Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 20

20: Forced by Yongnian to Take Medicine

The original host had once skipped two days of study by feigning diarrhea. Now that Tian Qingyi was actually suffering from it, taking one day off wasn’t unreasonable, right?

After multiple trips to the outhouse, her energy visibly drained. Listless, she alternated between slumping and leaning when not sprinting to the toilet.

Qingyu, noting her condition, privately suggested an examination or summoning a physician. Tian Qingyi reflexively refused. With her state worsening and Yun Jingchu absent, Qingyu dispatched Ruoshui to inform Fan Zhuzhu at Shangfu Courtyard.

Fan Zhuzhu had been embroidering when Ruoshui arrived. The news ruined her mood—frequent diarrhea in under half a day indicated no ordinary stomach upset. She headed straight for Yuzhu Residence while arranging for a doctor.

In Fan Zhuzhu’s memory, Jiufang Xiyan rarely fell ill outside fabricated excuses. The sole exception was a cold that lingered for seven or eight days.

Arriving, she witnessed Tian Qingyi’s frantic dash to the latrine—too hurried for greetings. A glance around revealed Yun Jingchu’s absence; inquiry confirmed an outing.

Yun Jingchu had left to inspect her dowry shops—a rice store and a sundry goods shop, both well-located and profitable. Now under her management, a visit was warranted. She’d brought Wu Ma and others along.

The rice shop occupied three bays with back storage and living quarters. The smaller sundry shop spanned two bays identically arranged. Each had one manager and four clerks—longtime Yun family employees transferred with their contracts.

Today’s visit aimed to assess operations and review accounts, not enact changes. Thus, Yun Jingchu maintained amiability while scrutinizing everything, prolonging her stay.

Returning with ledgers that afternoon, she spotted a servant urgently escorting a physician and apprentice inside. Assuming Jiufang Xin’s ailment, she thought little of it—until rediscovering them in Yuzhu Residence.

Shock plastered her face.

By then, Tian Qingyi—weakened from relentless bathroom trips—attempted a bow upon seeing Fan Zhuzhu, only to be pressed onto the bed.

Tucking her in, Fan Zhuzhu puzzled, “How did a perfectly fine morning end in stomach troubles? Did you eat something unclean?”

“Just a meal near Longjin Bridge,” Tian Qingyi replied, oblivious to her dietary transgression—the original never touched spice, yet she’d gorged on chilies.

Lying down alleviated her cramps. Chatting with Fan Zhuzhu, she noticed the panting physician’s arrival. His attire betrayed his profession—and triggered panic. Could pulse diagnosis reveal gender?

Fan Zhuzhu, privy to her secret, remained unperturbed, urging the winded doctor forward. Is he an ally?

As the physician recovered, Yun Jingchu returned. Tian Qingyi, supine, missed her entrance; Fan Zhuzhu, distracted, only noticed upon her greeting.

“Yan’er just has an upset stomach. No need for concern,” Fan Zhuzhu explained.

“Fine this morning—how suddenly?” Composed, Yun Jingchu masked genuine surprise at the patient’s identity.

Hearing Yun Jingchu’s voice startled Tian Qingyi. The absence had surprised her—weren’t ancient women confined indoors? Yet the original’s memories and bustling streets teemed with female merchants. Northern Song women clearly enjoyed mobility.

Another shattered stereotype: their wedding night’s lack of chastity inspection proved pre-“chastity over life” extremism.

Approaching the bed, Yun Jingchu came into view—amethyst beizi, high chignon, gold hairpins, and beaded ribbons accentuating her luminous eyes.

The seated physician extended a pulse pillow. Tian Qingyi recoiled, hiding her hands under blankets, gaze darting guiltily between Fan Zhuzhu and Yun Jingchu.

This defiance incensed Yun Jingchu. Seizing Tian Qingyi’s wrist with her uninjured hand, she slapped it onto the pillow—preempting Fan Zhuzhu’s identical intent.

Fan Zhuzhu paused, intrigued. Yun Jingchu’s docile facade hid steel, while Jiufang Xiyan’s uncharacteristic resistance puzzled her. Still, the concern pleased her—with divorce impossible short-term, closeness could soften Yun Jingchu’s reaction to the eventual revelation. Perhaps they’ll even become sisters.

Unaware, Tian Qingyi’s pulse raced at Yun Jingchu’s touch, pallor giving way to flush. The last to manhandle her so had been her ex-girlfriend.

The physician approved Yun Jingchu’s firmness before commencing. Prolonged scrutiny furrowed his brow. “The pulse suggests arrhythmia. Does the young master have heart disease?”

The query doused Tian Qingyi like ice water. Of course Yun Jingchu couldn’t fancy me—she’s eighteen and Song Dynasty-born! Residual warmth evaporated.

To Yun Jingchu, this spelled disaster—her third condition hung in the balance, and remarriage repelled her. As she gauged severity, Fan Zhuzhu boomed, “Nonsense! Yan’er has no such history. Reexamine properly!”

Chastened, the doctor reassessed via inspection, inquiry, and palpation. Without earlier interference, he swiftly diagnosed: chili-induced gastritis. His prescription flowed effortlessly.

Fan Zhuzhu never imagined spices—which Jiufang Xiyan historically avoided—as the culprit. Assuming a culinary experiment, she merely advised gradual dietary shifts.

Learning of Yun Jingchu’s burn, she seized the chance for the physician’s opinion.

“The hand heals well,” he pronounced. “Careful convalescence ensures full recovery—though scarring is likely.”

Guilt gnawed at Tian Qingyi. Had she skipped the Qiji gathering, Yun Jingchu might’ve been spared. Modern scar treatments were inaccessible here—her helplessness stung.

Post-departure, Fan Zhuzhu dispensed instructions before leaving. Wu Ma, Qingyu, and others tactfully withdrew, granting the couple privacy.

Silence thickened. Tian Qingyi studied the bed’s canopy and footboard, avoiding Yun Jingchu, who gazed absently through the window.

Emptied at last, Tian Qingyi’s stomach settled. Only then did she register the physician’s non-exposure. Was he bribed?

The original seldom fell ill outside pretense—just one cold years prior. Unlike her, the original complied effortlessly with treatments, swallowing bitter decoctions like water. Fan Zhuzhu’s silence spared her explanations.

Pulse-based gender detection, she recalled from spy training, typically required pregnancy or menstruation. Only master physicians could discern s3x otherwise. Fan Zhuzhu and Qingyu knew this—hence their calm. Yun Jingchu’s composure, however, baffled her. That urgency had felt genuine.

Regretful Yun Jingchu chastised herself for the lapse. Never again, she vowed—yet softened remembering Tian Qingyi’s true s3x. This cycle preoccupied her until Tian Qingyi dozed off.

A nudge awoke Tian Qingyi. Sitting up groggily, the sight of pitch-black medicine triggered instinctive horror. “I don’t want it!” slipped out.

Confirming Jiufang Xiyan’s medical aversion, Yun Jingchu darkened. At length, she feigned resignation: “Refuse, and I’ll have to summon your mother.”

Fan Zhuzhu’s parting order—report any disobedience—loomed. Tian Qingyi shuddered recalling her tactics: the proud woman became a sobbing mess before the original, who capitulated. How could I withstand that?

“Trivial matters shouldn’t trouble her,” Tian Qingyi stalled. “I’m hungry—medicine after eating?”

“Hot medicine works best.” Yun Jingchu shoved the bowl into her hands. “Hold it steady.”

Fearing spills on Yun Jingchu’s injury, Tian Qingyi froze, trapped. Three steadying breaths failed to muster courage. As Yun Jingchu’s scowl deepened, she squeaked, “I’ll drink it now.”

Prepared to escalate, Yun Jingchu amended, “Good. I’m watching.”

After prolonged psyching up, Tian Qingyi raised the bowl with trembling hands—only to gag at the stench. A slip splashed most onto the bedding.