Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 3

3: Breaking Off the Engagement is Impossible

Fan Zhuzhu, the woman who had helped the original host “return to her family,” had become Jiufang Xin’s concubine as a result. Though still a concubine, her status was relatively stable thanks to having Jiufang Xiyan as her “son.” During the family reunion, Fan Zhuzhu had been terrified that the original host’s true gender would be exposed—fortunately, everything had gone smoothly.

As for why “she” had become “he,” it was a last resort by the former spy leader. He had planned this scheme for years, but the originally chosen candidate and backup had both failed. There was no time to train a new one, and the opportunity was slipping away.

So, he had to pick the best of the worst—testing everyone who fit the physical and age requirements, regardless of gender. The only one whose bl00d matched was the original host. Combined with her slightly masculine features, there was no other choice. “She” became “he.”

The original host had a large frame, standing at 180.6 cm. She seemed taller than Tian Qingyi, but she’d need to convert the units to be sure. In the original host’s memories, most people on the streets were shorter than her.

After becoming Jiufang Xiyan, the original host never stopped practicing martial arts. However, since the Song Dynasty favored scholars over warriors, and Jiufang Xin was a civil official who despised martial displays, she had to train in secret. Very few knew she could fight.

Though disguised as a man, her chest caused no discomfort. Curious, Tian Qingyi undressed to check—only to find no binding cloth, just a simple undergarment. A quick touch confirmed: she barely had anything to bind in the first place.

Her once B-cup had somehow shrunk to A-minus, nearly sending Tian Qingyi into a rage. It took her a while to calm down.

Finally, she tried to console herself: At least small br3asts are convenient—no binding needed, easier to disguise as a man! But her heart still ached.

The original host’s mission in the Song Dynasty was singular: infiltrate the imperial power center. Occasionally, she received side tasks, but in ten years, only three had been assigned.

The side tasks were easy; the main one was not. To get close to the imperial court, there were two paths:

1. Become the son of a high-ranking minister, leveraging his influence.
2. Become a high-ranking minister herself.

The former spy leader had chosen Jiufang Xin because he saw potential—he believed the man would rise to power. But fate intervened: just as Jiufang Xin was about to become a minister, he suffered a stroke, leaving him half-paralyzed and forcing him to retire. The plan collapsed.

For a Liao spy, there were only two outcomes for a mission: success or death. The original host chose the second path—becoming a minister herself.

But with only an inherited military post (Sanban Fengzhi) at 18, her prospects were bleak. In the Song Dynasty, civil officials dominated, and military promotions were painfully slow.

At 21, after three years, she was still stuck in the same position—no real assignments, no advancement. Becoming a minister this way was like trying to climb to heaven.

So, she turned to the imperial exams.

The Song Dynasty’s exams had three stages: Prefectural, Provincial, and Palace. Each eliminated candidates, including the final stage—failure meant starting over.

Unlike what Tian Qingyi had learned in school, passing the provincial exam didn’t guarantee an official post. The system was brutal.

Yet, against the odds, the original host passed all three exams—though her scores were middling.

Originally, candidates were strip-searched, but Emperor Zhao Heng had recently abolished the practice, replacing it with simple inspections. During the provincial exam, the original host had bribed officials—not to cheat, but to avoid risks. (Over a dozen were caught smuggling notes.)

Due to her childhood and identity, the original host was cold and taciturn. Before Jiufang Xin’s stroke, she played the “dutiful son”—even though he favored his eldest son, Jiufang Qiyu, their relationship was decent.

After the stroke, she dropped the act. Their relationship soured—until she passed the prefectural exam. With each success, Jiufang Xin’s attitude improved.

The palace exam had been two days ago. Yesterday, she received her provisional Doctoral Graduate certificate, but her exact rank wouldn’t be announced until tomorrow’s “Singing of Names” ceremony.

When Jiufang Xin learned she had passed, he exclaimed “Good!” three times and ordered a grand feast. That was why the original host had gotten drunk.

Tomorrow was doubly significant:
1. The “Singing of Names” ceremony—her official recognition as a Doctoral Graduate.
2. Her wedding day.

Now, it was Tian Qingyi’s wedding day.

A spy. An impostor. A woman disguised as a man. A soon-to-be Doctoral Graduate. About to marry another woman.

The original host’s identity was a tangled mess.

“I’m just a technical person! I can’t handle this! I want to go home!”

Desperate, Tian Qingyi remembered she had transmigrated after blacking out from drinking.

“If I get drunk again… maybe I’ll go back?”

She called out in the original host’s stiff tone: “Attendant!”

Wei Shier, her second bookboy (who had just returned from the latrine), startled at the shout. Rubbing his face, he hurried in.

A short, thin man in a black round-collar tunic entered—Wei Shier, who had served the original host for four years.

Seeing the “Second Young Master” sitting up in bed with reddened eyes and messy hair, he clasped his hands: “Does the Young Master wish to rise?”

His accent was a mix of Cantonese and Hakka, completely unlike Mandarin. Thankfully, with the original host’s memories, Tian Qingyi could understand—and mimic it.

“Bring me wine.”

Wei Shier hesitated. “The Master forbade you from drinking today…”

Jiufang Xin had issued the ban after the feast, fearing alcohol would ruin tomorrow’s events.

The original host had tried to break off the engagement last night, claiming she disliked “merchant daughters.” Jiufang Xin had berated her—marriages were parental arrangements, not personal choices.

The betrothal gifts had been exchanged; the money spent. Backing out now would tarnish the family’s reputation and ruin Jiufang Xiyan’s career.

Breaking it off was impossible.

With no wine, Tian Qingyi’s plan to drink herself back to the modern world failed.

Hungry, she ordered food instead.

Soon, four maids—Qingyu, Ruoshui, and two others—entered with clothes and toiletries. They bowed: “Ten thousand blessings to the Young Master.”

Qingyu (17, calm, skilled in medicine) and Ruoshui (16, blunt, fluent in Khitan, expert in throwing daggers) were orphans bought and trained by the original host—deadly agents disguised as ordinary maids.

After the others left, Qingyu helped Tian Qingyi dress—a first-time experience that felt unbearably awkward.

Layers of Han-style clothing: ankle pants, socks, boots, an inner robe, a white cross-collar gown, and finally a pearl-white round-sleeved official robe with a leather belt.

No modern underwear—just a loose undergarment. Uncomfortable.

Next, her hair was tied into a topknot. Sitting before the bronze mirror, Tian Qingyi finally saw the original host’s face:

– A broad forehead.
– Sword-like eyebrows.
– Large, dark eyes.
– A straight, handsome nose.

A face both beautiful and masculine.

With the gilded cloud-patterned crown pinned in place, the reflection became a dashing young scholar.

The original host had good bone structure and height—a natural clothes hanger. Only her skin was slightly duller than her hands.

She had never cared for looks or fashion, letting the maids choose her outfits.

Finally, washing up.

Tian Qingyi used a willow twig dipped in Song Dynasty “toothpaste” (a mysterious powder). Without the original host’s memories, she’d never have guessed its purpose.

The entire routine took under five minutes—faster than any modern skincare regimen.