Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 10

10: Both Compete to Admit Faults

The original host usually carried a few taels of silver when going out, just in case, while copper coins were handled by Wei Shier, who could advance funds and settle accounts later. After Qingyu arrived, she took charge of the accounts and money in Yuzhu Residence.

The main gate of the Jiufang household was still as festive as yesterday, but the courtyard was much quieter, with only a few people coming and going. Two cousins who had also just returned saw her at the gate and proactively stepped forward to greet her with bows. “Courtesy costs nothing,” she thought, returning their gestures.

As the three entered together, Tian Qingyi took a closer look at the plaque above the gate—only to realize it read “Jiufang Residence”, not “Jiufang Mansion” she had instinctively assumed!

Digging through the original host’s memories, she learned that in the Song Dynasty, not every household could be called a “Mansion”. Only chancellors and imperial relatives (like the Zhao family princes) were entitled to use “Mansion”. Other officials had to settle for “Residence”, while commoners could only use “Household”.

Beyond gate plaques, strict regulations governed architectural styles, building materials, and even clothing. Each profession had its designated attire. Wearing the wrong clothes or building beyond one’s station was called “usurpation” (act of taking someone’s power, position, or property by force, illegal means) and punishable by law. Truly a rigidly hierarchical feudal society!

As the banquet time approached, Tian Qingyi and her cousins headed straight to the central hall—only to encounter Yun Jingchu outside. The cousins quickly excused themselves, while Yun Jingchu, now wearing a straight-collar gown and looking serene, stepped forward to bow:

“Greetings, husband.”
“Greetings, Fourth Son-in-law,” echoed Wu Ma and Baoqin behind her.

“Greetings, wife. Let’s go in together,” Tian Qingyi replied, inwardly scoffing at the pomp but meticulously mimicking propriety to avoid suspicion.

“Greetings, Second Madam,” Wei Shier added, having caught up after paying the carriage fare. Zhou Ba, who didn’t serve indoors, had already returned to his quarters.

Wu Ma was pleased to see the couple’s respectful but distant demeanor, while Baoqin felt their interactions lacked the intimacy expected of newlyweds.

—

The Family Banquet

The central hall hosted six tables. By the time Tian Qingyi and Yun Jingchu entered, most seats were filled, with only the front three tables partially vacant. Fan Zhuzhu, who had just arrived, waved them over.

Yun Jingchu quickly noted the attendees: all relatives she’d paid respects to that morning. Jiufang Xiyan alone had 17 cousins—not counting extended family—prompting six additional tables outside.

After greeting Fan Zhuzhu, Tian Qingyi was guided by Steward Liu to the central main table, while Yun Jingchu sat with Fan Zhuzhu and Li Yan. Despite being a family banquet, gender segregation was strictly observed.

The moment Tian Qingyi sat down, her uncle Jiufang Lai launched into an awkward small talk. Once dismissive of the original host, he now oozed faux concern. Thankfully, the stilted exchange ended when Jiufang Xin made his grand entrance.

After brief formalities, the banquet began. To Tian Qingyi’s surprise, the food and tableware—high-quality celadon porcelain—surpassed yesterday’s feast.

Yet her appetite vanished when Jiufang Xin ordered her and Yun Jingchu to toast the elders. He even called her “Second Brother”, a term so unfamiliar that she missed it the first time.

Though the toasts proceeded smoothly (thanks to the original host’s memories), neither Tian Qingyi nor the original host had cared for these relatives. The original host disdained their parasitic reliance on Jiufang Xin, while they scorned his illegitimate status. Their relationship was purely performative.

Jiufang Xin’s success had uplifted the entire clan—expanding their Kaifeng home, building a manor in their hometown, and showering relatives with land and money. Yet among them, not one was truly reliable. His brother Jiufang Lai, especially, was greedy and incompetent.

—

A Shocking Announcement

As desserts were served, Jiufang Xin declared:

“By ancestral blessings, Second Brother achieved imperial honors and marriage yesterday—a double celebration. Thus, I’ve decided: after the Qionglin Banquet, he will represent me in ancestral rites at our hometown.”

He then dismissed the relatives with a promise of monetary rewards, sparking effusive thanks—except from Jiufang Qiyu, whose face darkened.

How dare Father bypass me, the legitimate heir, for a mere illegitimate son! Fuming, he glared at Jiufang Xiyan, hatred simmering.

Li Yan masked her displeasure. These relatives just ate and drank. Why reward them?

Tian Qingyi, meanwhile, was stunned. Jiufang Xin had always favored his eldest son, even leveraging connections to secure him a supervisory post in Kaifeng’s liquor trade. The original host, in contrast, had languished for three years without promotion or assignment.

If trading my hereditary official position could boost Jiufang Qiyu’s career, Father would’ve done it instantly—just like he sold my marriage for the Yun family’s wealth.

Jiufang Xin, oblivious to their grievances, turned to Jiufang Lai:

“Second Brother is young and inexperienced in ancestral rites. Third Brother, assist him.”

The black-haired, gaunt Jiufang Lai (seven years younger but equally gray) eagerly agreed.

Tian Qingyi sighed. Let’s hope the ancestors don’t roll in their graves.

—

The Silent Return

The walk back was wordless. Tian Qingyi’s focus was on her itchy scalp—a reminder that four days had passed without washing. She suddenly felt grimy all over.

Yun Jingchu feigned shyness but was simply indifferent. Earlier, Baoqin had mentioned that Jiufang Xiyan bathed alone, unlike most nobles who demanded attendants.

An oddity, she mused. Even her merchant father required five to six servants during baths.

Tian Qingyi, however, took longer than the original host. After a soap-washed bath and hair cleanse with soapberry powder, even Ruoshui dozed off waiting outside.

Dressing, she noticed the razor left for “shaving.” Since age 15, the original host had used baths as cover to scrape off faux beard patches (oxhide), ensuring no one questioned her hairless face.

Hiding the used oxhide in a secret compartment, she donned fresh clothes and air-dried her hair in a side room, missing modern blow-dryers.

Would loose hair out me as female? she’d worried earlier. Yet no one batted an eye.

What truly unsettled her was the absence of modern underwear. Making her own was impossible (she’d never held a needle), and commissioning some was too risky.

Bored, she asked Qingyu for a book—”Zuo’s Commentary on the Spring and Autumn Annals” (春秋左傳), its worn cover proof of the original host’s fondness.

Dense classical Chinese without punctuation strained her, but with the original host’s memory and annotations, she muddled through.

—

Morning After

Waking at noon, Tian Qingyi rushed to prepare for morning greetings at Shangfu Courtyard, sending Ruoshui to invite Yun Jingchu—a courtesy she expected to be declined.

But Wu Ma intervened, pressuring Yun Jingchu to comply.

The Jiufang family’s strict morning-evening rituals had loosened after the main wife’s death and Jiufang Xin’s stroke, shifting from daily to once every five days—a relief for all.

Though Tian Qingyi loathed Jiufang Xin, she played the filial son flawlessly. The moment he dismissed her, she whisked Yun Jingchu to Fan Zhuzhu’s quarters.

There, Fan Zhuzhu lounged by a brazier, snacking on dried fruit as a maid read a satire about corrupt officials. Delighted, she chided gently:

“Zimo, you needn’t have dragged Yongnian here again—she already paid respects this morning.”

(Yongnian was Yun Jingchu’s courtesy name.)

Realizing her blunder, Tian Qingyi shot Wei Shier a glare. You didn’t tell me!

“My fault,” she admitted. “I should’ve asked beforehand, inconveniencing my wife.”

“The fault is mine,” Yun Jingchu interjected sweetly. “I failed to inform my husband.”

Fan Zhuzhu beamed at their eagerness to take blame—and the lack of suspicion in Yun Jingchu’s eyes.

“No harm done. Since you’re here, I have gifts for you both.”