

After attending the funeral, Lin Yihong and Lin Yining returned to school, both unusually quiet.

Wang Lipan and Fatty couldn’t understand it. Wang asked, “Didn’t you find an unused red envelope and get some pocket money? It’s been a while—don’t tell me you’re still upset about money?”

Lin Yining sighed sadly. “It’s not about that. You didn’t hear?”

Fatty and Wang looked at each other. “Hear what?”

Her voice dropped. “Someone I knew—his family was attacked by kidnappers. He was taken hostage. The kidnappers had already killed before. He didn’t make it out alive… He was two years younger than me. We’d eaten together before. I met his father later—his hair’s gone white now. It used to be all black.” Her eyes stung with tears.

Wang frowned. “Didn’t they catch them?”

Lin Yining gave a bitter smile. “Not all. My mom said one escaped. No one knows where he went—maybe Hong Kong.”

Wang grew worried. “Then you’d better be careful. Those people were after money. Your family’s pretty well-off.”

She’d never said exactly how wealthy her family was, but you could tell from her clothes and the way she talked.

Lin Yining sighed. “My mom hired us a bodyguard.”

Fatty’s eyes widened. “A bodyguard? Like in the movies? That’s wild!”

Lin Yining frowned. “My mom’s just scared something might happen. It’s fine at school, but outside we can’t go anywhere alone. He picks us up. If he, or my parents, can’t come, we’re not allowed to leave.”

“I even signed up for a Sanda class. Want to join me?”

Fatty pinched the soft fat on his arm and looked at Wang Lipan. Wang shook his head, then changed his mind and nodded. “I’ve already been taking classes.”

Fatty groaned. “So you’re both learning? I can’t be the only one left behind. Fine—I’ll join too. Is it expensive?”

Fatty thought about it—if the class was expensive, he wouldn’t be able to afford it even if he wanted to join.

Lin Yining said, “I don’t know how much it costs either. I’ll ask my dad when I get home.”

Zhuo Mingwei also asked Lin Yihong about it. When Yihong told him what had happened, his expression grew serious. “I looked into the kidnapping in detail. If that had happened to my family, I don’t think I could have escaped either. Those four men were trained fighters. What I’ve learned could handle regular people, but not men like that. If I were caught in a situation like that, how would I save myself? I can’t think of a way.”

As for trying to get the ransom money back—that thought never even crossed his mind. Life was the most important thing. Money could be earned again, but once life was gone, it was over.

Their parents had also warned them repeatedly: if something like that ever happened, do not resist unless you were certain you could get away. Some people simply had no conscience.

Adults had a natural advantage over children—kids were still developing and didn’t have the strength to fight back.

Zhuo Mingwei gave a wry smile. “So that’s what this is about. I know. My parents are scared to death too. Now when I come to school, one of them insists on picking me up personally. If they can’t, I’m not allowed to go home alone. They don’t have much money left either—they put most of it in the bank and then signed me up for three different classes: taekwondo, sanda, and martial arts. If I hadn’t stopped them in time, I’d have been split into three pieces.”

He rolled up his sleeve to show Yihong the bruises from training.

“I never did this stuff before. It really hurts.”

Yihong, who had experience, patted his shoulder comfortingly. “It’s fine. You’ll get used to the pain.”

Was that supposed to be comforting? Zhuo Mingwei felt suffocated.

The dismissal bell rang. Lin Yihong and Lin Yining packed up their things and walked to the school gate. They used to walk home by themselves, but ever since the kidnapping case, that wasn’t allowed anymore. Now, Uncle Zhao always came to pick them up and escorted them home.

If they had extracurricular classes, he would take them there first, then bring them home afterward.

Today there were no classes, so they went straight home.

Even before they reached the door, they smelled the rich aroma of food.

That smell…

Both of them sped up instinctively. When they opened the door, they saw their mother’s familiar smile. She was wearing an apron, holding a dish, and setting it on the table. “You’re home,” she said warmly.

Lin Yining ran over and hugged her arm. “Mom! You’re here! I thought you were busy with the hotel business?”

Yu Xiangan smiled. “It’s finished for now. I came to spend some time with you two.”

Lin Chuanbai had told her that the children were still down and hadn’t fully recovered from the kidnapping incident. So, once she wrapped up her work, she came to be with them.

After arriving, she went to the market, bought ingredients, and cooked a whole table of delicious food.

Zhao Shanhe glanced at his colleague Song Dong and greeted him with a smile. “When did you get here?”

Song Dong—Yu Xiangan’s driver—replied, “At noon.”

He’d gone with her to the market and then sat there, tormented by the mouthwatering smells coming from the kitchen.

When Yihong and Yining saw their favorite dishes, their eyes lit up. “Mom, this is amazing!”

Yu Xiangan said, “You two can sit and watch TV for a bit. I’ve got two more dishes to finish.”

Yining shook her head. “I’ll help you, Mom!”

Yihong said, “Me too.”

Yu Xiangan shook her head this time. “If you really want to help, set the table. Rinse the bowls and chopsticks with hot water.”

When Lin Chuanbai got home, the table was already full of dishes: sizzling beef tendon on an iron plate, salt and pepper spare ribs, stir-fried beef with green peppers, sweet-and-sour fish, and pork rib soup with tea tree mushrooms.

There were also desserts—mung bean paste, water chestnut cake, and lotus seed soup.

An entire feast—it was hard to decide where to start.

Yining’s eyes sparkled like stars. “Mom, you made so much! We can’t finish it all!”

There were only six of them, counting the two uncles—it was too much food.

Yu Xiangan said, “The mung bean paste, chestnut cake, and lotus seed soup are desserts. Whatever’s left, we’ll put in the fridge.”

Song Dong and Zhao Shanhe sat down with them to enjoy the meal.

Yining sighed happily. “I’m so lucky. Mom, you’ve been so busy—I haven’t had your cooking in ages.”

Yu Xiangan stroked her hair. “Then let me make it up to you now, okay?”

Yining squinted her eyes in delight. “Okay! But don’t go running off to work again!”

Yu Xiangan laughed. “Deal. I bought more ingredients—after dinner, do you two want to help me make nougat candy?”

Nougat candy! The twins looked at each other and shouted together, “Yes!” They’d never made it before.

After a satisfying meal, Lin Chuanbai sat on the sofa, scribbling in a notebook, while Zhao Shanhe and Song Dong watched the news.

Yu Xiangan brought the twins into the kitchen to make nougat candy.

They used marshmallows, peanuts, milk powder, dried cranberries, almonds, and butter.

Since they had an oven, everyone took a role—one roasted the peanuts, another melted the butter, then added marshmallows and milk powder, stirring it all together. When it was smooth, they mixed in the peanuts, flattened the mixture in a tray, let it cool, and cut it into pieces.

The process wasn’t hard, but the taste depended on skill.

Cutting the pieces was Yihong’s job, while Yining helped her mom bake egg tarts and bread. Making extras wasn’t a problem—they’d serve as breakfast or school snacks the next day.

For Yu Xiangan, cooking was a kind of therapy. Watching ingredients transform into fragrant food gave her a deep sense of satisfaction—and it made others happy too.

She stayed for a week. Every evening, she and the twins cooked something new.

Day 1: nougat, egg tarts, and bread.
Day 2: double-skin milk pudding, sandwiches, and fruit cheesecake.
Day 3: cookies and milk biscuits.
Day 4: thousand-layer cake and chestnut cake.
…

After a few days of this, the twins complained that they were going to get little bellies.

When Fatty heard their “complaint,” he pinched the fat on his stomach and laughed helplessly.

The bit of weight he’d lost had come right back.

With delicious food morning and afternoon, his weight was hopeless. Before every meal, he’d tell himself, Don’t eat, don’t eat. But when the food appeared in front of him—who could resist?

Every time it ended the same way: Forget it, I’ll start dieting tomorrow.

And then the next day: Tomorrow again.

At this rate, when would he ever lose his baby fat?

🌱🌿 🫧🍃

Ch 75: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Back at the residence, Xiao Yuanbao entered calmly, but once the door closed behind him, his composure broke at once.

He leapt onto the bed, rolled back and forth several times in joy until his hair was completely tousled, and only then stopped himself.

He grabbed the quilt and buried his head tightly beneath it.

Though his body stilled, the joy in his chest refused to calm.

Brother Beinan liked him.

He had said his heart held no one else—that he only wanted to marry him.

Just as he liked Brother Beinan.

How wonderful.

Better than learning to write, better than learning to cook—better than anything in the world!

The more he thought about it, the lighter he felt, his heart swelling so full it might float away.

He thought, surely there could be nothing happier under heaven than this.

They still had so much time, so many days ahead together. Thinking of it filled him with hope for the future.

He was so delighted that when midday came, he didn’t feel hungry; when it passed and the afternoon rest came, he didn’t feel tired.

He was more energetic than ever, even more so than after a good night’s sleep.

As he rolled around again in giddy delight, a voice came from outside.

“Xiao Bao, Mama Liu just made some new osmanthus cakes. I brought some for you.”

Startled, Xiao Yuanbao jumped up from the bed.

He hastily straightened his clothes, steadied himself, and opened the door as naturally as he could.

“The osmanthus Mama Liu picked this year is especially clean and fragrant.”

Xiao Yuanbao took a whiff of the cakes, his mood as sweet as the scent.

He invited Qi Beinan to sit at the table and fetched fragrant tea to pair with the cakes. “I also preserved several jars with honey—they’re very sweet. When winter comes and the weather turns cold, you can take a spoonful of the honey and mix it with hot water. Osmanthus honey makes the best gift.”

Qi Beinan watched Xiao Yuanbao speaking so earnestly, though his hair was still a wild mess, as if someone had ruffled it several times.

“What were you doing in here?” he asked.

“Hm?” Xiao Yuanbao blinked, feigning innocence. “Nothing.”

“Then why is your hair such a mess?”

Qi Beinan reached out to smooth his soft strands. Thanks to Second Sister’s insistence on using fragrant oil over the years, his once thin hair had grown lush and glossy.

Flustered, Xiao Yuanbao covered his head, ears turning red. He ran to the vanity, looked into the bronze mirror, and saw that his hair indeed looked as though it had exploded. Guiltily, he grabbed a comb and hurried to fix it.

Qi Beinan stood by the curtain, watching him comb his hair. Then his eyes drifted to the bed, where the quilt was rumpled into a tangled heap—clearly evidence of several rolls across it.

He couldn’t help but laugh.

Seeing him laugh, Xiao Yuanbao quickly turned and fussed with the bedding again.

“I really should put a screen here,” he muttered. “Xin Ge’er’s courtyard has several—beautiful and practical for privacy.”

“Fine, we’ll get you one,” Qi Beinan said. “But things are a little tight lately. Once it eases up, we’ll buy a few more pieces for the house, all right?”

“Didn’t you earn some money from selling silk?” Xiao Yuanbao asked, puzzled. “How come it’s already tight?”

“It’s gone into another business venture,” Qi Beinan said, handing him a thick bundle of property deeds.

Xiao Yuanbao quickly set down his tea to take them. Feeling the weight, he counted the deeds one by one.

Fifteen in total.

All were for shops in Yunpingfang, Linzhou—and one of them was even a small three-story building.

He looked overjoyed. Though he already knew Qi Beinan planned to buy property, he hadn’t expected it to happen so soon—or on such a scale.

“So many! Are the shops in Linzhou really that cheap? A thousand guan could barely buy this much in the county.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Shops in the prefectural city aren’t cheap. I just happened to find some good deals in a less busy area.”

“And the rent later—will it be enough? I don’t want it to turn into a loss.”

“Don’t you trust me?” Qi Beinan said with a light laugh.

Xiao Yuanbao grinned. “Of course. Brother Beinan always handles things so reliably.”

He carefully looked through the deeds again. “Others go to the prefecture for exams and think only of studying—you go and end up buying property.”

“If I don’t set down a few foundations now,” Qi Beinan teased, pinching his cheek, “how will we support a household when the family grows larger?”

Xiao Yuanbao blushed furiously and swatted his hand away—he was thinking much too far ahead!

After a pause, he remembered something. “Didn’t you say the xuezheng wanted to choose you as his son-in-law? What do you plan to do about that?”

Qi Beinan replied calmly, “The xuezheng said nothing outright, only that he’d wait until after the xiangshi results. I’d meant to handle it after the list was posted, but I didn’t expect Yang Chenxu to speak to me early.”

“Since there was no such intention on my part, I made it clear to him then. The Yang family are officials—they won’t cling or force the matter.”

Xiao Yuanbao felt a small wave of comfort but couldn’t help testing the waters again. “Then… what did you tell Young Master Yang?”

“What else could I say?” Qi Beinan replied evenly. “I told him the truth—that I already have a marriage promise.”

He looked straight at Xiao Yuanbao. “The engagement won’t change. Even if someone forced it, it would mean nothing.”

Hearing this, Xiao Yuanbao pressed his lips together, chewing his osmanthus cake, his heart sweet as honey.

Knowing that Qi Beinan had rejected someone else because of him—how could he not be happy?

Qi Beinan noticed he stayed quiet and smiled. “Not curious?” he teased. “I just said I have a marriage promise—don’t you want to know with whom?”

A realization crossed his face. “Wait. You already knew about our engagement, didn’t you?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes shifted slightly, then he stopped hiding it. “Mm.”

Qi Beinan’s breath caught. “When did you find out?”

“Just after we moved into town,” Yuanbao admitted in a small voice, slightly embarrassed. “Father told me then. He said you were the xiao sanyuan—top scorer in all three county exams—and already so distinguished. When you bought the house in the county, he worried you’d be too far from his sight, so he told me to keep an eye on you and not let his good son-in-law slip away.”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “Uncle Xiao really said that?”

“If you don’t believe me,” Yuanbao countered, “you can ask him yourself.”

Qi Beinan sighed. “You certainly didn’t carry out his orders properly. You knew all along and still pretended ignorance, as though you’d never heard of it—half the things you said to me were just to tease me.”

“I did not!” Yuanbao protested, flushing. “And you—you knew since we were children. Why keep it from me all these years? You and Father both fooled me together!”

Qi Beinan gave a soft sigh. “You think I didn’t want to tell you?”

“When I first came to live here, I had no estate, no title. Your father pitied you, and though he’s a man of his word and never treated me lightly despite my lack of family, what parent would easily entrust their child to such a person? I understood that. So I promised him I wouldn’t speak of the engagement until I had earned a name for myself—until I could give you a secure life. Only then would he decide.”

He smiled faintly. “But if what you said is true, then Uncle Xiao must have already accepted me.”

Yuanbao pouted a little. He didn’t believe that Qi Beinan had just realized Father’s approval—after all, for years now, most household matters had been decided by him; Beinan knew perfectly well what Father thought.

Seeing Yuanbao’s skeptical squint, Qi Beinan chuckled. “All right, yes—your father already told me his stance back then.”

“I didn’t tell you afterward for any hidden reason,” he continued gently. “You were still young. I didn’t want to tie you down with a promise—you deserved your own choice.”

Hearing this, Yuanbao’s heart lightened. After years together, their thoughts always seemed to align. It made him genuinely happy.

Qi Beinan went on, “My plan was to tell you after the xiangshi results came out.”

He paused, smiling ruefully. “But I didn’t expect today’s events to push me into saying it early. I was trying to test your feelings, and it seems I only made a mess of it.”

Realizing his mistake, Yuanbao looked a little guilty. He remembered how jealous and insecure he’d felt seeing Qi Beinan talking so long with Yang Chenxu, how his own temper had flared and his words had cut deeper than he meant. He hadn’t realized it would hurt Beinan that much.

Now that his emotions had cooled, Yuanbao whispered, “It was my fault. I understand your feelings now. I won’t say things like that again.”

He blinked up at him, coaxing softly, “You meant to tell me soon anyway. What’s the difference if I found out a few days early?”

Qi Beinan replied, “There is a difference. If I’d told you after the results came out—if I’d passed the exam first—it would’ve carried more weight, shown more sincerity.”

He had even prepared the shop deeds ahead of time, wanting to wait until he had both property and title before mentioning the engagement. Now everything had been thrown out of order.

Yuanbao said quietly, “Even without those things, our years together already mean enough to me. No matter how you put it, I’m the one reaching above my station. Why should you still work so hard to make it perfect? It only makes me feel unworthy.”

Every time Qi Beinan heard him belittle himself like that, a dull ache formed in his chest. He never wanted to relive those old days of helplessness—but Xiao Bao still made his heart twist with tenderness.

“Xiao Bao,” he said earnestly, “you’re worthy—of anyone’s best intentions, of the greatest sincerity, of the finest care. Don’t ever say you’re not again.”

Yuanbao looked into his steady eyes, and under that firm recognition, a warmth spread through him that words could not describe.

Cowardice—yes, part of it had always come from uncertainty. But now that Xiao Yuanbao was certain of Qi Beinan’s feelings, the timidity that had clung to him for years began to fade away.

He nodded lightly. “Mm. I understand now.”

Qi Beinan’s eyes softened with a smile. He squeezed Xiao Yuanbao’s hand, then, unsatisfied, reached up to pinch his cheek and tug gently at his ear.

Everywhere he looked, he saw something he liked—something that made his heart full.

Xiao Yuanbao grew annoyed from the teasing, so he reached up and touched Qi Beinan’s brow and the bridge of his high, straight nose.

He thought to himself, Such a handsome man—and from now on, he’ll be mine alone. The thought filled him with joy.

The two of them did not read, did not work; they simply stayed together in the room for most of the day. Somehow, doing nothing at all felt endlessly pleasant. They didn’t even notice how quickly time passed.

Meanwhile, over at the Yang residence, things were far less peaceful.

After being rejected by Qi Beinan, Yang Chenxu had shut himself in his room for the entire day.

Yang Xuezheng hadn’t known why at first—until he questioned the servants and learned that Chenxu had gone to see Qi Beinan off personally.

When he entered and saw his son’s reddened eyes, he grew angry. “I arranged for you to meet him properly. Qi Beinan is clever—he’d understand what I meant right away. If he felt the same, he would have returned after the exam results. But you—you couldn’t hold back. You went running to express your feelings first, and now look! He turned you down flat and made you lose face for nothing.”

Already miserable, Chenxu felt even worse being scolded. “If Father wishes to blame me, then blame me,” he said bitterly.

“When Ma Junyi courted me before, you told me to wait. Master Ma is a fourth-rank official—marrying into his family would have been an honor. But you said Ma Junyi wasn’t valued by his father, and since he was only a xiucai, you wanted to wait until after the xiangshi to decide. You told me not to be too warm nor too cold. But people aren’t fools—he saw through the calculations and stopped calling altogether.”

“Father always says marriage is a family affair, not a matter of personal feeling. Fine, I obeyed. When you said you favored Qi Beinan, I was overjoyed. Even if he doesn’t pass this time, I was still willing to marry him.”

“But you insisted on waiting until the results were out—until he officially became a juren. And by then, others would surely notice him too! The magistrate has a daughter of age, the Cheng family speaks highly of him as well. I only wanted to show him our sincerity first. What harm was there in that?”

Yang Xuezheng snapped, “The magistrate is only a seventh-rank official, and even if that Cheng scholar rises in rank, he won’t surpass me overnight! Besides, the Cheng girl is a concubine-born child—how could she compare with you? You think Qi Beinan is a fool, that he’d reject you for her?”

“But the Cheng family has only that one daughter,” Chenxu retorted, his voice tight. “The magistrate dotes on her like a pearl. Who cares about legitimacy then?”

He let out a trembling breath. “But it’s useless to argue. If I hadn’t confessed my feelings, I wouldn’t have learned that he was already engaged. Better to know now than keep hoping. He’s promised to someone else—there’s nothing left for us to choose or bargain over.”

“I’m already twenty,” Chenxu added, voice breaking. “Every time I visit friends, people whisper that I’m too old to be unwed!”

Hearing that, Yang Xuezheng’s anger ebbed. Seeing his son’s tears, his own heart softened.

He sank into a carved chair with a long sigh. “It’s your father’s fault, too.”

“Among the county scholars, I thought Qi Beinan was most suitable—a man of humble birth but fine talent, someone the family could guide and elevate. I focused too much on his background and character, not enough on investigating his prior betrothal.”

He rubbed his temples wearily. “I’ve spent years struggling for small gains. After all this time, I’m still only a sixth-rank official. I just wanted to find you a match that might lift our family higher. I went too far and delayed your marriage instead.”

Yang Chenxu wiped his eyes. His chest ached, but he also understood his father’s hardships.

The Yangs were not a hereditary official family—Yang Xuezheng was the first to earn office through the examinations. Born to a modest household, he had risen by diligence alone. Without powerful connections, advancement in a court dominated by old noble clans was nearly impossible.

Worse still, his own son had failed to distinguish himself after years of study. His current post as a county assistant magistrate had been purchased with family funds—honorable in title but without promise of promotion.

Chenxu had been bright and handsome since childhood, so it was only natural for his father to scheme for him. But knowing all this didn’t make it hurt any less.

“Father,” Chenxu said softly, “what should we do now? Qi Beinan has made himself clear, and he was courteous enough not to shame us. We can’t keep clinging to it.”

Yang Xuezheng waved a hand. “You needn’t worry about family obligations anymore. We’ve already spent much of our savings finding your elder brother a post; I won’t let you waste your youth the same way. You’re both my children—how could I favor one and wrong the other?”

“Once the autumn exam results are out,” said Yang Xuezheng, “choose someone you like from the list and settle the matter. If you keep scheming like this, you’ll soon find that even juren will be hard to come by.”

Yang Chenxu agreed faintly, feeling as though life itself was an unending bitterness.

The next morning, Qi Beinan went to visit Zhao Guangzong.

When he arrived, Zhao Guangzong was still eating breakfast.

“What’s this, coming so early to my place? That’s unusual.”

He asked if Qi Beinan had eaten yet. When he heard that he had, he called for someone to bring tea.

Qi Beinan placed a long rectangular box on the table. “This is for you.”

The box was painted with fine gold patterns—clearly not a common trinket.

Zhao Guangzong put down his chopsticks and hurried to open it. Inside was a full tea-making set—twelve exquisite pieces, all beautifully crafted and elegant.

His eyes lit up. “A full Twelve Gentleman set from Qingwu Workshop? Their craftsmanship is famous. Such a thing’s hard to find! So what’s this about? You show up early in the morning with such a fine gift—have you suddenly struck it rich or become a big official?”

Qi Beinan smiled. “It’s just been sitting in storage. You love making tea; better that you use it.”

Zhao Guangzong carefully closed the box. “Oh no, it’s too convenient, too timely. Why ‘better that I use it’ today of all days? Seems suspiciously well-timed. Tell me—are you asking me for a favor, or did you really make a fortune?”

“What favor could I ask of you? And I’ve made no fortune.”

“That can’t be right,” Zhao teased. He placed the box beside Qi Beinan. “With the results about to come out, I can’t take something this valuable! Suppose I miraculously make the list and become a juren, then you’ll come asking me for something—what would I do?”

Qi Beinan gave him a sideways glance. “You think far too highly of yourself.”

Zhao Guangzong grinned. “Come on, tell me what’s really going on.”

Qi Beinan replied calmly, “I came to thank you—for helping with me and Xiao Bao.”

At once Zhao Guangzong’s expression turned mischievous, his eyes glinting with curiosity. “Oh? Don’t tell me—something good happened yesterday?”

“It’s a long story,” said Qi Beinan, “but it ended well.”

He patted Zhao’s shoulder. “I’m a man who remembers both favors and debts—you’ve earned your credit.”

Zhao burst out laughing. “Good! Then I’ll accept this gift without guilt.”

Qi Beinan didn’t mention Yang Chenxu. But Zhao Guangzong had guessed most of it anyway—after all, he was the one who’d told Xiao Yuanbao to fetch Qi Beinan from the xuezheng’s office. Now, seeing Beinan arrive in person to thank him confirmed his suspicions.

They were both men of discretion; neither would turn such matters into gossip. Spreading it would only embarrass the xuezheng and invite trouble.

So instead, they spoke for a while of other things.

Zhao Guangzong told him about visiting his maternal grandfather the previous day. “Grandfather said he missed me and invited me over for a simple meal. Turns out it wasn’t a meal at all—it was a blind meeting!”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “And? Was the girl agreeable?”

Zhao groaned. “I wasn’t prepared! It was awkward as could be.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “You and I are the same age—you’re already twenty now. You’d best not imitate my patience. My parents arranged my affairs long ago. You, on the other hand, shouldn’t keep waiting.”

Many of their peers had already married—some even had children. Fang Youliang, for instance, was about to wed the daughter of the Tang family, who owned the tofu shop. She was their only child, and her parents had saved plenty of silver. They had even bought a small courtyard in Jiaozihu Lane as her dowry.

Another friend, Brother Fang San, had also married earlier that year, into a prosperous farming household with rich land and forests. Their life was no worse than those of city merchants.

Among all the young men from their circle, only Zhao Guangzong remained unwed.

Qi Beinan couldn’t quite understand him. Over the years, the Zhao family had arranged several matches, but none had succeeded. It wasn’t that Zhao was in love with someone else—he simply seemed uninterested in romance altogether.

Cheerful and agreeable as he was, he should have been easy to match—but he lacked that one vital spark.

“Anyone will do,” Zhao said lightly. “If someone likes me, that’s enough.”

Qi Beinan frowned. “You have to show some initiative. How is anyone supposed to know you’re interested if you act like that?”

Zhao groaned. “Ah, but I’m hopeless at such things! Better to have me write eight essays than flirt with anyone.”

Qi Beinan fell silent, half amused, half resigned. This man truly is beyond saving.

“Well,” he said at last, “matches are in Heaven’s hands.”

Then, with a teasing glint, he added, “When my child is old enough to read and write, and you’re finally arranging your marriage, perhaps our families will be joined—your son and my grandchild.”

Zhao stared at him, speechless. “…You never fail to outdo yourself.”

Soon, the fifth day of the ninth month arrived—the day the autumn xiangshi results were announced.

At dawn, professional messengers were already rushing to the public notice boards. Whoever saw the list first would hurry to deliver the good news to the families of the successful candidates, earning themselves a few coins of reward money.

That day, households with someone on the list were generous beyond measure.

Qi Beinan, however, remained calm. He tidied his study leisurely. The announcements would not be posted until the sihour; there was no point in going early.

His home was only a short walk—about a quarter of an hour—from the prefectural academy. If no messenger came knocking by midmorning, there would be no need for him to go see the list himself.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 73: Reborn to Raise My Husband

That night, the rain came in sparse sheets while the wind roared fierce and wild.

The gusts slammed the doors and windows so violently that they rattled and banged against their frames.

Xiao Yuanbao hurriedly called for Mama Liu and Brother Zhao Wu to run through the house, shutting every window and door. The trees in the courtyard bent under the wind’s pull, and the corridors were littered with swirling, dead leaves.

After a long spell of running about, they finally secured every room.

The sky, still pale from the earlier daylight, turned dim and gray under the storm. It almost felt like night had fallen early.

Inside, Xiao Yuanbao watched the flickering candlelight under the wind’s howl. Even with the lampshade on, the flame trembled unsteadily.

The storm’s fury outside made him restless.

By his count, the examination convoy had been gone for over three days. If they were traveling swiftly, they should have reached Pingzhou by now; if slower, they might still be on the road.

A storm like this was nothing to fear when one was home behind shut doors. But out there on the road—rain blinding the eyes, mud slick on the official paths, and winds fierce enough to fell branches—any traveler could be struck or worse.

And if they could not find shelter quickly, soaked through and chilled, how could they not fall ill?

That night, lying awake to the endless sound of wind and rain, Xiao Yuanbao felt suffocated by worry.

These past days, his heart had been uneasy. He couldn’t shake off the feeling that something was wrong, as though they might meet misfortune on the road.

Yesterday, he had gone into town to burn incense at the temple, offering extra oil money—not for fortune or wealth, but simply to pray for the travelers’ safety.

The prayer had eased his heart a little, but now, with this storm raging again, his fears returned.

He could only hope the wind and rain stayed confined to Ling County—that those heading for the provincial exam were spared hardship.

By the next morning, every surface of the estate that saw the sky was soaked.

The osmanthus blossoms in the courtyard had all been shaken off by the storm, and the autumn rain had left everything bent and battered.

Everyone in the household was busy tidying up the aftermath.

Xiao Yuanbao waited anxiously—both for news from Pingzhou and for visitors from the farmstead.

This year, they had planted many mushrooms, and demand in town was high. Every two days, Tian Ken brought vegetables into the city to sell. Xiao Yuanbao wanted to ask whether the storm had damaged anything in the fields.

By late morning, Tian Ken finally arrived with his cart.

After drinking some tea, he handed over baskets of fresh melons and vegetables, and two chickens and ducks each.

“Nothing serious at the farm,” he reported, “but the village river rose and swept away the wooden bridge. The village head took men out at dawn to repair it—that’s why I’m late getting here.”

That afternoon, Xiao Yuanbao prepared to go out to the medicine hall to buy lily bulbs and lotus seeds.

Madam Feng had been coughing and felt weak lately. Since the household had just received fresh chicken, he planned to make a pot of pork-stomach-and-chicken soup to bring to her.

When he reached Bao Medical Hall, Second Sister spotted him and quickly pulled him into the inner room.

“What’s wrong? I didn’t bring any food today,” Xiao Yuanbao said in surprise.

“At a time like this, who’s thinking about food?”

Gui Jie’er added, “I was just saying I should go find you.”

Seeing their tense faces, Xiao Yuanbao grew alarmed. “What happened? Did something go wrong?”

Gui Jie’er lowered her voice. “Do you know Chen Fushi? The one who runs a private academy on Slanted Street?”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked. He didn’t know many tutors, but the name stirred a memory—ah yes, that old fellow who used to look down on Brother Zhao San.

“I know him. What about him?”

Gui Jie’er said, “Last night my grandfather was urgently called to the Chen residence to give treatment. When he arrived, he found that Chen Fushi had been beaten badly—two ribs broken, signs of near-drowning. When my grandfather saw him, the man was barely alive.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened. “Chen Fushi may be unpleasant, but he’s still a scholar. Who would dare to lay hands on him like that?”

“My grandfather thought it strange too, but the Chen family wouldn’t say much. He could only treat the injuries and leave it at that—thankfully, the man’s life was saved.”

Gui Jie’er continued, “I learned just this morning from Father that Chen Fushi had gone to take the provincial exam this year. On the road, he was attacked by bandits. If he hadn’t jumped into the river, he’d likely be dead.”

Xiao Yuanbao was horrified. “Bandits? Were they after money or what?”

“Ordinary robbers wouldn’t dare touch scholars. A scholar sitting for the exam already holds official status—there’s little money to steal, and attacking one risks heavy punishment. No, these men weren’t after riches—they were targeting scholars deliberately.”

Gui Jie’er glanced around before whispering near his ear, “Listen carefully, and don’t speak of this outside. These bandits aren’t common thieves. I fear they’re agitators, stirring unrest—to shake the empire’s peace.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s heart pounded. “Then… the people who went to the exam this time—doesn’t that mean…”

Gui Jie’er’s face went pale.

Luo Tingfeng was among the examinees—how could she not be terrified?

Xiao Yuanbao felt panic rising like a blade suspended over his head.

No wonder his heart had felt uneasy for days. He had thought it was just the storm, but this—this was the true cause.

He dared not imagine what might happen if Qi Beinan and the others had run into those men.

He couldn’t remember how he made it back home. It was as though his soul had drifted away.

He had no idea what to do—restless, agitated, and on edge all day—until at last he turned and went back to the farmstead.

He told Xiao Hu everything that Gui Jie’er had said.

“How could such a thing happen!” Xiao Hu was shocked. “Didn’t the authorities arrest those bandits before? I thought they were all punished already! How can there still be outlaws running loose like this?”

“The imperial court—what are they doing, sitting on their hands?” he burst out angrily.

“Even if we’re just talking at home, Father, you mustn’t say such things,” Xiao Yuanbao reminded him softly. “Brother always says, even in times of peace, there are things that are never truly peaceful.”

He added quietly, “He’s always telling me to be cautious when I go out, to watch over my own safety. Who could have thought he’d be the one to face such danger?”

“There’s no fear in over-preparing—only in being caught off guard,” Xiao Hu muttered.

Having heard the news, Xiao Hu quickly made up his mind. “I’ll inform the village head. Zhao Guangzong’s family also has someone who went to Pingzhou. I’ll ask the headman to find two good men, and I’ll lead a team there myself.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. It was the only thing they could do.

The matter had not spread widely—local officials were deliberately keeping it quiet to avoid unrest.

Still, word had leaked to a few wealthy households with sons taking the exam. Many were already scrambling to arrange escorts to check on their kin.

But just as plans were being made, the courier from Pingzhou arrived in the county.

Messages began to come in—letters of safety from those who had reached Pingzhou.

It was as if the whole town exhaled at once after holding its breath too long.

When Xiao Yuanbao received Qi Beinan’s letter in his own hand, it felt unreal, like waking from a nightmare.

He tore it open and read quickly. The worry that had sat like a stone on his chest finally lifted.

He read the letter three times over. Not a single word mentioned danger.

He wasn’t sure whether they truly hadn’t heard of the attacks—or if they knew, and were simply keeping it from their families to spare them fear.

Either way, the fact that he could write home meant he was safe.

Xiao Yuanbao felt a wave of relief so strong it made his knees weak, as if he himself had survived a disaster.

He carefully placed the letter into his drawer and let out a long breath. “Nearly made a widow before the wedding,” he muttered.

Now that he had the address in Pingzhou, he wanted to write back—but when he picked up the brush, his hand froze.

What could he even say?

He sat at his desk for a long time before he finally began to write.

On the ninth day of the eighth month, Qi Beinan carried his book chest and entered the examination compound with his fellow scholars, exchanging well-wishes at the gate.

The xiangshi was far stricter than the county exam had been.

Just the inspection process outside the exam cells—checking each scholar and verifying their identities—took over half an hour.

Qi Beinan glanced around briefly. Whether because of the bandit rumors or because Pingzhou was a smaller prefecture, there seemed to be fewer candidates—perhaps two hundred in total.

It was far less than what he’d seen years ago at the Jinling exam halls, though that was understandable. Pingzhou could hardly compare to Jinling’s prosperity, let alone to the imperial capital, where noble families filled the streets and scholars gathered in droves.

Once inside the exam cell, the gates shut behind them and the locks clanged into place.

Qi Beinan broke into a light sweat.

He took out a handkerchief to wipe his forehead and waited calmly for the exam to begin.

Each province had its own essay topic. Years ago, when he had served idly in the Hanlin Academy, he’d looked through the Ministry of Rites’ archives of provincial exam questions—but that had been years ago, and he couldn’t recall what Pingzhou’s themes were.

That made him all the more curious.

“Examinees, silence—reveal the topic!”

A clear, resonant voice echoed across the courtyard as the official unveiled the examination board. Qi Beinan straightened his back and carefully copied the question.

By the time the provincial exams concluded, it was already mid-August.

After handing in his final paper, Qi Beinan stepped out of the Gongyuan gate, his whole body loosening with relief.

After so many days cramped in that narrow cell, it felt as if his body had folded into itself. If he’d had to stay a few days longer, he thought wryly, he might’ve mastered the art of bone-shrinking.

Now, able to stretch freely, he almost couldn’t believe how good it felt.

Outside the examination compound, a crowd of family members had gathered, pressing shoulder to shoulder to greet the returning scholars.

“Sir! Over here!”

Tie’nan spotted him and squeezed through the crowd, smiling widely.

He took Qi Beinan’s bedding and book chest from his hands.

Qi Beinan laughed and patted his shoulder. “Come on, let’s go home.”

He didn’t wait for Zhao Guangzong or Ma Junyi. Though the weather had been mild during the exams, the stifling heat of the exam cell left them drenched in sweat with nowhere to wash.

Their clothes had dried and dampened again a dozen times—by now, the odor was beyond imagining.

When he reached their lodging, he realized he was the first to return.

He took a clean robe and a pouch of bath beans, and at last had a long, refreshing bath.

While he was toweling his hair dry in the courtyard, Zhao Guangzong appeared at the gate, dragging his book chest behind him, pale and weary, like someone who’d had his soul drained.

One look told Qi Beinan that things hadn’t gone well for him.

Pingzhou’s exam questions were straightforward—less cunning than Jinling’s had been—and Qi Beinan had found them manageable.

But what was easy for him wasn’t so for everyone else.

“I’m already preparing to take it again in three years,” Zhao Guangzong sighed. “This xiangshi truly is no small matter.”

He looked at Qi Beinan—hair loose, dressed in clean clothes, with the faint scent of bath herbs rising from his skin—and couldn’t help but laugh.

Zhao Guangzong lifted his sleeve and sniffed himself—then immediately held his breath. “No, this won’t do. I smell terrible. There’s still hot water, right? I’m going to wash up properly too.”

Qi Beinan said, “Go on. The exam’s done for today. Tie’nan’s boiled plenty of hot water—enough for everyone.”

Then he turned to Tie’nan. “Go fetch some more water for Zhao Langjun and bring it to his room.”

By the time Qi Beinan had dried and re-tied his hair, the others had all returned one after another. The first thing everyone did was clean themselves up.

After so many days confined in the gongyuan, nerves tight as wire, sleepless nights, and unappetizing food, a proper wash and rest were the only cure.

Qi Beinan didn’t disturb them. Taking Tie’nan along, he went out.

He crossed the North Main Street and walked straight toward the old residential lane he remembered—the one under reconstruction.

The old lane was called Yunping Fang. Down from Liuhua Stone Arch Bridge, the entire block stretched along the riverbank.

By now, the rebuilding was nearly finished. Only a few craftsmen remained, hauling out leftover bricks, tiles, and old timber. Street cleaners were sweeping the roads.

Qi Beinan wandered through with Tie’nan. Even after an hour, they hadn’t seen it all.

Looking at the nearly deserted Yunping Fang, Qi Beinan felt a pang of nostalgia. In his memory, this had once been a bustling night market—bright with lanterns and filled with chatter. Now, the quiet streets seemed like a ghost of that past life.

Even Tie’nan, walking through for the first time, was struck by the contrast. Coming from the busy main streets into this calm quarter, he couldn’t help his amazement.

These past days, while his master was in the exam hall, Tie’nan had explored Pingzhou thoroughly—talking with locals, drinking coarse tea by the roadside, and idly chatting half the day. As instructed by Qi Beinan, he had focused on learning about property prices in Yunping Fang.

He had already spoken to several fangya (property agents).

“The shops here aren’t expensive, Langjun,” Tie’nan reported. “A typical shop with a storefront and backroom costs between sixty and eighty strings of cash. In livelier areas, the same size goes for over a hundred. And in the real commercial districts, that’d be at least two hundred.”

Then he hesitated. “But Langjun, do you truly mean to buy a shop here? The price is good, yes—but the reputation’s poor.”

Over the days of inquiry, he’d heard plenty of gossip. Though Yunping Fang now looked neat and presentable, locals still turned their noses up at it.

“It used to be where the poorest city folk lived,” Tie’nan explained. “Families raised chickens, ducks, even pigs in their courtyards. The alleys stank of filth. The people here never had much money, and the wealthy wouldn’t come near. Only a few shops ever opened, and those sold cheap odds and ends.”

“Now it’s been rebuilt by the prefecture, yes, but it’s far from the main street. Prices have gone up by about twenty percent since reconstruction, but merchants still aren’t buying. Even if we buy one of these shops, rents will stay low—it’ll take years to earn back the cost.”

Of course, Qi Beinan already knew all this.

But that didn’t change what he foresaw: once the imperial curfew was lifted, this very place would become Pingzhou’s largest night market—the most prosperous quarter after dark.

If such potential were obvious to all, how could a mere outsider like him have the chance to buy in? The prices would’ve long since been snatched up.

“Langjun, you really have the mood to stroll through Yunping Fang, huh? Did you come just to walk along the river and catch the evening breeze?” Tie’nan teased lightly.

Qi Beinan didn’t answer.

Before they could go further, a man sitting by the road munching dried nuts noticed them. Seeing Qi Beinan’s clean robe and dignified bearing, he hastily shoved his bare yellowed foot into his shoe and hurried up with a smile.

“Are you a local here?” Qi Beinan asked.

“No, sir. I live over on North Lake Street. I’m a fangya,” the man replied.

A property agent—just what Qi Beinan needed.

“Ah,” Qi Beinan said, “so you’ve come here on business for the new housing, then?”

The fangya looked him over—his fine clothes, polished manner of speech. The man couldn’t tell whether Qi Beinan was a local or an outsider.

“That’s right,” he said. “Whenever a new block is finished, we agents get busy.”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly. “Busy elsewhere, perhaps—but business in Yunping Fang seems rather quiet, doesn’t it?”

The fangya chuckled. “You’re not from around here, are you, sir?”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “If you think so, why still come here seeking business?”

The man laughed and leaned closer. “Ah, well, Yunping Fang’s almost finished reconstruction now. The prefecture spent a fortune on it. If the shops can’t be sold or leased soon, the hufang (Household Department) will be in trouble.”

He glanced around, then said more quietly, “To tell the truth, the officials from the hufang have ordered us agents to help get the market moving.”

The central government had not yet lifted the imperial curfew, and it wouldn’t happen until at least next summer. The prefecture didn’t know when the decree would come, only that the current prefect of Pingzhou—recently appointed, just three years in office—was eager to show results.

Rebuilding Yunping Fang was one of his “three fires” as a new official—his bid to leave a mark before his next performance review.

After all, when the assessment officers came, he needed something to point to as evidence of achievement if he wanted promotion.

Rebuilding an old ward was certainly something that could be displayed as political achievement—but, as with all things, success depended on how it was done.

From what Qi Beinan saw, Yunping Fang’s reconstruction looked neat and well-planned, yet just as the fangya had said, the newly built shopfronts weren’t selling or renting. The hufang kept spending silver without earning any, and if this continued, Yunping Fang’s renovation would become nothing but a bad account on the prefecture’s ledgers.

That would turn what was meant to be a shining accomplishment into a costly embarrassment.

The prefect could never stand idle and let that happen. He would surely try every method to move those shops.

Hiring property agents to make the sales flourish—well, that was one such method.

Qi Beinan remarked, “So it’s a business arrangement after all. I imagine the hufang pays you agents a fair amount for your trouble.”

The fangya grinned. “Langjun sees clearly! The prefecture’s got deep pockets, so the reward’s nothing small. Otherwise, why would I come walking around this ghostly, half-dead place risking my neck, eh?”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly, saying nothing.

Seeing his interest, the fangya leaned in eagerly. “Langjun, you’ve talked with me all this time—are you perhaps thinking of buying a shop here?”

He continued quickly, “True, Yunping Fang’s old reputation was bad. But look at it now—wide streets, bright windows. Give it time, and it’ll thrive.”

Qi Beinan said, “I won’t hide it—I do have such intentions.”

He gave the fangya a measured look. “But the person I deal with must be reliable and well connected. Only such a man can get me the best price.”

Hearing that Qi Beinan genuinely wanted to buy, the fangya was delighted.

“Langjun, you’ve found the right man!” he declared, slapping his thigh. “In this city, I might not be first among agents—but if I say I’m second, no one dares claim first! Don’t be fooled by my rough manners; my family’s been in this trade for three generations.”

A fangya’s tongue was sharper than a blade—out of ten sentences, eight were false, and the rest were half true.

Qi Beinan knew better than to believe all his boasting. “Words mean little,” he said evenly. “I only trust what I see.”

The fangya clapped his hands. “You’ll see, Langjun! I can bring you the full property register of Yunping Fang. You can pick whichever shop you like. Even if you search the whole city, no one will offer you a cheaper price than I can.”

“Very well,” said Qi Beinan. “Come find me tomorrow.”

He gave the man the name of a teahouse—not his lodging. No need to invite strangers to his doorstep.

After parting with the fangya, Qi Beinan and Tie’nan walked back slowly.

He planned to compare prices carefully and buy as many properties as possible at the lowest rate.

Though he had a thousand guan on hand, in a populous and prosperous city like Pingzhou, that sum wasn’t much when it came to real estate.

He would have to pinch every coin and live frugally for a while.

But once the shops were rented out and turning profit, the household would finally breathe easier.

Later, selling just one or two could bring back a good share of the capital.

When Qi Beinan returned, dusk had fallen.

His fellow examinees, having rested a few hours, were refreshed and chatting in the courtyard.

“Qi Xiong, where have you been? You’re late coming back,” Ma Junyi called.

Qi Beinan replied casually, “I went to pay respects to an old acquaintance of my late father’s who works in the prefecture.”

He smoothly changed the subject. “Has everyone recovered from the exams?”

“Our bodies, yes,” someone laughed. “Our hearts, not quite.”

They spoke for a while about the exam’s difficulties, but none were too discouraged. The xiangshi was never easy; failing once or twice was normal.

Even if they didn’t pass this time, they were still xiucai—scholars in name and standing, free from labor tax and starvation.

And most of them were still young; even the oldest wasn’t yet thirty. There would be plenty of chances ahead.

The fifteenth night’s moon hung full and radiant, round as a silver plate.

The scent of osmanthus drifted through the courtyard. Though it was the Mid-Autumn Festival, they were far from home, unable to reunite with family.

Still, sitting under the moonlight, drinking wine together, they managed to make the night cheerful rather than lonely.

Later, Qi Beinan, slightly tipsy, returned to his room.

From his chest, he took out a small jar of oil-preserved minced pork with mushrooms—one of three Xiao Yuanbao had packed before his departure.

On the road, everyone had found it delicious; two jars had already been eaten. This last one, he had hidden away, or the greedy bunch would have devoured it too.

Tonight, he thought, he’d allow himself a little taste of home to ease his longing.

He broke a flatbread and ate with the fragrant mushroom meat, enjoying the familiar flavor—until the door suddenly creaked open.

Startled, he nearly tossed the bread out the window. If someone caught him sneaking food in private, he’d never live down the teasing.

He turned and saw it was Tie’nan.

“Trying to scare me to death, are you?” Qi Beinan sighed in relief.

Tie’nan scratched his head sheepishly. “Forgive me, Langjun! A courier just brought this letter from home. I was so excited I forgot myself.”

Qi Beinan immediately set aside the bread, wiped his hands, and took the letter.

“How has it only arrived now? A few more days, and I’d be leaving before it reached me.”

“The courier said mail was delayed during the xiangshi. This one got misplaced at the relay station—they found it only this morning and rushed it over.”

Qi Beinan frowned. “How careless of them. Do they not understand that a letter from home is worth a thousand pieces of gold?”

Tie Nan rarely ever saw Qi Beinan truly angry about anything. For him to frown over the postal relay nearly losing a letter—that was something rare indeed.

Sensing the shift in mood, Tie Nan quietly withdrew, leaving Qi Beinan alone to read.

Qi Beinan eagerly unsealed the envelope and unfolded the letter—then paused, brows slightly raised.

There were no words written. Only a few strokes of brush and ink.

Under a round, bright moon sat a small dog before a doorway, staring upward at the moon.

Qi Beinan chuckled softly, his gaze turning gentle.

He traced the little dog on the paper with the pad of his finger. His heart suddenly felt full—filled with something warm and alive, as if a quiet emptiness had just been made whole.

That night, he slept soundly and dreamed well.

The next morning, after washing, Qi Beinan went straight to the teahouse, planning to have breakfast there before meeting the fangya.

He arrived earlier than agreed, thinking he could eat first and discuss business after.

Unexpectedly, the fangya was already waiting at the door.

Qi Beinan, calm as always, finished his breakfast unhurriedly before speaking.

“Langjun, please have a look—are these drawings correct?” the fangya asked, sliding a rolled plan across the table.

He had been fidgeting like a cat while Qi Beinan ate, and finally exhaled once the gentleman set down his chopsticks.

“If there’s no mistake,” said the fangya, “you can mark the shops you’re interested in. Then we’ll go see them in person—if you’re satisfied, we can settle it.”

The map looked legitimate enough.

“Which shops have already been taken?” Qi Beinan asked. “Don’t have me pick one only to find it’s sold.”

The fangya quickly circled a few on the parchment. Truth be told, he should’ve done that earlier, but so few shops in Yunping Fang had sold yet that the map looked rather empty. He worried it might make the place seem unappealing.

Qi Beinan saw that the sold ones were the better spots—but many good locations still remained. After all, it was a large block.

He pointed to a three-story building by the river, in the central section. “What’s the price for this one?”

The fangya’s eyes lit up. “Langjun has an excellent eye! That shop sits in the very center, overlooking the river—perfect for a teahouse, restaurant, or—”

“No need to exaggerate,” Qi Beinan interrupted mildly. “I can judge its worth myself. Just state the price.”

“Not less than two hundred and forty guan,” said the fangya. “Langjun, you have fine taste—a small shop wouldn’t suit your standing, but this—”

Qi Beinan cut him off again. “You’re not particularly skilled at this. At that price, it’s no better than what I could get from any other agent.”

The fangya was momentarily silent. He had already quoted a low figure—most agents would start at two hundred sixty guan or higher—but this gentleman still found it steep.

Of course, buyers always said the price was too high.

“Langjun, this is a three-story building,” the fangya pressed on. “Even the smaller front-and-back shops go for over a hundred guan. For this, it’s already fair.”

“Don’t play riddles. Those one-hundred-guan shops aren’t even in Yunping Fang. You think I don’t know the market?”

The fangya hesitated. “Then why not name your price, Langjun? If it’s reasonable, I’ll negotiate for you.”

“Two hundred,” Qi Beinan said evenly.

The fangya’s eyes widened. “Langjun, don’t tease me. Even a cheap property outside Pingzhou wouldn’t go that low. Maybe in a county town you could manage it, but not here in the prefecture seat.”

Qi Beinan replied calmly, “At that same price in a county town, one could buy a two-courtyard residence in a prime neighborhood. This building may have three floors, but the footprint is small—not even the size of one garden from such a house.”

“Pingzhou may be a prefectural city, but prices must still make sense. I’m not bargaining wildly.”

The fangya stayed quiet, realizing this man was a hard bone to chew.

Qi Beinan added casually, “I’m only testing if your prices are fair. If they are, I might buy several more. But if not, why bother with Yunping Fang at all? Let’s be honest—the only reason to buy here is because it’s cheap.”

That bait worked perfectly. Hearing that Qi Beinan intended to purchase multiple shops, the fangya’s expression brightened.

“If Langjun plans to buy this building and more, then perhaps there’s room to adjust.”

Qi Beinan raised a brow. “And how much for the smaller ones?”

“Langjun, you’re an astute man, I won’t overprice. The front-and-back shops—sixty guan each. Choose whichever you like.”

Sixty guan—the same lowest price Tie Nan had found out earlier. There was probably room to go even lower.

Though the fangya hadn’t reduced the number yet, offering free choice of location was itself a concession.

Qi Beinan nodded slightly. “Eight hundred guan for fourteen small shops. Add the building, round to one thousand even.”

“Well? What do you say?”

The fangya nearly fainted.

“Langjun, how about this deal now?”

Qi Beinan remained unhurried. “My offer stands as is. You have one day. If it goes through, all the better; if not, I won’t hold it against you.”

The fangya’s mouth felt bitter. He exhaled a long breath.

The prefecture had instructed the agents to sell the Yunping Fang shops with full effort, promising rewards. To handle matters for the hufang meant access to officials—and no one dared take it lightly. Everyone was eager to prove themselves.

Qi Beinan’s deal was clearly a large one. If the fangya could close it, he’d earn favor from the prefecture.

But the price Qi Beinan named was simply too low—below even the hufang’s base rate. Since the property wasn’t his own, the agent didn’t dare promise without approval.

“Langjun trusts me; then I’ll make another trip,” the fangya said. “Please mark the shops you’ve chosen. I believe you’re a man of your word, so give me a single day to settle it.”

“Rest easy,” said Qi Beinan. “Since I said one day, it’ll be one day. I won’t seek another deal before then.”

After bowing, the fangya hurried off.

Qi Beinan stayed at the teahouse, sipping another cup of tea, guessing the man had gone to report to the hufang.

He needed to return to the county soon, but business couldn’t be rushed. He could have struck the deal earlier, yet haste would have cost more silver.

If his price was accepted, perfect. If not, he’d drop one small shop to balance it.

That afternoon, the fangya came rushing back, sweating and excited.

“Langjun, I’ve never met anyone who bargains better than you. They’ve agreed—but the riverside shops can’t all go to you. Of the fourteen small shops, only seven can face the water. The other seven must be inland.”

Qi Beinan knew it was impossible to claim all advantages for himself. He chose seven more in decent spots away from the river, not too remote.

They went together to Yunping Fang again, inspected each property on site, and Qi Beinan paid a deposit of three hundred guan.

The next morning, the fangya arrived with stamped contracts. Qi Beinan carefully compared each one against his notes to ensure the shop locations matched exactly.

Once verified, he paid the remaining seven hundred guan.

The fangya had run back and forth many times; Qi Beinan gave him an extra tael of silver as a gratuity.

He didn’t know what commission the prefecture would pay the man, but what was owed on his own side he gave regardless.

“Langjun, not to boast,” said the fangya with a grin, “but if it weren’t for me, you could never have secured so many shops at that price.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Oh? Are you truly that capable?”

The fangya puffed his chest. “The hufang’s clerk in charge is my uncle. Tell me, which other agent in this city has my kind of connections?”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “Then it seems I’ve benefitted from your family’s divine favor.”

The fangya laughed too. “We’re helping each other, that’s all. I sell more shops, and my uncle worries less.”

Then he asked curiously, “But tell me, Langjun—why buy so many shops in a place most folks look down on?”

Qi Beinan said with a faint smile, “Because I dreamed once—a deity told me Yunping Fang’s shop prices would rise.”

“When they do,” he added lightly, “I’ll have you rent them out for me again.”

The fangya burst out laughing—whether at Qi Beinan’s superstition or his confidence, even he couldn’t tell. Still, he said, “If that day comes, Langjun need only summon me.”

Qi Beinan laughed as well, patting his shoulder. In a tone half teasing, half prophetic, he said softly, “Yunping Fang will grow lively yet. If you’ve got any sense, you should grab two shops for yourself while you still can.”

The fangya gave a helpless smile. “Ah, if I had spare silver, I’d buy one this instant.”

With that, Qi Beinan exchanged one thousand guan for a thick stack of deeds.

Together with his companions, he took his time returning to Ling County.

By the time the group safely arrived home, it was already the end of August.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 72: Reborn to Raise My Husband

When June passed and mid-July arrived, another autumn came around.

The sweet scent of early osmanthus drifted along the roadside. This year, all the scholars in the county who intended to take the provincial exam (xiangshi) were tense with focus.

The August xiangshi would be held in the prefectural capital, and everyone was preparing for the journey.

The usually calm and leisurely scholar-gentlemen, serene as clear skies and moonlight, now wore faint anxiety upon their faces—worry for their futures.

“This time, the classmates from the county school plan to travel together to the prefecture,” said Qi Beinan. “It’s safer and more convenient to look after one another. Ma Junyi has arranged the carriages and horses for everyone, so we don’t need to make separate preparations.”

“How generous of Scholar Ma,” Xiao Yuanbao said. “I remember there are seven or eight scholar-gentlemen in your class.”

For the past few days, Xiao Yuanbao had been busy preparing all the items Qi Beinan would need for the exam trip. It wasn’t the first time he’d gone to the prefecture for exams, so the preparations went smoothly.

“These past years in the county academy, everyone’s gotten along well,” said Qi Beinan. “Now we’re classmates; one day, when we take office and stand in court together, that bond will matter all the more.”

“Maintaining ties now,” he added, “is also preparation for the future. When one remembers a classmate’s friendship later in life, one is more inclined to offer help.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought about it—every one of them already held the title of xiucai (licentiate). Even just passing the next level would make them juren (provincial graduates), eligible for government posts and exempt from labor taxes—a true mark of distinction.

He sighed softly. “So this is how sons of official families think—always planning so far ahead.”

Qi Beinan replied, “If one wants to live well, one must learn to plan carefully.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “Then I’ll prepare extra food for the road. You can share it with your classmates—it wouldn’t be right to only take advantage of their kindness.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Good idea.”

This journey to Pingzhou was not only for the exam. He also intended to finalize the purchase of a shop there—better to settle business while he was already in the prefecture rather than make another trip later.

But once the business started, it would still need someone to manage it. He decided to take Tienan along this time. It would give the boy experience in travel and trade, and later, he could watch over the leased shop and collect rent.

Over the past year, Tienan had improved a great deal—he could read, write, and do basic accounting. He was quick to learn, being still young.

At thirteen or fourteen, he was old enough to handle simple matters.

The work itself wasn’t difficult—managing leases and collecting rent—but it needed someone trustworthy to do it.

“Books are always too few when you need them,” Qi Beinan thought, “and so are people.”

Fortunately, he had made early preparations. Otherwise, he wouldn’t have known where to find the right help now.

From the money house, Qi Beinan exchanged his silver for two jiaozhi banknotes, each worth five hundred guan, convenient to carry.

He considered where to keep them—inside the luggage and book chest, there was a risk of loss.

After thinking it over, he decided to keep them on his person.

On the twenty-first of July, a group of ten travelers lined up their carriages and horses outside the city gate.

Families came to see them off, whispering final reminders, reluctant to part.

“Stay well at home,” Qi Beinan said to Xiao Yuanbao. “If you grow bored, you can go spend some time at the village estate.”

Standing by the carriage he was about to board, he added, “Don’t overindulge in cold foods or drinks—it’ll upset your stomach.”

“I’m not a child anymore,” Xiao Yuanbao protested. “I know.”

Then he added softly, “Brother, don’t stay up reading too late. It’ll strain your eyes. Be careful on the road—the exam result doesn’t matter as much as your safety.”

“Mm.”

Qi Beinan gave a quiet hum of assent, looking down at Xiao Yuanbao, who had grown taller—nearly up to his chin now.

The boy’s brows and eyes had opened beautifully with age; not only had he kept the sweetness of youth, he had grown even more handsome.

It is often only at parting that one looks closely, to hold a clear image for the days of longing to come.

Qi Beinan gently straightened the hem of Xiao Yuanbao’s robe and said in a voice only the two of them could hear, “Don’t forget to miss me, too.”

Xiao Yuanbao froze slightly.

The tips of his ears flushed red as he avoided Qi Beinan’s warm gaze, nodding quietly.

Ma Junyi had already taken his leave from his grandfather and great-uncle at home that morning. The elders were in poor health and couldn’t come to the city gate to see him off.

His uncle and aunt were away on business, so there was no one else to bid him farewell.

He waited in his carriage, where a basin of ice kept the interior cool.

Looking out the window, Ma Junyi saw that almost all his classmates’ parents had come to send them off—some who were already married had wives and children tearfully seeing them away.

The sight left him heavy-hearted.

This xiangshi trip—his father hadn’t come to send him off. Not even a letter of encouragement or advice had arrived.

He had told himself perhaps the letter was delayed on the road.

But deep down, he knew—his father, a powerful military governor, could never fail to have a single letter delivered on time if he truly wished it.

Sorrow welled up inside him. He silently blamed his father’s coldness, yet still longed, against reason, for some sign of fatherly affection.

He was just about to drop the curtain of his carriage window, not wanting to be further stung by the sight before him.

From the corner of his eye, Ma Junyi caught sight of Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao standing together. The two were talking quietly, expressions warm and gentle, a faint smile between them.

It was a rare sight—Qi Beinan had no parents or elders to see him off, only Xiao Yuanbao accompanying him.

Looking at Xiao Yuanbao, radiant with kindness and easy laughter, Ma Junyi couldn’t help but sigh inwardly.

He felt utterly useless.

Before he had even fully gathered the courage to make his own request, he had already heard from his cousin that the other party had no intention of marriage for the time being.

He was no fool—he understood perfectly what that meant.

On one hand, he couldn’t help but feel regret at losing such a fine ge’er; on the other, he felt defeated. One disappointment after another—anyone’s confidence would begin to waver.

“Parting is inevitable, even after a thousand miles together. Time’s up—gentlemen, say your farewells. It’s time to depart.”

The lead driver, seeing Ma Junyi resting wearily inside his carriage, assumed he was growing impatient and raised his voice to call the scholars aboard.

The xiucai took their leave from family and loved ones, one after another stepping into their carriages.

Xiao Yuanbao reminded Tienan to take good care of things, waved to Qi Beinan, and said no more—he simply stood quietly, watching the carriages roll away into the distance.

When someone is still before you, parting doesn’t feel so painful. It’s only when they’ve truly gone—when the figures fade from sight—that a wave of emptiness rises from the heart.

He drew a deep breath, comforting himself that they would be reunited soon enough.

Then, with deliberate calm, he turned and walked back along the stone-paved street toward home.

The carriages moved steadily out of the city. It was still midsummer, hot and heavy in the air.

By the second day, the ice placed inside the carriages had completely melted, and the air grew stifling. Each carriage carried two people; to prevent heatstroke, they stopped at every post station to rest and breathe.

Qi Beinan went to fetch a jug of cool tea and poured it into a waterskin. Zhao Guangzong went off to the latrine and invited Qi Beinan along, but he declined.

As Qi Beinan turned to return to the carriages, he caught sight of Ma Junyi nearby.

“Doing all right?” he asked.

“I’m fine,” Ma Junyi replied. “I’ve traveled far from home many times before—this is nothing new.”

Qi Beinan nodded. “Then I’ll head back.”

“Brother Qi,” Ma Junyi called out suddenly, “why not ride with me for a while? It’s too hot to read, and I find the road dull alone. It would be pleasant to have someone to talk with—unless I’d be disturbing you?”

“How could you?” Qi Beinan said. “I haven’t opened my book chest once since we set out—I’ve just been dozing.”

Though Ma Junyi had once harbored thoughts toward Xiao Yuanbao, Qi Beinan wasn’t the sort to hold petty grudges, nor was he suspicious by nature.

So, he joined him.

The two climbed into the carriage together.

“Earlier today, I noticed all our classmates’ families came to see them off,” Ma Junyi said, lifting a plate from the ice basin that held slices of chilled red melon. He offered one to Qi Beinan. “But I didn’t see your parents or elders.”

“I’ve never met them,” he added. “Have you none at home?”

Qi Beinan answered evenly, “My parents passed away when I was young. I was taken in by the Xiao family. It’s harvest season now—my uncle couldn’t leave the fields, and my aunt passed years ago.”

Ma Junyi’s eyes widened slightly, his chest rising and falling as guilt hit him.

He quickly folded his hands in apology. “I didn’t know your family’s situation. I spoke out of ignorance and made you recall sad memories—my fault.”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly and waved it off. “Brother Ma’s concern is kind, not offensive. The past is the past—if I can speak of it calmly, then it no longer wounds me.”

“You’re truly a broad-minded man,” Ma Junyi said quietly. “I can’t help but admire that.”

Qi Beinan tilted his head. “It seems Brother Ma has something on his mind?”

He was perceptive as ever; he’d noticed that Ma Junyi’s mood today differed from his usual composure.

“If you wish,” he said, “you can speak freely. I may not be able to solve your troubles, but I can at least listen without letting a word slip.”

Ma Junyi hadn’t known Qi Beinan for long—they’d met only after entering the county academy—but over the years, he had come to feel that Qi Beinan possessed a quiet power that drew others close.

Perhaps it was his calm steadiness, the kind that made people trust him instinctively.

He often saw Zhao Guangzong treating Qi Beinan like a brother—laughing together, sharing everything, both good and bad—and though he never said so aloud, he had always envied that bond.

He was surrounded by people, yet such genuine companionship had never been his.

After a pause, he said softly, “You’ll laugh, but when I saw everyone’s families seeing them off this morning, I felt… something awkward inside me.”

Ma Junyi, though the legitimate eldest son of the Ma family, was not favored by his father—the military governor of Jiangzhou.

When he was young, his birth father passed away. Barely a year later, the governor remarried—to Ma Junyi’s own childhood sweetheart, his cousin. The two were affectionate and soon had two sons and a daughter together.

From then on, Ma Junyi’s place in the household was that of an outsider.

There were plenty of children in the Ma household, including two born to concubines, but the governor doted only on the offspring of his new wife.

Even those born of concubines still had their mothers’ affection—but Ma Junyi had no father’s love and no mother’s care.

The Ming family, feeling guilty toward his late birth father, eventually took him in under the pretext of furthering his studies, bringing him to live with them in his teens.

His father’s union with his stepmother had been nothing more than a trade of political interests.

At that time, although the Ma family held official status, it was merely a minor sixth-rank post, and their finances were often strained. Life was rather meager.

Meanwhile, the Ming clan, established in Pingzhou, was expanding its business steadily but lacked scholarly or official pedigree.

Each side had what the other needed, so the Ming family offered a lavish dowry and married their youngest ge’er into the Ma family, in exchange for the Ma clan’s political backing.

Back then, Ma Junyi’s father and his childhood sweetheart—his cousin—were deeply in love. Forced to marry a merchant’s ge’er for the sake of family advancement, he naturally felt unwilling.

One could imagine the attitude he held toward Ma Junyi’s birth father.

Yet, since the marriage was founded on mutual interest, he dared not mistreat the Ming ge’er either.

But such restraint only deepened his resentment.

After the Ming ge’er passed away, Ma Junyi’s father no longer faced any restraint. With the help of family connections, he rose from a low-ranking bureaucrat to a fourth-rank official—his career thriving.

The family no longer needed the Ming clan’s support, and he began to follow his own heart freely—cherishing his beloved second wife while neglecting the son of his late spouse.

Qi Beinan, over the past two years, had already heard bits of this story. He knew Ma Junyi’s family was of high standing, but back when they studied in Ling County, he had sensed that something was amiss.

Still, classmates seldom pried into one another’s family affairs, so the matter remained unspoken.

Now, hearing the full story, he found it unsurprising.

Such marriages were common among great families; what was uncommon was the affection within them.

For when husband and wife lacked harmony, it was always the children who suffered.

Qi Beinan said, “If life were perfect from the start, one would never know what perfection means. Only when there are flaws can we understand what wholeness is worth.”

“Brother Ma grieves for lacking his father’s affection—that is your pain. My father treated me kindly when I was young, but he left this world too early—that is mine.”

“Then there’s a friend of mine—his parents are both alive and their family lives in harmony. But they are poor; meals are uncertain, and though he and the girl he loves care for each other, he fears she would suffer hardship with him. So he let her go. That is his regret.”

Qi Beinan looked at Ma Junyi. “When we meet others, we see only the bright side of their lives, and think we alone bear sorrow. But everyone has their hidden griefs.

Since this is true for all, why not cherish what we have and strengthen ourselves?”

“Strengthen ourselves…” Ma Junyi repeated quietly.

“Yes,” Qi Beinan said. “Strengthen yourself, and never treat yourself with neglect. Only then can you mend what is missing.”

“Brother Ma, you were born with more than most. Why not use what you have to carve out your own place in the world? Once you build your own world, you’ll no longer be bound by your father’s disregard.”

Yes… what was the point of chasing after a man’s approval who never cared whether he succeeded or failed?

Hearing Qi Beinan’s words, the bitterness that had weighed on Ma Junyi’s chest began to dissolve.

“Thank you, Brother Qi. No one has ever spoken with me so deeply before. I’ve gained much today.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “You were simply lost in your own storm. You’re a clear-minded person—understanding was only a matter of time.”

Ma Junyi, hearing this, felt his spirits lift and his admiration for Qi Beinan deepen.

In the past, he had often felt overshadowed by Qi Beinan’s talent and poise, which secretly stung his pride. But after this conversation, he found himself truly impressed—and respectful.

A man like Qi Beinan, he thought, would be wasted as just a casual acquaintance.

If only they could become kin—how perfect that would be.

The thought that had faded in him before now rekindled like rain on parched soil.

Perhaps he shouldn’t have given up so easily on pursuing Xiao Yuanbao.

If the boy felt their families were mismatched, he should show that he didn’t care about such things—that sincerity might yet move him.

His father didn’t care about him, and likely wouldn’t meddle in his marriage either.

After all, he was nearly twenty, and his father had never once brought up the topic of arranging a match.

If his father wouldn’t plan for him, then he would plan for himself—he would marry for affection, not convenience, never to repeat his father’s cold marriage.

Qi Beinan, seeing Ma Junyi’s eyes clear of their former gloom, was quietly pleased.

Then Ma Junyi, somewhat embarrassed but sincere, said, “Brother Qi, meeting you feels like fate long delayed—I only regret that we are not kin.”

Qi Beinan’s brow lifted slightly.

Brothers calling each other “brother” was normal among men, but “kin”? That was unusual.

He sensed something beneath the words—something faintly suggestive.

He wasn’t sure if he was imagining it, but hearing such phrasing, he couldn’t help but think twice.

After all, though Xiao Yuanbao had already clearly expressed his feelings through Ming Guanxin, and Ma Junyi hadn’t approached him again, Qi Beinan still preferred to make certain.

He decided to add another layer of precaution himself.

“Brother Ma is an insightful man,” Qi Beinan said with a calm smile. “I enjoy the company of such people. To joke a little—if I had a sister or brother, I would truly wish to make kinship with Brother Ma.”

Ma Junyi, who had meant to test the waters with that remark, froze for a moment upon hearing this reply.

Ma Junyi quickly forced a smile and said to Qi Beinan, half-jesting, “Brother Qi must be teasing me with polite words. You clearly have a ge’er at home—how could you and I possibly become kin?”

Qi Beinan: “…”

So he had sensed it right after all! Whoever claimed men were less perceptive than women and ge’er clearly hadn’t met Ma Junyi.

Since the words had already been spoken, Qi Beinan decided not to beat around the bush any longer. Taking the chance, he said calmly, “Xiao Bao is not merely my younger brother. We have been betrothed since childhood. Once he reaches the proper age and I pass the provincial exam, we’ll be married.”

Ma Junyi: “…”

The smile he’d worn under the pretense of humor froze instantly on his face.

What he had thought was long-awaited rain after a drought turned out to be a scorching fire poured on dry land.

A bitter taste rose in his mouth. “Then when the time comes,” he said stiffly, “you must call me to drink your wedding wine.”

His cousin truly was something—how could he have not known about such an important matter and let him daydream like a fool?

“Of course,” Qi Beinan replied evenly.

After that, neither man spoke again.

The two sat side by side in the carriage, the air thick with an indescribable awkwardness.

The once-crisp cold melon had lost its sweetness; the ice in the basin melted away, and the heat grew heavier inside the carriage.

Just as Qi Beinan was considering how to break the silence, the carriage suddenly lurched to a halt, throwing both men forward.

“What happened?”

The convoy erupted in confusion.

Everyone leaned out their windows to look.

Up ahead stood an old man with a bundle on his back, looking frightened and exhausted, as if he’d been traveling from afar.

He asked nervously, “Are you scholars bound for the prefectural capital to sit the exams?”

“We are,” Ma Junyi replied from the front carriage. “Do you need water, old sir?”

“Don’t go! Don’t go!” the old man cried. “There are killers near Bainiao Temple—they attacked scholars heading to the exam!”

“If your convoy keeps forward, you might meet the same fate!”

At that, all the students’ faces changed. “The xiangshi is a national affair!” one of them shouted. “Old man, mind your words—spreading lies to hinder the exams is a serious crime!”

“I mean no harm,” the old man said, agitated. “If the gentlemen don’t believe me, so be it.” He clutched his bundle and turned to leave.

Ma Junyi frowned, glancing toward Qi Beinan.

Qi Beinan quickly called out, “Don’t be angry, sir. My classmate spoke out of shock, not accusation.”

He motioned for Ma Junyi to wait and stepped down from the carriage. Taking a water flask, he handed it to the old man. “The weather is hot, and the road long—have some water and rest your throat. Please, tell us clearly what happened up ahead.”

Seeing Qi Beinan’s courtesy, the old man accepted the flask and drank before speaking. “I came from Huai Township. Before I even reached the main road, I saw a gang of bandits—bearded men with long knives hanging from their arms—hiding in the hills. They don’t rob ordinary travelers, only the scholars heading for the exam!”

“I saw one scholar, riding in a carriage, dragged out and beaten bloody before being thrown into the river. I was so terrified I hid in the fields until they were gone. When I finally dared to crawl out, the scholar had already been carried off by the current—alive or dead, I couldn’t tell.”

The old man trembled at the memory.

Qi Beinan noticed dried water stains on his trouser legs and mud clinging to his straw sandals. The signs fit his story—he didn’t seem to be lying.

“Do you know which direction they went?” Qi Beinan asked.

“Toward Pingzhou,” the old man said. “If they’re targeting scholars, they might be lying in wait on that very road.”

Even though he had no scholar sons himself, the old man’s face showed genuine fear. To see such brazen violence in broad daylight—his heart was chilled.

Qi Beinan questioned him a bit more, then gave him another flask of water and several meat cakes for the road before sending him on his way.

The scholars, watching the honest old man depart, felt their hearts tighten with unease.

Qi Beinan thought back carefully. After the celestial anomaly earlier that year, there had indeed been unrest in several regions.

He vaguely remembered hearing that bandits had attacked scholars during the xiangshi in some provinces.

When he had tested in Jinling, the reports spoke of trouble only in remote counties.

Jinling was prosperous and heavily guarded—no brigand would dare stir trouble there.

But out here, in smaller places like Ling County… yes, it was entirely possible.

Seeing Qi Beinan deep in thought, silent for some time, the others grew even more nervous.

They were scholars, used to peaceful study, not bloodshed. To see even the calm, steady Qi Beinan fall quiet made their fear worse.

“Brother Beinan,” one asked, “could this really be true? How could anyone dare attack scholars during the exams? Are they mad?”

Another spoke up. “Do you remember last year, when the magistrate caught those men spreading seditious rumors and rousing commoners to rebellion? Maybe this is the same lot—now preying on scholars instead.”

Panic spread among the group. “Then what should we do?”

Qi Beinan hesitated, then said gravely, “Better to doubt a rumor than to ignore a warning. The exams are important—but staying alive to take them another day matters more.”

“Brother Beinan is right,” one of the scholars said. “But if we turn back now, won’t this year’s provincial exam be wasted?”

“Don’t panic, everyone,” another replied. “Fortunately, we’re traveling together—none of us are alone.”

Qi Beinan said calmly, “We have no weapons, no trained fighters, and no idea how many men they number. If we truly run into them, do any of you have confidence we’ll come out alive?”

At that, everyone fell silent.

No matter how tall a scholar might be, he was no match for a man trained in arms.

Qi Beinan knew a bit of fighting, but he could hardly claim he could protect others in a real encounter.

“Then should we turn back and prepare again?” someone suggested.

But they had already crossed out of Ling County’s borders. Turning back now would mean losing precious time—and likely missing the xiangshi.

They had grown careless, thinking that since they’d traveled to Pingzhou before and knew the route, they could afford to leave later. No one had foreseen danger on the road.

After much discussion, they decided that safety must come first and agreed to return.

Just as they were about to turn their carriages around, a group of men escorting cargo appeared from behind.

“Why are you gentlemen turning back?” the leader called out.

Ma Junyi hurried forward to speak with them.

“Bah!” the burly leader spat when he heard the rumor. “Those bastards dare attack scholars? Cowards! If they’ve got any guts, why not cause trouble at the yamen? Picking on the weak—shameless!”

He straightened up and added, “We’re a team of guards escorting goods to Pingzhou. If you scholars are worried, why not travel with us?”

“Truly?” the scholars exclaimed in relief.

“We’ve got weapons and aren’t afraid of bandits!” the man said with a grin. “If we meet them, I’ll teach them what a peaceful day is worth—with my fists!”

Seeing the guards’ strong builds and confident demeanor, the scholars were quickly reassured.

Qi Beinan considered it carefully. Returning home would waste time, and they were unlikely to find better protection than these biaoshi. So he agreed.

Still, cautious as ever, he suggested that everyone trade clothes with the guards. The scholars would disguise themselves as escorts, so as not to stand out.

Qi Beinan, tall and broad-shouldered, lacked the frail air of the classroom. Once he bound his sleeves and tied a strip of cloth across his forehead, he truly looked the part of a guard.

He walked near the front with the biaoshi, while the more delicate students stayed in the middle of the convoy.

Zhao Guangzong, sturdy enough, helped drive one of the carriages.

Ma Junyi, ever well-dressed, remained inside, posing as a merchant noble.

“Sir, that blue robe of yours looks fine indeed—truly the attire of a learned man.”

Qi Beinan turned. A youth of fifteen or sixteen stood beside him—broad-shouldered, tall, with thick brows and bright eyes.

“Foolish brat,” the biaotou (head guard) scolded with a laugh. “You think it’s the robe? You’ve no eye—it’s the man’s bearing that makes it fine. Pay the gentleman no mind, sir; the boy knows little.”

“No offense taken,” Qi Beinan said with a slight smile. “If you like the robe, I’ll trade with you. I think this guard’s garb suits me better—it feels rather heroic.”

“Thank you, sir!” the boy beamed and playfully punched the air.

His punch cut cleanly through the air—a move full of strength. Qi Beinan noted it instantly: this boy was well-trained.

“How old are you?” Qi Beinan asked.

“Call me Qin Jiang, sir,” the boy said proudly. “I’m thirteen.”

Qi Beinan looked surprised. “I thought you were fifteen or sixteen. You’re well-grown for your age.”

“I started running escort routes with my father when I was eight,” Qin Jiang said. “I’ve traveled north and south—guess it helped me grow up quicker.”

Qi Beinan nodded. “You’re a capable young man indeed.”

The biaotou laughed. “Don’t praise him too much, sir. The boy’s tough, that’s all. If I had another choice, I wouldn’t have him running escorts in wind and frost. If only he could find a post guarding a proper household—that’d be better than this life.”

Qi Beinan said, “Hardship builds skill. It’s no easy life, but what he’s learning now will serve him well one day.”

Traveling with the biaoshi was tiring but peaceful.

After several days, they finally arrived safely in Pingzhou.

The scholars thanked the escort team profusely, exchanging names and promising to repay the favor once the exams were over.

Settled in the residence Ma Junyi’s family had rented in advance, the group finally let out a breath of relief after days of tension.

Ma Junyi said with a laugh, “We’ve shared life and death together—truly an experience to remember.”

Zhao Guangzong added, “Indeed. Something to tell for years to come.”

They all laughed.

That night, Qi Beinan sat by lamplight writing a letter home to report his safety.

Zhao Guangzong entered carrying a lantern. “Still not finished?”

“Almost,” Qi Beinan said, eyes still on the paper. When he finally set down his brush and turned, he found Zhao Guangzong holding a quilt.

“What’s that for?”

Zhao Guangzong spread the bedding on the couch. “After what happened on the road, I’m still a bit on edge. I’ll stay here tonight.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “You’re a grown man, still afraid of shadows? You’ll have people laughing at you.”

“Easy for you to say! At dinner, you were the one saying that old man might have been lying to scare us. Yet now, after all that, how can anyone sleep easy?”

But before Qi Beinan could answer, Zhao Guangzong had already wrapped himself in the blanket and fallen fast asleep.

After days of tension and exhaustion, he’d finally relaxed—and sleep came swiftly.

Qi Beinan glanced toward the window. The bright moonlight shone through, and the branches of a cassia tree swayed gently in the wind.

He wondered if the moon over Ling County was just as luminous tonight.

Letting out a slow breath, he realized he had changed.

If this had been years ago, he would’ve charged headlong at any danger—hot-blooded, unthinking, determined to fight.

Now, he had chosen caution, even turning back midway if needed, all for the sake of safety.

He smiled faintly to himself. Perhaps it was because he had made a promise—to return safely.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 71: Reborn to Raise My Husband

That morning, Master Ming personally came to the Qi residence, bringing the silk fabrics the merchant caravan had purchased — both to deliver the materials and to express his thanks to Qi Beinan for the profitable deal.

The servants, moving briskly, carried in two large chests.

“The silk weavers are from a manor under Yunzhong County in Bingzhou,” said Ming Da. “When the caravan reached the county, they sent people to make inquiries and contact them — that’s how the deal was made.”

Ming Da spoke with visible satisfaction. “The caravan leader sent word back, saying Yunzhong County is a remote little place in Bingzhou, rarely visited by traders. If we hadn’t gotten your specific tip before setting out, who would’ve guessed such fine goods were hidden in a small backwater?”

“In winter, few people buy silk. Those silk weavers could hardly sell a few bolts. They were planning to store the goods until next spring, when the weather turned warm and business would pick up.”

“But holding unsold goods makes one uneasy. So when our caravan came to negotiate, they were willing to sell what they had — turning it into silver and restocking later.”

At his signal, Ming Da had the servants open the chests so he and Qi Beinan could examine the fabrics. “This cloth is called Wanyue Silk — ‘Silk of the Waning Moon.’ Just as you said, under moonlight it shimmers like rippling water.”

“Even as a layman, I can tell under daylight how fine this fabric is — imagine how it must look under the moon.”

Qi Beinan lifted a bolt of the smooth, translucent silk and looked at it closely. The last time he had seen such material was years ago, when he traveled to the capital to sit for the imperial exams.

That year, he entered the grand and bustling city weary from travel; the moon was already high. From the upper stories of the buildings, he had seen someone dressed in this very fabric, bathed in moonlight — like Chang’e herself descending from the Palace of the Moon — a sight that had left him spellbound.

Qi Beinan said, “To wear such finery in spring warmth, drinking wine and admiring flowers under moonlight — it’s dazzling just to imagine.”

Ming Da laughed. “Master Qi, you have an eye for beauty. Brother Xin loves fine fabrics and has the sharpest taste — once he saw this silk, he insisted I set aside half a chest for him.”

He was curious how Qi Beinan had known that in a distant estate under Bingzhou County there would be such fine goods.

But curiosity was one thing — he was no fool. He knew better than to pry.

Qi Beinan was clearly no ordinary man; such information came from his own channels.

To question rashly might make him suspicious or take offense — neither was wise.

No matter how he came by the news, the important part was that Qi Beinan had given him the deal. There was no need to chase its origin.

Changing the subject, Ming Da said, “When our caravan negotiated with the silk weavers, the price settled at two guanper bolt. With the one hundred guan you invested, you received fifty bolts of fabric.”

He produced the purchase ledger and handed it to Qi Beinan for review.

Qi Beinan already had a sense of Wanyue Silk’s worth. The first time he’d seen it, he had wanted to buy a bolt to send to Xiao Yuanbao, but at the time, it had become all the rage in the capital — prices had soared to over ten guan per bolt.

Funds had been tight then, and he still needed to send goods to Ling County — the travel costs alone were considerable — so he’d given up on the idea.

Now, at two guan per bolt, the price was a bargain.

Even ordinary middle-grade silks in the city, of older weave or pattern, sold for three to four guan a bolt. Wanyue Silkmight not be of top grade, but its novelty made it well worth the purchase.

Still, Qi Beinan could see the numbers clearly: this low price was possible for two reasons. First, the silk had not yet circulated widely in the market, so its price had not risen.

And second, the silk weavers’ trade was still unstable. Encountering a powerful merchant house like the Ming family — capable of buying out their entire stock at once — they had gladly agreed to sell cheaply.

Such a transaction would not be a one-time deal; both sides would naturally draw up a long-term contract for future supply.

That was why the price had been brought down so favorably.

It was good to rest under a big tree’s shade — and Qi Beinan had wisely positioned himself under the Ming family’s tree.

“I’ve long been acquainted with Master Ming’s family,” Qi Beinan said lightly. “And I’ve always trusted the integrity of your trade.”

He glanced at the ledger. Though he only seemed to skim it, his eyes had already taken in every figure. “If I hadn’t trusted you, I wouldn’t have shared such a fine opportunity with you.”

Closing the ledger, he handed it back. “Wouldn’t you agree, Master Ming?”

Ming Da laughed heartily. “Master Qi speaks true. I’m honored you think well of me.”

Then he raised a hand, and an attendant stepped forward carrying a red lacquer box trimmed with gold.

Presenting it to Qi Beinan, Ming Da said, “Since you’ve spoken of friendship, allow me to call upon that friendship once more. This trade can be a long-term one — but how successful it becomes depends on a small favor from you.”

“Good goods will always make their way to fame. But if Wanyue Silk starts appearing in every fabric shop, it won’t be long before its exclusivity fades.”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly — he understood perfectly.

Ming Da was a businessman; he recognized profit when he saw it. With Wanyue Silk still unknown outside Bingzhou, there was a window before others learned of it. During that time, he could sell it alone — not only in nearby counties, but even in the prefectural capital Jiangzhou, where nobles and wealthy patrons gathered.

The rarer and more expensive the item, the better it sold among the elite.

Qi Beinan opened the box Ming Da had presented. Inside, red silk lining gleamed beneath four gold bars.

Each bar weighed about ten taels — the equivalent of one hundred guan of silver. Four bars meant four hundred guan in total.

He said nothing and simply placed the red lacquer box on the tea table.

Ming Da, unable to read Qi Beinan’s thoughts, said, “I know that if not for the friendship between our two families, Master Qi would never have chosen to work with the Ming family on such a fine venture.

“I sincerely wish to safeguard this business route. If you think this token of sincerity is too little, name your price. Should you agree, only your family and mine will handle the Wanyue Silk trade in Ling County — wouldn’t that be splendid?”

Qi Beinan remained perfectly composed. He saw Ming Da’s attempt at temptation for what it was and was not swayed.

Indeed, if only the two of them monopolized the Wanyue Silk trade, it would yield long-term profit.
But, as always, the foundation at home was still thin — and silk trading demanded large capital.

Moreover, who could guarantee that dealing in silk would only ever mean Wanyue Silk?
If they were weavers making it themselves, exclusivity might be worth pursuing.
But since they merely bought it from distant suppliers, there were too many risks along the way.

If they tried to trade other silks as well — setting aside whether they had the silver to invest — even if they did, they had never run a silk business before. How could they manage it properly in the long run?

“I am not a merchant,” said Qi Beinan. “I have no intention of entering long-term trade. As for you, Master Ming, I suspect your ambitions for Wanyue Silk reach farther than Ling County.”

Ming Da gave an embarrassed chuckle. He had long known Qi Beinan was not a simple man — and now again he sensed the sharp mind behind that calm face, not one easily influenced.

“Master Qi is truly perceptive — nothing escapes your eyes.”

Qi Beinan replied, “Master Ming’s long-term foresight is exactly what a merchant should have. After all, if a merchant doesn’t seek profit, what else is there to seek?”

“Truth be told, it’s not difficult for others to find the Wanyue Silk source if they wished. I can tell you frankly, the person who told me of this route doesn’t even live in Linzhou and has no interest in trade.”

He went on, “But just because I don’t spread word doesn’t mean others can’t learn of it by other paths. When that happens, what then?”

Ming Da caught the hint immediately and was delighted.

“Master Qi need not worry. As long as you promise to keep silent, I have my own means of precaution. I can guarantee that, for a time at least, only our two houses will trade Wanyue Silk.”

“And should the route ever be discovered, I will never believe you to be the one who leaked it.”

Qi Beinan said, “It’s best we speak clearly now — for everyone’s peace of mind. If any mishap occurs, let neither side ruin goodwill with suspicion.

“To that end, I’ll accept your gesture, Master Ming.”

Ming Da was overjoyed.

“To deal with someone as straightforward and sensible as Master Qi — truly refreshing.”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly. “Please, Master Ming, have some tea.”

Ming Da left with brisk steps that morning; by afternoon, the intermediary for the Du family’s trade arrived.

The merchant caravan had returned smoothly with fine goods, though Qi Beinan’s investment would only yield profit once the goods were sold.

The caravan, however, sent a chest of items ahead as a courtesy gift.

Qi Beinan tipped the intermediary half a 吊 of coins, then opened the chest with Xiao Yuanbao.

Inside was an assortment of goods, neatly arranged despite their variety — a dazzling array of everything imaginable.

Cosmetics and toiletries commonly used by women and ge’er: rouge, jade-powder foundation, lip balm, facial wash, bath beans, rose alkali, and perfumes;

Color threads, flower-hairpins, powder boxes, combs, embroidered handkerchiefs;

For the household — copper vine-pattern hand warmers, iron lotus-shaped candle holders, red and white candles;

For scholars — writing brushes, decorative stationery, ink basins, bookmarks;

And even toys for children — Shengguan Tu game boards, clay whistles, nine-ring puzzles, pitch-pot sets, puppets, and more.

“I never knew caravans brought back so many different things!”

Xiao Yuanbao spent over an hour unpacking and admiring the contents, still not finished looking.

The goods were purchased from other prefectures — not as costly as silk, where one bolt could cost several guan — but all practical household items.

Many designs were unseen in the county — stylish, pretty, and useful, who wouldn’t like them?

“As long as the land stays peaceful and there are no bandits, caravans will keep bringing goods from other regions,” said Qi Beinan. “We just never saw them before because we lived in the countryside and rarely visited town.”

Xiao Yuanbao sniffed the powder, smelled the bath beans, smiling in delight.

“I’ve heard of merchant fairs in the city before, but never got to go. Now that the caravan delivers fine goods straight to our house — isn’t that even better?”

“I was just worrying what to give Second Sister for her wedding — now, with all these lovely things, that’s one less worry.”

“And with the New Year coming, we’ll have plenty of social calls and gift exchanges. When others bring gifts, we’ll have to return them.”

“If the storeroom’s empty, that’s awkward. Buying gifts right before the year’s end — prices rise on everything, the quality worse, the cost higher.”

Clutching the new items, Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t bear to set them down. “With these fine goods, when I give presents, people’s eyes will light up!”

Qi Beinan laughed. “No one manages a household’s affairs better than you.”

“Just pick what you’d like to send as gifts,” he said. “If you find you like these things, next time the Du family’s caravan departs, give them some silver and have them bring back another chest.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded in agreement, then said, “Wanyue Silk is precious. Though it’s meant for sale, I still want to keep four bolts for ourselves.

“One for Madam Feng—she’s seen all kinds of fine things in her life, but this new silk is truly special; she’ll surely appreciate it. One as a wedding gift for Second Sister. One for Sister Gui. Brother Xin’s household already has plenty of Wanyue Silk—ours came from his home to begin with—so there’s no need to send more there. And one more for Teacher.”

Qi Beinan, hearing Xiao Yuanbao’s plan, nodded. “Those are all fitting gifts. But knowing Mr. Jiang’s temperament, he likely won’t accept a gift outright. Better to have a set of clothes made for him in his size—he’ll find that easier to accept.”

Xiao Yuanbao widened his eyes. “Brother, you always think things through! Then let’s keep one more bolt—we should have clothes made for ourselves too.”

“Brother doesn’t like bright colors,” he added, “but I saw one in a soft jade-white shade that isn’t too flashy.”

Qi Beinan waved a hand. “I’m a man; I’ve no need to wear clothing that glows under the moonlight. You should keep two bolts for yourself instead.”

After some discussion, the two decided to keep eight bolts of Wanyue Silk in total.

By the fifteenth day of the twelfth lunar month, the county town was ablaze with red lanterns strung up along the streets. Shops on both sides were festooned with festive decorations.

In the chill of winter, that splash of red warmth made the streets feel almost cozy.

That morning, the merchant caravans that had gone out began setting up stalls across town, shouting their wares from their wagons.

Qi Beinan was on leave, and with the cold weather, he had risen late. While he and Xiao Yuanbao were eating mutton dumplings, they could faintly hear the hawkers’ cries outside.

The large merchant houses had rented dozens of street stalls in the market, setting them up together to sell New Year’s goods.

The town was freezing, but people flocked to the market to buy gifts and curiosities, crowding into the warmth of the festivities.

Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao weren’t going merely for the fun of it—they also wanted to see how the businesses they were involved with were doing.

After breakfast, they wrapped themselves in thick cloaks and walked to the market.

The skies were dry—no rain, no snow—but the cold still bit sharply in the alleys, their breath turning into clouds of white mist as they spoke.

In winter, there were no chirping insects or birds—only the popping of firecrackers set off by mischievous children. The sound lent the streets a sense of lively warmth instead of desolation.

By the time they arrived, the market was already bustling.

Several caravans had laid out their stalls—food, clothing, daily wares—everything imaginable. The sight dazzled the eyes.

Each small stand had two clerks calling to customers. Townsfolk wandered happily from one stall to another, searching for good deals amid the noise and laughter.

Thanks to Qi Beinan’s introductions, the Du family’s caravan had brought back many new and practical goods this year. Their stall was crowded, business booming—they’d made dozens of sales already.

Because of the crowd, four constables were stationed nearby to maintain order.

Having been well-treated by the merchants, the constables were now eating wontons and mutton soup at a nearby noodle stall.

Xiao Yuanbao wore a pair of white rabbit-fur earmuffs and kept his hands tucked in his sleeves.

Standing beside Qi Beinan, he was shielded from the wind and didn’t feel cold at all.

But being shorter, he couldn’t see much beyond the crowd. Finally, he climbed onto a small stone pedestal at the edge of the street.

From his new perch, he could see the whole scene at once.

Qi Beinan looked at him—now just as tall as himself atop the stone—and couldn’t help but smile. Worried he might slip, he steadied Xiao Yuanbao by holding his arm.

“Yo, Old Ming, back again this year for the fun, eh?”

A line of porters came slowly down East Street carrying heavy crates. Their procession made quite a stir as they passed by the Mu family’s fabric stall, heading for an open space nearby to set up their own booth.

The Mu family’s shopkeeper, who was supervising his clerks, couldn’t resist teasing Ming Da.

“So, did all those tables and stools from last year finally sell? No matter if you’re just bringing out the leftovers—it’s all for the market’s liveliness, after all.”

Each year, when the caravans returned, all the merchant families gathered here to sell their goods. The place was always packed, and the Ming family would never pass up such an opportunity to display their wares.

However, their main trade was timber—furniture, cabinets, and chairs. The goods were large and heavy, attracting plenty of spectators but few buyers.

Every year their stall ranked among the least profitable, earning them plenty of mockery.

“We’re all here for the bustle—why shouldn’t I join in?” Ming Da said easily this year, more confident than before.

Master Mu laughed. “That’s the spirit, Old Ming. If it were me, I wouldn’t bother hauling all that weight here just to lug it back home unsold. One wrong knock, and you end up breaking your own wares. What’s the point?”

The other merchants nearby chuckled at the banter.

Ming Da said nothing, only glanced at Master Mu.

He thought to himself, Laugh while you can. I’ll see if you’re still smiling later.

Master Mu, seeing Ming Da return silently to his booth, assumed he’d been embarrassed and let out a smug chuckle before calling out to his customers again.

“Come, ladies, come! Have a look at our latest fabrics from Yangzhou Prefecture—most fashionable and fine!”

“What’s the price for this fine silk?”

“Five guan for you, Madam. In Yangzhou, ladies of your grace all wear silk this fine—it would suit you perfectly.”

No sooner had Master Mu’s clerk finished speaking than the Ming family’s stall began shouting from across the way.

“This way, this way—new, top-quality silk fabrics!”

“Old Master, the Ming family’s selling cloth this year too!”

“What, the lumber traders couldn’t keep their timber business afloat? Now they’re meddling in my fabric trade as well?”

Hearing the cries, Master Mu pushed his own assistants aside to peer forward. “I have to see this—what cheap goods they’ve scraped up to pass off as fine!”

“New silk from Yangzhou—glimmers under moonlight! It’s called Wanyue Silk!”

The Ming family had chosen a lively-tongued clerk who stood on a tall stool, describing the fabric in vivid tones.

Soon, the crowd of curious townsfolk gathered before the stall. The clerk clapped his hands, and out came a woman and a young ge’er, both dressed in newly tailored Wanyue Silk garments.

The light, thin silk floated softly over the embroidered underlayers—elegant and graceful.

Then two assistants brought four lanterns and shone them upon the models. Instantly, the silk shimmered faintly, sparkling like dusted silver powder under the light.

It was not harsh or dazzling—just a soft gleam, delicate as starlight. For a moment, the silk upon their shoulders looked like radiant wings.

“What you hear may deceive—but what you see tells the truth! Come touch it yourself—one of a kind! Limited stock—first come, first served!”

“Buy a bolt now, have a skilled tailor make it into a robe—come spring, wear it for flower viewing; come summer, it’ll be light and cool!”

The women browsing at the Mu family’s stall turned to look. One of them tossed down the cloth in her hands. “Yours doesn’t look like the new Yangzhou silks at all. That Wanyue Silk over there must be the real thing.”

She hurried off toward the Ming family’s stall.

“Hey—don’t go!” cried the Mu family’s assistants, but no one stayed. The crowd drifted toward the new silk, eager to see.

Master Mu stood dumbfounded. Even as a cloth dealer himself, he could tell that fabric was extraordinary.

How had Ming Da, a timber merchant, managed to get such stock? It irked him deeply that an outsider had seized such a profitable opportunity.

He frowned, suddenly recalling something—back in autumn, a drifter had come saying someone wanted to partner with the Mu family’s caravan for a new kind of silk.

They’d claimed it was made in a distant place, gleamed under moonlight, rare and beautiful, not yet known to the public, and cheap at that.

At the time, he’d been busy with the caravan’s departure and dismissed the messenger as a talker, thinking, I’m one of the top cloth merchants in the neighboring counties. My caravans go to and from Yangzhou—I’d surely have heard of such silk if it truly existed.

He’d thought it just idle boasting and brushed it off.

Now seeing it for himself, he realized there truly was such a product—and his heart twisted with regret.

Qi Beinan, watching the scene, said with a faint smile, “Master Ming does know how to draw a crowd—bringing in two good-looking models to show the fabric. Makes it hard not to buy.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “That’s definitely Brother Xin’s idea. He mentioned it to me a few days ago but wouldn’t explain—just told me to come watch the show.”

“The children of merchant families truly have quick minds. At his age, he already knows how to sell.”

The market was now roaring with voices, and though they couldn’t hear the details, it was clear the Ming family’s silk was selling briskly.

Xiao Yuanbao spotted a woman leaving the crowd, her maid carrying two bolts of Wanyue Silk. He stepped forward and asked, “Madam, that color you chose is stunning—may I ask the price?”

“It’s the Wanyue Silk they’re selling over there—the first time it’s appeared in the county. Eight guan a bolt.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes widened. “That high?!”

The woman replied, “It may not be top-grade silk, but it’s certainly above average. Since it was brought by caravans from Yangzhou, of course it’s pricier than common silk.”

“If you sent someone to Yangzhou to buy quality silk yourself, you’d have to pay for their travel and tips—it wouldn’t be much cheaper than this.”

“You’re right, Madam,” said Xiao Yuanbao, slightly crestfallen.

The woman smiled. “Well, I must be going. If you like it, have your husband buy a bolt for you before the colors sell out.”

She glanced at Qi Beinan, then added with a knowing tone, “Such fine material will vanish fast.”

Xiao Yuanbao pursed his lips. Why do people always say things like that? Do we really look that much like a pair?

It wasn’t the first time people had mistaken them for a couple—but he no longer blushed or panicked like before.

Watching the woman walk away, he turned to Qi Beinan, stretched out his hand, and whispered, “Buy it for me.”

Qi Beinan’s lips curved. He lightly tapped Xiao Yuanbao’s palm. “Am I your husband now, that I should buy you silk?”

Xiao Yuanbao blinked. “I never said you were my husband. But you are my brother, aren’t you? Can’t my brother buy it for me, only a husband or wife can?”

Qi Beinan couldn’t help but laugh.

“Fine,” he said. “I’ll buy it for you.”

He began to lead Xiao Yuanbao toward the stall, but the younger man grabbed his sleeve in alarm.

“I was joking!”

Qi Beinan said, amused, “What’s wrong with joining the fun?”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes went wide. “We’ve got plenty at home—what’s the point of joining in? Eight guan! Are you trying to bankrupt us?!”

Qi Beinan stopped in his tracks, a trace of regret in his eyes.

“Should we take this opportunity to sell our stock too?”

“If we were to sell all forty-two bolts at the same price as the Ming family, even after deducting the one hundred guanspent to purchase them, we’d still make more than two hundred guan in profit.”

“No rush,” said Qi Beinan. “Let the market open fully first. When the weather turns warm, that’s when we’ll sell. By then, the price may have risen further.”

Xiao Yuanbao looked worried. “It’s good to let Master Ming make a name for the Wanyue Silk first, but he’s got more bolts in stock than we do. Once everyone in town has bought their share, we might have trouble selling ours.”

Qi Beinan replied, “The first batch of Wanyue Silk wasn’t large. The Ming family only has twenty or thirty more bolts than we do.

“They’ve signed a contract with the silk makers and will replenish their stock later. We’ll sell ours once most of theirs is gone.

“There are far more wealthy households in this city than you imagine. When they see such fine material, they’ll buy it not just to wear but to gift.

“The kind of families who can afford Wanyue Silk are not ordinary ones. To give proper gifts, they’ll want fine things in hand. Once they see quality silk, they’ll buy extra bolts to send to friends and associates.

“As long as few people are selling Wanyue Silk, we’ll never be short of buyers.”

Xiao Yuanbao didn’t understand trade as deeply as Qi Beinan and had no better idea, so he agreed.

On the nineteenth, the two returned to the village estate, preparing to attend the wedding feast at the Fang household on the twenty-first.

The Fang family, marrying off a daughter, had freshly repaired their old earthen courtyard before year’s end—it looked quite new now.

That day, they were already decorating: hanging red cloth and lanterns, pasting double-happiness paper on the windows. The air was filled with festivity.

In their poorer days, Fang Youliang’s relatives from other towns never came to visit, but news of a wedding had drawn many early guests. The place was lively.

Xiao Yuanbao brought over his prepared wedding gift for Second Sister Fang, eager to chat with her a while.

Qi Beinan didn’t go along; he stayed at the estate reviewing the accounts.

“Why, isn’t this the Wanyue Silk everyone’s scrambling for in town?”

Second Sister Fang was wearing a bright red festive dress that day. In her room, she opened the gift and gasped.

“Bao Ge’er, this gift is far too precious! How can I accept it?”

The bolt of Wanyue Silk alone was worth several guan, not to mention the four red candles, a pair of lotus-shaped candleholders, and two silver butterfly hairpins.

“This Wanyue Silk wasn’t bought at the market price,” said Xiao Yuanbao. “Brother had it sent back early through the merchant caravan. It’s not as expensive as what’s being sold outside.”

“I know Second Sister likes warm autumn tones, so I picked the Fuguang shade. Do you like it?”

“I do. I couldn’t like it more.”

Cradling the fabric carefully, Second Sister Fang’s cheeks flushed as she said softly, “Once I’m married, I’ll have it made into a gown.”

Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t have been happier hearing that.

He had originally planned to gift her rouge, perfume, and lip color as part of her bridal set, but Qi Beinan had reminded him otherwise—her groom’s family dealt in cosmetics.

No shortage there; and since the caravan’s stock wasn’t of rare or luxury quality, giving it might not have pleased her.

So he changed those items to candles instead.

They chatted for a while, but with so many relatives outside, Second Sister had to go attend to guests, so they couldn’t talk long.

The next morning, Xiao Yuanbao came early to help comb her hair for the ceremony. Later, the groom’s wedding party arrived.

Second Sister, her face covered with a red bridal veil, was lifted into the flower sedan and carried away.

The groom, in a vivid red wedding robe, rode a mule adorned with a large red flower on its neck—a fine, handsome sight.

Xiao Yuanbao glanced toward the courtyard, where Qi Beinan stood surrounded by guests, speaking politely, calm and refined.

He couldn’t help but let his mind drift.

If… if he and Beinan Brother could ever marry…

But they already lived under the same roof—would Qi Beinan still come riding a mule to fetch him?

Probably not. He’d hardly ride out and circle the streets just to return home again.

Xiao Yuanbao shook himself from the thought and tapped his own forehead.

Of all things to think about, why this nonsense?

When he turned, he almost bumped into Qi Beinan, who had come up behind him without a sound.

“Admiring the groom that long?” Qi Beinan asked mildly.

Xiao Yuanbao answered, “Second Sister’s groom is naturally a fine match.”

Qi Beinan’s brows moved slightly. “No matter how fine, he’s someone else’s now.”

“Enough looking. Come, let’s go eat.”

On the twenty-fourth—the day of the Little New Year—the all-purpose messenger, Baishitong, came to deliver the Du family’s profit share to Qi Beinan.

Two jiaozhi banknotes, each for eighty guan.

In total, their venture with the Du family had earned eighty guan.

Qi Beinan checked the ledger; the accounts were in order, though he didn’t know if there was another book elsewhere.

Even if the Du family had skimmed some profit, it didn’t matter much—he’d made money with barely a word or effort. Whether the gain was slightly more or less made little difference.

He was only doing this one round of trade and did not intend to make it his lifelong business, so there was no need to consider his partners too deeply.

All of these ventures were simply to earn a wave of quick profit—his real goal was to build up capital for the Pingzhou investment.

Qi Beinan calculated carefully. At present, he had roughly six hundred guan in hand. Once he sold the remaining Wanyue Silk, he could earn a few hundred more.

That would bring his total to about one thousand guan of silver—enough to start operations in Pingzhou.

He asked Bai Shitong, “What’s the current price of Wanyue Silk in the market?”

Bai Shitong replied, “Master Ming’s new stock is excellent. The wealthy families in town are all scrambling for it. The price has risen by a full five hundred wen.”

Although Bai Shitong hadn’t originally known what new material Qi Beinan and the Du family had cooperated on, the moment the Ming family’s silk appeared on the market, he immediately realized that it was the same product Qi Beinan had once planned to let the Du family handle.

He couldn’t help but think back—Master Mu, once so proud, had rudely thrown him out. And now, watching a mere timber merchant like the Ming family steal all the attention in the silk trade, the Mu family must be seething with regret.

His guess wasn’t wrong. Just a few days ago, the Du family had invited him over with fine tea, speaking politely and asking him to sound out Qi Beinan—clearly hoping to get access to the Wanyue Silk supply route.

But Bai Shitong, who made his living as a broker, knew the key to survival in this trade was discretion.

If Qi Beinan had wanted to appear publicly, he would never have needed Bai Shitong as the middleman in the first place.

Naturally, Bai Shitong did not mention Qi Beinan’s name at all. He accepted the Mu family’s hospitality, promised only to inquire, and left the rest to depend on Qi Beinan’s will.

“If they’d agreed earlier,” said Qi Beinan coolly, “the business could’ve been theirs.

“But merchants who fear risk and only move once the profit is obvious—how could such easy fortune exist in this world?”

Bai Shitong said, “Master Mu asked that you name any conditions you wish.”

Qi Beinan smiled faintly. “He’s not the only one asking me to name my conditions.”

Bai Shitong immediately understood the meaning—Qi Beinan had more than one merchant vying for partnership—and he wisely fell silent.

Qi Beinan said, “You handle your affairs with tact and care.”

Bai Shitong hurried to reply, “It’s only because the Master trusts me with such an important deal. I wouldn’t dare be careless in any task connected to you.”

Qi Beinan nodded. “I’ll be relying on your skill again soon.”

Bai Shitong’s eyes lit up. “This humble one will always make your business my top priority.”

Qi Beinan rewarded him with ten guan of silver for his successful work.

After the New Year, as spring warmed the land, the price of Wanyue Silk rose again—after two flower-viewing banquets, it climbed from eight guan per bolt to over ten.

Qi Beinan heard that the Ming family’s caravan was preparing to depart, and their entire stock of Wanyue Silk had already sold out. The only bolts circulating in town were those resold by clever small merchants who had stocked up early from the Ming shop and were now profiteering.

The name of Wanyue Silk had become famous—but just as its reputation peaked, the supply ran dry.

Buyers, desperate to get their hands on it, were scouring the market like headless flies.

Though the nominal price was ten guan per bolt, resellers were charging at least two guan more for a single bolt.

Qi Beinan knew the timing was perfect. He quietly let word slip that he still had Wanyue Silk for sale.

He passed the news through two channels—Bai Shitong, who knew everyone in town, and Second Sister Fang, who moved in circles of affluent women.

That very day, Bai Shitong came to collect fifteen bolts to sell.

As someone who specialized in carrying messages and making quiet deals, he already had several people asking him daily where to buy Wanyue Silk.

Once Qi Beinan released his stock, Bai Shitong quickly distributed it among his clients—earning handsome tips from grateful buyers.

Meanwhile, Second Sister Fang’s clientele consisted of noble ladies, gentlewomen, and young ge’er—the very people most eager for fashionable fabrics.

Whenever she went to style someone’s hair, she’d drop a hint that she knew where to get Wanyue Silk, and soon everyone was asking her for introductions.

In barely ten days, all forty-two bolts in Qi Beinan’s possession were sold out.

He sold them at ten guan apiece, though he didn’t know how much Bai Shitong and Second Sister Fang had charged the final buyers—nor did he ask. Middlemen had to earn their share too.

When the accounts were tallied, the total profit was four hundred and twenty guan; after deducting the hundred guan cost, more than three hundred remained.

Qi Beinan now held a full thousand guan of capital.

At last, the matter of the Pingzhou shop was settled.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 70: Reborn to Raise My Husband

“Ever since I came to the county, I haven’t had the time to visit you two,” said Fang Youliang. “During autumn harvest, I was so busy I could barely keep upright. Every day after returning home, I’d fall straight into bed. Working county duties isn’t any easier than farming back home.”

“Now that it’s winter and the weather’s turned cold, things at the yamen have finally eased up a little. Seeing that it’s still early, I thought I’d stop by on my way.”

Fang Youliang brought along a small jug of autumn wine and some tofu.

Qi Beinan called for him to come sit in the hall. Seeing Fang Youliang still wearing his yamen uniform, he smiled and said, “I believe you now—you truly do think of us. You came straight here after work.”

“Little Bao told me he saw you in town wearing this uniform, saying you looked impressive. Seeing you now, you really do look impressive!”

“Ah, don’t make fun of me,” Fang Youliang laughed, shaking his head. “Putting on this outfit is no different than yoking a donkey or ox to a cart—it just means more work. Where’s the dignity in that?”

“During the day, it’s one thing after another. An old man storms in yelling, ‘Officer, someone took my stall!’ Then a little child comes crying, ‘Officer, I can’t find my father!’ At first, I thought this job was something grand, but after doing it long enough, my ears buzz all day long.”

“I’d rather be rotated back to guard the jailhouse—watching over prisoners is far quieter than managing street patrols.”

Qi Beinan listened as Fang Youliang went on and on about his duties, his mouth barely stopping. He was completely immersed in the affairs of his post.

Still, though his words sounded full of complaint, Qi Beinan could see that he was bright-eyed and spirited—he clearly enjoyed it.

Seeing him like this, Qi Beinan felt happy for him.

“Brother Fang, why did you bring so much tofu? Did your family secretly open a tofu shop behind our backs?”

Xiao Yuanbao opened the package Fang Youliang had brought, saying it was supposed to be just two blocks, but inside were not only two smooth white tofu blocks, there was at least half a jin of mold tofu and a stack of dried tofu.

Fang Youliang leaned in. “Ah, that Old Master Tang again! He must’ve slipped in extra without me noticing.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “So Brother Fang didn’t even know how much tofu you bought?”

“I told Old Master Tang I wanted two blocks of tofu, thinking to fry them and eat with wine. I must not have been paying attention—he packed more without saying a word.”

Xiao Yuanbao immediately sensed something interesting.

“Brother Fang said Old Master Tang sold the tofu—was it from that shop called Sweetwater Tofu House?”

“You’ve bought from them too, Bao Ge’er?”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Of course. Their tofu is the best value in town. Same quality, same price, but at Sweetwater Tofu House you get half a block more.”

“Our Liu Mama loves buying from them, and I’ve gone along twice. Old Master Tang is always warm and polite, sometimes adds a little extra—but I’ve never seen him give away this much.”

As he spoke, a smile tugged at Xiao Yuanbao’s lips and his eyes narrowed playfully.

Turning to Qi Beinan, he said, “That tofu shop—Old Master Tang and his husband have only one daughter. She’s very pretty, around twenty or so, and helps run the shop. She’s not betrothed yet~”

Qi Beinan was quick to play along, responding meaningfully, “Ah, I see. Little Bao, next time you go buy tofu, you should go with Brother Fang.”

“Oh, you two, you two!” Fang Youliang protested. “One’s a refined scholar, the other an unmarried ger—and you gossip like village women!”

He scratched his head helplessly. “It’s not like that at all. Old Master Tang runs an honest business. Some ruffians tried to take advantage of his daughter, and I happened to pass by and chased them off. Ever since then, Old Master Tang keeps thanking me and insists on giving me tofu whenever we meet.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes lit up. “Ah~ so that’s what it is! Brother, what’s that phrase again?”

Qi Beinan answered, “Hero saves the beauty.”

“Yes, yes! That’s the one! Couldn’t be more fitting~”

Fang Youliang’s face turned red from their teasing.

Seeing this, Xiao Yuanbao grabbed the tofu and said, “Brother Fang, I’ll fry this mold tofu with shrimp oil I rendered earlier—it’ll smell amazing. That way your gift won’t go to waste.”

Before Fang Youliang could respond, Xiao Yuanbao had already slipped away.

“You’re not going to stop him?” Fang Youliang complained, dropping into his seat again, exasperated. He turned to Qi Beinan, who was idly snacking on nuts, to lodge his grievance.

Qi Beinan chuckled. “He’s not wrong though. Why should I stop him? If I did, we’d have no fried tofu to eat later.”

Fang Youliang shut his mouth obediently.

“Still,” Qi Beinan said, “Brother Fang, you’re really not young anymore. I’m nearly the age you were when we first met, and look at you—still single.”

“It’s been so many years already. You should think about settling down.”

Qi Beinan took the chance to play matchmaker. “I know you don’t like hearing this, but I have to say it. A person can’t keep clinging to the past. Life’s getting better now—you should give yourself a chance to start anew.”

Whenever Fang Youliang’s family saw Qi Beinan, they would always ask him to persuade Fang Youliang to remarry.

In earlier years, Qi Beinan would still defend him, saying some things take time. But now that Fang Youliang was over thirty, he felt it was time to speak up.

“I understand what you mean. My family worries for me, but they don’t dare mention marriage. They think I’ve been held back because of them,” said Fang Youliang.

“But truthfully, I’ve never felt my family was a burden. All these years, we’ve supported one another. My parents are kind, and my younger brother and sister are sensible and well-behaved. I’ve worked hard for the family willingly.”

“You’re saying this for my own good. If I meet a good match someday, I’ll certainly give the matter proper thought.”

Qi Beinan saw that he was listening earnestly and nodded.

“Let’s put my affairs aside for now—there’s actually a piece of good news I came to share today.”

“Second Sister’s marriage with that fellow from the Rouge Shop, Feng Xiaozi, has been settled. The wedding’s set for the twentieth of the twelfth lunar month.”

Qi Beinan was delighted at the news. “I was wondering why we hadn’t seen Second Sister in a while—turns out she’s been preparing for her wedding.”

“The date was only just chosen. She’s shy, so she didn’t go around talking about it herself. She actually planned to come tell you both in person, but since I’m here today and can’t hold my tongue, I’ll just tell you ahead of time.”

“A happy thing should be shared early,” said Qi Beinan. “We’re all glad for her.”

“Will the wedding banquet be held back in the village?”

“Yeah, it’ll be held at home in the countryside.”

Xiao Yuanbao came over carrying a plate of fried fragrant tofu just as he heard the news of Second Sister’s betrothal.

He rushed up. “Should I go back and prepare the ximian’er banquet?”

“That was the plan,” said Fang Youliang, “but Second Sister said she’d rather you stay with her in her room that day—keep her company while she dresses. It’ll be her last day as an unmarried girl, and she wants to see you.”

“That’s right,” said Qi Beinan. “After she’s married, it won’t be as easy to spend time together like before. Better to keep her company on her wedding day than to be stuck in the kitchen.”

Xiao Yuanbao was overjoyed, already planning aloud. “The day’s not far off—I must prepare a wedding gift for Second Sister soon.”

Fang Youliang said, “Then, Bao Ge’er, help me think too. As her elder brother, I really don’t know what would make a good gift.”

“That’s something you’ll have to decide yourself,” said Xiao Yuanbao with a grin. “If I give you my idea, what am I supposed to do then?”

The three talked cheerfully about Second Sister’s marriage and her future husband’s family.

Over fried tofu, Qi Beinan and Fang Youliang drank quite a bit of wine.

By the time Fang Youliang left the house, the sun had already tilted westward.

The early winter air was cold; when the sun sank, the wind turned even chillier.

He pulled his coat tighter around himself. Inside, the brazier’s heat had kept him warm, but once he stepped outside, he immediately realized how comfortable that warmth had been.

A gust of wind blew past, sobering him up a little.

He strode out of the alley and onto the main street, ready to head home.

The street was nearly empty. The peddlers’ stalls had mostly closed, and only a few shopkeepers still sat behind their counters, clicking abacuses as they prepared to close up.

“Good heavens! Watch how you drive that cart—you nearly broke this old man’s bones!”

“Trying to take my life, are you~”

Following the noise, Fang Youliang saw a white-haired old man sitting on the ground, holding his back and wailing.

Behind him stood a donkey cart. A well-dressed man had hurriedly jumped down and ran over.

“Old sir, are you hurt?”

The man tried to help the old fellow up, but the old man refused, crying even louder. “You drove too fast and knocked me down! You’ll have to pay me for my injuries!”

“Old sir, our donkey is gentle. We know it’s a busy street—we were moving slowly. There’s no way we hit you.”

The old man widened his eyes. “If you didn’t hit me, why would I be lying here? Heartless man, you ran down an old fellow and won’t even admit it! Or are you thinking I’d risk my life just to extort money from you?”

The man heard how strong the old man’s voice was—it didn’t sound like someone who’d been injured at all.

Still, the old man lay right in the middle of the road, refusing to move, clearly intent on making trouble. The man could do nothing.

From the cart, a young woman holding a baby started to climb down, but the man quickly called her back, afraid the child would catch cold.

“Fine, just say how much silver you want before you’ll let us go.”

“Ten taels. Pay me, and I’ll go see a doctor—won’t delay you any longer.”

At that, the man grew angry. “Old sir, have a bit of conscience. I was willing to offer some silver out of respect for your age, but ten taels? That’s pure greed.”

“You hit a man and dare call me greedy? Is there no justice left!”

The old man began wailing again, rolling on the ground. “Oh, everyone come see! There’s been an accident! This heartless man ran me down and wants to flee~”

The man was at a loss for what to do when Fang Youliang strode forward. “Old Qin, it’s the end of the year and your bad habits are acting up again, are they?”

“If your hide’s itching, I can take you to the county yamen for a few strokes of the board.”

The old man stopped instantly. Catching sight of the sturdy Fang Youliang, he cursed his luck.

What misfortune—to run into a yamen officer at this hour.

Not daring to provoke him, the old man quickly scrambled up. “Not itching, not itching! I was just joking with this gentleman!”

With that, he scurried off down the street.

The man, seeing the situation resolved, let out a long breath. “Many thanks, Officer. If I’d met such a rascal today without you, I truly wouldn’t have known what to do.”

Fang Youliang was about to say it was no trouble at all when a cautious voice came from the cart. “Is… is that Brother Fang?”

Hearing the voice, Fang Youliang looked over — and froze in place.

A young woman stepped down from the cart joyfully, holding a child in her arms. “Brother Fang, it really is you!”

“Liu Jie’er.”

Fang Youliang looked at the familiar face and, after a moment of daze, finally smiled.

Liu’er had shed the girlish shyness of years past and now carried the fuller grace of a married woman.

Her complexion was rosy, her features soft — clearly, she was living well.

“Husband, this is a fellow townsman of mine,” Liu’er said happily, introducing Fang Youliang to the man beside her.

The man quickly bowed again in gratitude.

“I told you, there’s no need to be so polite — we’re from the same hometown,” said Fang Youliang. “It’s been years since I last saw you, Liu Jie’er. Are you back visiting family?”

“Yes,” Liu’er replied, smiling. “We came with my husband’s family this time and brought the child along to let my parents see him. They haven’t met their grandson yet.”

Fang Youliang leaned forward to look. The child was still small — about two years old — already asleep in Liu’er’s arms.

A fair, plump little boy, utterly adorable.

“He fell asleep from the long journey. Otherwise, I’d have him call you Uncle.”

The man tucked the baby’s blanket and adjusted Liu’er’s cloak for her.

Fang Youliang nodded again and again. “That’s good, that’s very good.”

“Brother Fang, when did you become an officer? You look so impressive now. If your voice hadn’t stayed the same, I might not have recognized you.”

Fang Youliang laughed. “It’s only been this year — a matter of opportunity, really.”

He wanted to say more, but after opening his mouth, decided against it.
“If, when I return to the village, you’re still here, I’ll tell you the whole story then.”

A gust of cold wind blew by. “It’s getting dark — and colder still. You and your husband have the child with you; better head back early so your family won’t worry.”

“Yes, we will. Brother Fang, when you’re back in the village, come by our home for tea.”

The man helped Liu’er back onto the cart and climbed up front to drive.

“Brother Fang, thank you again for today,” he said.

Fang Youliang nodded, waving to Liu’er and her husband as they peeked out from the cart window.

The wind rustled through the trees lining the street. The donkey cart disappeared from sight, but Fang Youliang remained standing in the cold wind for a long time, lost in thought.

At the corner, the shop selling sheep hooves hung up its lantern first — its glow flickering against the dimming sky.

Suddenly, Fang Youliang smiled. Facing the wind, he strode home with an ease he hadn’t felt in years.

It was as if a heavy stone that had pressed on his heart for so long had finally been lifted.

The feeling was almost unfamiliar — but soon, he found it comforting, light.

In the twelfth lunar month, Xiao Yuanbao visited Madam Feng’s residence several times.

With his solid foundation in cooking and quick mind, he learned new dishes fast.

After a few lessons, he had already mastered how to prepare mutton, pigeon, quail, venison, and mandarin duck.

From each type of meat, he could now make at least three different dishes.

Madam Feng told him that once he was skilled with these, she would next teach him how to handle aquatic delicacies — when the markets had more stock again.

Crab, softshell turtle, shrimp, clams, shark, and more — she listed so many varieties that Xiao Yuanbao could barely keep up.

These were dishes he had rarely, if ever, encountered before.

Each time he returned from Madam Feng’s home, he came back full of new knowledge.

At first, Madam Feng had only meant to repay a favor by casually teaching him a few things.

But over time, she truly began to enjoy his company.

Xiao Yuanbao studied earnestly. A dish she taught once, he would bring back improved the next time — proof that he practiced carefully at home.

For a teacher, nothing was more gratifying than a bright, diligent apprentice.

Beyond that, Xiao Yuanbao was thoughtful — if Madam Feng coughed, he’d bring pear soup; if her shoulders or back ached, he’d prepare ointment or medicinal wine.

Knowing she missed the street-style dishes of her youth, he would invent ways to cook them for her again.

People’s hearts are flesh, after all. Even a fifty-year-old widowed woman like her, long accustomed to the coldness of human nature, couldn’t help but feel warmth from such care.

Gradually, what began as Xiao Yuanbao visiting every seven or eight days turned into Madam Feng herself calling him over every three or five days, always with the excuse of cooking.

Xiao Yuanbao was happy to oblige.

After each lesson, Madam Feng would bring out fine pastries and sweets for him, chatting about stories from the palace and the capital, often keeping him for dinner before letting him go.

“Madam Feng treats you far too well,” Qi Beinan said one evening. “You used to be home before noon; now you come back at dusk — lately it’s nearly dark when you return. If this continues, she’ll have to set up a room for you to stay there overnight.”

Xiao Yuanbao stepped down from Madam Feng’s small sedan chair to find Qi Beinan already waiting at the gatehouse.

He ran over, the two large lanterns by the gate shining so bright they almost hurt the eyes. Qi Beinan stood tall and straight, but his expression was distinctly sour.

Xiao Yuanbao knew at once he was displeased. He reached out and touched Qi Beinan’s hand. “Brother, your hands are so warm. I froze all the way back — feels so cold outside. I think it’s going to snow!”

Hearing that, Qi Beinan wrapped his broad palms around Xiao Yuanbao’s hands, rubbing them gently to warm him up.

“Who told you to come home only after dark?”

“I’ve learned so much from Madam Feng. Her knowledge is incredible — she knows every kind of dish, every fabric, every kind of jewelry. She wanted to keep me a bit longer, and I enjoy listening to her stories.”

Qi Beinan pinched his cheek lightly — cold as ice, his nose red from the chill.

He thought, you two might enjoy yourselves, but do you ever think about anyone else?

“Madam Feng likes teaching you because you’re pleasant company. If you enjoy learning, then keep learning.”

He took Xiao Yuanbao’s hand and led him inside. “You’d better soak your hands and feet — your hands are freezing, and I can only imagine your feet.”

In early La Yue, snow fell in the city — and with it came the trade caravans that had departed in autumn.

The Ming family’s and Du family’s caravans both returned before the New Year, one after the other!

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 86: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Zeyuan was reading the letter in his hands and did not notice Lu Yao.

Lu Yao stepped forward and spoke softly, “Your Excellency, this is an urgent letter from the Abyss of Weak Water.”

The Abyss of Weak Water?

Zeyuan glanced at the black-sealed letter on the lacquered tray, took it, and replied flatly, “You may leave.”

Lu Yao raised her eyes slightly, her gaze moving from the Demon Lord’s pale fingers upward to his calm, handsome face. His long lashes trembled slightly. “Understood,” she murmured.

Zeyuan opened the letter, quickly scanned its contents, and then handed it to Xuanfeng, who was still standing expectantly nearby. “Take Mo Bao and handle this.”

Xuanfeng took the letter, opened it, and skimmed it.

As expected, it mentioned that demons and magical beasts had been gathering near the Abyss of Weak Water recently for reasons yet unclear.

But what other reason could there be?

It was clearly because His Excellency had opened a rift to the Human World there, and everyone wanted to go online.

Having worked at the internet café for a few days, Xuanfeng had registered all the demons who visited. The ones who had experienced the café were surprisingly united in their efforts to keep the rift’s existence a secret while finding ways to play.

Xuanfeng tucked the letter into his robes, turned to leave, but after a few steps, he hesitated and returned cautiously. “Your Excellency, didn’t you feel that the female official earlier was somewhat… unusual?”

Zeyuan looked up, puzzled. “Unusual in what way?”

Mo Bao jumped onto the table from Xuanfeng’s arms. “Didn’t you notice? She looked quite similar to the café’s owner.”

Zeyuan tilted his head slightly. “You mean Lu Yao?”

Xuanfeng quickly added, “Moreover, her name is also Lu Yao. I inquired with the female officials in the Hall of Diligence. It’s the same name but written with different characters.”

Zeyuan pinched the bridge of his nose, stood up, and said, “Enough. I’ll handle the Abyss of Weak Water personally.”

Xuanfeng and Mo Bao immediately followed. “Your Excellency, Mo Bao and I can handle this.”

Zeyuan waved them off, stepped out of the hall, and turned toward the Hall of Diligence.

As Xuanfeng and Mo Bao hurried after him, they muttered complaints to each other, regretting ever mentioning the female official to the Demon Lord.

…

Ni City, Sea of Tears.

Xie Zili returned to the Sea of Tears from the Xie family estate, landing on the shore with his sword.

At high tide, small waves rippled across the calm sea, slowly converging into a line.

A black box sitting on a distant sand dune caught his eye. He approached it slowly.

The box was empty.

A sudden unease surged in Xie Zili’s heart. Ignoring the box, he turned and dove into the sea.

Since his demon power awakened, Xie Zili had gained access to the ancestral memories of the merfolk in his dreams. As soon as he entered the water, his legs transformed into a silver tail.

With powerful strokes of his tail, he swam swiftly toward the crystal palace.

The crystal palace was empty. There was no sign of Jiao Niang anywhere.

Trying to stay calm, Xie Zili checked the kitchen.

Jiao Niang didn’t know how to cook. Even after living among humans for years, she preferred raw fish in the sea and rarely bothered to prepare cooked food.

After Xie Zili arrived, Jiao Niang had built a small kitchen in the palace specifically for him, using it to make porridge or stir-fry simple dishes since he couldn’t adjust to the local fare.

Now, the kitchen held no prepared food. The vegetables she had brought from the shore were scattered carelessly on the ground, their leaves yellowed, indicating they had been left untouched for days.

Xie Zili searched the entire crystal palace and the surrounding waters for any place Jiao Niang might have gone. In the end, he had no choice but to accept that Jiao Niang was gone.

Xie Zili encountered some aquatic creatures nearby and captured a few to ask about Jiao Niang.

A small shrimp said, “Jiao Niang? She went ashore carrying a black box and never returned.”

A little crab added, “It was the day you left.”

An octopus demon asked sadly, “Jiao Niang said you wouldn’t be coming back, so she gave us the palace. Are you planning to live here again?”

Xie Zili stood motionless in the center of the crystal palace, his mind swirling with confusion.

Jiao Niang hadn’t been taken by anyone; she had left on her own.

And she had said he wouldn’t return.

Recalling the past three days at the Xie family estate, a chill ran down his spine.

Jiao Niang’s concerns weren’t baseless—his grandmother and father had indeed been trying to persuade him to stay.

Now he finally understood her worries.

But she had already given up.

Jiao Niang didn’t want him anymore.

Xie Zili had always thought it was Jiao Niang who was holding him back. Only now did he realize that without her, he had nowhere to go.

As a half-demon, he was loathed by humans and unaccepted by the demon clan.

The only person who had ever truly cared for him and worried about him was Jiao Niang—his mother.

..l

Demon Realm, Demon Palace

Zhuxiang noticed Lu Yao returning from outside the hall, her expression slightly dazed, and called her over. “Did His Excellency say anything?”

Lu Yao snapped out of her thoughts and shook her head. “Lady Zhuxiang, have you heard whether His Excellency recently went to the human world?”

Since joining the Hall of Diligence, Lu Yao had proven herself exceptionally capable, skilled at fostering relationships.

The demons were naturally hot-tempered, often resolving hierarchy disputes through fights.

After joining, Lu Yao had suggested a novel reward-and-punishment system to Zhuxiang, which was now being implemented with great success.

Zhuxiang planned to let it run a bit longer before proposing it formally to His Excellency.

Today, she had deliberately sent Lu Yao to deliver the urgent letter, hoping it would give her an opportunity to appear before the Sovereign.

Zhuxiang replied, “A few days ago, Xuanfeng took Mo Bao to the human world and hasn’t returned. His Excellency was worried about Mo Bao, so he went there briefly. Why do you ask?”

Lu Yao smiled faintly and shook her head. “I was just curious about the human world. I’ve never been there.”

Zhuxiang said, “Stay here in the palace long enough, and you’ll have your chance to visit the human world. But honestly, I find it dull. Too many rules, and humans are so fragile. It’s nothing like the comfort of the Demon Realm.”

Lowering her gaze, Lu Yao murmured, “I’ve heard human women are as gentle as water, unlike demons.”

Zhuxiang laughed. “Is that all? Human men and women alike are fragile and sentimental. Some demons, drawn by novelty, go to the human world to experience their so-called love affairs, only to end up burdened with inner demons. Take my advice: don’t be curious about human romance. It’s nothing but fleeting folly.”

Lu Yao’s fingers twisted in her sleeves, her cheeks flushing slightly. “And what about His Excellency?”

Zhuxiang chuckled. “You’ve really been spoiled by the other female officials here, daring to gossip about the Sovereign. But it’s a pity—our Sovereign was born without a heart or emotions. There’s no way he could fall in love with a human woman.”

A sound from outside the hall made Zhuxiang’s expression change. She immediately stood up.

Zeyuan stepped over the threshold, scanning the hall. Not finding the person he expected, he walked straight to Zhuxiang. “Is there a female official named Lu… Lu Yao in the Hall of Diligence?”

Xuanfeng and Mo Bao followed him in, their gazes landing on the young female official standing before Zeyuan. They were momentarily confused.

Wasn’t she already standing right in front of His Excellency?

Zhuxiang, unaware of the context, thought Zeyuan’s inquiry was related to the letter she had sent with Lu Yao earlier. She quickly introduced her. “Your Excellency, this is Lu Yao, a new female official selected for the Hall of Diligence this year.”

Lu Yao twisted her fingers in her sleeves, keeping her gaze lowered as she bowed respectfully. “Female official Lu Yao greets Your Excellency.”

Zeyuan stared at her for a moment before turning to leave. “I’ll handle the urgent matter at the Abyss of Weak Water personally. Afterward, I’ll spend a few more days in the human world. Do not send any messages unless absolutely necessary.”

Once outside the Hall of Diligence, Xuanfeng and Mo Bao hurried after him, eager to see his reaction to Lu Yao.

Zeyuan frowned and glanced over, his expression calm and composed. “She looks nothing like her.”

Xuanfeng and Mo Bao were puzzled—she clearly resembled her a lot.

The Demon Lord wasn’t usually oblivious to appearances. How could he not see it this time?

Without another word, Zeyuan turned and walked out.

After all this fuss, he found himself wanting to see her even more.

Forget it. He was going to the human world.

The Sovereign’s abrupt arrival and departure left the female officials in the Hall of Diligence baffled.

Zhuxiang offered a few perfunctory words of reassurance to Lu Yao before sending her off to continue her duties.

Lu Yao silently returned to the side hall, still mulling over what had happened.

The Demon Lord was indeed as rumored—cold-hearted, indifferent, and uninterested in women.

She raised her hand and gently touched her cheek. But why had he shown no reaction at all?

…

Baixian Mountain, Interdimensional Internet Café

Lu Yao sat in the break room, a laptop on her lap.

A few days ago, most of the shopting street’s employees had taken advantage of the internal discount to purchase the marrow-cleansing pills.

Following Lu Yao’s suggestion, the employees prepared bedding and at least three days’ worth of toiletries in the break room. After taking the pills, they stayed at the café until the effects subsided.

The low-grade marrow-cleansing pills weren’t as potent as the mid-grade one Cheng Ye had taken. Employees who took them experienced abdominal pain and secretions of impurities.

But within a day, these symptoms disappeared.

In the post-production group at the Interdimensional Cinema, Gesi and Liu Tang, who were homebodies with a love for fried food and little exercise, had oily skin and acne.

On the second day after taking the pill, their acne burst, releasing a yellowish-green layer of impurities.

By the third day, their skin began to improve and scab over.

Lu Yao, worried about potential scarring, provided them with beauty-enhancing pills.

The internal trial of the marrow-cleansing pills received universally positive feedback.

Now, Lu Yao was posting a link on the VIP section of the internal network: “Marrow-cleansing pills with detoxifying and health-promoting effects. Single price: 6666.”

Little Pet Cafe, Interdimensional Cinema, and Hot Spring Inn occasionally had customers reserving relaxation services through the internal network, but they were all regulars, and the income was modest at best.

This was the first time Lu Yao had sold a non-service product like the pills and the first attempt at online sales of goods from another world. She was cautious and listed only three pills in the inventory.

The employees, seeing the new link on the VIP section, were immensely grateful for their staff discount.

Their internal purchase price had been 999 per pill.

To outsiders unaware of the value, the price might seem outrageous. But after experiencing the effects, no one doubted it was worth every spirit stone.

The results were tangible—daily fatigue and lethargy vanished, skin became smooth and radiant, sleep quality improved, and work performance was energized. Even moods were notably uplifted.

Even if the effects lasted only three months, the pills were worth trying.

After all, these pills were authentic products from the cultivation world, “hand-delivered” by the owner. That alone justified the price, and their effectiveness made it even more worthwhile.

The best feedback came from the original test subject among the employees at the Childhood Tutoring Center.

Aside from the snack shop, employees from other stores began showing interest in the pills. Seeing enthusiastic feedback in the group chat from colleagues who had tried it, even those previously disinterested couldn’t resist asking Lu Yao for some.

The salesman 444 from the Childhood Tutoring Center reported back to Lu Yao that after taking the pill, old injuries from experiments he had undergone began healing. Even more severe conditions saw significant improvement.

With reduced physical pain, his overall demeanor improved noticeably.

After obtaining Lu Yao’s permission, 444 reached out to former colleagues.

It turned out that the research institute, once unified in studying superpowers, had fractured into various organizations. These groups had expanded their focus from just superpowers to other fields, including efforts to heal those who had suffered during the superpower frenzy.

Unfortunately, due to the intervention of the New God, superpowers had been steadily declining. Researchers accustomed to relying on abilities for their work were struggling to adapt, and progress was slow.

After personally experiencing the effects of the marrow-cleansing pill, 444 was amazed and convinced Lu Yao to sell the pills in Sanhua City.

Lu Yao didn’t commit to large-scale orders but agreed to stock a small quantity at the Childhood Tutoring Center. Whether someone could buy one would depend on their luck.

In the break room, Lu Yao had just listed the link on the shopping street app when it was immediately sold out.

Her phone buzzed with a notification, showing nearly 20,000 credits deposited into her account.

Lu Yao: “???”

There were fewer than twenty active customers in the shopping street, so the speed at which the items sold out was unexpected.

Her phone displayed a private message notification. She opened it to find it was from a guest at the Hot Spring Inn.

[VIP Yu Shu]: Store owner, do you have any more of the pills that were just listed on the shopping street app?

Yu Shu had hesitated when she first saw the link, taking her time to read the product description. However, just as she was finishing, the screen flashed, and the system informed her the item had been delisted.

After reviewing the pill’s effects, Yu Shu felt it was tailor-made for her.

For the past six months, she had been utterly exhausted. She struggled to sleep, and when she worked without rest, she felt disoriented and unfocused.

Since discovering the shopping street, she had been visiting every few days. While it helped initially, the effects had started to plateau.

The product description stated: “Customers must stay in the shopping street for two days during the pill’s usage period.”

Yu Shu had already received her doctor’s permission to take her daughter out for the weekend. Combining the two activities seemed like a perfect plan—if only she had managed to purchase the pill.

After some discussion with Yu Shu and reviewing her remaining inventory, Lu Yao listed three more pills.

This time, Yu Shu acted quickly and purchased one immediately.

In the blink of an eye, the three pills sold out again, adding another nearly 20,000 credits to Lu Yao’s account.

Selling pills not only brought in revenue but also encouraged customers to stay in the shopping street boosting the income of other shops.

Lu Yao felt that her savings were about to grow significantly.

The break room door opened, and Cheng Ye appeared at the doorway, looking a bit conflicted.

Lu Yao set down her laptop and stepped out. “What’s wrong?”

Cheng Ye scratched his head. “Well… they found out.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 85: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

When Lu Yao returned to Baixian Mountain, the sky was just beginning to brighten.

Cheng Ye was switching shifts with Xiao Zhong.

Seeing Lu Yao back so early was already surprising, but even more so was the stunning beauty following behind her. Meanwhile, Zeyuan and Mo Bao trailed behind, looking a bit dispirited.

Lu Yao gave Jiao Niang a tour of the shop. “Most customers manage themselves while they’re online, so they won’t bother you much. Your work area is behind the bar—occasionally handing out water or delivering food to tables.”

After joining, Jiao Niang’s initial role in the shop was to be its “poster girl,” primarily managing the convenience counter.

During her time among humans, she had picked up some literacy, basic arithmetic, and other skills under the influence of the eldest young master’s refined preferences. Running a counter and managing the shop wouldn’t be difficult for her.

Standing by the bar, Jiao Niang gazed at the main hall for a long time before speaking. “There are many demons and demon cultivators here.”

Lu Yao nodded. “That’s right. Our primary customers at the internet café are demons and demon cultivators.”

Jiao Niang gave Lu Yao a curious look. “But you’re human.”

Lu Yao smiled. “So what? As long as they pay in spirit stones, they’re welcome.”

Jiao Niang thought of Zeyuan and realized that with Lu Yao’s partner being a demon, nothing else seemed strange anymore.

The more she thought about it, the more envious she felt of Zeyuan.

Initially, Jiao Niang had believed Lu Yao didn’t know Zeyuan’s identity. However, during their journey from the Sea of Tears, she had noticed that Lu Yao not only knew but also fully accepted Zeyuan as a demon.

Lu Yao said, “Take a look around. If you feel comfortable, we’ll sign the contract.”

The shop was entirely different from what Jiao Niang had imagined. Knowing the customers were primarily demons and demon cultivators made her feel more at ease than dealing with humans.

Following Lu Yao into the break room, Jiao Niang carefully read the contract to confirm it wasn’t a binding demon contract, then readily pressed her fingerprint.

She signed both a confidentiality agreement and a seven-day probationary employment contract.

Afterward, Lu Yao handed her a new phone. “Don’t worry if you don’t know how to use it yet. Take your time learning.”

Jiao Niang, not yet understanding its purpose but hearing that all employees had one, accepted it.

Once the onboarding was complete, Lu Yao brought Jiao Niang out and introduced her to Cheng Ye. “This is Jiao Niang, our new shop assistant. Show her around for the next few days.”

Cheng Ye greeted Jiao Niang and then pulled Lu Yao aside, whispering, “Jiao Niang is a demon?”

Lu Yao nodded. “A mermaid. Isn’t she stunning?”

Cheng Ye’s eyes widened as he slowly processed the information. “Will she join the group chat?”

Lu Yao replied, “I gave her a phone. Once she learns how to use it, I’ll add her to the group.”

Cheng Ye nodded and sat back down.

Though the café often saw demons come and go, having a mermaid as the first new hire—a mermaid who had never even visited the café before—was unexpected.

Unable to contain himself, Cheng Ye posted in the employee group chat:

[Interdimensional Internet Café Cheng Ye]: The boss is back.

[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi]: So soon? Didn’t she say she might be gone for a few days?

[Interdimensional Internet Café Cheng Ye]: The boss brought back a new employee.

[Hot Spring Inn Ji Qingyan]: Male or female? From which realm?

[Interdimensional Internet Café – Cheng Ye]: Female. The boss said she’s a mermaid.

[Interdimensional Cinema Die Qi]: mermaid? Is she beautiful?

[Hot Spring Inn Bai Lu]: mermaid? She must be absolutely gorgeous.

[Little Pet Cafe Lei Lei]: Like the Great Goddess of Emerald Star?

Objectively speaking, Jiao Niang was extraordinarily beautiful, perfectly fitting the image of a femme fatale from Eastern mythology—stunningly gorgeous, alluring, yet exuding a delicate, pitiable fragility.

But Cheng Ye said nothing about it.

After arranging Jiao Niang’s duties, Lu Yao was about to update the group chat with her findings from this trip. Noticing that Cheng Ye had already mentioned Jiao Niang, she decided to skip the preamble and directly posted a photo.

[Lu Yao]: The internet café’s new shop assistant, Jiao Niang.

[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi]: Sister! Sister! Sister! Sister!!! My god, what a beautiful sister!!!

[Snack Shop Xingzi]: Truly stunning—her beauty is striking.

[Snack Shop –Xiao Qie]: She looks perfect for playing an NPC at our theme park.

…

After the employees had their fill of admiring Jiao Niang’s beauty, Lu Yao pulled out a stack of items she had bought in Ni City and recorded a short video.

[Lu Yao]: I bought some storage pouches, pills, talismans, and jade tokens. No luck with weight-loss pills this time, but I did mention it to a few alchemists—maybe next time they’ll have some.

[Lu Yao]: These items can only be used within the shop—they won’t work outside.

[Hot Spring Inn Ji Qingyan]: I want a storage pouch! Even if it only works here, that’s fine.

[Hot Spring Inn Bai Lu]: Storage pouch +1

[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi]: @Hot Spring Inn Bai Lu, didn’t you want pills last time?

[Hot Spring Inn Bai Lu]: Ordinary pills don’t appeal to me. Storage pouches are way cooler.

[Lu Yao]: By the way, I bought some low-grade marrow-cleansing pills. Even used here in the shop, they can help cleanse impurities from your body.

Even in the alchemy holy land of Ni City, the price of mid-grade or higher marrow-cleansing pills was prohibitively high. After much deliberation, Lu Yao settled for a bottle of low-grade ones.

[Hot Spring Inn Bai Lu]: !!!

[Interdimensional Cinema Ming Shi]: Marrow-cleansing pills? Do they actually work?

[Childhood Tutoring Center Bai Yi]: Will they make my skin better if I take one?

[Interdimensional Internet Café Cheng Ye]: They improve skin, enhance sleep, and make your body feel lighter overall.

[Interdimensional Internet Café Zhong Lianjia]: How do you know all that? Don’t tell me you’ve already taken one?!

Zhong Lianjia, who had just returned home from his shift, checked the group chat out of habit and couldn’t believe his coworker had secretly taken a pill so quickly.

[Lu Yao]: The alchemist told me that low-grade marrow-cleansing pills can detoxify and improve overall health for mortals. Effects vary by individual but generally last three to six months. Decide for yourselves if you want to try them.

Pills were a product where results were immediately visible. Lu Yao planned to list them on the internal shop network and promote them slightly among VIP clients, hoping to earn some extra income.

…

Zeyuan and Mo Bao had just returned to the café when Xuanfeng arrived with a message.

The Demon Realm had sent word—something urgent required Zeyuan’s return.

Xuanfeng’s and Whirlwind’s employment contracts had reached their term, so they were leaving together. Of course, they intended to return when they had time.

After all, gaming was far more enjoyable than the monotony of physical contests. And with the Demon Lord’s personally opened rift in the Demon Realm, they had an excuse to come back to the café.

Zeyuan approached Lu Yao. “I need to return to the Demon Realm for a while.”

Lu Yao nodded. “Alright. Stay safe.”

Zeyuan stood still, his crimson eyes blinking as if something didn’t feel right. He wasn’t sure what he wanted to hear from her.

Xuanfeng had already opened a direct rift to the demon palace, his forehead faintly sweating as he maintained it.

Mo Bao turned to urge him, “Your Excellency, we need to go. Xuanfeng can’t hold it much longer.”

Xuanfeng: “…”

Zeyuan stared at Lu Yao for a long moment before finally turning and stepping into the rift.

After they left, Jiao Niang approached Lu Yao, her expression complicated. “So, he’s the Demon Lord. Have you really thought this through?”

Romance between humans and demons was even more challenging than between humans and merfolk, especially with his exalted status.

As an ordinary mortal without cultivation, Lu Yao would suffer the most if things went wrong.

Lu Yao didn’t respond. A faint smile appeared on her face instead. “What about where you’ll stay? Have you thought about that?”

Jiao Niang noticed that Lu Yao’s eyes held no trace of gloom, making it unclear whether she had genuinely moved on or simply hadn’t thought about the future at all.

As someone who had been through similar situations, Jiao Niang thought she understood Lu Yao’s mindset and didn’t push further. Instead, she followed the topic. “The little sparrow demon showed me a nearby river. I found a pond with just the right depth—enough for a place to rest at night.”

The sparrow demon, intrigued by the news that Jiao Niang was the new assistant at the internet café, had been curious and even a bit jealous.

But Jiao Niang’s beauty and strong demon power won the little demon over. Rarely mischievous in this case, the sparrow demon even went out of its way to be helpful, second only to its treatment of Lu Yao.

Lu Yao asked, “The rivers nearby are freshwater—does that not matter to you?”

Jiao Niang found Lu Yao’s focus amusing. It was rare for anyone, human or demon, to notice such details. Smiling, she shook her head. “Living on land is no problem. Having a pond to soak my tail in each day is more than enough for me.”

Life on Baixian Mountain turned out to be much better than Jiao Niang had anticipated.

The work at the shop wasn’t hard, though it was a bit tedious.

For the first time, Jiao Niang found herself doing human tasks, and she took them seriously, even learning how to use computers and smartphones.

Her human colleagues were different from the mortals she had encountered in the past. Men and women alike were warm and friendly, often praising her beauty.

While some showed curiosity about her identity as a demon, Jiao Niang could see that their wonder held no disdain or hostility.

In her first few days on the job, she stayed busy, leaving her little time to think about Ni City or the Sea of Tears.

…

At the Xie family manor in Ni City, Old Madam Xie had been reluctant to let Xie Zili leave after escorting her back.

Master Xie and Madam Xie also visited him, subtly expressing their desire for him to stay for a while. There was no trace of the fear or rejection they had shown when they first saw his demon form in the garden pond half a year ago.

Xie Zili was baffled, unable to understand why his parents were suddenly unafraid of him.

Though he had intended to leave and return to the Sea of Tears where Jiao Niang was waiting, Old Madam Xie cried herself into a faint.

Left with no choice, Xie Zili stayed, planning to leave once his grandmother woke up.

However, every time he mentioned leaving, his grandmother wept uncontrollably.

Having grown up doted on by her, Xie Zili kept delaying his departure. Before he knew it, he had stayed three days at the Xie family estate.

Xie Zili began to worry that Jiao Niang might come looking for him if he didn’t return soon, which would undoubtedly create an unpleasant scene.

But three days passed without a sign of Jiao Niang, and even the communication talisman he carried remained silent.

Feeling uneasy, Xie Zili tried contacting Jiao Niang through the talisman for the first time.

Half a day went by with no response.

Unable to sit still, Xie Zili stood and decided to inform the main house that he planned to return to the Sea of Tears to check on Jiao Niang.

He heard that after lunch, Old Madam Xie had gone to the lakeside pavilion to relax, accompanied by his father and mother. Heading toward the pavilion, he passed by a rockery and overheard voices.

Intending to announce himself, he froze when he heard his name.

The voices were unmistakably those of Madam Xie and her maid, who had accompanied her from her natal family.

Madam Xie said, “The old madam and the master are already discussing finding a suitable match for Xie Zili in the city. It’s absolutely maddening!”

Nanny: “Who would have thought that little demon would return? The old madam and the master have no other choice. By the way, the medicine has been brought back. When will you prepare it for the master?”

Madam Xie lowered her voice. “Be careful with your words; the master cannot bear to hear of this. Tonight, I will persuade him to drink it. This must succeed, no matter what.”

…

Unaware that someone was behind the rockery, the nanny and Madam Xie continued their conversation before heading toward the main house.

Once they left, Xie Zili slowly emerged from behind the rockery. His expression was one of confusion mixed with pain.

So everything had been an illusion. It was all because…

He suddenly recalled Jiao Niang’s words: “Zili, you are a merfolk. You shouldn’t return to the human world—you’ll only get hurt… I can’t… I can’t let you end up like me.”

Turning back to his temporary residence, Xie Zili wrote a letter, left it on the table, and walked out.

Perhaps Jiao Niang was right. He was a half-demon and should no longer be attached to the human world.

…

Demon Realm, Demon Palace

Zeyuan had been back in the Demon Realm for a few days, busily handling accumulated affairs.

He governed the Demon Realm by mirroring human systems, and as its ruler, his daily responsibilities were immense.

One day, a young female official arrived at the Hall of Diligence, claiming to have an urgent state document for the Sovereign.

The attendants in the outer hall allowed her entry. At the time, Xuanfeng and Mo Ba were in the hall, pestering Zeyuan.

They wanted to go to Baixian Mountain to visit Lu Yao, but Zeyuan, swamped with duties, had no time to return to the human world anytime soon.

Even though he couldn’t go, he also didn’t want others to go.

Dejected but persistent, Xuanfeng and Mo Bao tried to press him further.

Suddenly, a young female official who bore a six or seven-part resemblance to Lu Yao entered the hall. Both Xuanfeng and Mo Bao froze, their expressions subtly changing.

Xuanfeng immediately abandoned Mo Bao and, disregarding decorum, stepped forward to intercept the young woman. “I’ll deliver the document to His Excellency.”

Mo Bao stared at Xuanfeng in confusion. He, too, felt an inexplicable sense of unease, though his reaction wasn’t as swift as Xuanfeng’s.

Lu Yao instinctively stepped back and whispered, “Lord Xuanfeng, please don’t make this difficult for me. Lady Zhuxiang instructed that the urgent document must be delivered directly to His Excellency.”

Xuanfeng himself couldn’t fully understand his anxiety, but something told him the young official shouldn’t meet the Sovereign face-to-face.

Lu Yao, however, remained adamant, refusing to hand over the tray to Whirlwind.

The two ended up in a standoff in front of the hall.

Without lifting his head, Zeyuan said, “Xuanfeng, step aside.”

Xuanfeng hesitated. “…”

He had truly done all he could.

Lowering her head slightly, Lu Yao bit her lip, then stepped forward, holding the black lacquer tray with both hands.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 84: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Beneath the Sea of Tears, where light couldn’t penetrate, the deep ocean was tangled with seaweed and teeming with leisurely swimming fish.

At the edge of a steep undersea trench sat a male merfolk.

He idly played with a strand of seaweed, his vacant gaze fixed on the fish swimming past the trench. His silver tail hung limply over the edge of the cliff.

Hidden behind a cluster of coral, Jiao Niang watched the young merfolk’s melancholy figure, her eyes filled with sorrow.

He was her child.

But he didn’t understand her. He didn’t love her.

Jiao Niang stared at him, her tears turning into pearls that sank one by one to the seabed.

Lu Yao, having left the crystal palace, used the coral whistle gifted by the waterdrop seal to summon a bubble that isolated her from the seawater.

Her plan was to ride the bubble to the surface and then find her way back to the Chongdeng Inn to reunite with Zeyuan and Mo Bao.

She fixed two everlasting lights to the top and front of the bubble for visibility. As the bubble ascended slowly, her view gradually broadened.

That’s when she saw the pink-tailed merfolk hidden behind the coral, along with the pink pearls scattering like beans in the water.

Lu Yao paused. So this was what it looked like when merfolk cried.

During the New Year, the waterdrop seal had taken Lu Yao to see a trench filled with pearls.

Since Lu Yao liked them, the little seal had made a habit of collecting them during patrols, tossing any it found into the trench to store for her.

Bit by bit, the collection had grown.

It was said that the deep-sea goddess would shed pearls unconsciously while sleeping, and they would accumulate outside her temple.

Upon learning of Lu Yao’s fondness for them, the seals who guarded the goddess took turns collecting those divine pearls to gift her.

Lu Yao indeed had a tendency to hoard items, though not excessively.

Now, seeing the pink pearls scattered all over the seabed, she found herself unable to move on.

Following Jiao Niang’s line of sight, she saw a silver-tailed merfolk sitting on a reef.

That must be Xie Zili, the young master of the Xie family who had been “abducted.”

Jiao Niang noticed the presence in the water and turned around, spotting Lu Yao sitting in the bubble. She wiped away her tears, her brows furrowing. “What are you doing here?”

Lu Yao gave an awkward smile. “It’s a bit of a long story.”

Jiao Niang had abducted Lu Yao for the box, and now that she had it, she didn’t care whether Lu Yao stayed or left.

But seeing Lu Yao wandering about on her own, Jiao Niang sneered. “Did that old woman let you out?”

Lu Yao stepped back. “Not exactly.”

In truth, she had escaped on her own.

The ocean was Jiao Niang’s domain, and it didn’t take much effort for her to catch up. With a flick of her massive tail, she trapped Lu Yao’s bubble. “Where is the old woman? Did you hide her?”

Lu Yao shook her head. “No, it’s just me.”

Jiao Niang didn’t believe her. “Don’t waste my time. She’s with the box you hid—hand her over.”

Jiao Niang had already searched Lu Yao earlier and found no storage pouch or box.

But moments ago, Lu Yao had produced the box seemingly out of thin air, leading Jiao Niang to assume she had hidden Madam Xie in some unfamiliar artifact.

Lu Yao said, “I really didn’t take Madam Xie. She’s still lying on the shell bed in the crystal palace. If you don’t believe me, go check.”

Jiao Niang ignored her and tightened her tail, ready to crush the bubble.

“Jiao Niang, who’s this?”

The young male merfolk, hearing the commotion, swam over and saw Jiao Niang holding a human woman with her tail. His face turned pale. “You said if I stayed here, you wouldn’t go ashore again. Why have you brought another girl here?”

Jiao Niang released Lu Yao and turned to explain to the young merfolk. “Zili, I didn’t abduct her. She… she accidentally fell into the water. I was just about to send her back to shore.”

Lu Yao: “…”

Xie Zili’s face was filled with disappointment as he backed away, his tail swaying. “I heard everything. Why do you keep lying? I’ve agreed to stay here, to always be with you. Look at me—I can’t leave even if I wanted to. Isn’t it enough that you’ve taken Grandmother? Why drag innocent people into this? What are you trying to do?”

Jiao Niang, initially soft-spoken, became shrill under Xie Zili’s accusations. “What do I want to do? Why don’t you ask what that old woman wants to do? Zili, you are a merfolk. You shouldn’t return to the human world—you’ll only get hurt. But that old woman refuses to give up and still wants to take you back to the surface. I can’t… I can’t let you end up like me…”

Pain filled Xie Zili’s eyes, his expression one of utter despair.

He had great potential. At five, he joined the Lingxiao Sword Sect. By fifteen, he had become an inner disciple and was fortunate enough to be taken in as the sect master’s student.

Had he focused on his cultivation, it wouldn’t have been long before he found his path in the way of the sword.

But everything fell apart when he was sixteen.

The day before his grandmother’s birthday banquet, Xie Zili returned home. While strolling through the garden, he accidentally fell into the water, and his legs suddenly transformed into a massive silver tail, shocking everyone in the household.

As the youngest of his generation, Xie Zili had always believed himself to be the legitimate young master of the Xie family. He had never questioned his identity.

But he was a half-demon.

At sixteen, he learned that he wasn’t the child of his supposed father and mother but rather the offspring of his father and a merfolk.

The day it happened, Father Xie fainted upon hearing the servant’s report.

No one in the household dared approach Xie Zili, who was left stranded in a small pond, exposed and helpless.

It was then that Jiao Niang appeared and took him away.

From that day on, N City was rife with rumors that a merfolk had abducted the Xie family’s young master.

Merfolk come of age at sixteen. Upon reaching adulthood, their bloodline awakens, and they inherit their race’s ancestral memories.

For half-demons like Xie Zili, this awakening caused their legs to transform into tails, marking their hybrid nature.

Jiao Niang brought Xie Zili back to the Sea of Tears to live with her as a merfolk.

But for the first sixteen years of his life, Xie Zili had lived as a human. He wasn’t used to life in the deep sea.

In his heart, his mother was still the madam of the Xie family, not an unpredictable merfolk.

Every time he saw his unsightly tail and thought of Jiao Niang, he couldn’t suppress his resentment.

Why had she given birth to him?

Because of her, his entire life was ruined.

Xie Zili had initially resigned himself to his situation.

But less than half a year later, Jiao Niang abducted Madam Xie and brought her to the sea.

No matter how much Xie Zili begged or coaxed her, Jiao Niang refused to let his grandmother return to the surface.

Frustrated and powerless, Xie Zili’s repressed emotions boiled over when he saw Jiao Niang had captured another unfamiliar woman.

He didn’t want to accommodate her anymore.

A demon is still a demon, he thought. They don’t understand reason or human emotions.

Faced with the young man’s heated accusations, Jiao Niang lowered her head, unable to respond. Pink pearls continued to fall from her eyes, but this time they were streaked with blood, each one redder than the last.

Lu Yao, who typically avoided meddling in other people’s family matters, found the atmosphere unbearably tense and awkward. Still, the sight of Jiao Niang crying so heartbreakingly moved her.

Recalling Madam Xie’s earlier story, Lu Yao finally spoke. “Xie Zili, stop blaming her. I’m here because of Jiao Niang, but only to return something to her. Now that it’s done, I’m preparing to leave. As for why Jiao Niang brought Madam Xie here, perhaps you should ask her yourself.”

Jiao Niang abruptly looked up, her gaze toward Lu Yao filled with surprise and confusion.

Xie Zili frowned. “What’s going on?”

Lu Yao turned to Jiao Niang. “If you have something to say, just say it.”

Jiao Niang, however, only stared at Lu Yao. “You truly didn’t take the old woman with you?”

Lu Yao’s inventory could temporarily carry living beings, but Madam Xie had insisted on staying behind, asking only that Lu Yao ensure Xie Zili’s escape.

Lu Yao shook her head. “No, she really is still there.”

Jiao Niang tilted her head slightly, her expression curious. “You’re so strange.”

Lu Yao: “…”

Xie Zili also looked at Lu Yao with confusion.

Madam Xie had revealed the entire history between the Xie family and Jiao Niang to persuade Lu Yao to agree to take Xie Zili away.

It was only much later that Jiao Niang confided in Lu Yao herself, but she had vowed never to tell Xie Zili these truths.

Seventeen years ago, shortly after Jiao Niang gave birth, she was sent to a remote estate by the Xie family.

The steward of the estate, emboldened by her fall from grace and captivated by her beauty, harbored vile intentions.

But Jiao Niang had regained her memories by then and, after years of living among humans, was no longer the naive and helpless girl she once was.

One rainy night, Jiao Niang killed the steward who tried to harm her. Covered in blood, she dragged herself back to the Xie family manor, only to see the eldest young master and his new wife happily holding her child.

Filled with hatred, Jiao Niang revealed her demon form. The sight terrified the young master and his wife, who fainted on the spot.

Only the infant, unaware of anything, reached out with tiny hands, cooing softly as he gently gripped Jiao Niang’s fingertip.

The overwhelming resentment in Jiao Niang’s heart softened slightly.

This child carried half of her merfolk blood and would one day need to return to the sea.

Jiao Niang picked him up, intending to take him away.

Hearing the commotion, Madam Xie arrived with a demon catcher in tow.

The experienced exorcist struck Jiao Niang with a binding talisman, immobilizing her on the spot.

Madam Xie personally took the infant from Jiao Niang’s arms and ordered the exorcist to drive her away.

However, the exorcist grew greedy and attempted to capture Jiao Niang for his own purposes.

Risking the backlash of her demon power, Jiao Niang forcibly advanced her cultivation, breaking free from the talisman’s constraints. Severely injured, she fled to an abandoned courtyard and leaped into a well.

The well contained a secret passage leading to the Sea of Tears, a route Jiao Niang had prepared in her early days of living at the Xie estate.

Grievously wounded, Jiao Niang returned to the sea, but her injuries took a long time to heal.

Even so, she couldn’t stop thinking about the child she left behind at the Xie family. She counted the days, waiting for the right time.

Her original plan was to take Xie Zili before his coming of age, but the Xie family’s vigilance forced her to delay.

By the time she managed to sneak back into the Xie manor, years had passed, and Xie Zili’s demon blood had awakened.

He had already transformed into his hybrid form within the estate due to the surge in power from his awakening.

Jiao Niang took him away without hesitation.

To outsiders, it seemed like the Xie family’s young master had been abducted by a merfolk, and the Xie family servants, all dismissed, revealed nothing.

There was another hidden truth: since seeing Jiao Niang’s demon form, Master Xie had been haunted by a shadow in his heart. For years, his health declined, leaving him incapable of fathering more children with either his wife or concubines.

This meant that Xie Zili was now Xie family’s only heir.

Despite Xie Zili being a half-demon, Master Xie and Old Madam Xie were unwilling to give up on him.

Together, they planned to seek out the demon catcher from years ago.

Meanwhile, Jiao Niang noticed Xie Zili’s persistent gloom after bringing him to the Sea of Tears. Taking another risk, she sneaked back to the Xie estate to retrieve some of Xie Zili’s belongings, hoping it might cheer him up.

It was then that she overheard their plans and, in a fit of anger, abducted Madam Xie.

Without his mother, Master Xie was powerless—nothing more than a paper tiger.

Xie Zili, however, could not comprehend Jiao Niang’s actions. Their mother-son relationship became a tense and stubborn standoff.

Now, hearing Lu Yao’s words, Xie Zili turned without another word and went to find Old Madam Xie.

Tears welled up again in Jiao Niang’s eyes.

Lu Yao sighed softly, a hint of helplessness in her tone. “Jiao Niang, would you like to come with me?”

Jiao Niang stared at her, baffled. “Go with you? To where?”

Lu Yao smiled. “I’ve opened a shop on Baixian Mountain, and I’m in need of a beautiful shop assistant. I think you’d be perfect.”

For some reason, when Lu Yao looked at this merfolk, she was reminded of her late mother.

Though they shared no resemblance, both had lived turbulent lives.

If left as they were, it was likely that in ten or twenty years, Jiao Niang and Xie Zili would still fail to understand each other, leaving only regret and estrangement.

Lu Yao rarely made impulsive decisions, but if Jiao Niang was willing, she wanted to bring her to Baixian Mountain.

Meanwhile, Zeyuan and Mo Bao, accompanied by Chi Jiumeng, rushed to the Sea of Tears, ready to dive in to search for Lu Yao.

With a splash, a large wave broke on the shallows. Lu Yao, Xie Zili, and Old Madam Xie emerged from the water, walking toward the shore.

Mo Bao shouted, “Lu Yao! How did you escape on your own?”

Seeing the three figures on the shore, Lu Yao quickened her steps.

Chi Jiumeng was as surprised as Mo Bao.

This human woman had escaped unscathed from the clutches of a merfolk—something she had not expected.

She had been looking forward to a grand scene of the Demon Lord rescuing the damsel, only for it to end anticlimactically. How dull.

Xie Zili, too, noticed the trio on the shore. Relieved that Jiao Niang hadn’t stubbornly kept Lu Yao, he felt a faint chill at the thought of what might have happened otherwise.

Back in the crystal palace, Xie Zili hadn’t yet managed to get answers from Old Madam Xie about the reason for her abduction. Before he could press further, Jiao Niang appeared and, surprisingly, insisted he escort both Old Madam Xie and Lu Yao back.

Without hesitation, Xie Zili complied, leading the two of them to the surface.

After reuniting with Zeyuan, Mo Bao, and Chi Jiumeng, Lu Yao waved to Xie Zili as a farewell.

Xie Zili didn’t approach, simply nodding in return before turning to take Old Madam Xie back to Ni City on his sword.

He planned to return to the Sea of Tears after safely delivering his grandmother to the Xie family estate, resolved to stay peacefully with Jiao Niang.

Just as the trio prepared to leave, Lu Yao stopped them.

“Wait a moment, there’s one more person.”

Chi Jiumeng raised an eyebrow. “Who?”

Lu Yao turned her gaze toward the sea.

A merfolk leaped from the water and swam toward the shore.

Lu Yao introduced her to Zeyuan and Mo Bao, “This is Jiao Niang, my shop’s new assistant.”

Before they could respond, Chi Jiumeng blurted out, “Isn’t this the merfolk who abducted you?”

Jiao Niang came ashore, her pink fish tail transforming into human legs. With a flick of her hand, she cast a spell to don a human outfit and carried the black makeup box she held so dear.

Lu Yao asked, “That’s all you’re bringing?”

Jiao Niang shook her head, walked past Lu Yao, and placed the cherished makeup box on the shore. “Let’s go.”

She had long since let go of that person. What she couldn’t release was the dreamlike time they’d shared, a memory that had turned into resentment because it could never be relived.

Lu Yao hesitated. “Did you tell him?”

Jiao Niang shook her head. “He won’t return after this trip. I think there’s some truth to your words, so I’ll go with you to Baixian Mountain. If it doesn’t work out, I can always come back.”

Lu Yao smiled. “I doubt you’ll want to return so quickly.”

Chi Jiumeng was still confused. “What’s going on?”

Lu Yao turned to Zeyuan, a bit embarrassed. “I’d like to take Jiao Niang to settle in at Baixian Mountain first. Can we go to the city tomorrow to find what you’re looking for?”

Zeyuan had been quietly watching Lu Yao the whole time—from the moment she emerged from the water and walked to the shore, to when she spoke to others. His gaze never left her.

Finally, as she turned her eyes to him and spoke, he blinked, pressing a hand to his chest in confusion. “It’s fine.”

It seemed he had already found the thing he had been searching the heavens and earth for.

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