Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 23

23: Yongnian’s Attitude Towards Her Improves

Because Yun Jingchu had slept sprawled on top of her all night, Tian Qingyi hadn’t rested well at all. Her sleep quality was severely lacking, leaving her dazed when she and Yun Jingchu went to Shangfuyuan to bid farewell. She barely registered Jiufang Xin’s instructions, her mind drifting in and out. As soon as they stepped outside, she numbly followed Yun Jingchu into the carriage.

The first part of the journey was smooth, with little jostling. Leaning back, Tian Qingyi dozed off almost immediately. Meanwhile, Yun Jingchu, who had slept soundly and wasn’t the least bit tired, occasionally glanced out the window. Only after seeing Yuanqi bring two waiting men through the city gates did she finally close her eyes to rest.

The latter half of the road was bumpy. Even with the carriage slowing down, Tian Qingyi was jolted awake. Before her mind had fully cleared, she glared fiercely at the driver’s seat the moment she opened her eyes.

Yun Jingchu, who hadn’t slept at all, watched from the side. The carriage wasn’t large, so she had a clear view of Tian Qingyi’s drowsy expression and slightly fierce, almost cute glare. She hadn’t expected someone with such a proud personality to have this side to them. Unable to hold back, she burst into laughter.

Only then did Tian Qingyi realize Yun Jingchu was still in the carriage. Flustered, she quickly sat up properly and straightened her clothes, but her heart pounded wildly, her face burning with embarrassment. This is so humiliating.

Yun Jingchu wanted to laugh even more at the sight, but remembering there were people outside, she restrained herself. Clearing her throat softly, she said, “The road is uneven, so the carriage is bound to jolt. We should be arriving soon—just bear with it a little longer.”

Tian Qingyi had expected Yun Jingchu to tease her, so the gentle tone took her by surprise. After a long pause, she finally managed an “Mm.” Her heartbeat had steadied, but her face grew even hotter at the coaxing tone. Without thinking, she called for the carriage to stop, hastily muttering, “I want to ride a horse,” before fleeing outside.

Riding was slightly more comfortable than the carriage. Once her emotions settled, Tian Qingyi’s mind began wandering, too preoccupied to notice the passersby or scenery along the road. Like a wooden puppet, she sat atop the horse, letting the groom lead her forward at a leisurely pace.

She could sense that Yun Jingchu’s attitude toward her had changed after their agreement. Gone was the previous coldness, and her reaction was far from what one would expect from an ancient woman tricked into a sham marriage. At the prime of her youth, shouldn’t she resent Tian Qingyi for deceiving her? Shouldn’t she hate her enough to want her dead?

But not only had Yun Jingchu’s attitude softened, she’d even spoken to her in that coaxing tone earlier. A twenty-six-year-old being babied by an eighteen-year-old—how ridiculous is that? Was she overthinking things, or was Yun Jingchu just acting strangely?

What was even weirder was that Tian Qingyi had assumed Yun Jingchu would soon bring up annulment or a third condition. Yet, until now, Yun Jingchu hadn’t mentioned annulment at all—it was as if she’d forgotten about the third condition entirely. But Tian Qingyi knew neither of them had actually forgotten.

Though she trusted Yun Jingchu’s character and didn’t believe she’d make an unreasonable demand, as long as the matter remained unresolved, it would weigh on her mind—like an unfinished drawing, leaving her deeply unsettled.

The issue of annulment was also fraught with uncertainty. Ideally, Tian Qingyi wanted to wait until after Jiufang Xin’s death. But if Yun Jingchu had other plans, Tian Qingyi would be at a disadvantage—especially since she’d already agreed. And annulment would undoubtedly face resistance from both families.

Even if they overcame the obstacles and succeeded, Jiufang Xin would likely arrange another marriage for her—unless he was on the brink of death and no longer had the energy to interfere. But in that case, given the era’s emphasis on filial piety, annulment would be impossible.

Having already experienced the immense mental and emotional strain of a fake marriage once, Tian Qingyi had no desire to go through it again. She refused to torment herself further.

Looks like I’ll have to discuss annulment with Yun Jingchu in detail when the time is right.

The official road bustled with activity—farmers carrying goods into the city, ox and donkey carts transporting people or cargo outbound. Horses were rare; even in Jiufang’s entourage, there were only three: two pulling the carriage and one for Tian Qingyi, while the rest walked.

Noticing that the second young master had stopped lost in thought, Wei Shier approached and whispered, “Young Master, when we left the city, Yuanqi picked up two men to join us. They’re the two at the back—apparently on Second Madam’s orders.”

Tian Qingyi glanced back and spotted two differently dressed men trailing the group. Since it was Yun Jingchu’s arrangement, she had no objections. “Keep an eye on them. Make sure they don’t cause trouble.”

“Yes!” Wei Shier agreed cheerfully, though he didn’t take the newcomers seriously.

The two new hires, seeing the rider on horseback look their way, forced smiles. They’d guessed their new employer was wealthy, but the sight of over twenty servants in the entourage still stunned them.

Lately, too many people had been showering Tian Qingyi with flattery and goodwill, leaving her numb. She couldn’t even tell how many of those smiling faces were sincere.

Due to the original owner’s aloof personality, aside from Fan Zhuzhu, most relationships had been superficial—some whispered behind her back, others openly mocked her. But after earning her Doctoral Graduate degree, everyone suddenly treated her warmly, as if the world had magically become full of kind souls.

No wonder ancient scholars were obsessed with passing the imperial exams. Not only did it secure an official post and salary, but it also brought respect, admiration, and elevated social status. The saying “All occupations are base; only scholarship is exalted” rang true.

Even as a modern transplant accustomed to grand spectacles, Tian Qingyi sometimes found herself swayed by the praise. With weaker willpower, she might have lost herself entirely.

Along the roadside stood scattered buildings—some standalone, others fenced in, and a few small courtyard homes in an I-shaped layout. Construction materials ranged from brick and tile to thatch, with the latter being the most common. Compared to the city’s bustle, this felt like the real ancient world.

Beyond the visible structures, roads, and rivers stretched endless fields, a testament to the Northern Song capital’s vast, open terrain—later easily conquered by the Jin dynasty.

The weather was pleasant, the sun’s warmth gradually intensifying. Just as Tian Qingyi debated returning to the carriage to avoid sunburn, a dense cluster of buildings came into view—along with a massive crowd gathered to welcome them.

This puzzled her. The Jiufang family wasn’t large—even counting all uncles, aunts, and cousins, they numbered fewer than a hundred. Yet this crowd had at least two hundred people.

Behind them stood an extravagant estate—white walls, blue tiles, and a towering gate with a prominent plaque reading Jiufang Residence, all broadcasting the owner’s status.

Compared to the ancestral home’s grandeur, the surrounding houses were far humbler. Nearby structures were at least brick and tile, while those farther out were thatched huts.

Vast fields stretched into the distance. Some paddies still held muddy water, their young seedlings sparse and freshly planted. Others, sown earlier, already thrived.

The seedlings here resembled those she’d seen along the way, but far fewer laborers worked the fields—only a handful. Glancing at the crowd of black-and-gray-clad welcomers, she understood why.

Jiufang Lai, his hair seemingly whiter, had only stepped out with his son after a servant reported the second young master’s imminent arrival. Seeing Tian Qingyi’s group approach, he quietly urged his son to greet them—a chance to gain favor with Jiufang Xiyan.

But his spoiled son refused outright. As the entourage halted, Jiufang Lai had no choice but to step forward himself.

By rights, as Jiufang Xiyan’s elder and uncle, he haven’t welcomed her personally, much less arranged such a spectacle. Yet to him and the relatives, Jiufang Xiyan’s newfound status warranted it—a gesture of respect.

With Jiufang Xin’s health precarious and Jiufang Qiyu and his sons hopeless, news of Jiufang Xiyan’s Doctoral Graduate achievement had thrilled them. Before Jiufang Xin’s own success, many relatives had been tenant farmers or laborers.

His rise to power had lifted their fortunes, embodying “When a man achieves the Dao, even his pets ascend to heaven.” Now, even the poorest among them owned land.

Having tasted prosperity, none wished to return to hardship. With their own sons proving unreliable, they’d emulated Jiufang Xin’s strategy—bearing sons relentlessly. Otherwise, the Jiufang clan, outsiders barely five generations prior, wouldn’t have reached its current size.

The original owner’s success hadn’t just eased their fears of losing wealth—it promised renewed glory. Thus, today’s welcome was heartfelt.

Yet these same relatives had once dismissed the original owner as an unfavored bastard, ignoring him while fawning over the eldest legitimate son, Jiufang Qiyu. Their gamble, like Jiufang Xin’s, had failed.

Realizing this, Jiufang Xin had specifically summoned Jiufang Xiyan for the ancestral rites. Today’s grand reception wasn’t just Jiufang Lai’s idea—it was Jiufang Xin’s directive and the relatives’ collective wish.

Spotting the short Jiufang Lai approaching, Tian Qingyi dismounted to bow. After exchanging pleasantries, she excused herself to fetch Yun Jingchu. Jiufang Lai, noting the halted carriage, smiled and agreed.

By the time Tian Qingyi arrived, Baoqin was already alighting. As she reached the carriage, Yun Jingchu moved to descend. Instinctively, Tian Qingyi offered her hand.

Yun Jingchu, about to step down, saw a slender, fair hand—clearly not Baoqin’s plump one—and recognized Jiufang Xiyan’s. Meeting those clear eyes, she hesitated only briefly before placing her hand in his.

His hand was warmer than hers, the contact pleasant. But with others watching, the moment ended as soon as she disembarked.

Scanning the scene, Yun Jingchu was stunned. An ancestral rite outside festival season, and they’ve made such a lavish production? What extravagance!

Jiufang Lai, who hadn’t followed, turned to the portly steward Yang Neizhi for instructions, then quietly urged his son to befriend Jiufang Xiyan. But the boy, defiant, stormed off, leaving his father fuming.

Forcing a smile, Jiufang Lai resumed hosting Tian Qingyi and Yun Jingchu. The previously lax crowd now stood at attention. Behind Jiufang Lai stood over twenty well-dressed men of varying ages, all offering congratulations with clasped hands.

Faced with their enthusiasm—so unlike their former disdain—Tian Qingyi found them insincere. Worse, she had to play along.

Yun Jingchu shadowed Tian Qingyi demurely, speaking little except to greet elders or return courtesies with a wanfu bow.

Once formalities ended, Jiufang Lai led them toward the estate. Steward Yang, seeing them advance, began reciting blessings, the crowd echoing each line—reminiscent of the wedding poetry.

Too bad I didn’t prepare red envelopes this time. Unless Jiufang Lai brought it up, Tian Qingyi planned to feign ignorance.

As they ascended the steps, the chanting finally ceased. Ears ringing, Tian Qingyi sighed in relief. Glancing at the “docile” Yun Jingchu beside her, she nearly laughed, her mood lifting instantly.

She assumed they’d now rest indoors, but Jiufang Lai halted abruptly at the top, slipping her a note before addressing the crowd:

“Here stands my nephew, newly ranked Doctoral Graduate, returned to honor our ancestors and spread goodwill. Let him speak!”

His repeated “my nephew” suggested closeness, though he’d always scorned the original owner—showering Jiufang Qiyu with gifts while never sparing the bastard son a coin.

The crowd cheered. Even the two men at the rear, led by Baoqin, joined in. They’d initially taken the job half-heartedly but now hoped to stay—even for lower pay.

During the imperial parade, they’d seen the new Doctoral Graduate from afar. Today, luck had granted them a clear view.

Skimming the note, Tian Qingyi recalled Jiufang Xin’s morning instructions. So this was what he meant.

Cornered into an impromptu performance, she rallied:

“My success stems from ancestral virtue and blessings. To continue this legacy, my father has decreed: all tenant farmers on Jiufang land shall have this year’s rent reduced by twenty percent!”

The crowd erupted, louder than any marketplace. Those who’d grumbled about wasted time now beamed.

Scanning the joyful faces—all male, whether ugly, aged, or gaunt—Tian Qingyi was starkly reminded: this was a patriarchal feudal society.

Jiufang Lai quieted them. “This is my nephew’s kindness, begged from my elder brother. Rejoice in his fortune, remember his grace, and pray for his future success!”

“Thank you, Great Official! May you rise high and bear sons early!” they chorused, far more earnestly.

The blunt well-wishes flustered Tian Qingyi. Yun Jingchu, pretending shyness, hid behind her, inwardly scoffing. Sons? Impossible. But if he achieves greatness, I’ll gladly cheer him on.

She didn’t know other women’s thoughts, but since recognizing this society’s misogyny, she’d rebelled inwardly. Why can men become generals and ministers, but not women? Are we inferior? Less intelligent? What about Empress Wu, the Widow Qing of Ba, or all those talented women?

And here beside her stood Jiufang Xiyan—proof women weren’t lesser. Second-rank Doctoral Graduate—no small feat! The injustice rankled.

After more platitudes, Jiufang Lai dismissed the crowd. Watching the laborers depart happily, Tian Qingyi felt unworthy.

First, she wasn’t the true Doctoral Graduate. Second, the “pleading” was just rhetoric—she hadn’t paid a coin. Third, these benefits rightfully belonged to the original owner, yet she reaped them all.

How ironic. Given the choice, she’d return to modernity in a heartbeat. But since she couldn’t, she’d shoulder the responsibilities alongside the privileges.

Yet the original owner had never cared for the Jiufang family or Jiufang Xin—and Tian Qingyi shared that disdain. She would leave eventually. As for these opportunistic “relatives”? Surface civility sufficed.

The ancestral home, funded by Jiufang Xin, housed the family in its grandest wing, Houzeyuan. A smaller courtyard belonged to Jiufang Lai, while another stood empty—once his second brother’s, now vacant since the brother’s early death left no heirs, and his widow remarried.

After escorting them to their quarters and arranging meals, Jiufang Lai departed. Exhausted and hungry, Tian Qingyi ate lunch and collapsed into bed.

Yun Jingchu, wide awake, quietly directed Baoqin and the others to unpack.