The Drama Queen Little Husband of the Straight Man - C1

Chapter 1: Marriage Affairs — I Still Have a Betrothal?

The Great Jing Dynasty had been established for two hundred years, yet in recent times, internal turmoil and foreign invasions surged one after another, driving countless commoners from their homes.

In the winter of the thirty-first year of Yanping, the frontier county of Wuping was abandoned. The iron cavalry of the Heichi Tribe trampled the land, burning, killing, and looting until nine out of ten households lay empty.

In the desolate regions, suffering stretched as far as the eye could see, while in the prosperous cities, pleasures were too numerous to count.

“Second Uncle, steamed buns.” The child on Geng Yao’s back, barely five years old, spoke in a small voice.

Ning’an County neighbored Fengluo Prefecture, and on the other side of Fengluo lay the nation’s capital. Thus, Ning’an was thriving and splendid, with merchants passing through in an endless stream.

The Geng family—seven members in all—had traveled from Wuping County to Ning’an County, trekking from winter into summer. Fortunately, they had survived to return. Compared to Wuping, this place was like heaven and earth. Mother Geng wiped away tears; five-year-old Hou-ge’er’s eyes were timid, his voice so unfamiliar and faint it was barely audible.

“Mother, your grandson wants steamed buns,” Geng Yao said.

The calls of street vendors on either side were lively and pleasing to the ear. A man smiling like the Maitreya Buddha lifted the lid of his bamboo steamer, revealing plump, steaming buns, round and fragrant.

The frontier winds had been harsh; Mother Geng had endured much toil. Though only fifty, white hairs already streaked through her head.

She pulled out silver coins to buy twenty vegetarian buns, and the family stood by the wall, sharing them as they ate.

Their posture—standing and eating—drew sidelong glances from passing pedestrians, who instinctively kept their distance.

There was no other reason: among the four men in this family, three were tall and broad-shouldered, built like towering pillars. That alone was striking enough, but one of them even sported a cropped head barely an inch long—an outrageous sight for someone who looked no older than twenty. To the onlookers, it was unfilial beyond measure.

Since ancient times, the body, hair, and skin are inherited from one’s parents; to cut the hair short like a dog’s bite is unworthy of being called a filial son.

Mother Geng glared at Geng Yao. Geng Yao rubbed his head, aggrieved—it wasn’t like he’d chosen this hairstyle himself.

Geng Yao had been born in a modern world where spiritual energy had revived. Disliking constraints, he had become a rogue cultivator, never expecting to one day transmigrate into this place—an ancient era devoid of spiritual energy and cultivators.

At ten years old, when the original owner of this body drowned, Geng Yao crossed over. Back then, he had arrived brimming with spiritual energy, yet it seemed Heaven soon discovered this loophole and warned him sternly not to interfere in mortal affairs.

Whenever he used spiritual energy to save someone—or even to take a life—his entire body would suffer unbearable agony, and the energy in his dantian would be forcibly drained.

Geng Yao observed over time: whether or not he used his power, the spiritual energy would slowly dissipate on its own—the only difference was how fast.

On their way back to Ning’an County, the Geng family dared not reveal their wealth. When Geng Yao caught a wild rabbit in the mountains and handed a knife to his father to slaughter it, a bolt of heavenly lightning came crashing down.

The lightning chased Geng Yao for five li (roughly 2.5 kilometers), striking him repeatedly until every last trace of spiritual energy was burned away.

Geng Yao touched his cropped head. Well… perhaps this style was convenient—just horribly out of place in ancient times.

Being struck by lightning did have one upside: Geng Yao could now take life without punishment, meaning he could finally learn his father’s trade—slaughtering pigs.

After finishing the buns, the family found a property broker. By the time they were properly settled, three days had passed.

The Geng family had saved a fair amount over the years, most of it thanks to a ginseng Geng Yao had unearthed in the mountains. Originally, they’d hoped to buy a courtyard, but property prices in Ning’an County had skyrocketed in recent years, leaving them short by thirty taels of silver.

The broker suggested borrowing the amount from Jiànshàn Temple—with interest, naturally.

After some deliberation and inquiries, Father Geng and Mother Geng agreed. The broker summoned a monk from Jiànshàn Temple, and Father Geng signed a promissory note.

The courtyard was sizable: aside from the main hall, it had four bedrooms, a kitchen, and a woodshed. The front gate opened directly onto the street; beyond a two-step-wide vestibule, they could set up a long counter to sell pork.

By closing the inner door, the noise from the street could be easily shut out.

“Eldest, wear your new clothes. When you arrive, don’t keep that stiff face—speak pleasantly,” Mother Geng instructed.

The eldest son, Geng Wu, had been a constable on the frontier. Even before the city fell, the family had planned to return home. The county magistrate of Wuping, who held him in high regard, had recommended him to the magistrate of Ning’an. Today, Geng Wu intended to visit the yamen and see if the recommendation might help.

In the courtyard stood an apricot tree. Geng Yao plucked an apricot and said, “My big brother’s face is frozen stiff; expecting sweet words from him is a joke.”

Turning to Hui-niang, who was tidying Geng Wu’s clothing, he teased, “Sister-in-law, does my big brother ever say sweet words to you?”

Hui-niang’s face flushed from embarrassment; she slipped into the kitchen to hide.

Mother Geng scolded, “And you dare mock your brother? Are you any better? Your big brother’s married with a child, your younger brother at least isn’t frightening strangers with a scowl, but you? You’ll be lucky to even find a wife.”

The Geng family’s three sons: the eldest, Geng Wu, was a constable.

The youngest, Geng Wen, had passed the xiucai (licentiate) exams.

And then there was the second son—the hopeless one—named Geng Yao.

His greatest ambition was to follow his father in the pig-slaughtering trade and inherit the family’s modest business. Father Geng and Mother Geng nearly coughed up blood at the thought—what kind of future is slaughtering pigs?

They often lamented giving him the wrong name; had they named him something official-sounding like “Geng Guan” (meaning “official”), perhaps he’d already have a career.

Geng Yao rubbed his nose. “Blame you and Dad. When you went to the frontier and picked up a wife for my big brother, why didn’t you pick one up for me too?”

Hui-niang’s parents had starved to death, and out of pity, Mother Geng and Father had taken her in. She later grew up alongside Geng Wu, fell in love, and married into the family.

Now they had a son, called Hou-ge’er.

When Geng Wu left, Mother Geng scrutinized Geng Yao again, finally shaking her head at his dog-bitten hairstyle. “You stay home! Your father and I will go.”

Geng Yao: Sigh.

Father Geng and Mother changed into clean clothes. Seeing Hou-ge’er clinging to their legs, they simply took him along.

“Where are you going?”

“To annul your betrothal,” Mother Geng replied.

As the three left, Geng Yao grabbed Geng Wen. “What did Mother say?”

Geng Wen, being a scholar, carried himself with a bookish air. “Mother said she’s going to annul your engagement.”

“I still have a betrothal?” Geng Yao was dumbfounded.

“I don’t know,” Geng Wen admitted. “I’ve never heard of it either.”

Ning’an County bustled with noise and color. Asking directions along the way, Father Geng and Mother arrived at a residence. Not daring to use the main gate, they circled to the side door.

“Young master,” they addressed the gatekeeper politely, “we are from the Geng family. Might we trouble you to inform your master?”

Though dressed in their best clothes, they still looked poorer than the doorkeeper of the Yan residence. Their nerves grew even tighter.

“Which Geng family?” the servant asked, scrutinizing them from the top of the steps.

There was no prominent Geng family in Ning’an County.

For a moment, Father Geng and Mother were at a loss. At last, Mother Geng produced a jade pendant of vivid green. “This was given to me years ago by Master Yan for my wife. We’ve come today to return it.”

The servant, discerning its value, carefully examined the pendant and said, “I will inform the master.”

A tea’s time passed with no word. Growing anxious, Father Geng and Mother were about to speak when a man in embroidered robes arrived, laughter preceding him.

“Could it be that Brother and Sister Geng have returned?” Master Yan exclaimed, beaming.

The couple froze momentarily, then followed him inside.

“Entertain our esteemed guests,” Master Yan ordered the steward. “Have the kitchens prepare a fine meal.”

“Master Yan,” Mother Geng began nervously, “since you have important guests, we’ll just—”

“Haha! Sister Geng, the important guests I spoke of are none other than you and Brother Geng. There are no others,” Master Yan said warmly.

Though he had only met Mother Geng once, nineteen years ago, and never Father Geng, Master Yan’s gift for socializing was remarkable. Within moments, they were chatting like old friends.

“I wonder how my worthy nephew fares now? Why did he not come today?” Master Yan laughed. “He still has that betrothal with my Ah Yao, does he not? My Ah Yao hasn’t married yet—surely he hasn’t already taken a wife?”

“No, no,” Father Geng replied hastily. “He’s not yet married.”

Mother Geng tugged her clothes, embarrassed. “To tell you the truth, Master Yan… our family’s circumstances now…”

While the adults conversed, Hou-ge’er nibbled melon seeds on the side. A young girl in pale yellow beckoned to him, and he cautiously followed her out. Moments later, the girl hurried away.

She ran to the Clear Pavilion Courtyard, calling out even before entering: “Young Master, terrible news!”

It was midsummer; cicadas droned incessantly. Because the young master was napping, even the servants catching cicadas moved softly.

On a beauty couch, a man lay with his arm for a pillow. His features were exquisite, his skin like congealed cream—enough to make one’s heart ache and long for his smile.

At the cry, he opened his eyes—eyes brimming with languid allure that could unsettle a man’s soul. Yet his figure was frail, delicate as a willow swaying in the wind.

“Young Master, Young Master, terrible news!”

Yan Yao, still drowsy, asked, “What is it?”

Qiu Yu, flustered, said, “Young Master, Master has arranged your marriage!”

Yan Yao’s sleepiness vanished. He sat up. “With which family’s son?”

“Ah, Young Master, not a son… it’s… it’s a pig butcher,” Qiu Yu stammered.

Yan Yao accepted the tea handed to him by a servant. “Do not panic. Speak slowly.”

Nearly in tears, Qiu Yu spilled everything she had overheard, though her account was jumbled. It took Yan Yao quite some time to piece the story together.

Nineteen years ago, Yan Father had accompanied his pregnant wife to a temple to offer incense. On that day, a sudden rainstorm struck, and they encountered a peasant woman, also heavily pregnant, carrying firewood down the mountain. She slipped and fell.

Yan Father, traveling with numerous servants and attendants, saved the woman out of compassion, moving her into a nearby cave. Amid the commotion, she gave birth to a boy.

By rights, that should have been the end of it—perhaps a simple visit of thanks from the peasant’s family. Unexpectedly, after tidying the cave, Yan Father held the newborn and laughed heartily, pointing to his wife’s belly: “I am quite fond of this child. Should my wife give birth to a son or daughter, let us pledge them as in-laws in the future!”

He even left his personal jade pendant as a token of this playful vow.

Yan Yao: …Had his father gone mad?

Soon afterward, the peasant family mysteriously left Ning’an County and had only just returned in recent days.

Apparently remembering the old matter, they came today to return the pendant and annul the childish betrothal, openly admitting they now survived by slaughtering pigs and selling meat.

Yet Yan Father, upon seeing them, was overjoyed. He not only invited them to stay for a meal but even revived the marriage talk, skipping formal betrothal gifts and going straight to exchanging names and birth dates.

Yan Yao glanced at the bronze mirror. If his eyes weren’t blind, with this face, he surely needn’t worry about finding a spouse.

And now this marriage farce sullied his reputation and shamed the Yan family.

“Young Master, you won’t believe why that pig butcher didn’t come today,” Qiu Yu said through gritted teeth.

Accustomed since childhood to standing alone, Yan Yao concealed his cold-blooded nature behind a mask of gentle frailty. “Why?”

“He was struck by lightning,” Qiu Yu said.

Yan Yao: ???

“I coaxed it out of the child with a few candies,” Qiu Yu continued. “He said his second uncle was chased and struck by lightning for five li. Now he’s bald and can’t show his face.”

“Young Master, tell me—how grave a sin must one commit to be chased by lightning like that?”

Footnotes:

• Xiucai: A licentiate degree in the imperial examination system, the lowest scholarly rank conferring certain privileges but not official office.

• Li (里): Traditional Chinese unit of distance; in this context, approximately 500 meters per li.

• Birth dates exchange (八字): In traditional Chinese matchmaking, exchanging the birth times (Eight Characters) of both parties to assess compatibility via fortune-telling.

• The concept of hair as filial duty: In Confucian culture, cutting hair was considered unfilial as one’s body was a gift from one’s parents.