Shen Ninghuan's voice was very soft, as if she were recounting an ordinary memory, but when it reached Pei Cijing's ears, it was like a clear spring flowing across his heart.
Daoist Qingyunzi.
He didn't just remember; he had a deep impression of him.
That ethereal elder, whose depth of Daoist cultivation was unfathomable, had merely glanced at him and seen through his fate as a "person from beyond the heavens," stating plainly that his destiny was not determined by heaven but by himself.
"Master Pei, having come to this world, there's no need to tread so cautiously. You may also... spread your wings and show your capabilities."
"Whichever path you choose, just be true to yourself, and that will be fine."
Now, as his wife brought up Daoist Qingyunzi's words that day, it was like tossing another pebble onto the calm surface of a lake, stirring up ripples that spread layer upon layer.
Spread his wings. Be true to himself.
He leaned back in the chair.
His eyes were closed.
The eight words echoed in his mind over and over, along with the plain but weighty words Master Shuijing had left in the preface. Two different paths, yet containing something similar within.
Perhaps he really should do something?
Not for high office or great wealth.
Not to honor his wife or gain glory for his children.
But simply, like Master Shuijing, who had also been a time traveler, since he had come to this world, and there were things he could see, know, and had the ability to do.
If he wanted to do it, then do it!
If he didn't, he would always have a knot in his heart.
If he did, whether he succeeded or failed, even if he only took a single small step forward, he would have satisfied his own heart. Follow his heart, and be true to himself.
Pei Cijing felt an indescribable emotion stirring within him.
A complex sensation, like something waking up in his heart, warm yet carrying a heavy weight.
Pei Cijing opened his eyes and turned his head slightly, his gaze meeting Shen Ninghuan's eyes.
She was looking at him.
In those clear eyes were gentleness, conviction, and a hint of an understanding that seemed to know everything.
"My lady," he said, his voice a little hoarse. "Bringing up these words... are you trying to tell me that I should do what I want to do and not hesitate?"
Shen Ninghuan softly curved the corners of her lips. The smile was faint, yet warmer than the sunlight streaming through the wisteria vines outside the window.
"My lord," she said softly, her tone gentle but her words distinct. "Just as Daoist Qingyunzi said, we don't have to overthink things."
"If you want to do something practical for the country and its people, like Master Shuijing, and it's nothing shameful or immoral, then why should we hesitate?"
She raised her hand, her fingertips gently smoothing over his slightly furrowed brow, smoothing away the last trace of a crease.
Continuous: "We have nothing to be ashamed of."
"My lord, if you have any ideas, I will support you."
Her voice was not loud, but like a solid foundation, it sank into the softest place in Pei Cijing's heart.
We.
She didn't say "you"; she said "we."
It had been like this since the first day she entered the marquis's household, or perhaps since the night of their wedding, when they became one, inseparable.
Whether it was her companionship as he prepared for the imperial exams, her care in his daily life, or being moved by Master Shuijing's words and having his heart thrown into disarray.
His wife was always by his side.
The two of them shoulder to shoulder, holding hands, facing all the storms together together.
Since even his lady had spoken like this, the hesitation in Pei Cijing's heart, that wavering born from too much thought or conflict with his old habits, suddenly found its resolution.
He subconsciously glanced at the balance of gossip points in his mind.
27,329!
This was also the savings he had hoarded up.
For him, this was a fortune he was reluctant to touch before. Gossip points were hard to come by, and good gossip was especially rare.
But now.
He had only one thought.
Spend them!
Spend when necessary, spend them where it mattered most.
Gossip points were fixed, but he was alive and flexible. Since he had decided to do something, he couldn't just talk without taking action.
"A'niang!" he said, sitting upright and taking Shen Ninghuan's hand. His tone carried a rare sense of solemnity. "Your husband does have some ideas."
He paused, then added seriously, "But these ideas might require you to put in some thought."
Shen Ninghuan's face showed curiosity, a glimmer of light flashing in her clear eyes. "Oh? And what do you need me to do, my lord?"
"Please wait a moment, my lady."
He released her hand, stood up, and quickly walked to his study.
Entering the study, he closed the door, leaned against it, and took a deep breath.
Then.
He opened the system store.
The translucent virtual panel appeared before him, featuring a dazzling array of items. There were the ones he had exchanged for, like the Master of Medicine and the Martial Arts Grandmaster, and high-level skills that required a huge number of points to unlock, as well as the grand prize that cost a hundred thousand gossip points.
Pei Cijing skimmed past all these, the entries on the panel scrolling rapidly until they finally stopped at a blueprint: [Basic Cement Formula & Detailed Manufacturing Method - An Optimal Version Craftable with Current Resources]
[Points: 10,000]
Ten thousand.
A full ten thousand points.
Pei Cijing looked at that number, his heart aching sharply. Had it been easy for him to accumulate these gossip points?
But he didn't hesitate for long.
He gritted his teeth.
Pressed exchange.
[Exchange Successful. 10,000 Gossip Points Deducted. Current Balance: 17,329.]
A thin booklet materialized in his hand. Its cover was slightly yellowed paper, and on it was written, in traditional Chinese characters, "The Secret Formula for Cement."
Opening it.
It was richly illustrated.
From the selection, crushing, and calcination of limestone, to the mixing ratios, grinding fineness, and final product inspection, each step was laid out in clear detail.
Even so, Pei Cijing didn't go out immediately.
He had to make it look convincing!
He lingered in the study for a while, flipping through the booklet repeatedly to give its edges a slight frayed look. Then he found a corner on a bookshelf and rubbed some dust onto it, so it appeared to be an old, forgotten item left in a corner for many years.
Only after doing all this did he push open the study door and quickly return to the bedroom.
"Please take a look, my lady," he said, handing the slightly yellowed booklet to Shen Ninghuan, a serious look on his face. "When I was young, an old Daoist master gave this to me. It contains a formula and detailed method for making something called 'cement.'"
"It works like sticky rice mortar, and it can be used in construction. In terms of hardness and durability, no comparison can be made. It's in a whole different league, and the cost is far lower. Back then, I didn't know if it was real, and I thought it too troublesome to verify, so I just tossed it into a corner of the study and gradually forgot about it."
"Now that I want to get something done, it came to mind," he said, looking at Shen Ninghuan with sincere eyes. "That's why I'd like to ask you to put in the effort and arrange for someone to try to make some. To verify whether this is real or not."
"If it is real..." Pei Cijing's voice carried a nuance of seriousness, "Maybe we can use it to build river dikes and canals, construct city defenses, lay roads and bridges, and in a small way, contribute to the life's work of Master Shuijing."
Shen Ninghuan took the booklet and opened it, her eyes moving slowly over the dense text and intricate diagrams.
She listened quietly as her husband explained, her face betraying nothing, but in her heart, she understood completely.
This formula was genuine.
Not “maybe genuine” or “possibly genuine,” but one hundred percent, absolutely genuine.
Just like the Youth Preservation Pill that kept her looking young, just like the navigation booklet that saved her third uncle Zhou Dahe’s life, this cement formula had also just been redeemed by her husband from that Melon-Eating System—and at no small cost.
“Ten thousand melon-eating points! Senior Shuijing, I really went all out for you!”
“To help make your dream come true, I blew a full ten thousand melon-eating points—enough for the crown prince to stage another rebellion and give the old emperor two more kids!”
“That’s a whole ten thousand points, my entire savings, just gutted like that...”
“Wah wah wah, I’ve been saving for so long, scrimping and saving, not even daring to look at the system shop for fear I’d impulse-buy, and now it’s just gone...”
“But it was worth it.”
“Think of it as paying party dues to a fellow time-traveling senior.”
Shen Ninghuan listened to these thoughts, both amused and touched.
What amused her was how lively her husband’s inner world was. He was doing something serious that would benefit the nation and its people, yet inside he acted like a child—fretting over points, muttering about “going all out” and “paying dues,” using all sorts of strange words she had no idea where he picked up.
What touched her was that ten thousand melon-eating points were indeed no small amount.
She knew how hard he had worked to accumulate those points.
On an ordinary day, eating a melon earned him just a few points, at most a few dozen; occasionally, a big one would bring in a few hundred. Ten thousand points represented savings built up over a very long time.
But despite his reluctance, he didn’t hesitate. He gritted his teeth and exchanged the formula.
This kind of resolve and decisiveness perfectly matched the husband she knew.
Sometimes he was so reliable it put her at ease—like when he wrote policy essays stroke by stroke in the examination hall, or when, on the night of the coup, he gave up a chance to claim merit by saving the emperor and instead rushed to the Huaging Garden to rescue her, or now, when he unhesitatingly spent his hard-saved savings to fulfill Master Shuijing’s grand ambition.
Other times he was like a little boy.
His inner world was so rich it made her laugh and cry, muttering about melon-eating points, complaining about the system, and using words like “paying party dues” that she didn’t understand to express his respect.
But that very quality made him feel real to her.
He wasn’t some lofty, otherworldly saint living on celestial dew. He was a flesh-and-blood person—one who could fret over losses but also grit his teeth, one who could be calculating and yet willing to go all out.
This was the kind of person she loved.
Shen Ninghuan closed the booklet and looked up at Pei Cijing, her gaze warm and solemn. “Don’t worry, husband,” she said. “I’ll arrange for people to start trial production as soon as possible.”
She carefully cradled the booklet in her arms, handling it as if it were something extremely precious—and indeed it was. Not because of its practical value to the world, nor because it cost so many melon-eating points, but because it was proof of her husband’s determination to see something through.
Pei Cijing watched his wife’s serious demeanor and felt even more moved.
His wife was truly wonderful.
As the saying went: “Behind every successful man stands a woman who silently supports him.”
He might not be a successful man, but he already had his wife behind him—or rather, beside him. He didn’t need to turn around to find her. He just had to reach out, and she was there.
He was so lucky!
Just as Pei Cijing was feeling deeply touched, Shen Ninghuan spoke up, her tone carrying a hint of curiosity and a perfectly concealed touch of mischievousness.
It was a playfulness she showed only occasionally, like a little star hidden beneath her composed exterior, flickering on and off. “But husband, you met quite a few elderly Daoists when you were young, didn’t you?” she said. “I wonder exactly how many elderly Daoists you’ve encountered?”
She tilted her head, her clear eyes fixed on Pei Cijing, as if she were counting on her fingers. “One gave you the navigation booklet, one gave you the Youth Preservation Pill, one gave you this cement formula... Are there any other elderly Daoists who gave you other things?”
Pei Cijing coughed lightly.
He almost choked.
“Well...” His gaze drifted, first landing on the potted asparagus fern by the window, then back to her. He tried to make his voice sound natural. “These weren’t all given by the same Daoist. They were from several different ones.”
He paused, then added emphatically: “No more elderly Daoists. Just those three.”
Inside, however, he was cursing himself.
Careless.
He had used the same excuse three times. With his wife’s intelligence, how could she not be suspicious?
“Running into an elderly Daoist,” “a gift from childhood”—once or twice might sound like a stroke of fate, but three or four times was just too fake!
So fake that even he felt flimsy when he said it.
Clearly, the next time he traded something from the system shop, he’d have to think up more creative origins. No more elderly Daoists—the overlap was way too obvious, and he couldn’t even come up with new variations.
He’d have to think of fresh excuses.
Like an ancient book dug up from a secondhand bookstall, a rare manuscript swapped with a colleague, or at least switching it up to an elderly monk or an elderly scholar.
But...
His wife didn’t seem to be pressing the matter.
Pei Cijing sneaked a glance at her. She nodded slightly, her expression still gentle and composed, showing no signs of digging deeper. She simply tucked the booklet carefully into a hidden compartment of her vanity case.
Pei Cijing breathed a silent sigh of relief.
Good.
He’d managed to bluff his way through.
He had no idea, however, that with her back to him, Shen Ninghuan was fighting to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. Her lips kept wanting to curl upward, and she had to press them tightly together to maintain her calm composure.
This husband of hers!
He thought he was so slick.
Little did he know that the thoughts chattering away in his head had long since given him away completely. He thought he was covering things up neatly, but she had seen right through him.
But she wasn’t going to call him out on it.
Some secrets.
If he didn’t want to talk about them, she wouldn’t ask.
Everyone had their own corners they didn’t want to share, a last patch of private land where only they planted their own flowers and grasses.
The fact that her husband was willing to share with her the things that came from those “elderly Daoists” was already an enormous sign of trust, like opening a crack in the door to his private garden and letting her peek inside.
As for where those flowers and grasses came from, from which world their seeds drifted—
Why dig deeper?
She was in no hurry. They would take it slow.
The days were long, and the years ahead stretched far. One day, her husband would be willing to tell her everything himself.
When that time came, all she needed to do was listen quietly, and then, just like today, take his hand and tell him: No matter where those things came from, she would always be there.
Shen Ninghuan put away the booklet and turned around. She took Pei Cijing’s hand, her fingertips brushing against his palm before gently lacing through his fingers, carrying a familiar warmth.
“Husband, it’s time to sleep. You have duties tomorrow.”
“Ah, yes. The night is deep,” Pei Cijing remarked, but his hand mischievously slid around his wife’s waist.
The candle flame in the lamp gave a soft flicker, accompanied by a faint crackling sound. Outside the window, the wisteria swayed gently in the night breeze, its pale purple petals shimmering with a subtle glow under the moonlight…
