Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 18

18: You’re Actually a Woman!

Tian Qingyi never imagined her gender secret would be exposed in such an absurd way—and by her own doing, no less. A suffocating sense of frustration welled up inside her, making her wish she could slap herself twice.

It wasn’t that she despised her female identity. Rather, her current status demanded that this secret remain hidden. If exposed and reported to the emperor, not only would her life be forfeit, but Fan Zhuzhu and others would also be implicated.

As for scum like Jiufang Xin or Jiufang Qiyu—who resented the original host despite being doted on—they deserved whatever came their way. The ninety-some servants needn’t worry much; at worst, they’d be resold or find new employment.

Originally, only the deceased spy leader, Ma Zhusege, Fan Zhuzhu, and Qingyu knew the truth. Now, Yun Jingchu and Shang Yan had joined the list. If Yun Jingchu were ruthless and profit-driven, she could exploit this secret for maximum gain. If her demands weren’t excessive, Tian Qingyi would comply. If they were—well, mutual destruction was always an option.

That said, though Yun Jingchu had her cold, dual-faced moments, she didn’t seem the type to choose the nuclear option—reporting her. After all, that would harm them both. The most advantageous path was negotiation: Yun Jingchu setting terms, Tian Qingyi meeting them, and the two divorcing amicably.

From their interactions, Tian Qingyi sensed Yun Jingchu wasn’t inherently malicious. Her tolerance of Wu Ma suggested magnanimity. There might still be room for compromise—hence her ceding the conversational reins.

Still unsettled, Yun Jingchu didn’t hesitate. Turning to face her, she stated flatly, “You’re a woman.”

“Mmm.” Tian Qingyi admitted freely, staring at the dimly lit bed canopy—just not at Yun Jingchu.

“If you’re a girl, how did you become a ‘young master’?” Yun Jingchu didn’t know if her avoidance stemmed from embarrassment or lingering awkwardness over the exposure, but it didn’t bother her. Even she hadn’t fully calmed down yet.

Confirming Jiufang Xiyan’s true s3x, however, brought Yun Jingchu relief. Her earlier fears would never materialize. Better yet, she could leverage this secret to achieve her goals—a pillow delivered just as sleep beckoned.

Tian Qingyi had expected hysterics or accusations of marital fraud. After all, the fault was hers—she’d have accepted any scolding. But this composed inquiry into her origins? Unexpected.

“Father sweet-talked my mother into bed, then transferred away without a word once she conceived me. Grief-stricken, she suffered a difficult birth, leaving me frail and her chronically ill. A traveling monk skilled in medicine examined me but said, ‘I can save her temporarily, not forever.'” Tian Qingyi paused, genuinely saddened for Fan Zhuzhu.

Yun Jingchu, engrossed, pressed, “What then?”

“Devastated, Mother fainted. Upon waking, she begged the monk for guidance. Only then did he say, ‘Raised as a girl, she’ll die young; as a boy, she’ll thrive.’ So a daughter became a son.”

Silence followed. Yun Jingchu had considered many possibilities—Fan Zhuzhu scheming for status or inheritance, even Jiufang Xin’s orchestration—but never this.

Since ancient times, mothers cherished their children above all. Her own mother had planned meticulously for her, fearing she’d be bullied—though no preparation could outmaneuver fickle hearts.

Fan Zhuzhu was no different. Faced with the monk’s prophecy, she’d have chosen whatever benefited her child—even raising a daughter as a son. Yun Jingchu believed this account.

As for the marital deception, like her own helplessness, Jiufang Xiyan likely had no choice. Under “parental orders,” neither did. And Jiufang Xin was far more calculating—and domineering—than Yun Changliang.

It also explained Jiufang Xiyan’s refusal to meet prospective brides—an attempt to avoid duping another woman. Even the “disdain for merchant daughters” rumor might have been resistance.

Given today’s defense of her, Jiufang Xiyan clearly didn’t despise merchants. Rumors spread, but actions didn’t lie. She trusted what she’d witnessed.

This also clarified Jiufang Xiyan’s protectiveness and her lack of the sweaty stench plaguing her male relatives. Women were simply more considerate and hygienic.

No wonder Jiufang Xiyan feigned drunkenness or slept early—Yun Jingchu wasn’t alone in dreading nights. Realizing this, her earlier suspicions seemed laughable. Thank heavens no one else knew.

Jiufang Xiyan’s second-rank Doctoral Graduate status proved her brilliance. Talented scholars often had pride—even principles. Blackmail or excessive demands would breed resentment, souring her impression.

Reporting Jiufang Xiyan offered no benefits—just gossip fodder. Guarding her secret served Yun Jingchu best.

“Nothing else you want to ask?” Tian Qingyi knew the best lies blended truth. She’d anticipated this question and answered smoothly, her emotions genuine—sympathy for Fan Zhuzhu’s plight and disgust at Jiufang Xin’s vileness.

After reflection, Yun Jingchu said, “No. But if you want my silence, agree to three conditions.”

She could’ve offered freely, but unconditional aid bred distrust—as her own baseless suspicions proved. Besides, she needed assistance.

“Name them.” Tian Qingyi cheered inwardly. Willingness to negotiate was good. Short of murder or arson, she’d accept ten conditions. Yun Jingchu truly was decent.

“First, publicly, we remain married, but privately, we live separately without interference. Second, unless I propose divorce, you can’t. Third… I’ll specify later.”

Tian Qingyi hesitated. “As spouses, do we fulfill marital duties? I mean—excluding bedchamber matters.” Instantly, she regretted the addendum. Yun Jingchu wouldn’t know of female intimacy—it was redundant and distrustful.

Yun Jingchu turned sharply, voice laced with shock. “Could we even perform bedchamber duties?” Her composure shattered.

“P-probably not.” Tian Qingyi’s awkward pause betrayed her. She rolled away, thinking: Dating here’s hopeless, so ‘probably not’ isn’t a lie.

Catching her hesitation, Yun Jingchu nearly pressed further but relented at her turned back.

Though their marriage was fake, exposure would force her back into the Yuns’ marital schemes. Remarrying, she’d almost certainly get a man next time. “We must appear as real spouses until divorced—no slips.”

“Fine. Can we sleep apart?” Tian Qingyi ventured hopefully.

“No. Wouldn’t separate beds raise more suspicion?” Yun Jingchu countered instantly. Two women sharing a bed was just sleeping—nothing untoward.

Silence fell, their breaths audible. Eventually, Yun Jingchu conceded, “With valid reasons, occasional separation is acceptable.”

Just as hope faded, Tian Qingyi’s mood lifted at this compromise. “One last thing: ‘living separately’—does that mean we can’t interfere if the other takes a lover?”

Though seemingly unnecessary, Tian Qingyi had to ask. She’d never seek men or concubines, but Yun Jingchu might “cuckold” her. Social death loomed otherwise.

Yun Jingchu’s gaze darkened. “I meant no interference in personal matters. As for lovers—none before divorce. For either of us.”

“Deal. I agree to your two conditions—the third can wait.” Tian Qingyi lay back, ready to sleep.

“Good. ‘A gentleman’s word is unbreakable.'”

“‘A gentleman’s word is unbreakable.'”

This assertive, independent Yun Jingchu clearly needed no “cultivation.” Thank goodness Tian Qingyi hadn’t launched her misguided plan.

With matters settled, Yun Jingchu’s pain resurged. Summoning the night maid for lamplight (not Baoqin—she disliked others’ assistance), she prepared to redress her wound—only for Tian Qingyi to volunteer.

Wincing at the injury, Tian Qingyi applied medicine with exaggerated care, her bandaging attempt ending in a hideous mess.

Proud of her debut effort, she ignored Yun Jingchu’s suffering. They slept soon after.

Rooster crows woke Tian Qingyi—an incessant cacophony. Just as they faded, Qingyu’s familiar wake-up call sounded outside. Fuming, she sat up and snarled, “Enter!”

Yun Jingchu, also roused, bit back laughter at her childish grumpiness.

Light soon flooded the room as maids filed in. After setting out clothes and washing supplies, most retreated—only Qingyu remained to dress her, again in green official robes.

Propped on one elbow, Yun Jingchu observed Tian Qingyi’s every move. The more she saw, the more feminine she seemed—save for the striking brows and height that had initially masked her s3x.