Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 1

1: Blacking Out and Waking Up in the Northern Song Dynasty

Tian Qingyi arrived at the café nine minutes early, before her girlfriend was due. The café was sparsely populated, with only about ten people scattered around. After finding a seat, she ordered both her and her girlfriend’s usual coffee.

Just as the coffee arrived, her girlfriend stepped in right on time, dressed in a white sundress. She wore light makeup today, and her bag matched her outfit perfectly, making her look youthful and radiant. If not for having seen her ID, Tian Qingyi would never have believed her girlfriend was almost thirty.

The two had met as part-time Han Clothing models, bonding over their shared love for traditional clothing before eventually falling in love. They had just celebrated their two-year anniversary last month, but due to Tian Qingyi’s recent business trip, they hadn’t seen each other in nearly two weeks.

“Let’s break up.”

Her girlfriend said it casually while stirring sugar into her coffee, as if discussing the weather. Tian Qingyi, who had just set her phone down, froze at the words. It took her several seconds to process them before she could even form a response.

“Why?”

“I’m getting married. He was introduced by relatives—reliable, well-off, and my parents already know him. They’re very happy with the match.” Her girlfriend kept her eyes down, stirring her coffee absently, afraid that if she looked up, she’d waver. Because Tian Qingyi was her ideal type.

Even in just a plain white T-shirt and shorts, Tian Qingyi was effortlessly captivating. Today, with her light makeup, tied-up ponytail, crisp white shirt, and khaki pants, she looked both handsome and adorable.

When emotions ruled, her girlfriend wanted to throw caution to the wind and stay with Tian Qingyi. But when rationality took over, she knew—even if they dated for two more years, nothing would change. Neither of them had the courage to come out, and very few people even knew they were together.

“That’s great. Then… let’s break up. I wish you—” Tian Qingyi’s voice cracked. She wanted to force out a graceful “I hope you grow old together happily,” but the words stuck in her throat. Instead, she stood up and left in silence.

Her girlfriend, who had expected her to fight for their relationship, she watched her go with a mix of sorrow and regret. She opened her mouth but found no words, sitting numbly for a while before finally leaving as well. Two untouched cups of coffee remained on the table, a silent testament to what had just happened.

The white Audi A4 that had entered the parking lot later left within an hour. Meanwhile, the white BMW that had arrived earlier didn’t leave until nightfall. Tian Qingyi didn’t go home—instead, she headed straight for a bar.

She had invited three friends for a night of heavy drinking, but within two hours, two had already left—one to take care of their child, the other to finish overtime work. Only Xiao Pang stayed, drinking with her until the end.

When she had first called them, drowning in misery, she had wanted to vent about the breakup. But once they were together, she found herself unable to speak, drowning her sorrows in alcohol instead.

Determined to get drunk, Tian Qingyi succeeded spectacularly. Her face flushed and her vision blurred, she grabbed Xiao Pang’s arm and slurred, “Am I not good-looking? Am I not reliable? Huh? Or am I just too poor?”

“You’re the best-looking, the most reliable, and definitely not poor—you’re practically the definition of a single elite!” Xiao Pang, already half-drunk, replied loudly, as if worried she wouldn’t hear.

But the words only made Tian Qingyi more miserable. “Then why do they all leave me? Why does no one want me? I’m so sad… I wish I could transmigrate to ancient times and become a wandering swordswoman, doing whatever I want…”

Blackout drunk, Tian Qingyi lost all awareness, remembering nothing of what she said or how she got home.

—

Meanwhile, in the Heavenly Palace…

The newly awakened sun goddess, Xi He, was in high spirits after her meditation. On a whim, she waved her hand and randomly bestowed 99 “Wish Fulfillment Gift Packs”—with no after-sales service.

Unbeknownst to her, the drunken Tian Qingyi had just become one of the “lucky” recipients.

—

Waking Up in Another World

When Tian Qingyi first regained consciousness, her head throbbed violently, her soul feeling weightless—as if a gust of wind could scatter it. Before she could even open her eyes, she passed out again.

The next time she woke, the headache had dulled, but the unfamiliar surroundings sent a jolt of terror through her.

This was not her home.

The room was straight out of a historical drama—lattice windows, an antique writing desk with brushes and ink, a folding chair that looked centuries old, landscape paintings, wooden cabinets, a screen, a round table with a flower vase, and an incense burner. There wasn’t a single trace of modernity—no wires, no lights, no outlets.

Listening carefully, she could hear faint noise outside, but no trains—meaning this wasn’t her apartment complex either.

She remembered the breakup, the drinking, Xiao Pang staying with her… but nothing after that. Knowing Xiao Pang’s responsible nature, she should’ve either been taken to a hotel, sent home in a cab, or brought to Xiao Pang’s place.

So why was she here?

Xiao Pang wasn’t the pranking type, and finding a hotel this authentically ancient in their city would be harder than booking a five-star suite.

Frantically, Tian Qingyi searched for her phone—under the pillow, under the blankets—but found nothing. Instead, she realized she was wearing clothes and boots resembling Han Clothing costumes, and—bizarrely—she felt cold.

In the middle of summer.

“What the hell?”

The ancient decor, the strange climate—her mind, well-versed in transmigration novels, jumped to a terrifying conclusion:

Had she actually traveled back in time?

And worse—without the original host’s memories?

The thought alone made her collapse onto the bed. If this was real, she was doomed. Without the host’s memories, she’d be exposed sooner or later.

She considered faking amnesia—a cliché, but plausible—but after eyeing the inkstone and vase, she abandoned the idea. She couldn’t bring herself to injure herself, and even if she did, how would she explain it?

“Maybe this is just a dream?”

The hope was fleeting. She checked her wrist for her watch—only to find it bare, with a long scar she’d never had before. Panicked, she rolled up her sleeve.

A finger-length scar stared back at her.

She had only ever had one scar—a small one on her left index finger from a childhood accident. But now, even that was gone. Her hands were broader, her fingers longer and paler, her palm lines completely different.

These weren’t her hands.

Shivering, she clumsily climbed back under the blankets, her mind reeling. But the moment she started to relax, her head began pounding again—like the discomfort of wearing a heavy wig during Han Clothing photoshoots.

Reaching up, she realized—her hair was tied up in a topknot.

Her short ponytail could never have managed that.

Different hands. Impossible hairstyle. The horrifying truth settled in:

She had really transmigrated.

And not just anywhere—to feudal ancient China.

The thought filled her with despair. As a kid, she’d fantasized about becoming a swordswoman in ancient times, righting wrongs and living freely. But after studying history, she knew better.

Women in ancient times had no such freedom.

And in most transmigration stories, the protagonist had to die first.

“I didn’t die! I just got drunk! Why did I transmigrate without warning? Did anyone even ask me?!”

Furious, terrified, and heartbroken, Tian Qingyi’s emotions overwhelmed her. The more she thought, the angrier she got—until her chest tightened, her vision blurred, and she passed out from the pain.

—

The Original Host’s Memories

When she woke again, a flood of foreign memories filled her mind.

Memories that weren’t hers.

Memories confirming the impossible—she had indeed transmigrated.

To the Northern Song Dynasty, in the year 1012.

And this body? Not hers.

“This is insane!”

Passing out drunk and waking up over a thousand years in the past? How was this even possible?

Refusing to accept it, she pinched herself—lightly, afraid of the pain—but the sharp sting was undeniable.

This was real.

Her last hope shattered. Numb, she lay there like a lifeless log, staring blankly at the canopy.

Outside, the noise of an ancient city carried on, oblivious to her crisis.

“Heavens, earth, gods, Buddha—why the Northern Song Dynasty?! If I had to transmigrate, why not the future? Even just a few decades would’ve been better!”

But no one answered.

No gods. No system.

Other transmigrators got cheat abilities or professional knowledge. She got nothing.

“Was my luck really this bad?”

She had always scoffed at those wish-fulfillment transmigration stories where the protagonist effortlessly rose to power. Real history wasn’t like that.

If you couldn’t succeed in the modern world, what made you think you’d thrive in the past?

But like it or not, she was here.

Which meant… had she died?

She refused to believe she could’ve drunk herself to death, but news stories of alcohol poisoning flashed through her mind.

And the original host had died from a heart attack after heavy drinking.

If she was really gone… what would happen to her parents? Her sister? Her apartment, her car, her savings, her brand-new high-end drawing computer?