Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 17

17: Unexpectedly Soft

As soon as Yun Jingchu got out of the carriage, she instructed Baoqin and another maid to assist Jiufang Xiyan. But even after the musicians left, there was no sign of him alighting. Just as she was about to check, she saw Jiufang Xiyan step down on his own. Though his steps were unsteady, he was clearly conscious—no assistance needed.

“I slept the whole way, so the alcohol’s worn off,” Tian Qingyi quickly explained upon seeing Yun Jingchu’s frown, afraid she’d guess the drunkenness was an act and think she’d slighted the Yun family.

“Mmm.” Yun Jingchu responded indifferently, then told Baoqin to fetch a hangover soup from the kitchen. Even if he’d faked it, she didn’t mind—the soup was just courtesy.

Back at Yuzhu Residence, Baoqin headed to the kitchen. Tian Qingyi quietly instructed Qingyu, who had come out to greet them, and the latter left with a serious expression.

Unusually, Tian Qingyi didn’t return to her room immediately. Instead, she took the main seat in Yuzhu Hall, forcing Yun Jingchu—under Wu Ma’s silent urging—to sit beside her. Soon, the servants of Yuzhu Residence gathered, including Wei Shier, who arrived late after overseeing the unloading.

Once everyone was present, Qingyu took attendance and reported, “Second Young Master, aside from Baoqin, everyone is here.”

Yun Jingchu, puzzled by the assembly, had no idea what her companion intended. Her hand throbbed, and she longed to retreat to her room.

Tian Qingyi surveyed the three rows of maids, servants, and cleaning women before speaking sternly, “Those who accompanied me to the Yun family today, step forward.”

Three maids and two male servants stepped out uncertainly. Wu Ma, standing beside Yun Jingchu, remained still until Tian Qingyi’s gaze compelled her to reluctantly take her place at the front.

“Qingyu, what’s the penalty for failing to protect one’s master in the Jiufang household?” Tian Qingyi’s voice was laced with anger, startling the round-faced maid into trembling. The others lowered their heads—only Wu Ma stood firm, unfazed.

The servants had noticed Yun Jingchu’s bandaged hand upon entering. Now, connecting the dots, they realized the Second Young Master’s foul mood stemmed from her injury—likely due to the negligence of those at the front. But hadn’t he disliked merchant daughters?

By now, Yun Jingchu understood what was happening. She hadn’t expected another public defense from him—let alone such a dramatic one. It contradicted the rumors of his disdain for her.

Qingyu stepped forward and bowed. “First offense: one day without food, one month’s wages forfeited. Second offense: three months’ wages, fifteen lashes, expulsion from the Jiufang household.”

“Then Wu Ma and the others will be punished accordingly. The rest, excluding Baoqin, will fast tomorrow under Wei Shier’s supervision.” Tian Qingyi had restrained herself at the Yun residence, but back home, she couldn’t hold back. Those paid to serve should’ve done their duty—especially Wu Ma.

In Tian Qingyi’s book, Yun Changliang, Madam Yuan, Yun Anzhi, Yun Lanchu, and Wu Ma were villains. The first four were beyond her reach, but Wu Ma—now in the Jiufang household yet still loyal to the Yuns—had crossed a line. Punishing her was non-negotiable.

“Yes, this servant will ensure it’s done,” Wei Shier replied promptly, though inwardly reluctant to take on such a thankless task.

As the maids prepared to accept their punishment, Wu Ma declared loudly, “This old woman protests! Fourth Madam burned herself—how is that our fault?”

Tian Qingyi glared. “To me, the process doesn’t matter. The result is that you failed to protect Yongnian, and her hand was injured. If you refuse to accept the punishment, I’ll add another month’s forfeit. Refuse again, and it’ll be another.” Had Wu Ma not been Yun Jingchu’s wet nurse, she wouldn’t have bothered explaining.

The maids hastily acquiesced, pledging to learn their lesson. Even Wu Ma’s usual followers wisely distanced themselves this time.

Grudgingly, Wu Ma bit out, “This old woman accepts the punishment,” though her tone made it clear she conceded only under duress.

Satisfied, Tian Qingyi addressed the group. “Remember where you are, who pays you, and whom you serve. I value rules and diligence. Those who disregard them will face consequences. Understood?”

“Understood! We heed the Second Young Master’s instruction!” The servants chorused, eager to avoid further reprimand. Negligence was a flexible charge—punishment hinged on the master’s whim.

That even Wu Ma was penalized—and fined an extra month for defiance—astonished them. The rumors of his disdain for the Second Madam were clearly false.

Pleased with their compliance, Tian Qingyi declared, “Yongnian is not just my wife but the mistress of Yuzhu Residence. You will treat her with the same respect as me. From now on, she oversees all household affairs. Dismissed.”

This was Tian Qingyi’s first time disciplining others. Initially fueled by anger, she’d improvised, drawing on memories of her modern workplace’s managers. Now, post-punishment, her confidence wavered.

The servants bowed and scattered faster than they’d arrived. Wu Ma, seething, left with them, leaving only Qingyu and Ruoshui in attendance. After instructing Qingyu to hand over household duties to Yun Jingchu promptly, Tian Qingyi was interrupted by Baoqin’s return with the hangover soup.

Baoqin had barely handed Tian Qingyi the bowl when Yun Jingchu snatched the tray and passed it to Ruoshui before dragging Baoqin back to their room without a backward glance. By the time they arrived, her face was contorted with pain, her lips bitten raw to stifle tears.

Concerned by Yun Jingchu’s haste, Tian Qingyi downed the soup and followed. Inside, she found Baoqin changing Yun Jingchu’s bandages, revealing the burn—an angry, blistered redness that made her heart clench with guilt.

She’d vowed to protect Yun Jingchu like a sister during their marriage, yet within days, she’d failed. And the Yun family’s punishment for the brats—three months’ allowance and house arrest—was laughably lenient. Had she not intervened, they’d have gotten off scot-free. The favoritism was infuriating.

As for Madam Yuan’s scolding, it was clearly performative—a token gesture to placate the son-in-law.

Once bandaged, Yun Jingchu’s pain eased, her expression smoothing. Noticing Tian Qingyi’s remorseful gaze, she frowned but reluctantly offered, “It doesn’t hurt anymore.”

“That’s good.” Tian Qingyi’s mood remained somber. Before they could speak further, maids arrived with washing supplies, and they prepared for bed separately.

As usual, Tian Qingyi finished first. By the time Yun Jingchu returned, she was feigning sleep, easing the latter’s nerves. Yun Jingchu slipped in quietly, relieved.

Thankfully, Jiufang Xiyan hadn’t pressed about her injury. Lying would’ve been intolerable, yet the truth—that Madam Yuan had deliberately scalded her—was unbelievable.

Today’s events left Yun Jingchu conflicted. His defense contradicted his alleged disdain for merchant daughters. What was his aim? The Yuns were already the Jiufang family’s covert purse—what else could he want?

…Unless he wanted her? Some men played hard-to-get. The thought horrified her. She edged away, vowing self-protection, even at mutual destruction.

Unaware of these suspicions, Tian Qingyi wallowed in guilt over failing Yun Jingchu.

Half-asleep, she was disturbed by intermittent sobs. Finally rousing, she traced the sound by the corridor’s faint lantern light—to Yun Jingchu.

“What’s wrong?” she whispered.

The sobs ceased abruptly. Receiving no reply, Tian Qingyi propped herself up, leaning over to check—only for Yun Jingchu to whirl around in alarm, shoving at her chest with her uninjured hand.

The palm landed squarely on Tian Qingyi—unexpectedly soft—br3ast.

“Wh-what are you—” Yun Jingchu’s indignant demand died as her fingers registered the sensation.

They froze.

One recoiled as if burned; the other flopped back like a stunned fish. The silence was deafening.

A maid outside, hearing movement, called softly, “Shall I light a lamp?”

“No!” they blurted in unison.

The maid retreated, leaving the room thick with tension.

Wide awake now, Tian Qingyi braced for the inevitable. Yun Jingchu, whose pain had momentarily faded, reeled from her accidental discovery.

Even that brief, startled contact had been unmistakable.

Yun Jingchu: “You—”

Tian Qingyi: “You—”

They spoke simultaneously, then lapsed back into silence.