Chapter 67: Revealing Shuang Er's Gender—Li Erniang Chases Bing Wengu Over a Thousand Miles

Bing Wengu glanced at Nan Jinping, then wrote a single character on her palm. Nan Jinping’s expression showed faint surprise. Bing Wengu gave her a slight nod.

Jiang Jinghuai looked between Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping. "Not to be blunt, but you two are acting so covert. If there’s something to say, just say it outright. What’s with all these secret signals right under my nose?"

Nan Jinping clasped his hands toward Jiang Jinghuai and stood. "Brother Jinghuai has treated Wen Gu and me with sincerity as clear as a mirror. We can no longer deceive you, or we would be unworthy of your genuine kindness."

Jiang Jinghuai narrowed his eyes slightly, a dangerous glint flashing in his half-lidded gaze. "What do you mean? Don’t tell me you’re actually enemies sent by some rival faction to get close to me?"

Nan Jinping shook his head. "Not at all. Wen Gu and I have truthful backgrounds. The deception lies in my gender."

Jiang Jinghuai had never expected this possibility. His eyes widened in shock.

"In truth, I am not Wen Gu’s younger brother but his husband, a Shuang Er. When traveling outside, it was inconvenient to reveal my identity as a Shuang Er, so I adopted a male disguise. Later, after befriending Brother Jinghuai, we never found the right moment to confess. Now that you’ve already shared your true family background with us, it would be too shameful to continue hiding the truth from you. Hence, we’ve decided to come clean."

Jiang Jinghuai stared in shock for a long moment before he finally managed to speak. "That… does sound like something the two of you would do."

Nan Jinping bowed deeply to Jiang Jinghuai. "Brother Jinghuai, we had no choice but to deceive you before. Please wouldn’t blame you."

Jiang Jinghuai hurriedly stood to help Nan Jinping up, only to freeze halfway, remembering that Nan Jinping was a Shuang Er. His hands hovered awkwardly as he glanced at Bing Wengu, unsure what to do.

Bing Wengu rose and gently steadied his dear husband before addressing Jiang Jinghuai. "Brother Jinghuai, there’s no need to fuss over trivial formalities. Since you’ve read the storybooks my husband wrote, you should know that his ideals align with mine—we seek equality for all three genders: Shuang Er, women, and men. If you’re still willing to befriend us, simply treat us as you always have."

Nan Jinping added, "If Brother Jinghuai prefers not to associate with a Shuang Er, I would understand and hold no grudge."

Instead of anger, Jiang Jinghuai burst into laughter. "You two, born as commoners, are bold enough to flout norms—how could I, a privileged official’s heir, let myself be outdone by a pair of country folk? A Shuang Er writing subversive tales? That makes it even more interesting! I’m absolutely determined to befriend you both now."

Nan Jinping’s heart swelled with joy as he turned to Bing Wengu, who was gazing at him tenderly.

After having tea and chatting for a while, Jiang Jinghuai left.

Jiang Jinghuai was quite efficient; he managed to get everything done in just a month.

"I've taken care of the matters for Yuan Ting and Ming Li." Jiang Jinghuai walked into the Bing family's house as if he were at home, sat down on a stool without waiting for anyone to attend to him, and drank a cup of tea he poured himself in one go.

"I didn't fail you; I printed a thousand copies in total, five hundred of each storybook. The money is right here." Jiang Jinghuai slapped a purse onto the tea table.

Bing Wengu opened the purse, finding four silver bills of two hundred taels each and ninety-two taels of loose silver inside. In addition, there was an account statement detailing every expense and profit from printing the storybooks.

Bing Wengu unfolded the account statement and saw:

Today, we have printed "The Rebirth of Dong Ge'er," one volume, with the following costs: paper, ink, and labor expenses, totaling 89 coins; large paper, 28 sheets, costing 6 coins; ink and labor, 41 coins. Binding and backing materials and labor, totaling 48 coins: large blue-white paper, 2 sheets, costing 15 coins; waxing and labor, 36 coins. Total expenses amount to 205 coins. Each volume is priced at 651 coins.

Bing Wengu noticed that "The Rebirth of Chu Ge'er" was listed afterward, with similar costs and profits due to the comparable word count, also priced at 651 coins.

After deducting the costs, the net profit per book was exactly 446 coins, making a total of 892 coins for both books. However, the author would not receive this full amount; typically, new and unknown authors might only get seven percent or even less. Slightly more famous authors, who form the majority, could get ten percent. For very popular authors or renowned scholars, the share could be much higher.

Now, the purse contained 356 taels and 2 coins, which was the twenty percent royalty, a very good price. If it weren't for Jiang Jinghuai's intervention, such a split would have been impossible to negotiate.

"This is different from the previous two royalties, which I obtained using my newly minted status as the top scholar. They were more interested in investing in me as the top scholar than in the storybooks themselves."

"It seems they gave you this twenty percent split out of respect for Jinghuai." Bing Wengu said, "Without your help, Jin and I wouldn't have been able to negotiate this share."

"Of course," Jiang Jinghuai said smugly. "If I hadn't intervened, they wouldn't have given us this much. I even wanted fifty percent, but that person almost cried when I asked. Seeing how hard it was for them, I let it go."

"This is already very good."

Bing Wengu took out 178 taels from the purse and placed them on the table in front of Jiang Jinghuai, giving the remaining silver and the account statement to Nan Jinscreen.

"This is your cut," said Bing Wengu.

Jiang Jinghuai glanced at the purse and scoffed, "Who do you take me for? This chump change isn’t even enough for a single night of drinks."

Bing Wengu shook his head. "You misunderstand, Brother Jinghuai. This isn’t a token of gratitude—it’s seed money for our venture."

Jiang Jinghuai perked up at that.

"Brother Jin will keep writing storybooks. Why don’t we make this collaboration official?" Bing Wengu poured him a cup of tea. "Don’t you also enjoy shaking things up? Then why not join in yourself? Watching from the sidelines isn’t as fun as joining the chaos yourself."

"Joining the chaos?" Jiang Jinghuai burst into laughter. "To those stuffy old pedants, Ming Li’s storybooks are exactly that—a slap in the face to their precious rules. This game sounds fun. Count me in."

Casually, Jiang Jinghuai picked up the banknotes from the table and tucked them into his sleeve, sealing the deal.

Bing Wengu smiled faintly. The more chaos they stirred up, the better.

Nan Jinping examined the accounts and asked, "Jinghuai, do you know how my storybooks are selling?"

She’d been dying to know. Previous sales had been under different circumstances, leaving her in the dark about their reception.

"Not bad at all. In just a short time, a hundred-some copies have already been sold."

"That many?" Nan Jinping was surprised. "I figured nobody’d bite. I’m a newcomer with no reputation—who’d bother reading my work?"

"Not so," Jiang Jinghuai slouched against the table. "For that, you should thank Yuan Ting. Without his connections in the city and state capitals, even my involvement might not have guaranteed sales."

"Luckily, Yuan Ting used his status as Top Scholar to build your reputation there. Scholars in those cities—those who could afford it—bought copies, and those who couldn’t rented them. Once they read your subversive content, word spread among the students. Now, some of them have even brought the buzz to Bianjing. And you know how Bianjing eats up anything new—your books are already circulating among its literati."

Jiang Jinghuai grinned. "Before I even arranged for printing, students were passing handwritten copies around. Now that the bookstores have official editions, people are flocking to buy them."

Nan Jinping sighed in relief. "Thank goodness Wen Gu planned ahead for me, or I’d have been left high and dry."

"Give it some more time for the buzz to grow, and your books will sell even better. Five hundred copies per volume might not be enough." Jiang Jinghuai was optimistic—not because the stories were exceptional, but because their content was downright scandalous to certain audiences.

Bing Wengu pondered briefly. "Waiting for word to spread naturally is too slow. Let’s fan the flames ourselves."

Jiang Jinghuai looked at him with interest. "What mischief are you plotting now?"

"Mischief? Call it strategy," Bing Wengu corrected. "We could have storytellers perform excerpts from the books—in teahouses, taverns, or even entertainment districts. That would work wonders."

Jiang Jinghuai’s eyes lit up. "No wonder they say you bookish types are sly foxes. You come up with these ideas in the blink of an eye."

Bing Wengu barely held back an eye-roll. "Brother Jin and I are new to Bianjing and unfamiliar with its ways. We’ll need your help navigating things."

"You got it. Leave the arrangements to me."

Suddenly, Nan Jinping interjected, "It’s not sneaky—it’s savvy."

"..." Jiang Jinghuai stared.

Bing Wengu chuckled, unable to suppress his smile.

"Really, Ming Li? Over a harmless joke, you’re defending him?" Jiang Jinghuai’s gaze darted between them. "No wonder Yuan Ting adores you so much—you’re always shielding him."

Nan Jinping’s ears turned crimson, while Bing Wengu wore a smug, restrained smile.

"Fine, I’m leaving. Got a booze fest anyway—no time for you two." Jiang Jinghuai stood, waved dismissively, and strode toward the door. "Once I’ve lined up the storytellers, I’ll take you to listen."

"Agreed." Since Jiang Jinghuai was a guest—and a crucial ally—Bing Wengu couldn’t just let Ping'an see him out. That would be too dismissive. Instead, he and Nan Jinping walked him out themselves.

The three of them had just stepped outside when they nearly collided with someone.

Bing Wengu didn't think much of it, seeing Jiang Jinghuai to the door. As he turned to step back inside, with one foot already inside, a woman's lilting voice called out from behind.

"Bing Dalang."

Both Bing Wengu and Nan Jinping halted. Bing Wengu immediately looked at Nan Jinping, who was already staring back at him.

"I'm innocent," Bing Wengu quickly explained. "Since arriving in Bianjing, I've been more cloistered than a proper lady, never venturing past the inner courtyard, spending my days studying at home. You're the one always running around outside."

Nan Jinping jerked his chin at the woman. "Then what's this about?"

Only then did Bing Wengu turn to the woman who had called out to him. She wore a veil, covering everything below her eyes in a hazy, indistinct manner.

"I don't know her," Bing Wengu said to Nan Jinping.

"Da Lang, how could you be so heartless? It's only been a few months, yet you've forgotten our bond of over ten years?" The young woman's voice was plaintive, like she was singing her woes.

Bing Wengu hastily threw up his hands. "You know I haven't," he said to Nan Jinping.

Nan Jinping gave the young woman a once-over.

What Nan Jinping didn't realize, nearly a year without farm labor had lightened his complexion considerably, leaving his skin much fairer and smoother.

Now literate and writing his own stories, he had taken on a bookish air. His fine clothing and young master's attire made him utterly unrecognizable from his days in Shanghe Village—like night and day. Even Miao Shi might not have recognized him at first glance.

Seeing Bing Wengu still didn't recognize her, the woman lifted her veil to reveal half her face.

"Da Lang, it's me—Li Erniang," she said, fluttering her lashes at him.

Bing Wengu was hit with a wave of nausea. Without suppressing it, he leaned against the wall and vomited.

"Ugh—!"

Li Erniang's face turned ashen at the sight of the vomit.

She knew she wasn't pretty—even in Shanghe Village, she was nothing special to look at. That was why she'd had to become a concubine to a man old enough to be her father just to secure a better life. With her mediocre looks, no well-off young gent would ever give her a second look.

But while she might not be beautiful, she certainly wasn't so hideous as to make someone vomit at the sight of her.

"What ugly creature is this? She's so homely she made this scholar retch. Ming Li, get me inside—I'm gonna be sick." Bing Wengu usually called Nan Jinping "Jin Geer," but using his courtesy name now was deliberate—to prevent Li Erniang from recognizing him.

Nan Jinping rolled his eyes, propping up Bing Wengu while unsure whether this was genuine or an act.

If it were real, his instincts told him otherwise. But if fake, Bing Wengu had actually vomited.

The truth? Entirely feigned. Bing Wengu had fought on battlefields—what hadn't he seen? Some homely girl could never truly sicken him. He'd simply hit his pressure point to induce vomiting.

Seeing both masters beat a retreat inside, Ping'an moved to shut the gate.

But Li Erniang wasn't about to take this lying down after traveling all the way from Xinghe Town to Bianjing. "Let me in! I truly know Bing Dalang!" she protested, making a scene, blocking the gate.

Ping'an gave her a pitying look. "Miss, if you knew our dear, you'd know what a jerk he can be. Why subject yourself to this?"

With that, he shut the gate firmly despite her protests.

Left standing outside the door, Li Erniang angrily tore the hairpin from her head and flung it to the ground, stomping on it fiercely with her foot.

This was a hairpin she had bought specially that morning—just this one cost her five wen. But she had no choice. To see Bing Wengu, she had to spend dearly. Afraid he might dislike the sight of a married woman’s hairstyle, she adorned her hair in a maiden's style instead. And yet, this was the result…

Wasn’t it said that Bing Wengu still longed for her, even drowning himself for her sake? And this was his attitude toward the woman he supposedly threw himself into the river for?

Fuming, Li Erniang stormed back to the inn where she was staying. In her rage, she lashed out at Li Shi, “Didn’t you say Bing Dalang still longs for me? But do you know what happened today? Not only did he refuse to acknowledge me, he actually retched at my appearance—said I was too ugly!”

Li Shi was stunned by this outcome. “Th-that can’t be!”

“Nonsense! I was there—how could it be fake?” Li Erniang snapped. “Mother, have you spread so many rumors that you can’t even tell truth from lies anymore?”

“How could that be? Bing Dalang really did drown himself for you. After you broke off the engagement, he threw himself into the river. The whole village knows! If not for you, then for whom?” Li Shi muttered.

“Erniang, don’t be discouraged. Maybe you should try again tomorrow,” Li Shi suggested.

Of course, Li Erniang wouldn’t give up so easily. She had come all the way to the capital—she wasn’t about to accept defeat after just two humiliating words.

No matter what, she would win Bing Dalang over—do or die, there was no other option.

Meanwhile, Bing Wengu, supported by Nan Jinping, returned to his room. Pretending to be weak, he reclined against a soft pillow, an arm draped over his forehead as he moaned theatrically.

“I feel awful… What if I vomit again?” Even as he spoke, Bing Wengu stole glances at Nan Jinping’s expression.

Sure enough, Nan Jinping’s face was dark. He snorted coldly. “A headache? Shouldn’t you be dizzy with joy, having Xiao Geer travel thousands of miles just for you?”

Ah, the little husband was jealous!

Finally, some progress—no longer his former clueless self. Bing Wengu felt both nervous and smug.

In one swift motion, he sat up, tilting his head as he leaned in close to Nan Jinping’s face—so close that if Nan Jinping lifted his chin, their lips would meet.

“Jealous?” Bing Wengu asked.

The direct question seemed to make Nan Jinping realize his own jealousy. His face flushed instantly, his gaze darting away, unable to meet Bing Wengu’s eyes.

“I—I’m not.”

Bing Wengu cupped Nan Jinping’s cheeks gently, turning his face toward him, forcing their eyes to meet.

“Let me look at my beautiful Xiao Geer properly—I need to cleanse my eyes, or else I might vomit all night from the ugliness earlier.”

“Silver-tongued rogue,” Nan Jinping muttered sourly. “If I recall correctly, someone once drowned himself for that ‘ugliness.’ Back then, she was a heavenly beauty—what changed?”

“Husband,” Bing Wengu said, his voice earnest and unwavering, devoid of any teasing, “in my eyes, no one compares to you. You’re the most handsome Xiao Geer in this world.”

“My heart has always been small—so small that it can only hold you. There isn’t even room for myself.”

Bing Wengu’s gaze was deep, like a starless night sky—one look, and the soul would be swallowed whole, lost forever.

Nan Jinping felt heart and soul sinking into those pitch-black eyes, utterly ensnared.

As he stared at Bing Wengu’s face—the sharp brows, starlit eyes, the prominent nose carving out his chiseled features, the strong jawline accentuating his masculine beauty—Nan Jinping realized with startling clarity just how handsome Bing Wengu was.

It was a masculine beauty, without a trace of softness—just like the man himself.

His heart pounded so violently that the sound was deafening, even to his own ears.

"My dear, I love you, from one heart to the entire soul."

True passion moves the soul, and beauty enchants the senses. The warm hibiscus curtains framed their fleeting night of spring.

Nan Jinping was exhausted by midnight, and in his drowsy state during the later hours, he couldn’t understand why he had been so foolish as to feel jealous.

The man who had spent all his energy on him that night—what strength could he possibly have left during the day? Even if he encountered the most enchanting young lady, it would be like a eunuch seeing a palace maid—all desire, no ability.

The next day, Bing Wengu woke up bright-eyed and energized, gazing at his still-sleeping husband with a smug grin.

Ping'an heard movement in the bedchamber and tiptoed to the door. "My lord, you're up. Shall I bring breakfast?"

Ping'an caught the faint rustling sounds inside, and soon the door opened quietly as Bing Wengu stepped out with light steps.

"My husband’s still sleeping. I’ll eat elsewhere."

"Understood." Ping'an thought to himself, *The lord dotes on his husband! In other households, the husband rises first to serve the lord, but ours is the exception.*

After setting out the meal, Ping'an reported, "My lord, that young lady who came yesterday has returned early this morning and has been lingering outside the gate."

"Beat her off with a stick," Bing Wengu replied without hesitation.

"Understood." Ping'an had expected this answer.

Taking the order, Ping'an grabbed a wooden staff and headed out. As soon as he opened the gate, Li Erniang hurried forward. "Let me in at once! If Bing Dalang finds out you barred me from entering, he’ll surely punish you!"

"Liar!" Li Erniang snapped. "Bing Dalang adores me—he’d never allow this! You must not have informed him and are deceiving me!"

"I advise you, young lady, to cut your losses and walk away. There are plenty of fine men in the world—why bother?" Ping'an spoke earnestly. "Everyone knows my lord’s heart holds only my husband. Why torment yourself?"

"Impossible! Bing Dalang once leaped into a river to save me! That Nan family nobody—how could he compare to me?" Li Erniang grew agitated, her words reckless.

Ping'an had been patient at first, but upon hearing her insult his lord’s husband, his expression turned cold. "Will you leave or not? If not, don’t blame me for being harsh."

"I won’t leave!" Li Erniang stood her ground.

Without another word, Ping'an cracked the staff across her head.

Li Erniang had never dreamed Ping'an would actually strike her, but the pain of the blows was undeniable. Unable to endure it, she scrambled away, arms flailing.

"Ha!" Ping'an scoffed as he watched her wolfish retreat. "You refused the path to heaven and barged into hell instead. And you even dared to slander my lord’s husband? A beating is the least of your worries. If my lord heard you, he’d flay you alive!"

He had assumed Li Erniang wouldn’t dare return after the beating. Yet, to his surprise, she remained undeterred. She’d somehow dug up the truth that the man often seen beside Bing Wengu was actually a young man in disguise—his husband.

And so, Li Erniang came to ambush Nan Jinping.

"Jin Geer!" Li Erniang, lurking by the gate of the Bing residence, called out as soon as she saw Nan Jinping emerge.

Nan Jinping no longer felt jealous. He knew Bing Wengu truly held no affection for Li Erniang and could now face her coolly.

"You again? What do you want?" Nan Jinping asked calmly.