The Overachieving Little Husband of the Top Scholar’s Household - Chapter 103: "BMW"

Chapter 103: “BMW”

It took Qiu Huanian and his group four days to return to the provincial capital. Before their departure, they had sent word ahead to Zhu Jingwei, and by the time they arrived, the mansion had already been thoroughly cleaned and prepared for their return.

After taking a day to rest, Qiu Huanian was invited to Su Xinbai’s residence the next morning to retrieve the cat.

Prior to their journey, they had entrusted Naishuang to Su Xinbai’s care—both to ensure the cat’s well-being and to give Nai Shuang an opportunity to entertain their host during their absence.

Upon entering the courtyard shared by Su Xinbai and Zhu Jingcheng, Qiu Huanian noticed the seasonal changes: the door curtains had been replaced with heavy crimson felt, and a brazier radiated warmth in the main chamber.

Su Xinbai, draped in a snow-white fox fur robe, reclined atop a traditional canopy bed, a book in hand. Plush cushions surrounded him, a fortress of softness shielding him from the smallest discomfort.

Having fallen pregnant in early April, Su Xinbai was now well into his third trimester. The swell of his belly was unmistakable beneath the loose folds of his clothing, making Qiu Huanian’s heart skip a beat.

Su Xinbai, by contrast, had grown accustomed to the changes in his body. He gestured for Qiu Huanian to sit beside him and instructed the maids to bring tea.

The room was pleasantly warm. Qiu Huanian removed his outer robe, prompting Su Xinbai to order the brazier moved farther away.

“Already dreading summer’s heat and winter’s chill? Pregnancy seems to weigh heavily on you,” Qiu Huanian remarked gently.

Su Xinbai offered a soft smile and rested a hand on his belly. “The nanny says this child is unusually quiet. We should meet him by February.”

Qiu Huanian reached out, curious, but Su Xinbai slapped his hand away without ceremony.

“If you want to feel one, go have your own child,” he said.

Qiu Huanian gave a dramatic pout but reminded himself not to argue with a pregnant man.

He was only now stepping into the periphery of this experience. The true pioneer—the first to suffer Su Xinbai’s volatile moods—was Zhu Jingcheng.

Su Xinbai’s cravings changed every few days, his whims swung like pendulums, and Zhu Jingcheng was expected to report his whereabouts constantly. Even being gone half a day was grounds for a lecture.

One night, Su Xinbai reportedly burst into tears without warning. Startled awake, Zhu Jingcheng had rushed to comfort him, only to receive a bite so forceful it broke skin.

Su Xinbai had hinted at this event in a recent letter to Qiu Huanian, clearly mortified. The next day, overcome by guilt but unsure how to make amends, he had panicked and written again—begging Qiu Huanian to never speak of it.

Qiu Huanian had replied with a single line:

—“Maybe Zhu Jingcheng liked it.”

Su Xinbai had promptly burned the letter and sat in silence for half an hour, crimson-faced, pretending it never happened.

Eventually, compensation was offered—though it was Zhu Jingcheng who had brought it up.

The nature of the “compensation” remained a mystery to all but the two involved.

Whatever it was, it left Su Xinbai banishing Zhu Jingcheng from the bed for ten consecutive nights, blushing every time they crossed paths.

No one could say exactly how Zhu Jingcheng had “bullied” Su Xinbai, but Qiu Huanian had his suspicions.

At the memory of that wicked letter, Su Xinbai glared at him again—weakly.

Qiu Huanian, unfazed, changed the subject. “You summoned me to retrieve Nai Shuang. Where is he?”

“He’s outside. Dian Mo, bring him in.”

Naishuang, unseen for over two weeks, seemed to have grown both fluffier and plumper.

The majestic lion-like cat, its long fur flowing, wore a tiger-striped knit scarf—a detail Qiu Huanian had offhandedly mentioned, and which Su Xinbai had gone out of his way to fulfill.

Qiu Huanian picked the cat up and judged its weight. “It’s not my imagination. This one’s gained at least two pounds.”

He held Naishuang upright by the armpits, stretching it like a straight stick. The cat meowed, looking wronged.

“He’s still growing,” Su Xinbai replied, conveniently omitting how many treats he had fed it in the past fortnight.

Qiu Huanian narrowed his eyes at the wide-eyed cat, then at the equally innocent Su Xinbai.

“…”

Was there any way to deal with this troublesome pair?

“I just returned yesterday, and you were so quick to send for me to collect him. You must be tired of him. Perhaps I shouldn’t burden you next time,” Qiu Huanian said pointedly.

Su Xinbai opened his mouth to respond.

Qiu Huanian barreled on. “Jingcheng thought you liked cats. He’s even considering getting you a few more. Looks like he misunderstood. Since you’re too shy to say so, should I remind him?”

“…”

Su Xinbai hesitated. Instinct told him that speaking now would only land him deeper in Qiu Huanian’s trap.

He had never encountered a more silver-tongued schemer.

“I should take Naishuang and go,” Qiu Huanian continued. “You’re heavy with child and shouldn’t be troubled.”

As he moved to leave, Su Xinbai reached out reflexively.

“…Who said I minded?” he murmured, voice barely audible.

Qiu Huanian turned, grinning. “I knew it. If you missed me, just say so. No need to invent a reason about a cat.”

Su Xinbai glared, but his weak protest had no effect.

Once again, in this ever-repeating battle between Su Cat and Qiu Milk Bun, the Milk Bun emerged victorious—its filling not only golden, but occasionally laced with black sesame.

Despite the teasing, Qiu Huanian had missed Su Xinbai. They chatted well into the afternoon, with Qiu Huanian sharing stories from the countryside and Su Xinbai treating him to a lavish pregnancy-safe meal.

Later, Qiu Huanian ordered complete sets of books from Qimin Bookstore—two copies each—to be sent to the Du Village school, with monthly deliveries of every new release henceforth.

When Su Xinbai learned that Qiu Huanian had arranged for boys and girls to study together, he fell into thoughtful silence.

“Xian’er and the girls are already using your arithmetic book in their lessons. Many women in Xiangping Prefecture are reading it, though men’s academies still cling to the classics.”

Qiu Huanian chuckled. “The imperial exams only test the classics. It’s practical, that’s all.”

He knew change would not come overnight. That so many were willing to study arithmetic at all was already a victory.

Progress came one step at a time.

“Take care of yourself. Your child will be born before I take Yun Se to the capital for the exams. Don’t forget—I’m going to be the godfather.”

Su Xinbai sneered, “So he can learn that honeyed tongue of yours?”

Qiu Huanian beamed. “If he could learn from me, you’d be thrilled. Aren’t you enjoying this conversation?”

Su Xinbai said nothing, neither confirming nor denying.

—

Once back in the city, Qiu Huanian’s household gradually readjusted to urban life.

Jiu Jiu and Chun Sheng resumed their studies. Du Yunse threw himself into preparations for the upcoming spring imperial exam, determined to fulfill his promise to Qiu Huanian of claiming the top rank.

Though no longer enrolled at Qingfeng Academy, he still visited frequently to consult with teachers.

Meanwhile, Qiu Huanian busied himself preparing winter clothing.

They retrieved all the hides stored from the previous year, and Bao Yi and Wu Shen had new furs delivered—enough for every family member, including Yun Cheng and his wife, to receive leather boots and fur-lined hats.

The velvet brocade, soft wool, and thick felt used were all premium materials purchased from the Zhu family—vibrant in color, elegant in pattern, and warm to the touch.

Much of the cotton harvested from the estate was sold to the Commander of Liaozhou—8,000 catties of cotton sold for just 1,000 taels of silver.

The Commander, though short on funds, was generous with prestige.

He submitted a memorial to the throne, again claiming poverty while heaping praise on Lady Qishu for her generous pricing in support of the troops.

The Yuanhua Emperor shared the memorial in morning court, commending Qiu Huanian and pointedly reminding his officials—most of them wealthy—that they ought to follow Lady Qishu’s example in easing the empire’s burdens.

Though the courtiers grumbled in private, none dared oppose him outright. Instead, they convened in secret and sent stewards to the Ministry of War with lists of donations.

Prince Pingxian led the way by contributing ten carts of charcoal. Concerned he’d depleted his household reserves, the emperor dispatched the head eunuch, Wen Xing, to persuade him not to overextend.

In response, Prince Pingxian submitted a memorial insisting his family had more than enough—and added another twenty carts of charcoal and 500 bolts of cotton. He brooded over it for days.

The third prince, Prince Jin, made the largest donation: 1,000 dan of grain, 1,000 bolts of cloth, and a heartfelt essay proclaiming his love for the empire and his filial loyalty. The court buzzed with praise, and for a time, all eyes turned to him.

He was able to mobilize such resources thanks to his mother’s clan and their far-reaching connections, including the Yu family of Liaozhou.

Though the Yuanhua Emperor remained robust in health at nearly fifty, the weakening crown prince and shifting tides suggested the throne might not remain unchanged for long.

Everyone had begun weighing their allegiances.

The bulk of the donated goods were sent to Liaozhou, much to the Commander’s delight. His fondness for Qiu Huanian grew even stronger.

Eventually, he gifted Qiu Huanian a fine steed—captured from the Tatars the year before.

A towering black horse, tall as a man and a half, its glossy coat gleamed like satin. Every muscle exuded strength, and its very presence radiated raw, untamed energy.

Qiu Huanian dared not ride such a beast himself. He named it “Xuanye” and gave it to Du Yunse.

The next day, Du Yunse brought Qiu Huanian to the estate riding Xuanye. Qiu Huanian, never having mounted such a wild animal, spent the entire journey clinging to Du Yunse, half-convinced he’d be thrown off. The experience rivaled a modern-day amusement park ride in terror and thrill.

By the time they arrived, he was soaked with sweat.

Qiu Huanian ordered a hot spring bath to be drawn, and he and Du Yunse soaked together for the remainder of the afternoon.

As evening fell, Du Yunse carried a thoroughly exhausted Qiu Huanian from the bath.

Wrapped snugly in blankets, Qiu Huanian lay limp while Du Yunse gently dried his hair. The tips of Qiu Huanian’s ears glowed red, his expression serene.

When Du Yunse touched his waist, Qiu Huanian winced.

“Will Hua ge’er still insist on such antics again, hmm?”

Today’s “accident” had been largely due to Qiu Huanian’s remarkably creative theoretical knowledge—followed, of course, by practical experimentation.

From beneath the blanket came a muffled voice.

“…What do you think?”

Du Yunse laughed softly, shook his head, and continued kneading Qiu Huanian’s sore muscles with patient care.