Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 2

2: The Original Host’s Identity is Complicated

What about her sister, who was due to give birth soon? Would the shock of bad news cause her to go into premature labor?

Growing up, Tian Qingyi had often been forced to take the blame for her sister’s mischief. But once her sister matured, she became protective—shielding Tian Qingyi and even taking the fall for her in return.

Their parents were controlling, micromanaging everything from their clothing choices to their friendships. As children, they hadn’t thought much of it, but once her sister hit her rebellious phase, no amount of scolding or withheld allowances could rein her in.

Through sheer stubbornness, her sister forced their parents to loosen their grip. Though they still occasionally meddled, the strictness was nothing compared to before. By the time both sisters left for university, their parents had finally given up and let go.

Paradoxically, their family grew closer after that. The sisters’ bond deepened, and though they had initially planned to build careers elsewhere, both eventually returned to City Y.

Her sister landed a stable government job in a neighboring district, while Tian Qingyi leveraged connections to join the Provincial Planning Institute as a contract worker. In good years, she earned around 200,000 yuan, and even in bad years, she made 70,000 to 80,000.

But no fresh graduate could afford a BMW and an apartment in City Y on that salary alone.

Fate, however, had other plans.

During her first year at work, her family’s four-story house and adjacent vegetable plot were seized for redevelopment. The compensation? Over four million yuan and four new apartments.

Her parents gave each sister an apartment and 500,000 yuan in cash. Tian Qingyi used hers to buy the BMW; her sister opted for a Mercedes.

Her sister had married last year in an egalitarian union—both families contributed equally to the wedding, prepared separate homes, and agreed that their two children would carry each parent’s surname. Postpartum recovery would happen at a luxury confinement center, paid for by the groom’s side.

During the period between her sister’s marriage and pregnancy, Tian Qingyi had been relentlessly nagged about settling down. Her parents even tried to set her up on blind dates—thankfully thwarted by her sister.

She had considered coming out.

But her stubborn father and traditionalist mother—who idolized the “virtuous wife and mother” ideal—would never accept it. With her home, car, and even her job tied to their support, she lacked the courage to confess.

On their second anniversary, her ex had asked about their future. Tian Qingyi, too afraid to be honest, had dodged the question. Soon after, busy schedules reduced their contact to barely a few texts a day, two meetings a week.

At the time, it hadn’t seemed like a problem. Now, she saw the signs.

She had wasted her ex’s time.

Her ex once admitted that, if not for Tian Qingyi, she would’ve long since married someone her parents approved of—maybe even had children.

If only she’d been braver…

But it was too late.

Two years of love, gone in an instant. Pretending she wasn’t devastated would be a lie, but she had no choice but to endure it.

Now, stranded in the past, she felt a twisted relief. At least she hadn’t hesitated yesterday. At least she hadn’t dragged her ex down with her.

She hoped the man her ex’s parents chose would treat her well.

Yet, even though she’d seen the breakup coming, the reality still hurt.

Last night, drunk and reckless, she’d almost confessed everything—risking her ex’s future just to beg her to stay.

Thankfully, she hadn’t.

And Xiao Pang… Would he blame himself? Knowing him, he’d agonize over her death, even though he’d tried to stop her from overdrinking.

If she could send one last wish, it would be for her family not to grieve too deeply, for her ex to find happiness, and for Xiao Pang to understand: This wasn’t his fault.

But here, in this male-dominated, feudal nightmare, her future looked bleak. Her plans for grad school? Gone.

She’d thought overwhelming grief would make her wail uncontrollably. Instead, she cried silently, tears soaking her face and pillow.

—

The Original Host’s Memories

Since there was no going back, she wiped her tears and forced herself to sift through the original host’s memories.

And what a mess they were.

On paper, the host was the illegitimate son of a retired Song Dynasty official.

In reality?

– An imposter.
– A woman disguised as a man.
– A Liao Dynasty spy.
– A freshly minted imperial examination graduate.
– And—oh yes—about to marry a woman named Yun Jingchu tomorrow.

A death wish, really.

Transmigrating to the Northern Song Dynasty was bad enough. But making her a spy? When she couldn’t even kill a chicken?

Furious, she cursed every deity she could think of—only to realize she was blaming the wrong pantheon. The thought of her modern-day family brought fresh tears.

Once the storm of emotions passed, she refocused.

—

The Original Host’s Tragic Past

The host’s real name was Liu Erniang (a painfully rustic name for the times). Her code name: Guihai. Now, she went by Jiufang Xiyan, courtesy name Zimo.

Her ancestors were Han Chinese under Liao rule from Yingzhou. During Emperor Taizong’s northern campaigns, her family fled south under military escort, settling in Yizhou as Song subjects.

War reduced their once-prosperous clan from over a dozen members to six, left nearly penniless. Her uncle was conscripted and died in battle.

In 989, the Liao army retook Yizhou. Her father, newly married, and the remaining family were dragged back to Liao territory, becoming subjects again.

By the time they resettled near Liao’s Southern Capital, only three remained. The birth of her older sister, Liu Daniang, brought fleeting joy—until her uncle was beaten to death by extortionists.

Her mother died from childbirth complications when Liu Erniang was three.

At four, her father was forced into corvée labor—and never returned.

The sisters became beggars.

At five, starving, Liu Erniang picked up a dropped bun—only for the vendor to accuse her of theft and beat her sister so badly she broke her leg.

With no one to turn to, the child prayed desperately before their mother’s tablet:

“I’ll do anything if you save her.”

The tablet stayed silent—but a man outside answered.

“Swear your life to me, and I’ll heal her.”

That man was Ma Zhusege, a Liao spy operative.

He saved them.

In exchange, Liu Erniang became a child spy, trained in everything from literature to combat. For six years, she and 59 others endured brutal conditioning—brainwashed to loyalty, tested to the brink.

Only 21 survived.

Her reward? A month’s leave to visit her sister—now walking with a limp—and her father, who had miraculously returned, frail but alive.

Her sister, unaware of the spying, had saved every coin sent by Liu Erniang, hoping to buy her freedom.

Touched, Liu Erniang took the money—then secretly left it behind with a letter:

“My master treats me well. The contract is unbreakable. Use this for yourselves.”

Before leaving, she ensured vengeance:

– The extortionist who killed her uncle? Executed by the state.
– The bun vendor? Ruined by a poisoning scandal, drowned drunk.
– Those who had shown the sisters kindness? Mysteriously found money at their doorsteps.

She knew this “leave” was a ploy—her family would be hostages to ensure her loyalty in Song territory.

But she didn’t care.

For her sister, she’d walk into hell.

—

Tian Qingyi’s Realization

The depth of Liu Erniang’s sacrifice shook her.

A stolen bun had spiraled into a life of deception and danger—all to protect the one person who mattered.

It reminded her of her own sister.

If she ever returned, she vowed, she’d come out to her.