Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 11

11: Is Zimo Actually a Greedy Person?

Fortunately, no unpleasant rumors had emerged from Yuzhu Residence since the wedding, allowing Fan Zhuzhu to finally relax.

Before long, a maid returned with two red envelopes. Fan Zhuzhu took them and pressed one into each of their hands. Both instinctively wanted to refuse—Tian Qingyi worried Fan Zhuzhu might be short on funds, while Yun Jingchu felt it improper to accept more after already receiving fabric gifts yesterday.

Seeing their hesitation, Fan Zhuzhu feigned displeasure: “If you won’t take these, it must mean you think my gifts too meager.” She made as if to fetch more money, prompting them to hastily accept. The envelopes felt suspiciously light—no clink of metal, more like a single sheet of paper inside.

Satisfied, Fan Zhuzhu beamed. “We’ve yet to share a meal alone. As the saying goes, ‘No time like the present.’ Stay for lunch with me today.”

“As Mother wishes,” they replied in unison, then exchanged surprised glances before quickly looking away.

With their agreement, Fan Zhuzhu immediately sent maids to prepare lunch, specifically requesting Jiufang Xiyan’s favorite dishes.

While waiting, Fan Zhuzhu resumed listening to a satirical tale about corrupt officials, read aloud by a young maid with remarkable dramatic flair.

By Jiufang family rules, concubines were allotted only two maids maximum. But after Jiufang Xin’s stroke, he sold off all childless concubines and retained only four singing girls. Last night’s banquet, which would’ve featured performances in the past, had been music-less.

With the concubines gone, Shangfu Courtyard stood nearly empty. Jiufang Xin elevated Fan Zhuzhu’s status—raising her monthly allowance to 15 strings of cash and granting her four maids.

The original host fared even better: 4 personal maids, 4 male servants, 1 study attendant, and the same 15-string allowance—though Jiufang Qiyu received more.

Even servants’ wages varied wildly—from 10 strings for senior staff to 200-300 coins for juniors.

Though both women appeared engrossed in the story, their minds were elsewhere: Tian Qingyi mused that historical corruption cases only scratched the surface, while Yun Jingchu simply daydreamed.

When lunch interrupted the tale’s climax, Fan Zhuzhu reluctantly paused it—normally she’d dine while listening, but her guests’ distraction dissuaded her.

The meal featured fried lamb intestines, lamb offal stew, water shield with bamboo shoots, cold dishes, tofu soup, and flatbreads—all the original host’s favorites, but not Tian Qingyi’s. She forced herself to eat enthusiastically.

Since arriving in the Northern Song, Tian Qingyi had yet to encounter chili peppers in any dish. The original host disliked spice and knew nothing of farming, leaving her uncertain—until now.

If two major banquets lacked chili, they probably don’t exist here yet.

The realization soured her appetite. I can tolerate short periods without spice, but a lifetime? What joy would remain for my taste buds?

Pushing herself, she managed only one bowl.

Fan Zhuzhu assumed she’d eaten earlier and didn’t press. After the meal, she admonished:

“Take that tale as warning. Even if you can’t benefit the people as an official, at least remain incorruptible.”

The reminder of her impending bureaucratic career unnerved Tian Qingyi. She’d never managed anything larger than her apartment, let alone people.

Yet postings weren’t hers to choose. Fan Zhuzhu’s advice aligned with her own disdain for corruption, so she readily agreed.

Across the table, Yun Jingchu caught her fleeting guilt and stiffened.

Does Jiufang Xiyan aspire to graft? Scorning merchants while embezzling—a wolf in scholar’s robes!

Fan Zhuzhu turned to Yun Jingchu with wifely exhortations: “Care well for your husband and household.”

Yun Jingchu nodded demurely, the picture of obedience.

—

Parting Ways

Leaving Shangfu Courtyard, they separated—Yun Jingchu to Yuzhu Residence, Tian Qingyi to Qinhai Residence to see Li Yan before Jiufang Qiyu returned.

The original host and Jiufang Qiyu had quarreled constantly in their youth, maintaining only surface cordiality after Jiufang Xin’s return to Kaifeng.

Li Yan, however, proved a capable sister-in-law—managing household affairs deftly, respecting Fan Zhuzhu, and caring for the original host. Their rapport had been genuine.

Returning to Yuzhu Residence, Tian Qingyi found Yun Jingchu arranging flowers in the main hall. Blooms of varied hues and sizes enlivened the space.

So ancient gentlewomen study floral art too—how cultured.

Unlike her own approach: buy flowers on impulse, jam them haphazardly into vases. Zero artistry.

As Yun Jingchu worked, a celadon vase already held peonies. Hearing footsteps but not turning, she ignored the newcomer—until Wu Ma coughed pointedly.

When Yun Jingchu still didn’t react, Tian Qingyi intervened: “If you’re unwell, Wu Ma, go rest.”

How dare a nursemaid overstep so?

Wu Ma smiled obsequiously. “This old body is hale—fit to serve the young master and mistress for years yet, even your future children!”

Her wrinkled face creased further.

Tian Qingyi’s expression darkened. False smiles won’t save you. The hall fell silent but for Yun Jingchu’s snips.

Realizing her ploy failed, Wu Ma shot Yun Jingchu pleading looks—ignored.

After an excruciating pause, Tian Qingyi smoothed her sleeves. “Don’t cough without cause. We’d hate to be thought cruel masters.”

Wu Ma groveled: “This servant understands! It won’t happen again!”

The original host’s disciplinary tactics worked. Tian Qingyi exhaled inwardly.

Yun Jingchu finally set down her shears to bow. “Husband, I apologize for not—”

Tian Qingyi waved it off. “I told them not to announce me. Continue your art—I’ll rest here before the study.”

Her tone so softened that Wu Ma and Wei Shier gawked. Newlyweds acting like strangers!

Yet given Jiufang Xiyan’s notorious disdain for merchant daughters, this civility seemed remarkable.

—

Rain and Revelations

Yun Jingchu resumed her work as Tian Qingyi admired the scene.

Outside, sunshine yielded to roiling clouds. Servants hurried to shutter doors and light lamps as rain erupted—pattering urgently on tiles, a percussion to Yun Jingchu’s floral ballet.

Enchanted, Tian Qingyi retreated to the covered walkway to listen.

From her vase, Yun Jingchu glimpsed him reclining in a lounge chair, eyes closed, savoring the downpour.

An official’s son who bathes alone, keeps no concubines, scorns merchants yet treats me courteously, covets bribes but demands no dowry, broods silently yet defends me—and now, listens to rain with such joy. Jiufang Xiyan, what manner of man are you?

The squall passed as abruptly as it came—under fifteen minutes. Deprived of her respite, Tian Qingyi sulked briefly.

Yun Jingchu’s masterpiece emerged: blooms tiered like ambitious noblewomen—lovely yet dignified.

As Tian Qingyi prepared to praise it, a servant announced Li Yan’s arrival with a broker and twenty potential maids.

After greetings, Li Yan explained: “Choose one personal maid and four general servants.”

Yun Jingchu hesitated, glancing at Tian Qingyi—who ached at the human livestock on display.

I can’t save them. I can’t even save myself.

“Go ahead,” she murmured.

Yun Jingchu’s dowry entourage numbered only four—including Wu Ma, as Jiufang Xin feared spies. Of these, only Baoqin seemed loyal.

Tian Qingyi had approached Li Yan earlier about supplementing this pitiful retinue. Though overburdened with wedding preparations, Li Yan had acted swiftly.