Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 29

29: Shall I Accompany You Home for the Dragon Boat Festival?

Tian Qingyi, who disliked being controlled, resented this unilateral arrangement. She immediately countered tactfully: “I know little of Uncle Zhang. Working together may prove difficult.”

Jiufang Xin gave her a surprised look before explaining, “His son’s official appointment will depend on you in the future, so you don’t need to doubt his loyalty or competence. The matter between him and Zhou Ba is settled—no further discussion. Time is short. When do you plan to depart?”

Originally, Zhang Sancheng had been one of Jiufang Xin’s choices to assist his eldest son. For the past two years, he had been helping Jiufang Qiyu, though the latter’s post offered limited opportunities. Upon learning his second son had ranked in the second tier of the imperial exams, Jiufang Xin guessed he would at least be appointed county magistrate, possibly even assistant prefect.

Whether magistrate or assistant prefect, someone familiar with local affairs would be essential to prevent the young, inexperienced official from being taken advantage of. Zhang Sancheng immediately came to mind. A private conversation secured his agreement—without ever considering Tian Qingyi’s opinion.

To Jiufang Xin, his exhaustive efforts were entirely for Jiufang Xiyan’s benefit. Far from seeing any fault in his actions, he believed himself meritorious and deserving of his son’s gratitude for such thorough arrangements.

“I plan to leave after the Dragon Boat Festival,” Tian Qingyi replied expressionlessly.

“Good.” Jiufang Xin’s tone brooked no argument. “Being away from home without someone attentive to care for you would worry your mother and me. Take Yongnian with you.” He then picked up a notebook from the table beside him and handed it to her. “These are my notes on governance. Study them carefully.”

“Yes, I’ll take my leave.” With matters put so plainly and no room for refusal, Tian Qingyi could only accept the notebook and depart indignantly.

When she arrived at Fan Zhuzhu’s residence in low spirits, she found Fan Zhuzhu and Yun Jingchu chatting happily. Only upon Tian Qingyi’s greeting did they notice her presence.

Fan Zhuzhu pulled Tian Qingyi down to sit. “Yongnian told me you went to fetch her from the estate when she didn’t return on time—well done. As long as she is your wife, you must care for and protect her without fail.”

Having experienced too much of the world’s cruelty, Fan Zhuzhu understood deeply the harsh constraints placed on women—belonging to their birth families before marriage, their husbands’ families after, forbidden this and that, never truly their own persons.

Others she couldn’t influence, but she could guide Jiufang Xiyan. Regardless of circumstances, Yun Jingchu was now his wife and her daughter-in-law. Not only would she herself never make things difficult for Yun Jingchu, she would ensure Jiufang Xiyan treated her well—a compensation of sorts from mother and son.

“You’re absolutely right. I will remember.” Even without Fan Zhuzhu’s admonition, Tian Qingyi would have done so—she would love Yun Jingchu as a younger sister. Yes, precisely like a younger sister.

“My husband treats me with utmost consideration—a first-rate gentleman. To encounter such a good mother-in-law and husband is my great fortune.” Yun Jingchu’s implication was that Jiufang Xiyan was already good enough—no need for improvement—hoping Fan Zhuzhu wouldn’t be too strict with him.

Had she heard Fan Zhuzhu’s words before, she might have been puzzled. “As long as” suggested uncertainty, even brevity—what mother would imply her son’s marriage might not last?

But now, not only did Tian Qingyi grasp Fan Zhuzhu’s meaning, so did Yun Jingchu. This understanding brought melancholy, for both had been forced into this marriage. When the time came to choose freely, annulment would be their inevitable end.

Previously, the thought of annulment and living as she pleased had delighted Yun Jingchu. Today, it brought only sorrow.

Her words just now hadn’t been empty politeness but genuine sentiment. Had Jiufang Xiyan been male, he would have been a true gentleman—just not to her taste, making annulment the best outcome. But Jiufang Xiyan was a female, giving rise to other thoughts.

Without annulment, occupying the position of “wife” would at least provide the appearance of a legitimate marriage, avoiding strange looks. Even childlessness wouldn’t be blamed on her, nor would she need fear of being used as a marital pawn again by the Yun family—far better than annulment.

“Yan’er is fortunate to have you as his wife. Cherishing you is only right,” Fan Zhuzhu smiled, pleased by Yun Jingchu’s defense of Jiufang Xiyan. “What did your father say when he kept you back?”

Tian Qingyi summarized the discussion. Yun Jingchu, learning she was to accompany them to Huating County, was astonished. After a long pause, she asked uncertainly, “I…am to go as well?” She hadn’t yet settled matters with the shops and estate, nor sought Li Yan’s management advice.

“You don’t wish to? Then I’ll speak to Father—say you want to stay and fulfill filial duties for me.” Truthfully, Tian Qingyi didn’t want to go either. Kaifeng had everything—who knew what Huating County would be like?

Fan Zhuzhu sighed. “His decisions are hard to change. A delay might be possible.”

“Estate and shop matters may take another month. If I could depart a month later…” Yun Jingchu trailed off.

“Then I’ll speak to Father again.” Tian Qingyi was gone for half an incense stick’s time, but succeeded—Jiufang Xin reluctantly agreed to let Yun Jingchu follow a month later.

The thought of Jiufang Xiyan leaving after the festival threw Fan Zhuzhu into a flurry of anxious debrief. Unable to bear it, Tian Qingyi excused herself with Yun Jingchu, abandoning their dinner plans.

“Who knew Zimo feared a mother’s nag?” Yun Jingchu remarked, having noticed Tian Qingyi’s relieved expression upon leaving Shangfuyuan.

“You don’t?” Tian Qingyi countered, handing the unopened notebook to Wei Shier.

“No.” Yun Jingchu shook her head. Since her grandmother and mother—the elders who had doted on her—passed away, no one had nag over her like this. Far from disliking it, she missed the feeling. Had Tian Qingyi not pulled her along, she might have stayed.

Tian Qingyi, surveying their surroundings as they walked, shot Yun Jingchu a surprised look. None of her friends had ever enjoyed parental nags. That Yun Jingchu, younger than her, didn’t mind was unexpected.

She nearly complimented Yun Jingchu’s patience and inquired further, but noticing her subdued mood, held her tongue.

They had barely settled in Yuzhu Residence when Steward Liu delivered two stacks of invitations—those on the left for past events during their ancestral rites, those on the right for upcoming ones.

After Steward Liu left, Tian Qingyi flipped through the left stack—mostly from fellow Doctoral Graduates and classmates. Without the original’s excellent memory, she’d never match names to faces.

Surprisingly, the right stack included invitations from Shang Yan and Xun Chang—the latter for tomorrow, the former for the day after, the rest clustered around the festival.

She could manage those before the festival; afterward, she’d have to decline. The thought of replying to each made her head throb with longing for modern communication—simple and swift, unlike this tediousness.

The next morning, Zhang Sancheng arrived shortly after breakfast. Once seated, he said, “I came today to discuss county governance. The affairs of a county are numerous and complex. I hardly know where to begin—if you have questions, I’ll answer fully.”

Having spent last night replying to invitations, Tian Qingyi hadn’t opened Jiufang Xin’s notebook. About Huating County, she knew little.

Likely arranged by Jiufang Xin after yesterday’s meeting, Zhang Sancheng awaited instructions. After some thought, she asked, “What can you tell me of Huating County?”

Stroking his finger-length beard, Zhang Sancheng launched into an explanation: “Huating County lies in Xiuzhou of the Liangzhe Circuit, coastal, neighboring Haiyan County…”

Having never been there either, he’d researched thoroughly after committing to assist Tian Qingyi, consulting acquaintances for more information than she possessed.

Their discussion lasted all morning, giving Tian Qingyi some grasp of her future post. Yun Jingchu, who’d gone out early to inspect shops, returned before lunch in high spirits.

“Business must be good, seeing you so happy,” Tian Qingyi remarked.

“Yes, quite good.” Yun Jingchu’s real joy stemmed from secretly meeting her third brother, Yun Suzhi—something she couldn’t share. Fortunately, the shops’ recent performance made this no lie.

Wiping her hands with a towel from Qingyu, Tian Qingyi asked, “With the Dragon Boat Festival approaching, shall I accompany you home?”

“No need. Sending festival gifts suffices—no personal visit required.” Yun Jingchu replied automatically while serving herself. Unless absolutely necessary, she had no desire to return.

“Very well.” Tian Qingyi wasn’t surprised—were she Yun Jingchu, she’d feel the same. “I’m dining out this evening, so don’t wait for me.”

Back in Kaifeng, meat dishes reverted to mutton—the Song elite’s undying passion. But even the tastiest food palled with daily repetition. Tian Qingyi took only a few bites of each mutton dish before stopping.

Yun Jingchu, however, ate heartily—her fondness for mutton rivaling the original host’s. Thanks to her efforts, little remained.

After lunch, they retired separately to nap. The sweltering midday sun prompted Tian Qingyi to have a lounge chair moved to the breezy corridor, where she soon dozed off.

Neither the original nor her modern self had napped habitually, but without phones, computers, or TV, time in the Northern Song Dynasty stretched endlessly. Gradually, she’d adopted the practice. Yun Jingchu, however, had always napped unless circumstances prevented it.

Waking half an hour later, Tian Qingyi hurried to change. At home, she could dress casually—comfortable tunics and trousers or Daoist robes, even going hatless. But going out demanded formality—official robes or round-collared gowns with proper headwear.

Disheveled hair—like the half-up, half-down styles seen in dramas—was unheard of here, marking one as either mad, a beggar, or deliberately disrespectful.

By the time she donned scholar’s robes and hat, fan in hand, the heat had intensified. Grateful for arranging a carriage and avoiding the sun’s full fury, she nonetheless missed modern sunscreen and parasols.

Soon, she grew warm and opened her fan—startled by its blank whiteness. Weren’t the ancients fond of inscribing fans with poetry or paintings?

Had Wei Shier brought the wrong one? Searching the original’s memories revealed this was his consistent style—four identical fans yearly, two for use, two spares.

Fitting the original’s personality—only someone like him would do such a thing, when others crammed every inch with calligraphy to flaunt their cultivation.

The pristine surface tempted Tian Qingyi to paint, but lacking brushes and the carriage’s jostling made it impossible. Reluctantly, she used it solely for cooling.

Arriving at Xun Chang’s reserved room in Fanlou, she found him already present with Top Graduate Xu and Shang Yan. After exchanging greetings, conversation flowed—mostly among the three, Tian Qingyi interjecting occasionally, her habitual passivity drawing no comment.

Such gatherings typically involved scholarly debate, music, poetry, tea competitions, or arrow tossing. Aside from listening to the qin, Tian Qingyi had little interest—poetry especially daunted her. Happily playing the unremarkable observer suited her fine.

Soon, servers brought melons, pastries, and drinks. True to Fanlou’s reputation, the silver vessels, exquisite floral arrangements, and elegant decor impressed, the spacious room even boasting a small stage.

Six or seven more of Xun Chang’s friends arrived—familiar faces to Tian Qingyi by association. With the group complete, food, wine, and performances commenced.

The first act—a solo dance—featured a graceful, beautiful performer who captivated all present like a descending fairy. Tian Qingyi, however, wondered whether she danced willingly. Knowing she likely had no choice yet being powerless to help killed any enjoyment.

Subsequent acts—qin performances, singing, sword dances—all showcased talented, youthful female entertainers. In modern times, such skill might have made them stars controlling their own fates—not despised “mean-class” performers.

Resenting the injustice, Tian Qingyi particularly disliked these gatherings where female entertainment was obligatory, whether official or private—like the several performances during the examination celebrations. However distasteful, attendance was unavoidable.

To avoid seeming odd, she feigned attentiveness, though modern galas and concerts had long since dulled her fascination with such displays.

By the time they left Fanlou, the second night watch was approaching. After farewells, the sober Tian Qingyi walked home alone—Xun Chang, thoroughly drunk, being escorted by Shang Yan.

Uncertain when the banquet would end, she dismissed Wei Shier and Zhou Ba upon arrival. Zhou Ba, for once, obeyed instantly—bowing and departing without protest. Wei Shier’s nagging attempts to stay were, naturally, futile.

Even at this hour, the streets bustled—vendors sold snacks, flowers, willow leaves, sunflower leaves, cattail leaves, and mugwort for the festival. Many homes already displayed cattail and mugwort decorations, the festive atmosphere growing thick.

Purchasing a bundle of cattail and mugwort along with some Zongzi, Tian Qingyi detoured to Longjin Bridge to meet Shi Wan—tall, sturdy, and dark-skinned, clearly kin to Shi Qian.

“I may need you to travel after the festival—shortest a year or two, longest three to five. Ruoshui will accompany you. Shi Qian will take full charge of the wine shop henceforth.” After Shi Wan bowed, Tian Qingyi went straight to the point.

“Understood. I’ll prepare before the festival.” Though curious about the mission, Shi Wan asked no questions—whatever the master arranged, he would do without hesitation. His and his sister’s survival and everything they had came from the master.

On the way home, Tian Qingyi encountered the dancer from Fanlou arguing with a young man in the street. Though now in ordinary clothes, her face and hair ornaments were unmistakable as she faced Tian Qingyi’s direction—impossible to pretend not to see.