Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 14

14: Wanting to Raise Yongnian into an Independent, Strong Woman

In their hearts, scholar-officials like the Fourth Son-in-law despised merchants who overstepped their bounds. Given the chance, they would submit memorials condemning them, which had already cost the Yun family hefty fines for exceeding regulations. If not for their connections, their property might have been demolished. After all, it was ancestral—they wanted to preserve it if possible.

When the group reached the central hall, Tian Qingyi was surprised. She hadn’t expected so many people inside. Under Yun Yongzhi’s enthusiastic introductions, another round of mutual greetings revealed that these were all relatives of the Yun family.

The altar in the central hall displayed offerings of grains, dried fruits, and seasonal produce, flanked by two large red candles. The middle-aged couple seated in the place of honor, dressed in fine attire, were undoubtedly Yun Jingchu’s father and stepmother.

As soon as Tian Qingyi approached them, a maid handed her a teacup. Thankfully, Fan Zhuzhu had foresight and sent someone early that morning to brief her on the bridal visit’s general procedures—otherwise, she wouldn’t have known this was her cue to serve tea.

Tian Qingyi lifted the teacup respectfully with both hands and presented it to Yun Jingchu’s father. “Father-in-law, please… partake of the tea.” She nearly said “drink” but caught herself just in time.

Yun Changliang had a neatly trimmed beard, a square face, and a slightly plump build, his complexion ruddy—clearly someone unaccustomed to manual labor. He wore a black-cornered headscarf and a crimson cross-collared robe, the very picture of wealth.

Judging by Yun Changliang’s face and physique alone, Tian Qingyi would never have guessed he was Yun Jingchu’s father—they didn’t resemble each other much. In contrast, her half-siblings bore unmistakable traces of his features.

Yun Changliang studied his son-in-law with a smile, then nodded in satisfaction, repeating “good” three times before happily accepting the tea and taking a sip. Setting the cup down, he beamed. “Now that I’ve met our esteemed guest, I see the matchmaker’s words were no exaggeration—truly a handsome and accomplished young man!” His pride and delight were palpable, and the others promptly chimed in with flattery.

“If not for Father-in-law’s discerning eye, this humble son-in-law would never have been fortunate enough to wed a wife as excellent as Yongnian. Thank you for your kindness.” Yun Changliang completely ignored Yun Jingchu standing beside him, offering no instructions for her to care for her husband, which unsettled Tian Qingyi.

Yun Jingchu, having anticipated her father’s behavior, wasn’t upset—though she was slightly surprised that Jiufang Xiyan had used her courtesy name. Her childhood name, given name, and courtesy name had all been chosen by her late mother, and few knew them, let alone used them.

Yun Changliang chuckled warmly. “Our esteemed guest has achieved the rank of imperial scholar—bound for a soaring career. A husband’s nobility elevates his wife. For her to marry you is her good fortune, and ours as well.”

Pleased by his son-in-law’s courtesy and amiable demeanor—so unlike the rumored disdain for merchants—Yun Changliang grew even more satisfied. But a darker thought crossed his mind: many scholars were hypocrites. His expression remained cheerful, though inwardly wary.

The middle-aged woman beside him appeared at least a decade younger, with willow-leaf eyebrows and large eyes, clad in a red long-beizi. She must have been a great beauty in her youth, though her gaze now seemed shifty.

Following the same ritual, Tian Qingyi served tea to the woman. If the original body’s memory served, this was Yun Jingchu’s stepmother, so she addressed her as “stepmother-in-law.”

While Tian Qingyi presented tea to Madam Yuan, Yun Changliang drew Yun Jingchu close and murmured, “From now on, he is your husband, your heaven. Never defy him. Tend diligently to his daily needs, and bear him a son quickly—for your sake and the Yun family’s. Do you understand?”

Standing nearby with sharp hearing, Tian Qingyi missed not a word of his, though she hadn’t caught a syllable of Madam Yuan’s chatter. Fury simmered in her chest—this was emotional manipulation, a father condescendingly brainwashing his daughter. She could only hope Yun Jingchu hadn’t taken it to heart.

“I heed Father’s instruction,” Yun Jingchu replied with a demure blush, though inwardly, she scoffed.

Whether her response was mere pretense or genuine, Tian Qingyi couldn’t tell. After perfunctorily humoring her stepmother-in-law, she made a silent vow: she would find a way to mold Yun Jingchu into an independent, strong woman. Even her father, Yun Changliang, would never manipulate her again!

In her fervor, Tian Qingyi gave no thought to whether independence and strength were what Yun Jingchu desired—or even what kind of person she truly was.

With the tea ceremony complete, the formalities concluded, and the bridal visit gifts were presented: a bolt of cloth and a pair of finely crafted shoes and pillows for each elder present.

Though the quantities were uniform, the quality varied by closeness of relation. The gifts for her father-in-law and stepmother-in-law were naturally the finest—emerald satin for the cloth, and custom-made shoes and pillows of the highest quality.

With each gift presented, Tian Qingyi was introduced to another of Yun Jingchu’s relatives and received a return gift—also a bolt of cloth, all of good quality, some even surpassing what she’d given.

The Yun family lived up to its reputation as a wealthy merchant clan—not only were there many relatives, but countless uncles as well, so many that Tian Qingyi lost track. The only ones she remembered were Yun Jingchu’s two paternal uncles; the rest were from collateral branches.

Since Baoqin and the others handled the gifts, and she hadn’t paid for them herself, Tian Qingyi felt no pinch in giving them away.

Initially, she’d been surprised by the simplicity of the bridal gifts—just cloth, shoes, and pillows—so unlike the extravagance typical of the Song Dynasty. But witnessing the sheer volume, she realized her naivety.

Aside from Yun Yongzhi, Yun Suzhi, and their wives, Yun Jingchu’s second sister, Yun Hechu, and her family had also come, their attire marking them as merchant-class. There was also an eleven- or twelve-year-old brother, Yun Anzhi, and a ten-year-old sister, Yun Lanchu, both children of Madam Yuan, their spoiled dispositions evident.

Beyond these half-siblings, Yun Jingchu had numerous cousins—so many that Tian Qingyi couldn’t keep their faces or names straight, let alone count them. The Yun family dwarfed the Jiufang household in size.

For most of the visit, Yun Jingchu stood quietly by Tian Qingyi’s side, smiling demurely like a bashful, obedient young wife, never speaking unless addressed. Tian Qingyi had no clue what she was thinking but remembered her deceased birth mother and suggested paying respects at the family shrine.

Delighted by his son-in-law’s filial piety, Yun Changliang immediately agreed, even tasking his eldest son, Yun Yongzhi, to personally escort them.

As they left the central hall, Yun Jingchu’s smile briefly faltered, and she cast a skeptical glance at Tian Qingyi. Whatever his motives, she was grateful at that moment—she’d longed to visit her mother’s tablet but hadn’t dared break character to ask.

Oblivious, Tian Qingyi listened as Yun Yongzhi extolled her late mother-in-law’s virtues. Had she known Yun Jingchu suspected ulterior motives, she’d have been indignant.

Instead, she basked in self-congratulation, convinced she’d done a good deed by intuiting Yun Jingchu’s unspoken wish.

At the Yun family shrine, Yun Yongzhi offered brief instructions before withdrawing, leaving them in privacy.

After lighting incense, Tian Qingyi bowed deeply three times before the tablet, silently apologizing to Yun Jingchu’s mother and vowing that their marriage was temporary—once the time came, she would divorce Yun Jingchu.

Kneeling beside her, Yun Jingchu’s demeanor shifted. Gone was the placid smile; her expression turned solemn, her gaze at the tablet resolute.

Outside, the drizzle thickened into rain. By the time they returned to the central hall with Yun Yongzhi, the morning banquet was ready. The Yun family’s feast far surpassed the Jiufang household’s in scale—the central hall couldn’t accommodate all the guests, so tables were set elsewhere.

Tian Qingyi was seated at the head table beside Yun Changliang, while Yun Jingchu joined her stepmother and sisters at another. At the patriarch’s signal, the so-called “simple” morning banquet commenced.

If this lavish spread—featuring delicacies from land, sea, and air—was “simple,” then the Jiufang family’s previous feasts had been downright austere. Even the tableware outshone the Jiufang household’s.

Despite its “simplicity,” wine was served. Unwilling to drink so early, Tian Qingyi begged off, citing her upcoming gathering at Taiping Xingguo Temple. Yun Changliang declared “official duties take precedence” and forbade further toasts to her.

While she avoided alcohol, she ate more than intended, reaching nearly full satiety—blame the Yun family’s exceptional chefs for her lack of restraint.

As the banquet wound down, Wei Shier discreetly reminded Tian Qingyi of the time. Rising to take her leave, Yun Changliang reluctantly acquiesced, promising a grand dinner upon her return and urging haste.

Before departing, Tian Qingyi made a point of approaching Yun Jingchu. “Yongnian, you’ve returned home so rarely—spend time with your father and the others. I’ll go to Taiping Xingguo Temple and return once my business is done.”

“Very well, husband. Travel safely,” Yun Jingchu replied with a shy softness, though inwardly, her shock rivaled Madam Yuan’s and Wu Ma’s. Still, Jiufang Xiyan’s behavior could only benefit her.

Watching this exchange, Yun Changliang’s smile broadened. Whether genuine or feigned, his son-in-law’s public deference to their family’s face meant he approved of their daughter—and the Yun family’s upbringing.

Not everyone shared his delight. At Yun Jingchu’s table, Madam Yuan and younger sister Yun Lanchu seethed with envy, the latter’s displeasure plain on her face.

Tian Qingyi left the Yun residence with only Wei Shier, Zhou Ba, and the coachman, leaving the rest to attend Yun Jingchu.

On the way to Taiping Xingguo Temple, Tian Qingyi reflected: from arrival to departure, the Yun family had treated her with impeccable hospitality, their warmth rivaling a five-star hotel’s.

An outsider might have thought it was her homecoming, while Yun Jingchu, the actual daughter, was all but ignored. No one sought her opinion, and when they addressed her, it was often with commands—to which she meekly acquiesced.

She also noticed Yun Jingchu seemed to wear two faces: one, the gentle, refined noble maiden; the other, cool and aloof, especially evident in Yuzhu Residence when she wasn’t smiling.

Perhaps her mother’s early death had forced her to conceal her emotions in the Yun household, hardening into this duality. Given that Madam Yuan’s children were eleven or twelve, and Yun Jingchu was only eighteen now, she’d likely lost her mother at six or seven.

With a mother gone, a father indifferent at best—using her as a marital bargaining chip—and a stepmother who disliked her, how could her life have been anything but harsh? That Wu Ma dared to act so boldly suggested she’d long defected to Madam Yuan’s camp.

Yun Jingchu had faced society’s cruelties and familial neglect from a tender age, only to be traded in marriage upon adulthood. That she hadn’t spiraled into madness was a miracle.

Tian Qingyi now felt she had another mission: to give Yun Jingchu ample love—sisterly love—while indulging her own fantasy of being an elder sister. Perfect!

Wei Shier’s announcement of their imminent arrival at Taiping Xingguo Temple pulled her from her thoughts. Inside the carriage, she changed into her official green robes—the Qiji gathering was a formal affair, and casual attire wouldn’t do.

The emperor had bestowed one set of green official attire, and the Yun family had gifted another. Whether Yun Jingchu’s dowry included more, she didn’t know, but at minimum, she now owned two sets with matching accessories. Hopefully, this one has been laundered!

Tian Qingyi had never been particular about clothing, prioritizing comfort and simplicity. To her, clothes were for wearing—price mattered less than fit, comfort, and cleanliness. She owned pieces ranging from budget to luxury.

Now, in the Northern Song Dynasty, she changed outfits daily, sometimes multiple times, each ensemble exquisitely crafted and fastidiously coordinated. At times, she felt like a time-displaced hanfu model.

Some of the original body’s clothes were handmade by Fan Zhuzhu—at least four sets a year, sometimes two or three per season. Others came from tailor shops, the fabrics always premium. Thus, the original body’s wardrobe was both high-quality and comfortable, its solid colors serendipitously aligning with Tian Qingyi’s tastes.