Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 16

16: Yongnian’s Hand Gets Burned

The mere thought that Shang Yan was also a Liao spy made her frown. She worried he might see through her disguise as a non-original host, feared he’d report her to Ma Zhusege, or worse—get caught and drag her down with him. Anxiety gnawed at her—what a headache!

So she resolved to avoid him as much as possible. No matter what, she wouldn’t introduce him to anyone. She also needed to subtly warn Xun Chang to be wary of Shang Yan without raising suspicion.

Remembering Xun Chang was from Hangzhou, Tian Qingyi decided to fish for information with a sigh. “I wonder if Huating County is any good?”

Xun Chang, thrilled to be assigned near his hometown, beamed. “Brother Jiufang, no need to worry! Huating County belongs to Xiuzhou in the Liangzhe Circuit. It’s not just a land of fish and rice but also a major salt producer—truly excellent.”

“With such praise from you, it must indeed be a good place. That puts my mind at ease.” Tian Qingyi relaxed instantly. As long as it didn’t border any minority regimes, she was fine. In the original host’s memories, Western Xia hadn’t even been established yet—war in the northwest was inevitable. The thought of that killing machine filled her with dread; she wanted to stay far, far away.

As they drank and chatted, Xun Chang explained why the Qiji Office had grown livelier—those assigned to nearby posts were networking in advance. Cases like theirs, seated close and posted near each other, were rare.

Overjoyed at being posted near home in his beloved Liangzhe Circuit, Xun Chang drank cup after cup, his face reddening, his words slurring. Tian Qingyi, unwilling to engage with a drunk, gave curt replies, none exceeding five words.

As dusk fell, she excused herself from the top scholar, citing her recent marriage and today’s bridal visit. The top scholar, amused, granted her leave.

Bridal visits could be trivial or significant, depending on the groom’s attitude. Clearly, Tian Qingyi treated it seriously. With the top scholar’s public approval, others couldn’t object—though they teased her into drinking three penalty cups. What started at her table soon spread, with the entire hall egging her on.

Three cups were nothing, but Tian Qingyi hated being pressured. Yet, she lacked the courage to defy the crowd or stand out. Reluctantly, she downed the cups, spouted pleasantries, and left.

Even outside, she heard the laughter—some mocking her for “spoiling his wife,” others dismissing bridal visits as trivial, not worth missing tonight’s opportunity. A few praised her devotion, joking she’d end up henpecked.

In truth, none of it applied. She simply didn’t want to stay and had a ready excuse to leave honorably. Promises were sacred to her—barring force majeure, she’d keep her word.

By the time she returned to the Yun residence, night had fallen. The Yun steward awaited her. After exchanging bows, he led the way with a lantern. After several turns and a moon gate, she spotted familiar figures ahead—one unmistakably Yun Jingchu, conversing with someone.

Signaling the steward to douse the lantern and stay quiet, she crept closer.

Who didn’t know their fourth son-in-law was a newly minted Doctoral Graduate with a bright future? Even the stern Yun Changliang treated him with deference. The steward dared not disobey, extinguishing the lantern and retreating silently.

As she neared, a boy’s sneering voice reached her:

“…If Sixth Sister weren’t so young, you’d never have married into the Jiufang family. Look at your dead-fish face—what man would want you? You owe your marriage to my mother’s efforts, yet you’re an ingrate! Not only ungrateful, but you also got her scolded by Father as soon as you returned…”

A girl nodded vigorously, chiming in occasionally.

The voices sounded familiar—Yun Anzhi and Yun Lanchu, Madam Yuan’s spoiled children.

Yun Jingchu stood with Wu Ma and four maids. In the dim light, their identical attire and turned backs made them indistinguishable. Only Baoqin’s voice, defending Yun Jingchu, stood out.

In contrast, Yun Anzhi and Yun Lanchu’s attendants spotted Tian Qingyi and urgently whispered to their masters.

Though Tian Qingyi didn’t know the context, the words alone confirmed Yun Jingchu had suffered in her absence. The brats’ arrogance suggested this wasn’t their first offense.

Yun Anzhi, mid-rant, reluctantly paused at his servant’s warning. Peering over, his legs buckled at the sight of his brother-in-law—only quick reflexes saved him from collapsing. Yun Lanchu fared slightly better but lost her earlier bravado.

Noticing their shift, Yun Jingchu turned and spotted Tian Qingyi approaching.

After bows were exchanged, Tian Qingyi’s reprimand died on her lips—Yun Jingchu’s right hand, perfectly fine earlier, was now bandaged into a lump.

“What happened to your hand?” she demanded.

Yun Jingchu lowered her head silently. Yun Anzhi and Yun Lanchu froze like cicadas in winter.

Wu Ma stepped in. “Fourth Madam burned herself while serving tea to Madam during their chat.”

Here, niangzi (wife) was polysemous—used by husbands for wives and servants for mistresses. Hence, the Jiufang servants called Li Yan “First Madam” and Yun Jingchu “Second Madam.”

“That’s a lie! It wasn’t—” Baoqin burst out furiously but was cut off by Yun Jingchu’s sharp “Baoqin!” The maid subsided, sulking.

The steward hurried to explain. “Reporting to the Fourth Son-in-law, Madam missed Fourth Madam dearly after her marriage. This afternoon, she invited her for tea. Out of filial piety, Fourth Madam insisted on brewing it herself, but the kettle cracked and scalded her. We summoned a physician, who confirmed it’s minor—just needs time to heal.”

“Is that so?” Tian Qingyi eyed him skeptically.

The steward nodded vigorously. “Indeed.”

Yet the others’ bowed heads and guilty airs screamed otherwise. Tian Qingyi turned to Baoqin. “Baoqin, you tell me. What really happened?”

Baoqin glanced at Yun Jingchu, who gave a slight, firm shake of her head. The maid, who’d hoped her mistress would finally speak up with her husband present, deflated. “Reporting to the Fourth Son-in-law, it happened just as the steward said.”

As Baoqin spoke, the steward and others exhaled in relief. Officially, that was the story—but was it true? They couldn’t be sure.

Yet unsure as they were, they dared only silent doubts. With only the two parties present at the incident and Madam Yuan’s account unchallenged by Yun Jingchu, Tian Qingyi’s skepticism found no cracks.

Moreover, filial piety was paramount in ancient times—even blind obedience was praised in texts. Tian Qingyi suspected Madam Yuan mistreated Yun Jingchu, but without proof, it remained speculation.

After all, Madam Yuan had raised Yun Jingchu since childhood. To outsiders, raising a child outweighed birthing one. With the “filial piety” card played, what could Yun Jingchu say?

Even Tian Qingyi, despising the scoundrel Jiufang Xin, had to maintain surface father-son decorum while using Jiufang Xiyan’s identity. They were all trapped.

She longed to whisk Yun Jingchu back to Yuzhu Residence, where they reigned supreme, free from pretense. But today was their bridal visit—leaving would tarnish Yun Jingchu’s reputation.

“Brewing tea for elders is a child’s duty. Since it’s minor, let it rest.” The hand injury had to end here—officially. “But Fifth Brother and Sixth Sister’s disrespect cannot.”

They’d dared insult their elder—Yun Jingchu, now a Doctoral Graduate’s wife, outranked their official-less selves. Tian Qingyi wouldn’t indulge brats.

If they wielded filial piety as a weapon, she’d turn it against them.

Her icy tone turned Yun Anzhi and Yun Lanchu’s legs to jelly. They’d heeded their father’s warning—never offend the scholar son-in-law, whose kind bore grudges. Too late for regrets now. They glared at the steward for failing to alert them.

The steward pretended not to notice, looking to Yun Jingchu instead. Even Wu Ma watched her anxiously, as if the brats were her own nurslings.

Cornered, Yun Jingchu spoke. “Husband, Fifth Brother and Sixth Sister are young and playful. Don’t take it seriously. Forgive them this once.”

Yun Anzhi and Yun Lanchu gaped, never expecting her to intercede. The steward and Wu Ma sighed in relief—spared from the brats’ fallout.

Tian Qingyi was no less stunned, her face darkening. She didn’t want to let them off, but her goodwill had been trampled. Furious, she refused to humiliate Yun Jingchu publicly.

As she hesitated, Yun Suzhi arrived.

“Very well, this time only. But next time, no pleas will help.” Tian Qingyi spoke before Yun Suzhi could, ensuring the favor wasn’t his to grant.

The Yun steward had sent word ahead. Yun Changliang, puzzled by their delay, summoned his son’s lurking servant and learned of the dispute, dispatching the silver-tongued Yun Suzhi to mediate.

Terrified, Yun Anzhi had secretly sent for his mother, only to find her already in the main hall—hence the current scene.

After the steward’s brief, Yun Suzhi relaxed, scowling at the brats, who sneered back—clearly unimpressed.

Playing magnanimously, Yun Suzhi praised them and Yun Jingchu, coaxing Tian Qingyi’s expression to soften before inviting them to the banquet.

The Yun family’s evening feast surpassed the morning’s extravagance, with several more tables. But after a day of feasting, Tian Qingyi had no appetite. Wine, however, flowed relentlessly. Only by feigning drunkenness did she escape total inebriation.

With her injured hand, Yun Jingchu ate little. Learning her “drunken” husband insisted on going home, she seized the chance to bid Yun Changliang and Madam Yuan farewell.

With the banquet winding down and his son-in-law flushed and insistent, Yun Changliang, pleased by his daughter’s meek demeanor, granted permission.

Supported by Yun Jingchu and Baoqin, Tian Qingyi left the hall, her clamoring to go home fading once outside. After settling her in the carriage, Yun Jingchu exchanged words with the seeing-off Yun Yongzhi.

The once-emptied cargo wagon now held bolts of fabric, colored silks, and two large food boxes of honeyed pastries and steamed cakes.

Amid the Yun family’s farewell fanfare, the carriage finally rolled toward the Jiufang residence. Tian Qingyi, aware of this ritual, didn’t even open her eyes, adjusting into a comfortable feigned doze.