Wife, Protect Me! - Chapter 8

Steward Wu had thought that once the young master regained his memories or learned about family matters, he would stop insisting on studying Legalism. But seeing his persistence, he had no choice but to say: “Very well, to study Legalism, one must first pass the Imperial Examination to enter officialdom, only then can one possess the authority to enforce laws…”

With insistence, Li Nuo finally managed to inquire about the cultivation methods of Legalism.

Legalism—to cultivate the path of Legalism, one must first possess law enforcement authority.

Commoners and nobles alike lack law enforcement authority. The only way to obtain it is by becoming an official.

Li Nuo had considered asking his father, a third-rank senior official, to secure him an official position. But Steward Wu explained that in Great Xia, the only path to officialdom was through the Imperial Examination. Without passing the examination, even if his father was the Minister of the Court of Revision or the current Prime Minister, he couldn’t magically create an official position for him.

Well, the idea of taking a shortcut was temporarily dashed, but Li Nuo wasn’t discouraged.

In his previous life, he had passed both the judicial examination and civil service examination. Though he didn’t know the difficulty level of Great Xia’s Imperial Examination, if he applied the same determination he had for the civil service exam and worked hard, he could still give it a shot.

Passing the Imperial Examination would qualify him to become an official.

What he lacked was just a stepping stone. With a father who held a proper third-rank position, as long as he passed the examination, his official career might not necessarily skyrocket, but it should proceed smoothly.

Though this line of thinking might not align with core values, his life was hanging by a thread—how could he afford to consider such things?

Legalism follows the path of maintaining laws and upholding justice through law enforcement authority. Generally, one could start by serving as a County Magistrate or County Governor, and advance further by holding positions in the Ministry of Justice, Imperial Censorate, or Court of Review.

Li Nuo currently held no official position, but thanks to his status, before qualifying for an official post, the Magistrate of Chang’an likely wouldn’t refuse if he wanted to adjudicate minor cases at the county office.

Seeing his young master’s gaze grow increasingly determined and his expression more fervent, Steward Wu couldn’t help but ask: “Young master, are you truly set on walking the path of Legalism?”

Li Nuo asked: “Why, is it not allowed?”

He noticed that the old man seemed to be subtly discouraging him from studying Legalism.

Steward Wu sighed and said: “Although the capabilities of Legalism surpass even Martial Arts, it is difficult to begin with, and cultivation is extremely challenging. One might make no progress for decades. Young master, you must think this through clearly.”

Li Nuo asked in confusion: “Why?”

Steward Wu explained: “At the initial stage of Legalism cultivation, one only needs to adjudicate ordinary cases. This way, it may take as little as one or two years, or as long as three to five years, to glimpse the doorway. But to achieve profound cultivation, one must judge cases others cannot judge, execute punishments others cannot carry out. Does young master understand what this old servant means?”

Li Nuo, having studied law himself, was well aware of the limitations of Legalism.

In his previous world, Legalism served as the political voice for commoners, advocating that “all governance should follow the law.” It emphasized “no distinction between kin and stranger, no difference between noble and commoner—all judged by the law,” “sovereign and subject, high and low, noble and humble, all must obey the law,” and “punishing offenses without sparing high ministers, rewarding good deeds without overlooking ordinary folk”…

Under the law, there were no privileges—a principle that clearly threatened the interests of the privileged class.

Li Nuo asked, “Are you saying that practicing Legalism will face obstruction from the powerful?”

Steward Wu felt gratified inwardly. The young master had indeed grown wiser, grasping the crux of the matter so quickly.

He nodded and said, “Exactly. Legalism is not like the medical experts, who need only master medicine to heal and save lives. It is not like the Mohist School, which focuses solely on craftsmanship, nor is it like the Agrarian School, which spends a lifetime tilling land and breeding crops. To practice Legalism, one must devote oneself entirely to the law—first executing commoners, then high officials. Only in this way can one continuously advance, like a sharp sword hanging over the heads of all court officials. Thus, disciples of Legalism have always been rejected by the nobility. Since the end of the Warring States period, it has gradually declined, with few practitioners left…”

Li Nuo pondered for a moment and asked, “Which school did my father practice?”

Steward Wu replied, “Confucianism.”

Li Nuo was somewhat surprised. The Minister of the Court of Revision, standing at the pinnacle of Great Xia’s legal world, actually practiced Confucianism. It seemed Legalism had truly fallen into decline.

Li Nuo understood everything Steward Wu had said. He also knew that challenging an entire social stratum as an individual would, under normal circumstances, end tragically.

But if he didn’t practice Legalism, tragedy would come regardless.

It seemed like he had a choice, but in reality, there was no choice.

Li Nuo waved his hand and said, “I understand. We’ll discuss it another time…”

He was well aware that Steward Wu’s discouragement of Legalism was for his own good. The Lolita Island incident was known to all. Even in modern nations, it was impossible to bring all evildoers to justice—high officials still existed, let alone in a feudal dynasty.

If practicing halfway meant having to kill the nobility, wouldn’t continuing mean having to kill the emperor?

No emperor could tolerate Legalism.

Nowadays, Legalism was mostly a tool for managing the grassroots, never reaching the nobility. Naturally, no one practiced it to profound levels.

Steward Wu glanced discreetly at Li Nuo, thinking to himself, Surely the young master won’t defy the heaven now?

After clearing his throat softly, he stood up and said, “It’s getting late. Young master, rest early. This old servant will take his leave.”

Li Nuo waved his hand. “Go on.”

After Steward Wu left, Li Nuo sat at the table, propping his chin with one hand, his gaze gradually growing distant.

Too much had happened to him in just half a day.

A minor clerk from a 21st-century court had merely fallen asleep and woken up in another world. He opened his eyes to an assassination attempt, thought it was a dream, knocked himself out against a pillar, woke up again to see a death countdown, captured a female assassin, was knocked out by a kick from his wife, went out, and nearly had his head pierced by an arrow…

His over twenty years of life experiences paled in comparison to the richness and intensity of this half-day.

He needed a moment to collect himself.

…

Night.

Li Manor.

In a quiet room, a young woman sat at a table, her gaze slightly unfocused as she watched the flickering candle flame.

That morning, when she saw the wretched state of the woman in the woodshed, she had indeed lost control of her anger for a moment.

Her husband, though a fool, had never committed any crimes.

Of course, she soon realized it was all a misunderstanding. Compared to him committing crimes, the sudden transformation of a fool who used to only giggle and drool all day into someone normal—or even intelligent—seemed even more astonishing.

Strangely enough, when he was foolish, she hadn’t felt anything particular.

Now that he was no longer foolish, she found herself unsure how to interact with him.

This stirred a faint restlessness in her, who was usually as calm as still water.

Her fingers habitually rubbed the long sword in her hand, but it didn’t feel familiar at all.

Puzzled, she looked down, then exclaimed in shock and confusion, “Where is my sword?”

In the room next door, separated by a wall, Li Nuo sat at the table, his eyes shifting as he finally snapped out of his daze.

He had no idea how long he had been spacing out. Turning his head, he realized it was already dark outside.

Collecting his thoughts, he let out a long, deep breath.

By now, he had come to terms with the fact that he had traveled through time.

In his previous life, his parents had passed away early, and half a year ago, he had bid farewell to his grandmother, who had raised him. In that other world, he didn’t have many strong attachments. The only thing that bothered him was the thought of all the effort he had put into passing the judicial and civil service exams, only to lose the iron rice bowl he had finally secured…

If only he hadn’t pushed himself so hard back then.

But then, thinking that the “rice bowl” he had in this life could probably be considered a golden one, his mood improved a little.

After snapping out of his daze, Li Nuo realized he was unbearably hungry. The meal Steward Wu had brought in the afternoon had long gone cold, but Li Nuo didn’t mind. Just as he was about to pick up his chopsticks, there was a sudden knock at the door.

He stood up, walked to the door, and opened it. Seeing the figure in front of him, he paused briefly before asking, “Niangzi, it’s so late. Is something the matter?”

He was well aware that, although they were married, they had always slept in separate rooms.

The aloof woman asked, “Have you seen my sword?”

Li Nuo shook his head and said, “No, I haven’t…”

The woman’s gaze shifted downward slightly as she asked, “Then what is that in your hand?”

Li Nuo looked down and realized he was holding a sword.

He had no recollection of how or when his wife’s sword had ended up in his hand.

Li Nuo quickly handed the sword back to her and said, “I’m sorry, I don’t know why your sword was in my hand…”

The woman in white didn’t say much more. She turned and walked away without looking back. After a couple of steps, she paused slightly but still didn’t turn around, saying, “About what happened earlier… I’m sorry. I misunderstood you.”

Li Nuo rubbed his chest, which was still aching faintly, and replied magnanimously, “It’s alright.”

She had saved his life, so what was one kick in comparison?

Although his wife was a bit violent, she was still reasonable.

Watching her figure about to disappear into the courtyard, Li Nuo impulsively called out, “By the way, Niangzi… what is your name?”

It suddenly occurred to him that he didn’t even know her name.

Her figure had already vanished, but a faint, almost imperceptible voice drifted back from the darkness.

“Song Jiaren.”

…

“Song Jiaren…”

What a beautiful name, Li Nuo thought to himself, repeating it a few times in his mind. He turned back into the room and was about to close the door when he froze, staring blankly at a pink pouch in his hand.

What is this?

Why did he keep ending up with strange things in his hands today? Li Nuo opened the pouch and looked inside, finding only some scattered silver pieces. He then brought it close to his nose and sniffed; the pouch carried a faint, delicate fragrance. This scent wasn’t unfamiliar to him—after spending a day with his wife, he could still recognize her fragrance.

But why was Niangzi’s pouch also in his hand?

And… why did he say “also”?

Li Nuo thought back: earlier today, Steward Wu’s money pouch had inexplicably ended up in his hand as well. Not only that, but Niangzi’s sword had also mysteriously appeared in his grasp…

Thinking more carefully, it seemed that when he returned Niangzi’s sword just now, his right hand had habitually made a motion, swiping her pouch.

Could it be? Was his former self actually a master thief?

Had he unknowingly retained some of his body’s old habits?

Impossible. A fool shouldn’t understand such things. Suddenly, a flash of insight crossed Li Nuo’s mind.

He immediately summoned the Law Codex, his gaze locking onto the portrait of the man with a goatee on the second page.

Then, Li Nuo thought of something else and looked toward the female assassin on the first page.

A moment later, in a side room of the Li residence, Steward Wu asked curiously, “Young Master, what are you doing in the assassin’s room?”

The female assassin who had attempted to kill Li Nuo was formerly a maid of the Li family. This was her room, which had already been searched and now appeared somewhat messy. After rummaging through the room, Li Nuo found a slip of paper in the drawer by the bed.

“5–7 a.m.: Wake up, wash up, and groom. Before 5:45 a.m., clean the Young Master’s courtyard.”

The content on the slip was simple—it listed her daily tasks and their timings, such as cleaning and tidying beds. In such a grand household, servants had fixed duties each day, which changed according to their assigned roles.

Shortly after, Li Nuo had Steward Wu prepare brush and ink. Returning to his room, he walked to the desk, picked up the brush, and wrote the same content on another slip of paper.

“5–7 a.m.: Wake up, wash up, and groom. Before 5:45 a.m., clean the Young Master’s courtyard.”

He held up both slips and compared the handwriting. Both were written in the delicate Zanhua Script—not just identical, but completely indistinguishable.