Author Archives: Thingyan

Ch 44: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

Zhu Zhu’s first reaction was, “Impossible.”

The young knight beside him echoed his thoughts, “It’s believable if you claim there’s an Acorus but how could a yangju possibly appear in the wild? Especially seven years after the Sacred Tree died.”

Ziye spoke calmly, “I’m certain it’s a yangju. If you don’t want to report it to the Chief, that’s fine. I originally just wanted to collect a few Acorus Flowers. The Sacred Tree is dead, and the Acorus Flowers are fading away. It’s better to let me take them back for use.”

Zhu Zhu suddenly realized, “You need the Acorus Flowers to cultivate the yangju?”

Ziye nodded.

When the Chief and Elders were summoned to the rear hall, two squads of temple knights arrived as well, with Jianlan and Yingtong among them. Both had been in the temple for less than two years, their ranks and ages making them among the least senior, so they stood at the back.

Hearing that a yangju might still exist outside the Shenmu Tribe, most temple knights were skeptical.

The Yangju tree bears two types of fruit. The ordinary fruit, which ripens annually, is called a “seed fruit.” The so-called “fetal seed,” however, grows at the very top of the tree and only ripens once every fifty years.

Harvesting it is no simple matter. It must be picked within half a day of full maturity. Too early or too late, and it’s useless. Determining the precise moment of maturity requires the expertise of seasoned elders.

The rear hall grew noisy, as the younger knights found Ziye’s claims hard to believe.

An Elder glanced at the Chief and spoke slowly, “This does remind me of an old story.”

The Chief, with medicinal leaves plastered to his face, gave him a side-eye as if to say, “Get to the point.”

The Elder and the Chief had worked together for years. The Elder was slow and methodical, while the Chief was impatient—a dynamic that hadn’t changed even with age. From childhood, the two had clashed constantly, yet as adults, they were bound to make decisions together: one as Chief, the other as Elder.

The Elder’s story was indeed ancient, dating back about a hundred years when both he and the Chief were young knights serving in the temple.

Back then, the two were prominent figures within the knight order and held high expectations from their elders.

That particular year, the knight commander was set to retire and assume the role of Chief. The new knight commander would be chosen from among the young knights, with the Elder and the Chief as the top candidates.

That year also happened to be a “fetal seed” harvest year, occurring once every fifty years.

Traditionally, the knight commander personally confirmed the number of fetal seeds—perhaps as a test of sorts. However, this time, he sent the Elder and the Chief to verify the count.

The Yangju tree, at its prime, had an exceptionally tall trunk, with leafy bracts concealing the crown. The tree was adept at camouflaging the number of fetal seeds it bore. To confirm the count, one had to climb to the very top and inspect each seed individually.

On that day, the methodical Elder happened to be free and went to the sacred garden first. He climbed the tree and counted the seeds nine times, confirming there were six fetal seeds.

That afternoon, the Chief visited the sacred garden and counted five seeds.

When the fruits ripened and were harvested, there were indeed five heart seeds.

By the end of the season, the Chief was promoted to knight commander, while the Elder remained in the knight order.

Many years later, the Elder couldn’t shake one lingering question: Had he truly miscounted? Or had the Chief tampered with the count?

The Elder’s aged and deliberate voice filled the rear hall, and the once-clamorous knights now held their breath, not daring to make a sound.

What was this sudden self-exposé?

Was there such deep-seated tension between the Chief and the Elder?

The Chief rolled his eyes, exasperated. “You’re still stuck on something from a hundred years ago? You’ve got too much time on your hands. Let me be clear: I climbed up that tree and counted at least a dozen times. My legs were chafed raw. Five means five. Who’s playing tricks on you?”

The young knight was silent: You also remember it very clearly, don’t you…

The two accounts didn’t match—so what had really happened back then?

Ziye stepped forward, “What the Elder means is that there were indeed six ‘heart seeds’ at the time. By the time the Chief counted, it had become five, with one missing.”

The Elder nodded, “Looking back now, it’s possible. In the hundred years that Old Chai and I have guarded the Sacred Tree, only one strange incident like this ever occurred.”

“But who could silently steal a fruit from the crown of the tree?”

“Even if that ‘fetal seed’ was stolen, could it still be viable after a hundred years? It wasn’t even fully mature when picked.”

The fetal seed was notoriously fragile. Ripening only once every fifty years, it had to be picked at just the right moment—too early or too late, and it would be useless. Even if harvested successfully, poor preservation would cause it to wither silently.

About ten years ago, when the Chief and Elder sensed the Sacred Tree’s failing condition, they took out the carefully preserved fetal seeds accumulated over centuries. Yet not a single one of the dozens of viable seeds survived.

Despite the doubts of the tribe, Ziye made one firm statement: “The one in Lu Yao’s possession is indeed a ‘fetal seed,’ and she might be able to grow it.”

“Lu Yao?”

“Is that the rumored big human?”

“Everyone seeking fetal seed these days talks about her and that inn of hers.”

“Ziye, you’ve met her?”

“How could a ‘fetal seed’ end up in a big human’s hands?”

“Lu Yao” and “the inn” had already become hot topics in the Shenmu Tribe. Ironically, the only ones who had actually been to the inn were Jianlan and Yingtong. The less others knew, the more curious they became. Now that the “fetal seed” was tied to these rumors, the topic became explosive.

“Why can she grow it when we can’t?”

Ziye recounted what had happened at the inn: a fetal seed that was weak, its membrane nearly translucent and devoid of vitality, had been revived by the big human innkeeper. In fact, it had become healthier than when it first left the temple.

The knight captain lowered his head. “It’s been seven years since it was harvested. Even the relatively hardy and lively fetal seeds are nearing their limits.”

The fetal seeds were weak not because of external mishandling but because they were the last batch harvested from the Sacred Tree before its death seven years ago. To maintain the secret of the Sacred Tree’s demise, not a single fetal seed had been used in that time. As a result, the tribe had not seen any newborns in seven years.

Though they had not given up hope, they were at their wits’ end. Every possible method had been exhausted.

Currently, fewer than twenty fetal seed remained in the storage hall, and they were growing weaker by the day. At least half were unlikely to transform into seedlings, let alone develop into fetal seed.

Now they faced the cruel reality that even successfully cultivated seedlings might die prematurely, mirroring the rapid extinction of the big humans in the past. The small people were approaching their own end.

The Elder looked at the Chief. “If this is true, you and I must see her in person.”

The Chief, leaning on a short staff, rose quickly. “What are we waiting for? Start preparing!”

The knight captain immediately began selecting people. Whereas last time no one had wanted to venture to the Thorn Valley, this time everyone raised their hands, eager to volunteer.

Ziye was in a daze. He had only wanted to take a few Acorus Flowers. The situation had spiraled out of control.

After all these years, the old Chief’s decisiveness and energy were still awe-inspiring.

…

Following the Rose Garden Guest Rooms, the Hot Spring Guest Rooms were quickly completed.

Lu Yao posted a short video in the VIP section of the internal network and opened a VIP guest reservation channel.

Both the small and large hot spring rooms were ready for official business.

[Lu Yao’s inn has gained widespread fame and upgraded to a four-star establishment. Reward: +10,000 popularity points, 100 stone yams. Keep up the good work!]

Stone Yam?

The staple food often mentioned by the small people—Lu Yao had heard about it countless times.

She retrieved a stone yam from her portable warehouse. It was slightly larger than a quail egg but smaller than a chicken egg, with a gray-black skin resembling a potato-like plant. However, its texture was as hard as stone.

Lu Yao didn’t have time to figure out how to use the stone yam just yet. She tossed it back into the warehouse and turned her attention to the system panel. She opened the map, selected the inn’s sign, and a prompt appeared: “Would you like to spend 100,000 popularity points to rename the inn?”

Lu Yao clicked “Yes.”

[100,000 popularity points deducted. “Lu Yao’s Inn” has been officially renamed to “Lu Yao’s Hot Spring Inn.”]

[System Notification: The inn’s foundational completion has reached 80%. Successfully hosting 100 travelers has elevated the inn to a four-star establishment. Current mission progress: 85%. Keep up the good work!]

Just one more star level, and the mission would be complete.

Outside, the high platform for the miniature cable car was already built. Pulleys, cable systems, safety mechanisms, and tools were all stored in Lu Yao’s warehouse—everything was ready for assembly and installation.

Lu Yao exited the owner interface, slung on her back basket, and was about to head out when her phone suddenly rang.

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 43: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

After the onset of the Twightlight moon season, the Nitean little people became noticeably more active, and it seemed the inn had gained some reputation among them, with a steady flow of guests checking in daily.

The brick cottage and rose garden guest rooms were particularly popular, with the rooftop tea rooms of the brick cottage and the restaurant and tea room on the first floor of the rose guest rooms already in use. The art studio and reading room were still under preparation, primarily because they needed custom-made “little people books” to suit the preferences of the Nitean little people.

Lu Yao’s intention was to enrich the inn’s activities as much as possible. She understood that the Nitean little people had lived a nomadic life with almost no written culture so far. While she had no ambition to popularize “nine-year compulsory education” on the Nitean continent, she simply wanted to create miniature, adorable, yet surprisingly practical books for them.

The task of creating these handmade books was assigned to Bai Lu, but the content selection was something she and Lu Yao worked on together. Lu Yao didn’t interfere in the artistic aspects that Bai Lu excelled at. However, for everything else, Lu Yao not only screened the content herself but also issued a “task” in the staff group.

When the staff heard it was for creating books for the little people, even the liveliest among them were enthusiastically on board. Lu Yao actively sought their opinions in the group and occasionally held meetings with them to adjust the book content. For unfamiliar topics, Lu Yao sought out experts in other worlds to adapt their knowledge to something suitable for the Nitean continent.

Bai Lu was responsible for layout, illustrations, and production. Though it was a busy and fragmented task, Bai Lu was thoroughly enjoying herself every day.

Once the reading room and art studio preparations were on track, Lu Yao added a large music room next to the reading room. It included three small rooms designated as the piano room, harp room, and guqin room. Some Nitean little people could sing, dance, or play simple melodies using leaves or grass stalks, but they had no exposure to complex instruments like pianos, harps, or guqins.

Ji Zhixin contacted acquaintances to custom-make miniature pianos and harps, while Lu Yao ordered miniature guqins and pipas from the Great Wu Dynasty. These instruments had to be scaled down by several times while retaining full playability.

As for music theory, Lu Yao had some understanding, but she was far from a professional. She enlisted the help of Jing Yuxi, a VIP from the shopping street, and a trusted acquaintance from the Great Wu Dynasty to compile some basic knowledge.

With the entertainment rooms in the rose garden guest rooms well-arranged, the flower seedlings Lu Yao had ordered also arrived. She had contacted a florist in Yaoguang City specializing in miniature bonsai and ordered a batch of seedlings.

The glass greenhouse behind the rose guest rooms occupied half the windowsill. Although the area wasn’t particularly large, it extended to just below the second-floor windows, with slanted grooves on the roof designed for placing small flowerpots.

The seedlings Lu Yao received were mostly 5–10 cm tall, and the small flowerpots were around 7.5 cm. The selection included a variety of species: miniature roses, miniature climbing roses, dwarf jade roses, rice bamboo, miniature snow-in-summer, and short moss, with different subspecies under each category.

While ordering flowers, Lu Yao noticed a type of miniature acorus called “golden acorus,” which resembled the system-issued acorus seedlings she already had, so she didn’t order extra.

From a human perspective, these small potted plants were already miniature enough. But from the little people’s viewpoint, these plants were tree-sized. Nevertheless, since the flora on the Nitean continent was of regular size, these miniature bonsai still felt novel to them.

After the Red Pig Tribe’s migration, Monk, Dada, and Zhuang Yu often hunted near the inn and came by during lunchtime to eat and rest. Today, after overeating, they strolled around the inn and found Lu Yao sitting by the windowsill arranging the bonsai.

Monk leaned over the edge of a flowerpot as big as a tea bowl, reaching out to touch a drooping branch of light pink miniature roses. “Lu Yao, this is the first time I’ve seen such beautiful flowers,” he said.

Zhuang Yu was also intrigued. “Will these flowers be planted outside?”

Lu Yao shook her head. “For now, they’ll stay in the flower house behind the guest rooms.”

Zhuang Yu looked a bit disappointed.

They typically sneaked into the inn for rest and meals during their hunting trips, never staying long or overnight, fearing reprimands from their chieftain.

Even so, they frequented the inn more and more, with their numbers steadily increasing.

Once the lunchtime guests left and the residents either retired to their rooms or went out, the inn always settled into a serene and peaceful atmosphere in the afternoons.

Lu Yao felt that the miniature flowerpots were still a bit large for the flower house. She secretly inscribed “lightening” and “shrinking” magic arrays under the pots, reducing their height to 25 cm and their weight to less than 30 grams, making them perfect for display in the flower house.

Only two climbing roses were left in their original state. Lu Yao placed these by the glass greenhouse windows, setting up trellises for them. Once they grew and spread over the greenhouse roof, the pink blooms would create a striking visual effect.

She also placed two pots of blooming dwarf jade roses in the grooves under the windowsills of each guest room on the second floor.

The rose garden guest rooms had finally earned their name.

Miniature bonsai like these can also be plagued by pests such as “red spider mites.” Lu Yao planned to use magic every three days for physical pest control.

By evening, the sky was adorned with hues of twilight. Guests returning from their outings trickled back into the inn, while those who had stayed in their rooms came downstairs after freshening up.

The aroma of food filled the air, yet the crowd gravitated toward the glass flowerhouse behind the rose garden guest rooms.

Having been vacant for days, the flowerhouse was opened to guests right after its maintenance.

While the Nitean continent was abundant in flora, rarely were there bonsai as delicate and ornamental as these. For the smallfolk, walking through the flowerhouse felt like wandering in an enormous garden.

On the clearings nestled between the foliage, small benches and low tables were scattered about. Guests rested there after a stroll, surrounded by the refreshing sweetness of blooming flowers.

At dawn and dusk, the smallfolk loved to visit the flowerhouse, which quickly became a favorite spot for both guests and staff.

Ji Qingyan and Bai Lu were equally enchanted by the newly opened glass flowerhouse. Early in the morning, they had scrambled for angles to take photos, then compared them with the real view, becoming more and more captivated with each look.

Ji Qingyan remarked, “This glass flowerhouse is truly amazing. I wish I could bring my friends here to see it.”

Bai Lu nodded enthusiastically. “If my classmates saw this, they’d absolutely lose it! They’d be screaming non-stop! It’s incredible!”

The two finished taking pictures and prepared to edit them for a post.

As they reviewed their material, it became clear that the inn consistently had the most interesting and engaging content to share, always garnering strong reactions.

Lu Yao commented, “Wait until those two climbing roses grow over the glass roof—it’ll look even better.”

With the glass flowerhouse essentially complete, the innkeeper’s next “project” was the hot spring guest rooms across the way. Blueprints and materials were already prepared, awaiting construction.

…

The sun dipped below the horizon, casting golden light over the lush grass.

Ziye led two red pigs, walking alongside Jiexiang, as they stepped into the Shenmu Tribe’s territory.

Compared to other tribes, the Shenmu Tribe’s land was always small, stationary, and sparsely populated.

But the tribe had never before appeared so desolate and impoverished. Its towering, grand temples still stood, yet now loomed over clusters of boxy, dilapidated houses—a stark contrast that outsiders seeking the fetal seed had never noticed before.

Ziye, born and raised in the Shenmu Tribe, remembered every blade of grass and every tree around their territory.

Compared to a few years ago, the tribe felt like a middle-aged person who had aged overnight—hair graying, face numb, shrouded in a melancholic aura.

The guards stationed at the border recognized Ziye, blinking in surprise before stepping forward to greet him. “Ziye?”

“Zhu Zhu, still guarding the borders after all these years?” Ziye said softly, his eyes already tinged with a smile.

Zhu Zhu didn’t mind at all. He glanced at Jiexiang beside Ziye and hooked his arm around Ziye’s shoulder, leading him a few steps away. “Why are you coming back now? Don’t tell me you’re here for the fetal seed. The elder already said, ‘None left.’”

Ziye was well aware of the situation. He hadn’t harbored any illusions about having his own fetal seed in this lifetime. He lowered his voice, “I want to meet the chieftain and the elders. Find someone to pass the message for me.”

Back then, Ziye had insisted on binding with Jiexiang as his partner, almost driving the chieftain and elders to illness with anger. He was practically chased out of the tribe by the chieftain wielding his short staff.

No one could have imagined that, four years later, Ziye would return.

If he had chosen to bond with someone within the tribe back then, he would have unquestionably become the head knight.

Zhu Zhu hesitated. “You know how stubborn the chieftain is. He’s not going to see you.”

Ziye said calmly, “Then tell him this: ‘Ziye is back to pluck the Acorus Flowers—two hundred plants—and plans to haul them out of the tribe.’”

Zhu Zhu took a deep breath, trembling with laughter. “Getting a partner’s made you funnier than you were in your youth. But there aren’t two hundred Acorus Flowers left in the tribe anymore. The Great Yangju Tree withered three years ago—coincidentally the year you left—and the Acorus Flowers followed. Nowadays, we couldn’t even find a hundred plants.”

Zhu Zhu started off chuckling but ended with a bitter expression.

Ziye lowered his eyes. “Then just say I’m here to strip the tribe of every last Acorus Flower.”

A childhood prank that always worked now drew no laughter.

Zhu Zhu slapped Ziye twice on the back and turned to pass the message himself, not bothering to find someone else.

Unlike those who came seeking fetal seeds, Ziye had voluntarily left the Sacred Temple. Without the tribe’s permission, he wasn’t supposed to return.

Jiexiang, feeling a bit tired, came over to take Ziye’s hand after watching him talk with his tribesmate. “The Shenmu Tribe doesn’t seem as lively as it used to, does it?”

The first time Jiexiang had visited the tribe was to accompany a novice from her own group to request a fetal seed.

At that time, the tribe hadn’t been so desolate. At the border, apart from the two guards, there was no one else around now.

The other guard, a young smallfolk named Bijing, looked barely past adulthood based on her size.

Bijing sighed, “With fewer people, of course it’s quieter.”

Jiexiang was puzzled. “How could the Shenmu Tribe have fewer people? You hold the fetal seeds—if you want prosperity, can’t you just have more children?”

Most other tribes seemed to think the Shenmu Tribe could produce fetal seeds at will.

Bijing shook her head bitterly, offering no reply.

Just then, a patrol squad rushed over from the other side of the border, led by Jianlan.

Spotting Bijing, Jianlan shouted, “Come with me to the Sacred Temple, quick! The chieftain’s been attacked!”

What?!

What kind of situation was this?

Who in the Shenmu Tribe dared to attack the chieftain?

Could it have been one of the visitors here today seeking a sacred seed?

Bijing grabbed her weapon and immediately joined the patrol squad.

Ziye’s face darkened, and he pulled Jiexiang along to follow them.

The Sacred Temple was a small, elegant moon-white palace. Its pillars and walls were entwined with massive tree roots, some piercing through the structure. The damp foot of the walls was coated in a thin layer of dark green moss, and compared to years ago, it truly resembled an aged, weary elder.

Behind the palace stood the once-mighty Sacred Tree. Its leaves were gone, its branches thin and brittle, now resembling the gaunt face of a ghostly specter.

Ziye silently climbed the long-cracked steps, his emotions conflicted.

Inside the main hall, the elderly chieftain was being helped to the side, receiving treatment for his injuries.

The smallfolk who had struck him was already restrained by the Sacred Temple knights but continued to curse loudly.

“My partner and I have come every year, for three years straight, and you still refuse! Is it because we’re bonded from different tribes?”

“You old geezer! What gives you the right to deny us a fetal seed?”

“Don’t think we don’t understand. Over the years, the number of fetal seeds from the Shenmu Tribe has dwindled. Have you been keeping them for yourselves?”

…

In the main hall, a young knight was flushed with anger and about to retort, but Zhu Zhu, standing nearby, quickly covered his mouth and dragged him to the rear hall.

Zhu Zhu noticed Ziye had slipped in as well and signaled for him to follow.

In the rear hall, Zhu Zhu released the young knight and scolded him, pointing at his forehead. “What were you about to say back there? Huh?”

The young knight was still seething. “Our tribe hasn’t successfully granted a fetal seed in seven years. Seven years without a single child being born. Those people know nothing and just keep demanding fetal seeds! Why shouldn’t we tell them the truth?”

Ziye paused at the doorway, glancing at Jiexiang beside him.

Jiexiang held his hand and smiled, shaking her head gently.

Ziye suddenly recalled when he first met Jiexiang. Back then, he already understood his fate and had decided to accept it.

The Sacred Tree was dead, and his tribe would perish with this generation.

Ziye wasn’t afraid of death, but he had never thought about how to pass the hopeless and seemingly endless stretch of time before it came.

That day, like usual, he stood guard at the Sacred Temple. Inside, people pleading for a fetal seed were embroiled in a heated argument with the chieftain.

Outside, a female Nitean smallfolk sat idly, bored, and struck up a conversation with him. “Have you ever been to the Xiaguang Tribe?”

Ziye assumed she wasn’t really talking to him and remained silent.

Jiexiang picked up a tiny twig and poked his knee with it. “Hey, knight, have you ever been to the Xiaguang Tribe?”

Ziye glanced at her in surprise and shook his head.

Jiexiang continued, “I heard the food there is amazing, and the men are especially good at cooking.”

She scooted a little closer, lowering her voice as if sharing a secret. “I plan to go there and snag myself a partner who can cook for me every day.”

Ziye didn’t have much of a desire for food, but seeing her bright, laughing eyes, his heart skipped a beat.

She had no idea that choosing a partner from another tribe meant she would never have children of her own.

Ziye considered warning her, but in the end, he didn’t. Perhaps it was out of some selfish, darker part of him.

The outcome was that the once-proud knight of the Sacred Temple went to great lengths to bond with a gluttonous bear-girl and left the Shenmu Tribe.

For three years, they relied on each other, never once bringing up the matter of fetal seeds.

Ziye had assumed Jiexiang didn’t know. She was always a bit scatterbrained, except when it came to food. But now he realized she might have known all along.

His face paled.

Jiexiang leaned close to his ear. “You’ve always been a bit dense. Don’t feel bad about it. I’m already used to it. If there’s none, there’s none. Honestly, I don’t really like kids anyway.”

When Ziye and Jiexiang bonded, both their tribes fiercely opposed the union.

What Ziye didn’t know was that someone from his tribe had told Jiexiang part of the truth about the Sacred Tree’s death, hoping to dissuade her.

But she still chose Ziye.

“…” Ziye silently turned and hugged Jiexiang tightly.

Jiexiang wrapped her arms around her sulking, foolish partner, chuckling softly. “Alright, alright.”

“Ahem.”

Zhu Zhu and the young knight had already noticed them lingering outside and, after waiting for a while, decided to interrupt.

Jiexiang released Ziye and greeted them with a nod.

Ziye, still holding her hand, turned to Zhu Zhu and said, “Go inform the chieftain and elders. We’ve found a fetal seed in the wild.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Ch 42: Guide to Running a Shop in Another World II

When Lu Yao was in the first year of middle school, her mother opened a breakfast shop in town.

Her mother had excellent culinary skills, and the shop was clean and well-kept. The town’s kindergarten and elementary school were nearby, so business was decent.

Lu Yao’s school was an hour’s drive away, requiring her to stay on campus.

Every weekend, her mother would drive to pick her up.

It was an ordinary Saturday morning. On the way home, Lu Yao was playfully asking her mom to make sweet and sour pork for lunch.

A black SUV approached head-on, neither swerving nor slowing, crashing directly into them.

Lu Yao, sitting in the passenger seat, regained consciousness to blurred vision and a body numb with pain. The metallic tang of blood filled her nose.

Her cheek pressed against the cold gravel and sticky, damp mud. Panicked, she called out, “Mom, Mom?”

No response.

Fear gripped Lu Yao, and tears streamed uncontrollably. “Mom, where are you?”

“Stop crying,” a cold, impatient voice snapped. “It’s grating.”

Someone was approaching her. Lu Yao’s hazy consciousness made it feel like an eternity before they finally stood before her.

She struggled to open her eyes, but her eyelids felt unbearably heavy. Darkness alternated with fleeting streaks of light.

She thought she glimpsed a silver arc swaying in the wind.

“She’s already dead,” the voice came again, cold and close. “Dead things are like broken vases—you can’t piece them back together no matter what. And you’ll be dead soon too. Are you afraid?”

Summoning all her strength, Lu Yao lifted her eyelids. A silver-haired boy, clad in a black robe, stood in an odd posture before her.

She silently asked, Are you the Grim Reaper?

The boy crouched atop the overturned car’s hood, his blood-red eyes peering through the shattered windshield at the lifeless girl trapped inside.

“I’m in a foul mood today, so I’ll do something wicked,” he said lightly, stretching his hand toward her.

The next thing Lu Yao knew, she was awake in a hospital. Her injuries were minor—scratches and cuts from broken glass. The driver had been caught.

The man had been under the influence of some substance. When he sobered up in detention, he broke down in tears.

Lu Yao’s mother, however, had died on the spot. By the time the ambulance and police arrived, the ground was soaked with blood.

“Dead things are like broken vases—you can’t piece them back together no matter what.”

Lu Yao snapped awake, staring at the familiar ceiling of her inn room. Her eyes moved sluggishly.

Was that a dream? Or a memory?

No—there was no way.

In her memory, the car accident with her mother had no trace of Lu Mingxiao.

Dreams weren’t reality.

Rubbing her forehead, Lu Yao sat up. It must have been the recent incident with the fetal seed that triggered such an odd dream.

She had slept deeply; it was already dark outside.

Her rest had gone undisturbed, even by the little people.

Yuanwei, Jiegeng, and Fengqin—three from the Xiaguang tribe—had prepared dinner together. With the inn’s abundant supplies, the meal had inevitably turned into a feast.

By the time Lu Yao emerged, her mood settled, she saw the three holding hands, circling the Rose Garden House. They spotted her and tried to run over, but, having overeaten, they could only waddle toward her.

“Lu Yao, can I trade for the Acorus plants in the greenhouse?”

“Lu Yao, I want Acorus too!”

“Lu Yao, could I have one of the Acorus plants?”

Lu Yao was puzzled. “Why does everyone like Acorus so much?”

The little people chattered away, recounting the legends about Acorus. Lu Yao reassured them, “No rush. Once the Acorus in the greenhouse grows, it will produce many seedlings. After dividing the roots, there will be plenty for everyone. Can you wait a bit?”

The little people had no concept of “cultivation.” They lived off the land, moving from one place to another once resources were depleted, migrating several times a year.

While they didn’t fully grasp Lu Yao’s explanation of growing and dividing Acorus, their blind trust and affection for her convinced them to wait patiently. They dispersed happily with the promise that everyone would get their share.

At that moment, Budu and Ji Feiming walked in.

Seeing Lu Yao awake, Ji Feiming retrieved a steaming plate of seared steak and seafood pasta from his ring. “The young one said you’d wake soon, so I ordered from the snack shop and brought it over.”

Lu Yao nodded. “Thank you for staying so late.”

Ji Feiming usually had a busy morning but was mostly free after lunch, often staying until five. Staying until nine, like tonight, was rare, and it was likely because Budu had asked him to.

Accepting the meal, Lu Yao asked casually, “Is that god emissary still in Yaoguang City?” She was referring to Ji Feichen.

Ji Feiming nodded. “Yes, aimlessly wasting his days and unwilling to return to the main house.”

Ji Feiming’s tone carried a hint of frustration, as though he couldn’t bear to watch Ji Feichen squander his time.

While Ji Feiming had no intent to belittle, he felt that Ji Feichen’s behavior was unproductive. At his age, especially given the situation with the young one, throwing tantrums wouldn’t fix anything.

Ji Feiming had long come to terms with his circumstances. While he’d fallen from the grace of being a god emissary, he found it hard to fully integrate back into ordinary life. Yet, he felt most at ease at the shopping street.

Ji Feichen, having experienced the same, remained unwilling to accept his fate—perhaps because he hadn’t met someone like Lu Yao.

After a restful afternoon nap and dinner, Lu Yao was full of energy. She had something she wanted to test.

Once she was certain all the guests and little staff had gone to their rooms to rest, Lu Yao brought out a tea bowl from the glass greenhouse, which had yet to sprout. Noticing the wilting Yangju next to it, she grabbed that as well.

Scooping away the topsoil in the tea bowl, she unearthed the Yangju she’d planted earlier. As expected, it hadn’t sprouted.

Under the lamp, she examined the peculiar fruit, beginning to suspect it wasn’t a fetal seed after all.

Earlier that afternoon, seeing the fetal seed regain its vitality had reminded her of the yangju. However, upon closer inspection, the yangju resembled a mandarin orange with its dimpled orange peel, while the fetal seed had a smooth, pale pink membrane covering its surface—completely different.

Lu Yao held the yangju, pressing her fingers into it.

(T/N: I got confused before. Yangju is the sun tangerine).

“What are you doing?” Ziye emerged from the neighboring guest room and climbed onto the window sill, catching Lu Yao mid-action. “I told you not to damage it!” His voice cracked with urgency.

Lu Yao released the yangju. “Why aren’t you asleep yet?”

Zi Ye looked at the yangju now back in the soil, heart aching. “You can’t plant it that way. If you want it to sprout, you need to water it daily with acorus dew, three times a day, and make sure it drinks to its fill.”

“Acorus dew?” Lu Yao asked, feigning innocence.

It turned out the yangju tree and acorus were symbiotic. The delicate yangju tree would only grow when nurtured with acorus dew.

Lu Yao picked up the yangju again, twirling it in her hand. “How coincidental. It’s just as picky as the fetal seed.”

Ziye averted his gaze, pretending not to hear. “Don’t plant it for now. There’s only one acorus in the inn, and it’s far from enough to sustain it.”

Lu Yao asked, “What should we do then?”

Ziye replied, “I’m planning to return to the tribe with Jiexiang tomorrow. Maybe I can request more acorus to transplant here. You can plant it once we have enough.”

The yangju in Lu Yao’s hand might very well be the last seed.

Ziye wasn’t particularly hopeful.

Seven years ago, when the great yangju tree was dying, the tribe tried everything to cultivate new saplings but failed, wasting dozens of seeds in the process.

The yangju seed in Lu Yao’s hand probably wouldn’t sprout either.

However, Ziye, once a knight of the temple, couldn’t turn a blind eye upon seeing the yangju seed. He resolved to return to the Shenmu tribe to seek help.

As for why he didn’t take the yangju seed from Lu Yao, Ziye had his own reasons.

After witnessing the incident with the fetal seed that afternoon, he discerned that the innkeeper was anything but ordinary.

In Ziye’s judgment, the yangju had a better chance of thriving in her hands than being taken back to the Shenmu tribe.

Lu Yao asked, “Would it need a wooden box like the other seed?”

Ziye shook his head. “fetal seeds and regular seeds are different. It doesn’t require a box.”

Ziye was unwilling to elaborate further, and Lu Yao didn’t press him.

She had already learned quite a bit.

The next morning, Qianlang, Beibei, Xia yin, and Fengqin left the inn together.

The fetal seed remained in good condition throughout the night and was still lively and energetic by the time they departed.

Shortly after the four guests left, Ziye and Jiexiang also rode the inn’s red pigs and set off.

As soon as Ziye left, Lu Yao wasted no time crafting a small box for the yangju using Tears of the Sea Goddess.

She placed the yangju into a pearl-like seedling box and began feeding it diluted acorus dew three times a day.

Acorus would wilt after their dew was harvested, but Lu Yao experimented by tossing a single Tear of the goddess into the pot. Within half a day, the flower perked back up.

It was far easier to care for than the yangju, though the dew it produced was pitifully small. Diluting it with water was the only way to make it last.

While feeding the yangju with the diluted Acorus dew, Lu Yao couldn’t help but mutter, “You stubborn little thing—either sprout or don’t. If you don’t show any progress in three days, I’ll throw you out into the rocky field.”

🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️🛍️

Protected: Ch 42: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Ch 41: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Early that morning, Xiao Yuanbao carried a basket and went to the household in the village that was butchering a pig.

He had told them well in advance to save him a bundle of pig intestines and a pair of kidneys.

When he got there, he noticed the pig’s head wasn’t too big, the face meat wasn’t too fatty, and it got him itching—so he bought that too.

His basket was completely filled with intestines and kidneys, and in his other hand, he had to carry the pig’s head.

Though there wasn’t much meat on the pig’s head, the bones made it heavy. A palm leaf threaded through the top of the head dug into his hand, turning his fingers white from the pressure.

It was so heavy that he had to stop and rest every few steps.

Fortunately, on the way back he ran into Tian Ken, who was returning from fertilizing the new fields over at Zao’er Dam.

“You’re carrying all this? Quick, let me take it!”

Tian Ken hurried to take both the basket and the pig’s head from him.

Xiao Yuanbao sighed with relief—finally, his hands were free.

He wiped the sweat from his forehead and said, “The Wu family slaughtered a pig. I figured I’d grab more while it’s still fresh.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Today I’m going to pick the meat off the pig head bones and slow-braise it into a pot of spiced stew.”

“Teacher gave me a bowl of old master stock—smells amazing. Once I add it to the new pot, I guarantee the pig face meat will turn out tender, springy, and rich with flavor.”

Just hearing him describe it had Tian Ken swallowing hard.

When he first came to the Xiao household, he knew it was a farming family, and heard that Master Xiao had even fought off a black bear. He figured life here wouldn’t be easy.

But he didn’t ask for much—so long as he had two meals of porridge a day, he was content. He was still young, didn’t eat much, and had the strength to work.

He hadn’t expected the Xiao household’s meals to be far better than he imagined.

Not only were there regular meals with polished rice and wheat noodles, but every few days they’d have meat too.

And even though Xiao Yuanbao was just a young kid, his cooking skills were no joke. Whether it was stir-fried or stewed, even a cold cucumber dish was so flavorful it made you eat more rice.

Whenever he cooked meat, you could smell the fragrance even while cleaning out the chicken coop.

Though the Xiao family didn’t seem particularly well-off, there were always neighbors bringing things to their door.

Today it was eggs from the Fang family, tomorrow it’d be a piece of meat from the Jiangs, and the day after that even the village head’s family would bring fruit, cakes, or tea.

Tian Ken thought to himself he was truly lucky to have ended up with such a good family.

They let him eat at the same table, treated him with harmony and warmth—just like his own home used to feel. It gave him a real sense of peace.

And because of that, he worked even harder.

After Xiao Yuanbao had rested, he noticed Tian Ken was still carrying a bucket, and said, “Brother Tian, give me the basket—I can carry it now.”

Tian Ken shook his head. “I can handle this much—it’s not even as heavy as a bucket of manure.”

Xiao Yuanbao lifted his chin proudly, eyes curving into a smile:

“Brother Tian, you’re so quick and hardworking—my brother and father keep praising you. Since you came, the house and yard have been spotless, and all the firewood is neatly stacked under the eaves.”

“You’ve even turned the soil so fine, and carry bucket after bucket of manure without complaint. Our crops are sure to thrive next year.”

Ever since Tian Ken arrived, Xiao Yuanbao felt like his own chores had decreased a lot.

Though his daily work was mostly cooking, washing clothes, feeding the chickens and ducks, and sweeping the yard—Tian Ken had taken most of that over.

Tian Ken gave a modest laugh: “I’m here now, and this is all I can do. It’s still way less than what I used to do in the old village.”

“Our Tian family was from another region. We ended up in Shuishui Township, leasing land from others to farm. We didn’t have many people at home, couldn’t afford livestock, and didn’t have much fertilizer—but my father and I both knew how to farm. We could make dry and paddy fields yield better than most others.”

“But renting others’ land means paying rent and grain, plus the court’s tax. What’s left is just enough to get by. Over the years, we had managed to save a few strings of coins, hoping to one day buy our own land. Who would’ve thought we’d get hit by a natural disaster.”

Saying that, Tian Ken couldn’t help but sigh.

Xiao Yuanbao felt heavy-hearted hearing this too, and tried to comfort him: “We’re all a house full of people who’ve had a hard life. Now that we’re together, we’ll definitely make a good life for ourselves!”

Tian Ken smiled. After spending some time at the Xiao household, he’d come to know that Qi Beinan had lost both his parents and come here to rely on the Xiaos. He’d also heard how Xiao Hu’s first wife had passed, and his remarriage had ended in separation.

Indeed—it truly was a house full of hardships.

Seeing how Xiao Yuanbao lost his mother so early yet remained cheerful and optimistic gave Tian Ken a lot of encouragement. “Yes.”

“No worries at all—this land is rich and fertile. I’ll surely tend it well and make sure we have a great harvest next year.”

“Alright!”

Back at home, Xiao Yuanbao went straight to preparing the stewed pig head.

Qi Beinan helped tend the fire and was assigned to peel garlic and break apart scallions.

That afternoon, Xiao Yuanbao sent Tian Ken to go invite Fang Youliang.

…

“What’s the occasion now? Oh, stewed pork is it?!”

As soon as Fang Youliang stepped into the courtyard, his nose caught the scent.

“You can only eat stewed pork on a special day?”

Qi Beinan saw him arrive and said, “Ever since you bought that calf, you’ve disappeared. If we didn’t come looking for you, we’d never see your shadow.”

Fang Youliang scratched his head awkwardly: “I’ve been taking it to graze the last patch of fresh grass before winter. Once the cold sets in, it’ll be dry feed only.”

“These past days I’ve just been out with the calf and didn’t pass by here, so I didn’t drop in.”

Xiao Yuanbao had plated a big dish—slices of soft, flavorful stewed pig ear, a chunk of pig intestine, and a generous slab of tender, fatty pig cheek.

“Brother Fang, the carp we caught when the water rose is finally pickled enough in the jar. If you didn’t come today, I wasn’t planning to give you any!”

Fang Youliang laughed, “No, no, I’ve been thinking about that fish all this time.”

“I’ll give you two when you head home later.”

Xiao Yuanbao went back into the kitchen and sliced up three ceramic bowls’ worth of braised meat—one to bring to his teacher, one for Fang Youliang to take home, and the last to send to the village head’s family.

Zhao Guangzong was studying in the county and seldom came home, so he wouldn’t get to enjoy it. But Village Head Zhao loved drinking, so sending him a bowl of braised meat to go with his wine wouldn’t go amiss.

Then Xiao Yuanbao opened a wooden barrel kept in the shade.

Inside were pickled fish from when the river had risen—now deliciously sour and fragrant.

He cleaned and gutted the fish again, stuffed them with fresh slices of ginger, sand ginger, peppercorns, dogwood berries, and litsea cubeba, then pressed them tight at the bottom of the barrel. They’d be ready in just over a month.

He pulled out one of the pickled fish, added some fresh vegetables, and it instantly made for a flavorful dish.

The soup was sour and fresh—wonderfully appetite-whetting.

The Fang family had a lot of mouths to feed, and since it was Fang Youliang who’d caught the fish, he sent two fish their way. The rest were sent out one each, along with the braised meat.

While he was dividing up the fish, the little river shrimp he’d caught got tossed in too—floating in the seasoning broth, they could still be seen.

Outside, Fang Youliang and Qi Beinan drank two cups of wine.

Xiao Hu could now walk around again. His body was sturdy, and by the end of the year he was likely to recover fully.

But his wound was still healing, and Xiao Yuanbao had hidden all the wine so he wouldn’t sneak any.

He watched them drink longingly but had to settle for eating meat—otherwise, he’d get an earful from Xiao Yuanbao again.

“There’ve been a strange number of weddings this year, in and around the village.”

Qi Beinan clinked cups with Fang Youliang. “Don’t you have any plans to celebrate?”

“How could I not!”

Fang Youliang’s eyes lit up, and he said with great satisfaction, “There is something to celebrate at home—we bought a cow! If the calf hadn’t gotten hurt, I would’ve invited you over for drinks.”

“You attend other people’s wedding feasts, but have you ever had a cow-buying banquet?”

Fang Youliang blinked: “Oh, you mean the marriages arranged with refugees.”

Qi Beinan said, “The magistrate wants to resettle refugees and has been using official matchmakers to arrange good marriages.”

He gave Fang Youliang a once-over and deliberately called him by a more senior title: “Brother Fang, you’re not that young anymore, right?”

“Aw, come on.”

“Actually, when I went to the county the other day, I heard about the official matchmaker thing. I wanted to go check it out too—but I was too busy buying the cow, couldn’t manage both.”

Qi Beinan’s temples tensed. No wonder Fang Jie’er was at her wits’ end.

“Never mind.”

Qi Beinan changed the topic. “What do you think of the girl from the Bai family?”

Hearing that, Fang Youliang put down his chopsticks and glanced sneakily around the room before whispering, “What’s going on, has Madam Qiao come to propose a match to you?”

“You think I got engaged and didn’t tell you?”

Qi Beinan narrowed his eyes. “Don’t play dumb with me, or no more wine and meat for you.”

Fang Youliang grinned. “Alright, alright, don’t be mad. I get it. I was just surprised you brought up a girl all of a sudden.”

“The Bai family girl—we all saw her by the river that day. She’s pretty and has a good temperament. All the unmarried guys in the village are watching her!”

Qi Beinan didn’t bother to talk circles with this blockhead. With the kind of relationship he had with the Fang family, there was no need for careful phrasing.

“So what about you? Are you watching her?”

“Me?!”

Fang Youliang’s eyes went wide. “What do I have to watch her with?”

“The Bai family is one of the big surnames in our Geshan Village. They’ve produced scholars and landowners. Even though they’re not directly related to Miss Liu’s family, she’s still a Bai.”

“Her parents are both skilled workers—a mason and a midwife. They raised a son and a daughter and live a comfortable life. Her family dotes on her, raised her well, and Master Bai has plenty of apprentices but didn’t like any of them enough to marry her off.”

Fang Youliang tossed a piece of fatty, fragrant intestine into his mouth. “Our Fang family’s situation—what decent family would want to marry into it? I’d have to be out of my mind to think I could match with someone like her.”

Qi Beinan looked at him with an unreadable expression. “Sounds like you’ve thought it through clearly. That’s not foolish—that’s being painfully self-aware.”

“Brother Fang thinks about his cow all day, but clearly knows plenty about the Bai family. What, you been eavesdropping while tending the cattle?”

Fang Youliang laughed and shook his head, raising his cup to down another gulp of wine.

Qi Beinan saw through it.

He said, “But if the Bai girl just so happens to like you—then what?”

Fang Youliang sighed softly. “She shouldn’t like me. There’s nothing about me worth her liking.”

“She’s a good girl. She ought to find a good family, live an easy life without worries.”

“You do like her. But it’s precisely because you like her that you don’t want to hold her back.”

Qi Beinan looked at Fang Youliang. “Isn’t that so?”

“Xiao Qi, you’ve got talent, knowledge, good looks—you’re one in a million. Maybe you’ll never know what it feels like to suddenly realize that the person you thought would never look at you… actually does.”

Fang Youliang suddenly said this with unusual seriousness.

He, Fang Youliang, was just an ordinary man. Straightforward, a little dull.

And growing up in poverty, with one failed marriage talk after another—no matter how cheerful a person started out, such repeated blows would wear anyone down. The shame and humility would take root deep in your bones.

His only real strength was that he was young and strong.

That year, when the Bai family was repairing their courtyard wall and called for help, all of Master Bai’s apprentices were trying to show off and act clever. Only he stayed by the wall, moving stones, covered in dust and sweat, working the better part of the day, his whole face grey and streaked with grime.

Even he felt embarrassed about it.

But while all the men were trying to get a word in with Bai Liu, she just cradled her basket, picked out a big green pear, wiped it clean with her handkerchief, and smiled as she offered it to him.

That pear, chilled from the well water, was sweet straight to his heart.

“I’ve never dared to dream,” he said, “There are more men admiring Liu Jie’er than could fit in a cartload of baskets.”

He never dared approach her, never once revealed even the faintest affection in front of her—always just acted like an ordinary fellow villager.

Even the most seasoned matchmakers wouldn’t be able to see any hidden feelings in him.

If not for what happened by the creek that day, they might have gone their whole lives in this village without another real encounter.

Qi Beinan understood this and couldn’t help feeling surprised.

“You really are good at hiding things. You even fooled me.”

Fang Youliang gave a bitter smile. “I’ve never told anyone these thoughts. Please, keep it to yourself.”

Qi Beinan nodded. “You trust me enough to speak your heart—I’d never spread it.”

“Look, most couples in the world weren’t born of mutual love. More often than not, it’s the will of parents and matchmakers. You two already have feelings. If no one takes a step forward, wouldn’t that be a pity?”

Fang Youliang said, “Her family’s doing just fine. She’s loved by her parents and brother. If she married into our Fang household, she’d have to care for my bedridden father.”

“There’d be no meat on the table for days. How could I let the feelings in my heart drag her into a bitter life like that?”

“My future won’t be bright either. I’m not like you—a scholar with a path ahead. She’s still young, like a flower in bloom. I can’t make her wait for a promise I can’t keep.”

Fang Youliang’s heart felt like it was being sliced with knives. “The best thing I can do is play dumb, stay silent. I figure she only felt something for me because she was scared from almost drowning. If I don’t press the matter, she’ll likely return to the path she was always meant to walk.”

Qi Beinan felt heavy-hearted.

He could help others clear their doubts and find direction—but when it came to feelings, there was only so much anyone could do.

Love was full of uncertainty.

Especially since Fang Youliang saw it so clearly—there was a real gap between the Bai and Fang families.

He knew well enough the pain of mismatched family standings. Love wasn’t just between two people.

“So? Is Grandpa Fang’s house about to have a wedding?”

Xiao Yuanbao asked as he brought over the braised meat and pickled fish to Fang Youliang. Seeing him still grinning away, he waited until he was out of sight and hurriedly asked Qi Beinan.

“You just want to go help at the wedding banquet, huh? That’s not for you to say.”

Qi Beinan replied, “Marriage follows its own fate. Others can only do what little they can. In the end, it’s up to the people involved.”

Xiao Yuanbao, only half-understanding, pursed his lips.

“If even you can’t do anything… then I guess it really isn’t going to work out.”

He felt such a pity. Everything had seemed like it could’ve worked—how could it not?

…

After late autumn came winter.

This year was especially cold. Snow came right at the start of the twelfth month.

Xiao Yuanbao saw the courtyard covered in a thin layer of white. He squinted and tucked his neck down into his rabbit-fur scarf.

He went into the kitchen, lit some charcoal, and steamed the small chestnuts Tian Ken had gathered from the mountains. He mashed them into flour and made a plate of chestnut cakes.

After the New Year, Qi Beinan would be heading into the exam halls. With the weather cold, he went out less and spent most of his days reading indoors.

Xiao Yuanbao brought the brazier into his room to keep him warm, and brought over the chestnut cakes to fill his belly.

His father and Tian Ken had gone into the county to check out the livestock market. If the prices were right, they planned to buy an animal for plowing and field work in the coming year.

When Qi Beinan saw the warm plate of chestnut cakes brought in, he realized he really was hungry.

He got up to wash his hands, and the water in the basin was bone-chilling.

Xiao Yuanbao noticed the red joints on Qi Beinan’s long, slender fingers and pulled him over to the brazier.

“Quick, warm your hands—you won’t be able to write if they go numb.”

Qi Beinan sat down by the brazier, popped a soft, sticky cake into his mouth, and finally felt some warmth return.

“Is it snowing outside?”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded. “Mm. It’s freezing out—and it’s still so early.”

Qi Beinan said, “I thought the room looked brighter than usual—figured it must be snow.”

“After the Great Cold, there’ll be drought. If we can store some ice during this chill, it’ll fetch a good price in the summer.”

Xiao Yuanbao rubbed his little hands. “Storing ice takes a lot of labor—and you need a huge underground pit. How could we possibly store ice here?”

Qi Beinan chuckled. “You really do know quite a bit.”

Xiao Yuanbao offered him another cake: “Brother, just focus on studying. Why are you still thinking about making money?”

“Studying’s also for feeding the family, isn’t it?”

Qi Beinan reached over and tucked the fur scarf tighter around Xiao Yuanbao’s neck. “Building up a family fortune—that’s more important than anything.”

Xiao Yuanbao sat down beside him, stretching his feet out to warm by the fire. “Mm. Once I’m good enough in the kitchen, I’ll earn money and take care of the family too.”

Qi Beinan laughed. He looked at Xiao Yuanbao’s reddened hands and asked, “Got a bit of frostbite, haven’t you?”

“Nope.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “My hands are just red from kneading dough earlier.”

“It’s just that the cold came early this year… I’m afraid if it gets any colder, I really will get frostbite.”

As he spoke, his voice grew a little softer. He sneaked a glance at Qi Beinan with his big eyes. “If I keep writing, I might wake up tomorrow with four or five blisters already.”

Qi Beinan narrowed his eyes. “Oh? Sounds like these frostbites sure know how to pick their timing—just as you wish.”

The cold weather was making Xiao Yuanbao lazy. He rubbed his forehead against Qi Beinan’s arm. “Then today I’ll just write two characters—only two.”

Qi Beinan shook his head helplessly. “I really can’t do anything with you.”

Seeing him give in, Xiao Yuanbao grinned. “I knew Brother was the kindest!”

A couple of days later, Fang Jie’er came by the house.

She brought some crisp little dates and also handed over two strings of coins.

“Master Ming said Mr. Qi’s calligraphy is excellent. He’s very satisfied with those scripture copies you did. These two strings are from him.”

There was joy in Fang Jie’er’s tone, and in her hair, a new begonia hairpin that hadn’t been there before. She smiled and said to Qi Beinan, “That old master also said he’d like to invite you to his residence for a cup of tea.”

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Thingyan: Password locked chapter ahead. Pw is baobao

Ch 40: Reborn to Raise My Husband

The young man stubbornly chased after them for a few more steps. The constable drew his blade. “If you keep causing trouble and disturbing public order, don’t blame us for being rough!”

He didn’t dare push forward anymore and could only stop slowly in place.

As the crowd dispersed, the young man collapsed to the ground, powerless, falling to his knees. His hands braced against the dirt, and he broke down sobbing.

Xiao Yuanbao gripped Qi Beinan’s hand tightly, finding it hard to lift his eyes to look at the young man’s bloodied face, his forehead torn and caked with flesh and blood.

He pressed close to Qi Beinan, his voice trembling. “So pitiful.”

“How can someone just leave a body out like that.”

Xiao Yuanbao tugged at Qi Beinan. “His father is gone. Give him some coins so he can buy a straw mat at least.”

Qi Beinan gently patted the hand clutching his sleeve, offering some comfort.

He, too, had lost his father as a youth and knew the pain well—how could he not feel sorry for this boy?

“Merchants are restricted by imperial law from purchasing land. You said you wanted to bury your father in a field, but to a merchant, that would seem insulting—they’d think you were looking down on them. How would they be willing to help you bury your father?”

Hearing the voice, the boy on the ground lifted his head. Through his tear-filled eyes, he saw a pair—one older, one younger.

He stopped crying and was stunned for a moment, then suddenly realized and regretted aloud, “I really was being stupid. Talking such nonsense!”

Qi Beinan took a string of coins from his person and handed it to the boy. “Falling into hardship in a strange land is already hard enough. Now that your father has died far from home, it’s even more heartbreaking. The weather’s hot. Let your father be buried as soon as possible, to rest in peace.”

The boy stared blankly for a moment, clearly not expecting the plainly dressed young man to give away so many coins, helping a stranger in such hardship.

Alongside the surprise was deep gratitude.

He had already pushed his body to its limit while begging along the way. Ling County had suffered days of heavy rain. His father had caught a chill and developed a fever. After sleeping one night under the eaves, he never woke again. And now, even with autumn here, the weather remained hot. With his father gone, the pain was unbearable—but if he left his father’s corpse to rot on the street, wouldn’t that be the height of unfiliality?

But with so many refugees in the city, many dead and injured, there was no pity to be found just by begging.

He’d wandered for two days without managing to get even a straw mat. His lips were cracked with ulcers from the stress. And watching how even the wealthy merchants refused to help, he’d felt all hope was lost—only to now run into a kind soul.

After receiving that little nudge from the young gentleman earlier, he was afraid to say anything wrong again and offend someone. Not knowing how else to express his gratitude, he simply kowtowed again. “Thank you, young gentleman, thank you!”

Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao rushed forward to stop him. “If you keep knocking your head like that, you’ll be bleeding all over. If something happens to you, what would your father think?”

Clutching the heavy string of coins, the boy’s eyes were filled with tears. “If I don’t kowtow to you, young gentleman, I truly don’t know how else to thank you for this immense kindness.”

“My home, my land—it’s all been washed away by the floods. Today I met a living Bodhisattva who’s helping me lay my father to rest, but I have no idea where to go after this.”

“If the young gentleman doesn’t mind, then please let me serve you, be it as a beast of burden or a servant, to repay this favor.”

After saying this, he didn’t knock his head again, but instead knelt deeply by Qi Beinan’s feet, sincerely and earnestly.

Seeing this, Qi Beinan said, “Let’s not mention that I’m just an ordinary person myself, with no estate to speak of to keep a servant. Once you’ve sold yourself, you’re no longer free. Now that you’ve got money in hand, enough for a few days of meals and warmth, you’re a healthy young man—you should be able to find work to survive. Why give up your status as a free citizen?”

The boy raised his head. “I’m not afraid of hard labor. Now that I’ve got enough to get by for a bit, I’ll do without pride and find a way to make a living before the money runs out.”

“But if I just go off and live my life, while the young gentleman—an ordinary person—was still so generous in spending all that money to bury my father, how could I ever repay that kindness? Even if I had a smooth life from now on, I would never be at peace.”

“I’m not selling myself to some rich noble house. I just want to repay the favor. I’ll do any hard, bitter work. Please let me.”

Qi Beinan let out a soft sigh. He’d already said everything he could, but seeing the boy so insistent…

After a moment’s thought, he said, “Fine. If that’s your wish, then so be it.”

The boy’s eyes lit up when he heard Qi Beinan relent. He immediately kowtowed. “Thank you, young gentleman!”

Qi Beinan pointed out a patch of unclaimed forest outside the county for the boy to lay the mat and bury his father. They agreed to meet at the county office gate at mid-morning the next day.

Then he went off to take care of the matters he originally came to town for.

He returned a book at the bookstore, then finally made his way back to the village.

Although he had already agreed, he still needed to talk to Xiao Hu first. After all, if the boy were to stay, it would be at Xiao’s household.

Even if he had say in household matters and Xiao Hu usually let him make the call, it still wouldn’t be proper to just bring someone back without saying a word.

“If you’re worried about getting scolded, let me go tell father first,” said Xiao Yuanbao loyally, taking his hand as they walked.

Qi Beinan had been quiet on the way back, his mind elsewhere. He kept thinking how that boy’s face looked vaguely familiar, as if he had seen him somewhere long ago.

He’d met so many people in his life. No matter how good his memory, he couldn’t remember them all clearly.

He was just lost in thought and hadn’t said anything.

When he heard Xiao Yuanbao speak, he came back to himself. Seeing Xiao Yuanbao’s earnest face, he couldn’t help but smile—though he pretended to look nervous and afraid.

“I’m feeling really uneasy. What if Uncle Xiao gets angry? It’s one thing if he refuses to let that older brother into the house, but what if he kicks me out too—what then?”

“Father’s not that fierce!”

Xiao Yuanbao widened his eyes and immediately defended Xiao Hu.

Seeing Qi Beinan’s worried look, he gently patted the back of his hand and tried to comfort him.

“If it really comes to that, then just say I was the one who brought that brother here. Father surely wouldn’t throw me out. And if he does throw me out, he’d not only lose his good child, but also the one who cooks for him!”

Qi Beinan nodded. “That does make sense. But… does Uncle Xiao have any reason to kick me out?”

Xiao Yuanbao thought carefully, then said:

“If Father really insists on driving Brother out…”

“Hmm?”

Qi Beinan turned his head to look at Xiao Yuanbao.

“Then I’ll give Brother all the money I’ve saved in my jar, so he doesn’t go hungry.”

Qi Beinan pinched the tip of his nose. “What a generous young master!”

They both laughed for a bit, then Xiao Yuanbao grew worried again.

“What if that brother doesn’t show up at the county office tomorrow? Or what if he’s scared we won’t keep our word?”

“Give him this day to think it through. If he doesn’t show up tomorrow, then it means he’s changed his mind. It’s better to figure that out early than regret it later. We genuinely wanted to help him, and that string of coins wasn’t wasted. In the meantime, he doesn’t need to be in constant fear—he should trust that we’ll keep our word.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded.

Once they got home, Qi Beinan brought up the boy’s situation with Xiao Hu.

Xiao Hu said, “Even Ling County has had so much rain this year. Villages by the Lin River are bound to have suffered. I just didn’t expect it to be this bad.”

“Natural disasters and human misfortunes… Thankfully, the county magistrate has taken action. Otherwise, those refugees might’ve all died from hunger or sickness.”

Qi Beinan said, “If nothing were done under such weather, disease and death would spread. Without timely resettlement, plague might break out. By then, it wouldn’t just be the refugees’ problem—it’d affect the whole county.”

Xiao Hu fell silent. He hadn’t considered things from that angle.

In terms of perspective, he truly didn’t see as far as Qi Beinan.

But when it came to whether or not to take that boy in, he could see it clearly enough.

“If sheltering a refugee can reduce some of our taxes—even a little—it’s better than nothing. It’s just one more pair of chopsticks at the table, no harm in letting him stay.”

“Once the new fields we bought after autumn are harvested, we’ll have grain in hand. By then, my leg still won’t be fully healed. Having someone extra to help with the land won’t hurt.”

Most of their land was rented out for others to farm. After autumn, they collected rent and grain.

Typically, each mu of dry land brought in five to seven hundred wen a year in rent. For paddy fields, one to two tenths of the harvest was collected.

Taxes were paid by the tenant farmers themselves, which meant rent and grain income were pure profit.

On the surface, it looked pretty good. Renting out twenty mu of land could bring in over ten strings of coins annually.

But this was regular leasing—it didn’t compare to families who had their own tenant farmers.

With your own tenants, twenty mu could bring in more than twice that.

Tenant farmers were usually of humble status, entirely dependent on the landlord’s land to eat. They had no property, and all their living expenses were provided by the master—no different from the servants in wealthy households.

So long as the master paid the imperial tax on the land and fed the tenants, everything else was profit.

Places like Pingzhuang, where the landlord was a government official, even had tax exemptions, making it all pure income.

Xiao Hu did envy that life. But their family had already emptied their savings just to buy a few more mu of land. They simply weren’t in a position to keep a large group of tenants.

As respectable commoner farmers, even if the court didn’t limit land ownership, they hadn’t gone into business nor held official titles to gain tax exemptions. How could they manage to run a large estate?

So, they could only keep leasing land year after year, saving little by little.

Once they had more in hand, they’d renovate their small courtyard to make it roomier. Then, during disaster years, buy a servant or two for cheap and climb step by step.

With that slow, steady effort, they’d eventually rise from humble farmers to village landlords.

Once life was stable and no longer worried about food and clothes, they’d send their sons or nephews to school. If an ancestor’s tomb emitted some lucky smoke and someone passed the scholar’s exam, their lives could reach a new level.

Since Xiao Hu had chosen this path, there was no need for more advice from Qi Beinan. And now that the county was offering a three-year tax exemption, how could he possibly refuse?

Taking in one or two more wasn’t a problem at all.

And with an extra set of hands, they might not need to lease out those last two mu of land.

So, the next morning, Qi Beinan made another trip into town.

The boy had taken care of his father’s burial and had gone straight to the agreed-upon spot. By the time Qi Beinan arrived, he had already been sitting on the stone stool outside the county office for quite a while.

“Did you bury your father properly?”

“I buried him on the outskirts of town, on Jiaozi Hill, under a big banyan tree. It’s easy to remember. I can visit him during Qingming to offer incense.”

Qi Beinan gave a soft response—this boy was truly filial.

He then asked again to confirm the boy’s intentions hadn’t changed. Once he was sure, he took him into the county’s household registration office to complete the documentation.

That’s when he learned the boy was named Tian Ken, fifteen years old, originally from Shuishan in Jiang Prefecture—which actually wasn’t that far from Qi Beinan’s former home in Qiu County.

On the way back, the two of them walked.

Qi Beinan guided Tian Ken to recognize the route into the city and pointed out the nearby villages. He also spoke to him about the situation at home.

Though the boy seemed honest and dependable, one couldn’t judge by appearances. Qi Beinan still made sure to lay down the rules.

He used Xiao Hu’s status as a hunter to make up a few stories, hoping to instill some fear and respect in him.

By the time they arrived home, Xiao Yuanbao had already cleaned out the outermost little room, which had previously been used for storage.

In the early autumn, dust flew easily, so he had sprinkled plenty of water and opened all the windows and doors wide to keep it under control.

He had also prepared food and ingredients early on—they were going to have four dishes for dinner.

Although Tian Ken had sold himself into their household, Xiao Yuanbao didn’t really draw lines between master and servant. He only knew that since someone new had arrived, they should eat well.

So he planned to steam a bowl of glossy red cured meat smoked last winter, stew a pig’s trotter with three thick, sticky segments of lotus root, fry a plate of vegetarian radish, and finally open a pickling jar to scoop out some briny liquid to mix with cucumber to balance the flavors.

Tian Ken had been wandering for over two months, eating one meal and missing the next. He hadn’t had even a proper dish of boiled vegetables in days, let alone meat.

Seeing this kind of meal, he was deeply moved—it truly felt like he had come home.

At dinner that night, tears of gratitude fell into his rice as he ate three big bowls of polished grain rice.

…

The matter of the refugees stirred up some waves in the area.

Landlords and gentry in the village had all taken in one or two refugees who had sold themselves. Even Pingzhuang had a few new faces.

Some poorer families, unable to afford marriage with locals, had even found partners among the refugee crowd.

As the farming season ended in late autumn, there were more weddings this year than usual.

Xiao Yuanbao ended up helping out at a lot of wedding banquets.

But when he came back, he grumbled: many of those who married refugees skipped the proper wedding costs, and the feasts were just as frugal.

The ingredients they brought barely covered five tables, yet they invited eight tables’ worth of guests.

And he, as the head cook, still had to prepare ten dishes to make the spread look presentable.

They piled a few scraps of meat into a big bowl, and with eight people at a table, every plate was picked clean. They nearly mixed the rice directly into the sauce on the serving bowls to mop up every last drop.

No one dared complain at the table, but as soon as the feast ended, it was as lively as New Year’s in the streets.

The whole ordeal was exhausting, and Xiao Yuanbao didn’t even get a few copper coins of thank-you money. They even tried to shortchange Jiang Fulang from his due payment.

He came home empty-handed and collapsed straight into bed. This year’s wedding banquets had truly been the most thankless and exhausting yet.

That day, Fang Jie’er came to their home to collect the scripture copies Qi Beinan had transcribed for Master Fu.

A few long scrolls—Qi Beinan had earned six strings of coins for them.

Fang Jie’er sat in the Xiao household for a while and chatted idly with Qi Beinan.

“This year, many older men in the nearby villages have already settled down. I’m honestly getting worried about my older brother.”

She sipped some tea and said earnestly, “Ever since I learned this skill, I’ve been running around the city a lot. I haven’t had much time to properly see to matters at home—it’s truly unfilial of me.”

“Mr. Qi, since you often run into my brother in the village, please talk to him for me. Urge him to seriously think about his future.”

Qi Beinan raised an eyebrow. “What’s going on?”

A while ago, after the river swelled, Fang Youliang pulled a girl from the Bai family—Miss Liu—from the water.

And that rescue stirred up a whole lot.

Miss Liu had fallen ill after the incident.

She couldn’t sleep well at night, always tossing and turning, her mind replaying the moment when she was drowning, flailing helplessly in the water—until a strong arm wrapped around her waist and dragged her back from death’s door.

Just thinking of that face would make her cheeks burn and her heart flutter, and then she couldn’t help but laugh out loud.

She took out her finest silk thread and carefully mended every tear in the old work shirt that Fang Youliang had been wearing.

She scrubbed it clean with soapnut and made it smell lovely.

Then, one day, she shyly called out to him and returned the shirt.

“My older brother really drives people mad!” said Fang Jie’er. “Miss Liu returned the shirt just as he was bringing back a young yellow calf from the city. The calf was lively and hurt its hoof on the road—it bled a bit. My brother panicked, and when she gave him the shirt, he immediately used it to wrap the cow’s hoof!”

“When he got home, he even told our third brother what a strange scene it was. Said Miss Liu from the Bai family is afraid of cows—saw the little calf, covered her eyes, and ran. While he was bandaging the hoof, she was already gone.”

The shirt had been treated with such care that even after being unwrapped from a cow’s foot, it still smelled nice—just how much effort had she put into washing it?

Fang Jie’er shook her head. “My silly, clueless brother—what can we do with him? That Miss Liu, how many young men in the village have tried to curry favor with her and got nothing? And yet she clearly has feelings for him, and he goes and does this.”

Qi Beinan chuckled. Ever since he’d seen Fang Youliang heroically rescue the girl by the river and then immediately go back to worrying about his big green carp, he’d known this kid was something else.

Now hearing Fang Jie’er’s complaints, he found it both amusing and completely believable.

“Brother Fang has a proper appearance, strong and healthy—it’s no surprise girls fancy him.”

Qi Beinan spoke more seriously. “But he’s your older brother. In the past, life at home was tough. He had to care for your parents above and watch over you and your younger brother below. The burden on him was heavy.”

All that’s on his mind is the crops, picking up work, money for Father’s medicine, making sure his younger siblings are fed… His biggest wish is to buy a yellow ox, but even that is just so he can work better and lighten the family’s burden.

“He really doesn’t have any energy left to think about other things—or even about himself. It’s natural he’s slow when it comes to matters like these. You should try to be understanding.”

After hearing Qi Beinan’s words, Fang Jie’er’s eyes grew hot. She took out a handkerchief to wipe them, her voice slightly hoarse:

“Mr. Qi always sees things so clearly. I really do feel for him. My brother has given so much to this family all these years. Now that our situation is better, I just want him to settle down and find happiness.”

Xiao Yuanbao had gone inside to try out the new hair tonic Fang Jie’er had brought him. When he came out and saw her wiping her tears, he hurried over to comfort her.

“Don’t cry, Fang Jie’er. I’ll whip up a few dishes and have Brother bring Big Brother Fang over for food and drink. Maybe after a good chat, things will work out.”

He looked at Qi Beinan. “Right, Brother?”

“Yes. Just invite him over.”

Xiao Yuanbao lit up with joy. If the lovely Miss Liu were to marry Big Brother Fang, he couldn’t be happier.

The best part was, the banquet would be held nearby—he could sleep in that morning and still get there on time, and after the evening work was done, he could come back home to sleep. No need to stay overnight elsewhere.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 39: Reborn to Raise My Husband

That morning, just as dawn was breaking, Xiao Yuanbao got up early while the breeze was still cool.

Since the start of summer, he had risen before daybreak every day. The days were hot, so waking early let him enjoy the cooler air, and when noon brought the heat, he could take a nap to catch up on sleep.

He tiptoed out of his room.

He’d thought he was up quite early, but through the crack of the door, he saw that Qi Beinan’s room already glowed with the soft yellow light of a lamp.

He gently knocked, then opened the door a crack and poked his head in.

To his surprise, Qi Beinan was already up, sitting quietly at the table flipping through a book.

He hadn’t washed yet and wore only a soft, off-white sleeping robe, his long black hair hanging loosely down his back.

Gone was his usual neat and proper appearance—this was a rare glimpse of his more relaxed, casual side.

Xiao Yuanbao thought to himself: people outside might talk behind his brother’s back, saying he didn’t study hard—but they didn’t see the effort he put in when no one was looking.

Qi Beinan closed the book and turned his head, catching sight of Xiao Yuanbao’s smiling face peeking through the doorway.

His lips curved naturally into a smile. “What’s the matter?”

Xiao Yuanbao whispered, “What do you want for breakfast?”

Qi Beinan answered gently, “Anything is fine.”

Xiao Yuanbao noticed Qi Beinan’s voice was still rough from sleep—not as clear as usual—but he thought it sounded strangely pleasant.

“Then I’ll steam you an egg custard first, then knead some dough and pull noodles. Father said yesterday he was craving noodles.”

Qi Beinan nodded with a smile and said “Okay.”

Only then did Xiao Yuanbao softly close the door and back out.

He passed through the main hall and entered the kitchen, where he opened a few windows. A gust of wind tore the shutters from his grip, slamming them hard against the wall and blowing leaves and grass into the room.

He listened to the wind wailing like it was crying. An old broken basket in the yard was being blown around in circles, and the sky was so gray he couldn’t see clearly—it was downright eerie.

So he pulled the shutters shut again.

When he turned around, he found a cluster of fresh green leaves on the floor—likely ripped from the trees.

What a strong wind! It looked like a storm was on the way.

Rain in the morning would bring some relief from the heat, and that would be nice. He just hoped the rain wouldn’t be so heavy that it caused a flood.

There had already been several big storms this summer—not only heavy, but long-lasting too.

He started the fire, cracked four eggs into a bowl, and beat them together with some rice broth from the day before.

The thick egg mixture turned a soft loofah-flower yellow.

He added a pinch of salt, stirred in a spoonful of lard, and put it into the steamer.

Making noodles took more time. His brother had been up early, already reading—even if it didn’t look tiring, reading and thinking wore you out and left you hungry.

When Xiao Yuanbao studied writing, even after a full meal, half an hour of focused effort left his belly feeling like it’d been drained—he’d be starving.

And Qi Beinan was even more focused when he read and wrote, as if entering a meditative state.

Just as he finished kneading the dough, Qi Beinan opened the kitchen door and came in.

“Hungry?” Xiao Yuanbao asked.

Qi Beinan rubbed his hands together and walked over to the stove. “I heard the wind howling outside. You were in here alone—I came to keep you company.”

Xiao Yuanbao grinned, “We’re at home. With you and Father here, I’m not scared at all.”

Qi Beinan smiled. “Just wait till the thunder comes.”

As soon as he said that, there was a flash outside the window, and a deep rumble of thunder followed moments later.

Xiao Yuanbao flinched. “There really was thunder.”

Qi Beinan broke some kindling and fed it into the stove. He’d gotten up before dawn and heard the strong wind. With the oil lamp burning inside and no way to open the windows for light, he’d come over.

Before long, the roof began to sound like some martial hero in a novel was running across the tiles—click-clack—then the rain finally came.

Hearing the pounding, Qi Beinan was grateful that Fang Youliang had helped him patch up the roof during clear weather recently. Otherwise, it would surely have leaked.

“With this much rain, the rivers and streams must be rising.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Once the rain stops, I’ll go check the creek with Brother Fang. Who knows, maybe we’ll find fish washed up.”

Qi Beinan quickly said, “You have to be careful. If the current is strong and you get swept away, I wouldn’t be able to save you—I can’t swim well.”

Xiao Yuanbao laughed, “I’ll call Fang Ge’er too. Brother Fang is sure to go—he loves catching fish and shrimp.”

So Qi Beinan didn’t argue further.

After breakfast, daylight brightened.

The rain streamed steadily from the eaves, and the drainage ditches were flushed clean. The flagstones even gleamed.

Xiao Hu slurped his noodles while looking out at the water curtain. “With so much rain this year, I fear the villages by the river might be suffering disaster.”

Qi Beinan did a quick mental count—indeed, in the 19th year of Kaide, some counties in Jushu had suffered flooding.

The court had even sent out disaster relief. At the time, he was still at the academy, and the teacher had made them write essays on it.

These past couple years had been tough weather-wise. Heavy rains in Kaide 19, then drought in Kaide 20.

Fortunately, Ling County had fared better—affected but not devastated—though grain prices had been unstable.

Since they’d bought land this year and cultivated it well, they wouldn’t suffer losses.

That afternoon, the rain stopped, and the blazing sun came out again.

If it weren’t for the sound of rushing water flowing from the fields and creeks outside, you’d almost think there hadn’t been a heavy storm that morning.

Xiao Yuanbao carried a large bamboo basket and wore a pair of straw sandals.

He pulled Qi Beinan along to the Fang household to call for the others, and the group of boys ran off together toward the riverbank.

The stream, usually well-behaved and confined to its bed, had risen quite a bit and now overflowed into the riverside paddy fields.

Swaths of water moths, their wings soaked and unable to fly, flapped helplessly between the field ridges. Their plump bodies attracted flocks of free-roaming chickens, ducks, and geese that eagerly pecked at them.

It was noon, normally the time for rest, but because of the high water, a few others had also arrived at the river besides their group.

“Liu Jie’er!”

From a distance, Xiao Yuanbao spotted a girl wading in the water and greeted her sweetly.

This Liu Jie’er was a girl from the Bai family, with a round face, apricot-shaped eyes, and fair skin—one of the prettiest girls in Geshan Village.

Now seventeen or eighteen, she had grown even more graceful and lovely.

A few years ago, Zhu Yongxian from the manor had even gone to the Bai family to ask if they’d be willing to let her learn the skills of a lady’s maid and serve a young mistress in a household in Jinling.

The Bai couple couldn’t bear to part with their daughter and had refused.

Now that she was of marriageable age, Madam Qiao especially loved visiting their home.

Xiao Yuanbao had a fondness for pretty faces. Every time he saw Liu Jie’er, he’d call out to her and even share fruits with her.

He once told Qi Beinan, Liu Jie’er wasn’t just pretty—she always smelled nice too. When his brother looked for a wife one day, he had to marry someone like that.

“Xiao Bao, you all came to wade and cool off too?”

Bai Liu noticed the three or four of them arriving together and found the group quite lively.

Xiao Yuanbao held his basket a bit higher. “We’re here to see if we can catch some small fish.”

Bai Liu smiled and at a glance saw Qi Beinan standing behind Xiao Yuanbao. He was tall and indeed handsome.

She felt too shy to look at him directly.

Luckily, Qi Beinan’s bright eyes were focused entirely on Xiao Yuanbao ahead and hadn’t noticed her gaze.

She had already heard the family gossip—how the Xiao family had a relative surnamed Qi who was well-liked by the village head, had upright looks, and was even a scholar.

Her parents had been trying to find a good match for her, and when looking around the village, this outsider was the only one who caught their attention.

Unfortunately, when Madam Qiao came knocking, they learned he was already engaged. The whole household sighed with disappointment.

Thinking of those unspeakable family hopes, her cheeks flushed. She didn’t talk much to the group and instead lowered her head to wade with the other village girls.

“There’s a little shrimp! I saw it!”

Xiao Yuanbao crouched at the riverbank, sharp-eyed. He had spotted a translucent shrimp, about the size of his pinky, resting quietly on a weed.

He pinched it between his fingers and quickly dropped it into the small, tightly woven basket tied around his waist.

“Let’s catch a bunch and dry them. We can use them in soup or as seasoning.”

Qi Beinan and Fang Ge’er also squatted down to help him catch more.

Fang Youliang, who had rolled his pants up high, laughed at the three. “You’ll be at it all day if you’re just picking shrimp one by one. Watch me!”

With a splash, water sprayed on their faces as Fang Youliang flung his shirt into the vegetable patch and dove into the river.

In just a moment, he resurfaced holding a fresh fish.

It was a three-inch-long carp, its belly round and plump—quite meaty.

Xiao Yuanbao quickly held out his basket.

Qi Beinan chuckled. “You really are skilled.”

“When our family couldn’t afford meat, my brother always dove into the river for fish to flavor the meals.”

Fang Ge’er said, “When the water rises, you can catch a lot. We used to take them into the city and exchange them for a few copper coins.”

Xiao Yuanbao was already happily thinking of how to cook the fresh fish.

His teacher had once made a spicy poached fish dish—using last winter’s pickled mustard greens and tender spring bamboo shoots to start the broth. The fish soaked up the flavors and the soup came out tangy and refreshing, even good to eat in the summer heat.

He hadn’t mastered the technique yet—his version looked and smelled right, but the flavor was still lacking.

Marinated fish would be good too: slice it thin, mix it with scallion, garlic, and white wine, and stir it with black rice powder—very tasty.

But people in the village were used to cooked food. Few liked raw flavors.

If the fish were small, they could be coated in flour and deep-fried to crispy perfection—fragrant and delicious.

He figured that would be the best—great with wine and also good for children.

He could also cook up a big bowl of soft, sandy-textured mung bean soup to go with it. It had rained heavily in the morning, so the night would probably be cooler.

Once the sun went down, sitting in the courtyard with mung bean soup and fried fish would be pure bliss.

The group was still talking about how to cook the fish when a startled cry rang out—“Aiya!”—followed by a splash as Bai Liu fell into the creek.

The water in the middle of the stream was deep and swift. The girl next to her couldn’t even grab her in time—she disappeared into the river.

“Liu Jie’er!”

The village girl’s face turned deathly pale from fright. Qi Beinan and the others rushed over to help, but they were farther away. By the time they got close, she had already been carried far downstream.

No one knew what to do until Fang Youliang reacted quickly and dove in.

When they saw him pull her up, everyone finally let out a breath of relief.

Xiao Yuanbao saw Liu Jie’er completely soaked and stopped in his tracks. He turned back to grab Fang Youliang’s shirt that had been tossed into the water-shield plant patch and brought it over.

Liu Jie’er made it to shore—thankfully, she hadn’t passed out.

But she had indeed choked on quite a bit of water—her lips had lost their color from the fright.

Her eyes stared blankly at the river, dazed and dull.

Since Xiao Yuanbao couldn’t just hand Fang Youliang’s shirt directly to Bai Liu to cover herself, he first passed the shirt back to Fang Youliang.

“You’re no good in the water. Better not come wading by the river when it’s flooded again.”

Fang Youliang took the shirt and tucked it under his arm, wiped his face, and turned to Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao, saying, “What a shame—I lost that big green carp I had just caught. At least four or five catties!”

Qi Beinan let out a dry cough. What a guy—still thinking about that fish at a time like this.

He said quietly, “Liu Jie’er is soaked.”

Only then did Fang Youliang realize, and he passed the shirt to one of the village girls to help Bai Liu cover up first.

Bai Liu’s whole body trembled; she still hadn’t recovered from the shock and murmured a weak thank you to Fang Youliang.

The group offered her some comforting words. Seeing that she was truly frightened, they had the other village girl take her home through a side path.

Luckily, it was midday and not many people were around—otherwise it would have become a bigger scene.

After such a scare, none of them were in the mood to catch fish or shrimp anymore. They carried the few river fish they had caught and went home.

Everyone kept their mouths shut—no one spoke of what happened.

But after that, Qi Beinan never allowed Xiao Yuanbao to go near the creek during a flood again.

Two days later, Qi Beinan needed to return the copied book to the scriptorium, and Xiao Yuanbao went along with him into town.

“Kind soul, spare some food, please…”

They had only traveled two li out of the village by ox cart when they saw two or three ragged people with matted hair on the roadside.

“Are those refugees?” Xiao Yuanbao craned his neck from the cart, frowning as he looked at the people reaching out for food.

Qi Beinan’s brow furrowed as well. “Yes.”

“There are so many! Are they from our county?”

The old driver steering the cart replied, “They’re households from other counties that got hit by floods—come begging here in our county. This? Just a few! There’s a lot more begging inside the county seat!”

He shook his head. “It rained nonstop for days. There were even sick and dying people on the streets recently. Folks are saying there’s plague going around—nobody dares go near them. Pitiful, truly pitiful.”

Although Ling County wasn’t considered wealthy or prosperous, its geography was favorable. Major disasters were rare, and Xiao Yuanbao had never experienced anything like this growing up.

Hearing the hardships of these disaster victims filled his heart with unease, and he pressed his lips tightly together.

He searched his pockets but only found a few preserved fruits, which he gently placed on a haystack by the roadside.

One of the refugees rushed over to grab and eat them.

“You’ve got a kind heart, young one,” the driver said. “But us common folks barely have enough to eat ourselves. Can’t afford to help all these people—we can only hope the magistrate finds a way to settle some of them down.”

When they reached the outskirts of the county seat, sure enough, they saw many more refugees gathered there.

Some were carrying children, some leaning on sticks. All with watery eyes looked at passersby, begging for food.

A kind villager gave a few raw radishes, which were snatched up and gnawed immediately.

There were even more refugees begging along the streets, wandering aimlessly and begging at every corner.

The patrol soldiers in the city, once a single column, now walked in fours, each carrying large blades as they moved through the market.

With so many refugees flooding in, there was concern they might grow desperate and loot shops, disturbing the peace.

Qi Beinan noted this and thought the magistrate here was actually quite decent.

Knowing the risk of chaos from the refugee influx, some local officials in other regions would tightly close the city gates, violently drive them away, and prohibit them from begging within the city.

He had witnessed bailiffs beating refugees during relief work in previous years—it was truly inhumane.

He tightened his grip on Xiao Yuanbao’s hand and reminded him, “Don’t wander off. Don’t get too close to the refugees.”

“Many are pitiful, yes—but not all. Some might turn violent out of desperation. Stay alert.”

Xiao Yuanbao nodded, staying close by his side.

He looked at the refugees lining the streets, heart twisted and heavy.

“Refugees selling themselves, come this way! Master Jiao is taking in servants!”

Suddenly a sharp voice rang out. A middle-aged man stood atop a square table, raising a bronze gong and striking it loudly.

A stir rippled through the crowd as people rushed over.

Qi Beinan held Xiao Yuanbao’s hand and went to take a look.

In an open clearing stood a plump, rich-looking man—Master Jiao—flanked by four skilled bodyguards.

Not only that, but there were even two bailiffs present.

Qi Beinan overheard people talking: “Our magistrate is kind. He posted notices encouraging the wealthy households to take in disaster victims.”

“If you register the refugees and go through the proper documentation, taking them in can even reduce some of your taxes.”

“That’s great! At least the refugees will have a place to go. Wandering the streets like that—it’s not just pitiful, it makes everyone uneasy.”

“We haven’t slept well at night, always afraid someone might break in to rob us.”

Discussions buzzed all around.

Most of the refugees, having fallen this far, no longer minded the idea of selling themselves.

They all crowded forward, scrambling for a chance at survival. In no time, a huge crowd had gathered.

Fortunately, the guards kept order.

Master Jiao walked a slow circle, hands behind his back. After a while, he lifted a finger and pointed out a few people.

Those selected were all physically fit and healthy-looking men. As for the weaker women, no matter how hard they tried to stand on their toes, they didn’t earn so much as a glance from the old master.

“Officer, I’ll take these six.”

After choosing his people, Master Jiao politely reported to the bailiff standing by.

The bailiff waved a hand. “This round is over. There are other gentry coming to recruit—go to them.”

“Master! Master, please take this lowly one! My father passed this very morning! I beg you to grant me a mat to bury him—I’ll repay you a thousandfold, as a beast of burden if I must!”

Suddenly, a figure shot through the dispersing crowd like a wild dog, darting straight up to Master Jiao.

He moved so fast that Master Jiao jumped in fright, thinking it might be an attacker. The nearby guards immediately seized and pinned him to the ground.

Only then did they see clearly—it was a boy, nothing but skin and bones, his face covered in dirt. Now restrained, he simply dropped to his knees and began kowtowing hard before the master.

Thump, thump, thump—each dull thud of his forehead against the ground sent chills through the crowd.

Before long, blood began to seep from the youth’s forehead.

Master Jiao, having recovered from his scare, glanced at the boy. He was not only pitifully thin, but also came with the baggage of burying a father. Compared to the other men, he was clearly more trouble than he was worth.

He said, “I’ve taken in enough already. The county magistrate has put out notices—there are still good families looking. You should keep your eye on them.”

“Master, please—take me out of kindness! I know how to farm! If you send me to your fields, I promise I’ll tend them well!”

Master Jiao grew annoyed with the boy’s persistence. The youth, in his desperation, had lost all sense. But even wealthy merchants like Master Jiao were restricted by the court—no more than fifty mu of land were allowed.

A vagrant boy like this boasting of farming skills was bound to rub a merchant the wrong way.

Master Jiao said coldly, “My estate doesn’t have fields for you to farm. Go find a noble family instead.”

With that, he ignored the boy entirely, turned, and left with his guards and the six chosen refugees.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 38: Reborn to Raise My Husband

Qi Beinan helped Xiao Hu up during the night, then returned to his own room.
As he stepped outside, he noticed the lamp in Xiao Yuanbao’s room was still lit.
“Xiao Bao, still not asleep?” Qi Beinan asked softly from the doorway.
“Mm.” A voice answered from inside, so Qi Beinan pushed the door open and stepped in.

He saw Xiao Yuanbao had brought out his treasured clay savings jar, and a mountain of copper coins was piled up on the table. He sat under the oil lamp, threading the coins one by one onto a hemp string.
Qi Beinan sat beside him. “Why aren’t you resting? It’s already so late.”
Xiao Yuanbao handed him the string of coins. His voice had lost its usual brightness, and it sounded a bit weak:
“Father lost so much blood. It must cost a lot to treat him. I took out all the coins I saved—to pay the doctor for Father.”

These past two years, Xiao Yuanbao had helped with banquet cooking, sold wild mushrooms, dried bamboo shoots, and poultry feathers. He’d managed to save over three hundred copper coins.

Originally, he had planned to save a little more to buy his father a good bow. But after seeing today’s scene, he didn’t want to anymore.

He’d long known that making a living in the mountains wasn’t easy. Minor cuts and scrapes were expected—but nothing had ever been as frightening as today.

Qi Beinan gently patted his head and softly consoled him: “Silly child. Even if Uncle Xiao didn’t have his own savings after all these years, you still have me. Why would we use your savings?”

“And besides, he’s only injured. The doctor who came today said that with a few months of proper care, he’ll recover. It’s not like Grandpa Fang’s case, where he had to stay bedridden for years.”

“But I’m still worried about Father.”

He feared his father wouldn’t heal well—would limp forever. Feared the old wound would ache in wind and rain. Feared one day he might lie down and never get up again.

He’d helped cook at a mourning meal once, and overheard someone say the deceased woman had died from an infected leg injury.

Xiao Yuanbao bit his lip. Just thinking about today made his eyes well up. He’d held it in all day, but now his voice choked and he could no longer stop the tears.

He turned and buried himself in Qi Beinan’s chest. “I don’t even have a mother anymore. What if Father also…”

The more he thought, the sadder he became.

Qi Beinan’s brows furrowed as he wrapped Xiao Yuanbao in a hug. “He won’t. As long as we have the doctor looking after him carefully, nothing will happen.”
He gently patted him. “Don’t be afraid. With your brother here, everything will be fine.”

Xiao Yuanbao cried for a while. After holding himself together all day and now sobbing his heart out, he was thoroughly exhausted. He lay against Qi Beinan and soon fell asleep.

Qi Beinan looked at the sleeping boy, who was still sniffling in his dreams, and his own heart ached.

He carried him to bed and sat by the bedside for a long while.

Xiao Hu’s injury had sounded an alarm for him. Years ago, someone had died in the mountains. Today was just sheer luck that Xiao Hu survived—but luck couldn’t be counted on forever.

Hunting in the mountains paid well, yes—but it put one’s life on the line. It was no long-term solution.

Now that Qi Beinan’s mourning period was over, he could sit for the exam next year. Xiao Yuanbao had grown up and had things to do. Life was visibly on the mend.

Xiao Hu didn’t need to risk his life anymore. This time recovering from injury might just be the perfect chance to persuade him to change to a safer livelihood.

Qi Beinan also had his worries. No wonder Xiao Yuanbao wanted to offer his savings—expenses were piling up lately.

Xiao Hu’s injuries were serious. A light recovery would take three months, a heavier one up to five. And during that time, there’d be no income, only medical costs and medicine.

Qi Beinan had enough on hand to support Xiao Hu’s recovery for half a year at least—but in the long run, money couldn’t just keep going out without any coming in. He’d need to find another way.

In the following days, word spread in the village about Xiao Hu’s injury, and people came to visit one after another.

The Fang family brought over an old hen, a basket of eggs, and Grandma Sun even sewed a large, soft cushion to help him lie comfortably in bed.

The village head’s family brought two big baskets of fresh fruit—bananas, grapes—along with two soft handkerchiefs and some common herbal medicine.

Steward Jiang cooked a pot of soft pig tendon porridge. Though he brought the least material goods, he came the most frequently.

Every few days he would send something nourishing for the injured—when he couldn’t come himself, he’d have Xiao Yuanbao go fetch it.
One day it was fresh meat porridge, the next day it was fragrant fish soup.

After a month on the bed, not only had Xiao Hu not lost weight, he had even put on some flesh.

Even occasional acquaintances like Madam Qiao came by with fruit and vegetables.
Even Zhu Yongxian from the estate sent someone with supplies.

Over the past two years, Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao had treated others kindly. Normally it wasn’t obvious—but in times of trouble, the stream of visitors to their home spoke volumes.

Even if someone just dropped by for a quick visit, the warmth it brought to the heart was real.

“I followed Madam Wang to another county and only heard about this after returning.”

As soon as Fang Jie’er came back, she hurried to the Xiao household. Seeing that Xiao Hu was in good spirits, she finally let out a sigh of relief.
“No worries, I’m already much better,” Qi Beinan said.

While he and Fang Jie’er spoke in the outer room, Xiao Yuanbao went to make a pot of tea.

“Uncle Xiao’s injuries like this, with medicine and doctors—it can’t help but be costly.” Fang Jie’er took out a scented pouch from her clothing. “I came back in a hurry and didn’t prepare anything proper. Please take this bit of silver first.”

Qi Beinan declined again and again.

Fang Jie’er was capable. In these two years, her skill had improved day by day. She was now able to style hair independently.

As a newly rising hairdresser, her rates per styling already fetched forty-five copper coins per visit. What’s more, her clients were all wealthy or noble families, many offering generous tips. A single trip could easily bring in fifty to sixty coins. Some generous madams, in good spirits, even gifted silver or jade hairpins.

She was hardworking and clever too. She made her own scented hair oils, using them each time she styled. The pleasant fragrance often led the clients to purchase her oils on the spot.

Although noble ladies were choosy, the maids, attendants, and sons of big households bought from her frequently.

“I know you can now style hair on your own and earn money,” Qi Beinan said. “But you’re not exactly rolling in wealth either.”

When she first began, accompanying Madam Wang to appointments, Fang Jie’er merely assisted. Like Xiao Yuanbao accompanying Jiang Fulang, she earned ten to eight coins at most.

She was very filial. Early on, all her earnings went to Madam Wang.

Only now that she could work solo did she start making real money. But even then, her family still depended on her—Brother Fang was about to marry, and her younger brother would need a dowry someday.

How could Qi Beinan take her silver?

She offered it twice, but seeing he firmly refused, Fang Jie’er gave up.

She realized—how could a person like Qi Beinan casually stretch out his hand to take someone’s money? She had acted out of urgency and hadn’t thought it through.

“A while back, I was at a wealthy merchant’s house—the Ming family—and overheard that their master was looking for a scholar to copy the Xuanbao Sutra. Mister Qi writes beautifully—would you be interested? The old master pays well: ten copper coins per hundred characters, especially if the writing is neat.”

“That would be perfect,” Qi Beinan replied. “I’ve been copying books for the bookstore at just three copper coins per hundred characters. This job pays much better.”

Fang Jie’er was delighted. She should’ve thought of helping him earn money, not just handing it over: “I’ll be going to style hair for the Ming family’s daughter the day after tomorrow. I’ll ask about it then.”

Qi Beinan, familiar with scripture copying, wrote a few sample lines and asked her to take them to the merchant. Pretty words alone weren’t enough—it had to be seen to be believed.

He’d done plenty of scripture copying as a child.
Fang Jie’er carefully put the sample away and stayed a bit longer at the Xiao home before taking her leave.

…

In a flash, June arrived, and the sun grew scorching.
Even the chickens were hiding under the trees, refusing to step onto the baking-hot paths.
Xiao Yuanbao wore a sleeveless loose shirt and had his pant legs rolled up.
He wore wooden sandals, fetched a bucket of water from the well, and carried it into the main room.
He pulled a cold round melon from the well, brought it to the stove, and sliced it.
“Father, Brother, come eat melon.”
He passed bright red slices to the two, picked one for himself, and took a bite.
After being chilled in well water, the melon was refreshingly sweet. With his feet dipped in the same cool well water, the summer heat instantly eased.

Qi Beinan, busy copying scriptures at the table, paused his brush to enjoy a slice and cool down.

“These days, I’ve been relying on you two to look after me,” said Xiao Hu, lying on a bamboo mat covered with a cooling sheet, watching the two children buzzing around.
He was well-fed and well-cared-for these past days—he couldn’t feel more at ease.

Qi Beinan smiled. “We’re family—it’s only right we take care of you.”

Xiao Hu said, “There’s a box under my bed where I’ve stashed some money. Medicine, doctors, household expenses—they all cost. Beinan, go take it.”
“You’re taking exams next year. And now you’re still working on copying scriptures. Don’t let this delay more important things.”

Qi Beinan replied, “Copying isn’t just for a few coins—it lets me read all sorts of texts too. This Xuanbao Sutra—if not for the wealthy hiring copyists, ordinary people wouldn’t even get to see it.”

Xiao Yuanbao, having finished his melon, fanned Xiao Hu while supporting Qi Beinan’s words: “Brother knows what he’s doing.”

Qi Beinan glanced at Xiao Yuanbao and smiled.
Then he turned to Xiao Hu and said seriously, “Uncle Xiao, I’ll be sitting the county exam next year. If I pass, I’ll have to travel to the prefecture for the next round—it’ll be quite the journey, and I’ll be away from home.”
“So I’ve been thinking, now that you’ve suffered this injury, you might as well take the time to rest and recover.”
“I have a decent chance at passing the exam this time. Life will get better, and there’s no need for you to keep risking yourself like this. Xiao Bao was scared badly this time. If anything worse happens…”

Xiao Yuanbao quickly grabbed his father’s hand: “Yes, Father, even if life’s a bit harder, it doesn’t matter.”
He added, “Teacher said that if I keep working hard, I’ll be able to be the head cook when I grow a little older. Then I’ll earn money for Father—so don’t go into the mountains anymore.”

Xiao Hu was deeply moved hearing Xiao Yuanbao speak with such filial affection.
Though he had nearly lost his life this time, he wasn’t afraid for himself—if he were the type to flinch after a single brush with danger, he’d have given up this line of work long ago.
But he also knew that this profession kept the family constantly on edge. Just seeing how Xiao Yuanbao had grown thinner from worry made his heart ache.
He was simply used to having something to do. If not hunting, then what?

He could always return to farming in the village, and do manual labor on the side when free.
But such peaceful, quiet days always felt a little too empty to him.
So for a while, he didn’t respond to the two boys.

Qi Beinan, observing his silence, roughly understood.
He too was a man, and understood how a man could carry ambition that didn’t sit easily within four walls.
The life of farming—from sunrise to sunset, back bent over soil—held little thrill or tension. For someone like Xiao Hu, used to the hazards of the wild, it felt much too flat.

Qi Beinan had been thinking over the matter these days and said:
“I heard from the village head that the land over at Jujube Slope in the east is up for sale. I’m thinking, since we’ve got some savings, we might as well purchase more farmland. Once that’s done, we can hire hands to work it. Together with our existing twenty-some mu, it would be a decent spread.”
“At that point, Uncle Xiao wouldn’t need to venture into the mountains anymore. He could manage the workers and land, raise livestock and poultry, grow fruits and vegetables. If we sell to the city, it’d fetch more than ordinary farm produce. When funds allow, we can expand into forest and mountain plots. Over the years, if things go smoothly, we could build up a proper estate.”

Qi Beinan continued gently, “And if I do well—say I pass the provincial exams—then our taxes will be reduced or waived. That’s pure profit. These are peaceful times. With the Emperor benevolent and no wars in sight, land values will only rise. It’s a good time to buy more land while it’s still affordable.”

Xiao Hu listened carefully. He wasn’t well-read and didn’t understand national affairs.
But the way Qi Beinan explained it, it did sound reasonable.
In times of war, land couldn’t move with you and became worthless. But during peacetime, when families grew and prospered, land became more valuable.

He thought back to when he first settled in Geshan Village over a decade ago. He’d used his silver to buy ten mu of land, and it had only cost fifty taels in total.
As the years passed, land prices crept up—five taels a mu, then six, then eight… now over ten taels a mu.
Back then, a wild rabbit fetched only ten to twenty copper coins. But as more people developed a taste for game meat, prices soared.

And the fact that more people could afford such delicacies meant people had money—common folks were living better lives.
As for Qi Beinan becoming a provincial scholar—that was a lofty thought, but even he, as an illiterate man, understood the benefits if it happened.

Qi Beinan was steady and knowledgeable. Even without sitting for the exam, he’d already helped Zhao Guangzong pass the tongsheng exam. These past two years, Zhao Guangzong’d studied quietly at the county school and brought the village head honor.

Maybe, just maybe, Qi Beinan really had the talent.
If he passed and taxes were waived, the family could buy even more land. But by then, land would be pricier, and they might not have the silver on hand.
It was better to buy now than later.

Buying twenty mu in one go was beyond him. But look—didn’t they slowly accumulate over twenty mu already? Bit by bit.
For the sake of the future, Xiao Hu felt motivated.
“That does sound like a real path forward.”

Qi Beinan was glad to see him agree.
The peaceful days ahead would last, and true prosperity was still ten years off. Land prices were bound to keep rising.
And as for passing the exam, Qi Beinan wasn’t just making empty promises.

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes lit up. “If we save up enough land, wouldn’t we be like Ping Manor in the future? Father could be the steward!”
Qi Beinan laughed. “If you own the estate, you’re your own steward. That’s better than serving someone else.”

So the three came to a decision.

Qi Beinan brought out forty taels of silver.
Back when he sold his family estate, he’d received fifty taels and had barely touched it. Over the years, he’d made ends meet by copying books, writing couplets, penning letters—little by little, he earned enough for daily needs without dipping into the savings.
Now was the perfect time to use it for something important.
He kept ten taels on hand—for future exam travel, or in case of emergencies.
It was never wise to spend every coin you had—putting all your wealth in one basket was a dead end.

Xiao Hu contributed eighty taels.
He’d spent most of his earnings years ago—much of it wasted on Qin Niazi, who’d arrived in the household nearly penniless.
But since their separation, he’d saved well.
The land he leased out brought in over ten taels a year, and his mountain hunting brought in close to twenty more.
Apart from yearly taxes, he rarely needed money from Qi Beinan, and he wasn’t a spendthrift. Over four years, the savings had accumulated nicely.
Don’t let the amount fool you—it was already as much as a decent family in the city might have saved.

Yet when buying farmland, even this much silver couldn’t get you too many mu of quality land.
With their funds prepared, Qi Beinan went to consult the village head about purchasing land.
When it came to buying land, no one was more knowledgeable than the village head who managed the local plots—and with the friendly relationship between their families, there was no fear of being cheated.

At present, the market price for one mu of paddy field ranged from twelve to twenty strings of cash, while dry land went for ten to eighteen strings per mu.
Prices were based on the fertility of the land, its sun exposure, and annual yield.

Village Head Zhao advised them to go for mid-grade plots—paddy fields at about fourteen to fifteen strings per mu, and dry land about two strings cheaper.
After discussing it, he directly led Qi Beinan out for a field inspection and helped select the plots.
The family selling the land was in a hurry to sell, so there was room to negotiate on the price. Plus, going early meant better choices—if you waited too long, you’d have nothing left to pick from.

Village Head Zhao knew the sellers personally and bargained with them on Qi Beinan’s behalf.
Thanks to that connection, Qi Beinan used his 120 taels of silver to buy six mu of well-situated, mid-grade paddy fields and four mu of decent dry land.

When they returned home with the land deed, Xiao Hu sighed with emotion, “If only we’d done this earlier, I would’ve gritted my teeth and bought more land back then.”
Qi Beinan chuckled, “But back then, silver wasn’t as easy to save as it is now. Prices have risen—everything’s gone up.”

Xiao Yuanbao looked at the deed, delighted.

Not only was he happy that the family now owned ten more mu of farmland—what mattered most was that his father wouldn’t have to go up the mountain to make a living anymore.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚

Ch 37: Reborn to Raise My Husband

“Bao Ge’er, picking vegetables?”

“Yep, picked some fresh greens and a few scallions.”

“Up so early, Bao Ge’er. Have you eaten?”

“Had breakfast as soon as I got up. Has Madam Qian eaten?”

“Has your father come down the mountain yet? Pass on a message for me—if he’s free, ask him to help fix up my fish pond.”

“Alright, father’s definitely coming down today. I’ll be sure to pass the message.”

Early in the morning, the fine grass lining the narrow dirt paths was still wet with dew. Xiao Yuanbao carried a basket as he headed home from the fields.

On the way, he ran into six or seven neighbors. What should’ve been a fifteen-minute walk turned into thirty before he finally made it home.

Once back in the courtyard, he set the basket on the small stone ledge by the kitchen shed and headed straight into the chicken coop. “Cluck cluck cluck~”

Carrying a bowl of feed, he called the chickens out.

He scattered a handful of bran on the ground, and the small-legged free-range hens darted over with a flutter of wings and claws to peck at the feed.

Quietly setting the bowl down, Xiao Yuanbao kept his eyes fixed on the plumpest, fastest of the bunch—a round-bodied, golden-feathered hen.

That sharp-eyed hen pecked the fastest, gobbling up the bran while shoving others aside with her tail feathers. In the blink of an eye, she lifted her head and gave a fierce peck to a nearby chick.

Xiao Yuanbao narrowed his eyes, reached out his hands, and with a swift move—“Cluck cluck cluck!”

Feathers flew everywhere as he caught the hefty golden hen and carried her out of the coop.

“You’re always bullying the other chickens and hogging all the feed. Today this great lord is sending you to the afterlife!”

He spat out a feather and tightly bound the hen’s wings and feet before taking her to the kitchen to butcher.

He wasn’t especially skilled at slaughtering poultry—perhaps because he was still a bit small and lacked the strength. When the birds were fat and flailing, he had a hard time holding them down.

Once, while out catering with his teacher, he botched a goose slaughter—the bloodletting didn’t take, and the goose actually staggered off mid-process.

After that embarrassment, he refused to kill poultry for quite a while.

But today was a good day, so he’d give it another go.

He tied the chicken up tight—if he couldn’t kill her right, at least she wouldn’t be able to run.

Today, he was making a full chicken banquet.

A pot of rich chicken broth to start, then slow-braised dried bamboo shoots simmered in chicken stock for one dish;

Shredded chicken tossed with aged ginger juice, minced garlic, cilantro, and sauce for a refreshing spicy cold plate;

Chicken offal—gizzards, intestines—thoroughly cleaned and stir-fried with celery;

And the soft, delicate chicken blood wouldn’t go to waste either.

He parboiled it to set the shape, added a scoop of chicken fat, a dash of salt, and a handful of tender radish greens—perfect for a warming soup.

On a good day, you eat a full chicken feast!

Chicken broth was good for everything, so he made a big pot and threw in two thick logs—didn’t need to worry about it for a while.

He drained the soaked dried bamboo shoots and kneaded a dough to rest.

Then he went outside to gather up all the scattered chicken feathers and laid them out on a sieve to dry in the sun.

In town, there were shops that bought up chicken and duck feathers.

Those feathers weren’t just for toys—they could be made into brushes, dusters… a pound could fetch several dozen copper coins.

After that, Xiao Yuanbao gathered the dirty laundry, added warm water, and tossed it into a basin to soak.

He unfolded one of Qi Beinan’s broad, ink-colored robes and furrowed his neat brows.

Strangely enough, nine out of ten of his brother’s clothes were dark—ink, navy, black—such sober tones.

Wasn’t fourteen or fifteen supposed to be the age of liking bright colors? Why was his brother so partial to dull shades?

He shook his head and added some soapnut pods to the basin.

“Xiao Bao, what good thing are you cooking at your place again? I could smell it from down the road!”

Xiao Yuanbao had just finished soaking the clothes when he saw Madam Qiao ambling toward their courtyard.

He went to open the gate with a smile. “Slaughtered a troublemaking chicken—today’s my brother’s birthday, figured I’d make a proper meal. Madam Qiao, come in and sit a while. Have a sip of wine before you go.”

“So that’s what smells so good—boiling chicken. But even other folks cooking chicken don’t smell half as good as yours. Look at you, just a kid, yet there’s no broth you can’t make.”

Madam Qiao didn’t step inside, just leaned against the gate. “That taciturn teacher of yours may not say much, but whenever he talks about you, it’s all praise—says you’ve got a natural talent for cooking and pick things up fast.”

Xiao Yuanbao said, “Don’t flatter me, Madam Qiao. If I’ve made any progress at all, it’s because my teacher teaches well.”

Madam Qiao chuckled, “You two really are something.”

“But I don’t have the good fortune today—can’t stay for your chicken soup. I’ve got to run a message. Wish your brother a happy birthday for me.”

“Of course, I will.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought their home was tucked far out of the way—folks usually only came by if they had something important to do.

So he asked, “So busy, Madam Qiao. Are you off arranging a marriage for someone again?”

“For your dear sister, Fang Jie’er,” Madam Qiao said, wiping sweat from her brow. “She’s grown up beautifully. Decent families are practically breaking down the Sun family’s threshold.”

“This family I’m speaking to today is surnamed Feng. They’re from town, run a cosmetics shop that does very well, and their house is over in Jiaozi Lane—spacious and grand.”

Fang Jie’er truly had turned out well, but what those families valued wasn’t just her looks—they likely also admired that she had a means to support herself.

Still, from what Madam Qiao said, that Feng family in the city did seem rather decent.

“Madam Qiao, don’t you exaggerate just to lure folks from our village.”

Madam Qiao gave a mock glare. “I wouldn’t dare! I might spin a yarn to outsiders, but I wouldn’t dare fool our own village folk. If I did, wouldn’t they come knocking straight on my door?”

Xiao Yuanbao figured that made sense and said, “Fang Jie’er also likes making hair oil to sell. That kind of ties in with a cosmetics shop.”

He blinked and lowered his voice. “Then, is that Feng family’s young master handsome?”

Madam Qiao covered her mouth and laughed. “You cheeky little thing! But I do like how bold you are.”

She leaned in and whispered, “Slender brows, small nose—a fair-faced young gentleman, very refined. Maybe because his family deals in cosmetics, he doesn’t have that rough edge you see in most boys.”

Xiao Yuanbao thought, well, that didn’t sound bad at all.

Madam Qiao teased, “But if you ask me, no matter how well-proportioned he is, he still can’t compare to your brother Qi.”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes brightened, and just as he was about to speak, a voice as clear as a mountain stream dropped from above: “Talking about me behind my back again? That’s no proper behavior.”

Madam Qiao turned and jumped when she realized a tall figure—half a head taller than her—had appeared beside her without a sound.

She clutched her chest and gasped, “You nearly scared me to death! Not a sound out of you.”

Qi Beinan said calmly, “Or perhaps Madam was too engrossed in the conversation to notice my footsteps?”

Madam Qiao chuckled. “I was just telling Xiao Bao about your birthday today. No slander here—everyone knows you’re one of the finest young men around.”

Qi Beinan gave a quiet laugh.

“I’d best not linger. The hour’s getting late—excuse me.”

“Take care, Madam Qiao.”

Once she’d gone, Qi Beinan and Xiao Yuanbao went inside.

He had just returned from a trip to the city, where he delivered the handwritten copies of books he had transcribed for the bookstore over the past few days.

They paid two copper coins per hundred characters. A full book could earn him dozens of coins. His handwriting was clean and neat, no smudges or mistakes, so the bookstore gave him a bonus copper per hundred characters. He found that pretty fair, so he brought two more books back to copy.

“Brother, take a break first. I’ll cook up some noodles for you.”

Xiao Yuanbao was overjoyed to see him return, took the things from his hands, and dashed inside to pour him a cup of warm tea.

Qi Beinan followed his quick-footed little figure into the main room and said, “Uncle Xiao hasn’t come down from the mountain yet. If you cook too early, the noodles’ll get soggy. I’m not even hungry yet.”

“You only had a bowl of porridge and a few pickled vegetables for breakfast, then went all the way to town. How could you not be hungry?”

While he spoke, Xiao Yuanbao had already dashed into the kitchen. His voice came drifting out: “It’s longevity noodles today, just for you, Brother. Father and I will eat later—our time hasn’t come yet.”

Qi Beinan sipped his tea and chuckled. “Alright then. Let me put away my things, and I’ll come help you with the fire.”

“You go tidy up. I don’t need help for this part.”

Xiao Yuanbao moved quickly. There was water in the pot, and once the stove was stoked up, he just had to wait for it to boil before putting in the noodles.

By the time Qi Beinan got to the kitchen, the noodles were already steaming in the strainer, and the room was filled with the rich aroma of chicken broth.

Back when he was little, Xiao Yuanbao used to need a stool just to reach the counter, but now at age nine, after two years of being well-fed under Jiang Fulang’s care, he’d grown so fast he was practically “Big” Yuanbao (Xiao = Little) now.

The old kitchen stool was sitting in the corner, nearly collecting dust.

“I’m going to fry a soft, runny egg on top of the noodles. Today’s longevity noodles are made with chicken broth—they’ll be delicious.”

As he spoke, Qi Beinan heard a sizzling sound—the egg had already been cracked into the hot oil and was bubbling away.

Xiao Yuanbao gently flipped it with a spatula, folding the yolk inside.

A savory egg aroma wafted through the air.

Before long, the bowl of noodles was ready.

Qi Beinan took a bite. The broth was rich, the noodles smooth—very tasty.

When he split open the fried egg, the golden yolk oozed out and coated the noodles, adding even more flavor.

Xiao Yuanbao sat across from him, resting his face in his hands, watching him eat.

“Brother, mix the noodles up a bit. I laid some tender greens at the bottom of the bowl. Once the hot broth hits them, they’ll cook through just enough—still crisp and sweet, not mushy.”

Qi Beinan didn’t like vegetables that were overcooked, and Xiao Yuanbao remembered every time.

Watching the calm, handsome youth eating across from him—with thick brows, bright eyes, and a high nose bridge—Xiao Yuanbao felt an inexplicable happiness and reached out to pinch Qi Beinan’s cheek.

Qi Beinan raised an eyebrow and swallowed his bite. “What was that for?”

Xiao Yuanbao pouted. “You used to pinch my cheeks all the time. Can’t I pinch yours once?”

Qi Beinan laughed. “I never said you couldn’t.”

Only then did Xiao Yuanbao smile and draw back his hand, eyes sparkling and feet kicking lightly under the table. “Brother, you’re really good-looking.”

Qi Beinan’s chopsticks paused, his eyes flickering with amusement.

He fought back the grin tugging at his lips and said in a mock-serious tone, “Don’t judge people by their appearance.”

Xiao Yuanbao cast a quick glance at Qi Beinan. “Got it.”

Qi Beinan was rather odd—there didn’t seem to be any sort of habit in their household of judging people by their looks.

Yet somehow, he noticed that Xiao Yuanbao seemed to have quite a liking for good-looking people.

Qi Beinan shook his head helplessly, chalking it up to personal taste.

“This bowl of noodles is even better than the ones sold at the noisy intersection downtown. No wonder the stall owner got annoyed when you stood there watching him cook last time,” Qi Beinan said with a smile.

“Too bad I already snatched the technique. Chasing me off wouldn’t do any good.”

“The noodles and wontons at the intersection are good because the dough is kneaded well, the wonton filling uses quality lean pork with a touch of egg—it holds together but remains tender. The broth is rich thanks to a pinch of dried shrimp.”

Qi Beinan lifted his eyes. “You really are something else.”

Xiao Yuanbao grinned and curved his eyes. “Of course I am. Eat more, quick!”

By noon, the early May sun had grown dazzling, and the sound of cicadas rang out louder.

Xiao Yuanbao had already looked toward the courtyard several times, but there was still no sign of Xiao Hu.

He was waiting for Xiao Hu to come home before stir-frying the dishes so they could all have lunch together.

“Did father forget what day he’s supposed to come down the mountain? It’s already this late and he still hasn’t returned. By this hour, he should’ve been back.”

Xiao Yuanbao went and unlatched the courtyard gate. “That’s impossible. I told him three times when he left to remember to come home today for Brother’s birthday. Even the food he brought was only enough to last until today.”

Qi Beinan also found it strange. Xiao Hu had always kept his word—if he said he’d return on a certain day, he would never be late.

There was no easy way to communicate from the mountain, and knowing how worried the folks below would be, he had never once failed to show up.

He comforted the increasingly anxious Xiao Yuanbao. “Don’t worry. If he still isn’t back by noon, I’ll follow the mountain path and go check.”

“Maybe he just got held up for some reason. It’s still early.”

Xiao Yuanbao pursed his lips and nodded.

But even after noon had passed, Xiao Hu still hadn’t returned.

Qi Beinan put on a straw hat and was about to head out.

Xiao Yuanbao hurried to say, “Brother, I’m coming too.”

Qi Beinan hesitated. The midday sun was harsh, and he didn’t want him to get overheated. But then he thought—if left behind, Xiao Yuanbao would only worry more—so he nodded in agreement.

The two of them followed the village road to the foot of the mountain, but before they even began to climb, they saw a familiar figure in the distance.

Qi Beinan’s expression changed at once. He could see Xiao Hu’s steps were sluggish—something was clearly wrong—and he rushed forward in a flash.

“Father! What happened?!”

Xiao Yuanbao’s eyes reddened and he almost burst into tears.

Xiao Hu’s head and face were crusted with dried blood. As they neared, a metallic scent of blood became obvious.

He was clutching his left side, with his right foot barely touching the ground—clearly injured.

He limped down the mountain, moving slowly, which explained the delay.

“It’s nothing. A wild boar caught me off guard and flipped me over.”

Seeing Xiao Yuanbao’s red, teary eyes, Xiao Hu comforted him: “Just a fall. Scraped some skin. Looks worse than it is.”

But Xiao Hu had always been tough, and now even his voice sounded weak. He clearly wasn’t fine.

Xiao Yuanbao held back tears and reached to take his father’s bloodied hand. “Let’s hurry home.”

Qi Beinan stepped in to support him. “Uncle, I’ll carry you. You can’t walk like this.”

Xiao Hu was burly and heavy. He was about to protest, but before he could even speak, Qi Beinan had already hoisted him onto his back.

“Xiao Bao, I’ll be walking slower with uncle on my back. You run to the village head and get Dr. Liu to come—don’t waste time.”

Xiao Yuanbao quickly nodded. “Alright, I’m going now!”

He turned and bolted in the opposite direction.

Qi Beinan steadily carried Xiao Hu back home.

Once they got there, he heated some water, helped Xiao Hu change clothes, and gently cleaned his wounds.

There was no visible wound on the left side of his abdomen, but it had sunken oddly. His right leg, however, bore a gash deep enough to expose bone—long as a palm and terribly gruesome.

His trouser leg was soaked—not with sweat or water, but entirely dyed with blood.

“What happened?!”

Qi Beinan frowned tightly, barely daring to wipe his leg clean.

Xiao Hu lay back on the bamboo couch. Only once Xiao Yuanbao was out of earshot did he speak:

“A black bear broke into the hut. I wrestled with it. Luckily the hut’s not big, and I managed to dodge into the cellar to escape.”

Qi Beinan felt a chill. He’d been to that mountain hut once before. It was already close to the deep forest. Though the trees had been cut back and it seemed open, for a bear to wander in like that… it was terrifying.

Looking at Xiao Hu’s bloodied injuries, he could only imagine how close it had come to death.

“Don’t tell Xiao Bao. He’s got a timid heart—he’ll be scared out of his wits. Might start having nightmares.”

Qi Beinan exhaled quietly. “I understand.”

Not long after, Qi Beinan had just poured a basin of bloody water into the gutter under the eaves when he saw Xiao Yuanbao running back, drenched in sweat.

Following close behind him was the barefoot village doctor.

Qi Beinan immediately ushered them into the house.

Xiao Yuanbao was about to run into the house when Qi Beinan reached out, grabbed his hand, and wiped the sweat from his face, saying:

“Uncle Xiao has lost blood and just came down from the mountain. He must be hungry by now—go make something for him to eat.”

Xiao Yuanbao paused mid-step and quickly said, “I’ll get a bowl of chicken soup for father and let it cool.”

“Good.”

Only once he saw Xiao Yuanbao head into the kitchen did Qi Beinan enter the house.

“You’re truly lucky to be alive, to escape from a beast like that,” said Dr. Liu with furrowed brows. “Two ribs on the left side are broken, and there’s a deep muscle wound on the right leg.”

“I’ll stitch the leg wound for now, but for the ribs, you’ll need a bone doctor from the city. That would be safest.”

Qi Beinan listened quietly to the doctor’s words, and upon hearing that, he replied, “I’ll go ask someone to fetch one.”

Turning his head, he saw Xiao Yuanbao standing at the doorway, holding a bowl of chicken soup.

His nose stung and his eyes burned as he held back his tears. “Brother, are you going to the city?”

“I’m going to the Fang family first to see if Brother Fang is free.”

“Okay.”

Xiao Yuanbao watched Qi Beinan leave and brought the bowl of chicken soup to Xiao Hu.

“Father, you’ll be okay. Don’t cry.”

Xiao Hu looked at Xiao Yuanbao’s worried little face and felt a tightness in his chest—it was even more uncomfortable than his physical pain.

Xiao Yuanbao sniffled and softly responded, then began feeding Xiao Hu the soup spoon by spoon.

Once he finished eating, Dr. Liu had also prepared the stitching tools.

Later that evening, the doctor from the city arrived. After much back and forth treating Xiao Hu’s injuries, it was already deep into the night.

˙✧˖°🎓 ༘⋆｡ ˚