Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 31

31: Can’t Like Yun Jingchu

Bianliang Port was not only the most prosperous harbor in Kaifeng during the Northern Song Dynasty but also the most important port in the Grand Canal system, renowned for its “endless procession of ships stretching thousands of miles.”

Even Tian Qingyi, who had seen much of the world, couldn’t help but marvel at its bustling activity the first time she laid eyes on Bianliang Port. So many ships, so many people—such a massive harbor actually existed in the Northern Song Dynasty. The ancients were truly remarkable.

By the time she arrived, Xun Chang and Shang Yan had already gotten there first. The official ship they had arranged for was also docked at the pier. After exchanging greetings and pleasantries, she learned that the two had already moved their luggage aboard, while hers and her servants’ belongings were just being unloaded.

Two full carts of luggage—most of it was hers, with only a small portion belonging to Zhang Sancheng and the others. Not only were Xun Chang and Shang Yan surprised, but even Tian Qingyi herself had been stunned when she first saw it. Everything from large parasols to folding chairs had been packed, along with a chest of books and two chests of clothes.

Yun Jingchu had even worried she might run short of cash during the journey and deliberately tucked two strings of coins into each chest. If not for the weight of copper coins, she probably would have added even more. Before setting off, Fan Zhuzhu had also prepared three large food boxes for her, filled with cooked meats, pastries, and fruits.

Tian Qingyi had tried to refuse, suggesting she could bring fewer clothes, but Qingyu had immediately retorted that this was already the bare minimum—any fewer, and she wouldn’t have appropriate outfits for certain occasions. Moreover, if they had followed Madam Fan’s original plan, they would have needed four chests for clothes alone and two for books. Tian Qingyi had immediately fallen silent.

She had also tried to decline the food, arguing that the ship would have provisions, only to be met with Fan Zhuzhu’s teary-eyed rebuttal: “You’re about to travel far away, yet you’re not thinking ahead at all. How can others’ preparations compare to those from your own home? Besides, ‘carrying an umbrella in fair weather and dry rations when full’ is standard for long journeys.” Left speechless, Tian Qingyi had no choice but to accept.

Back in the modern era, whether traveling near or far, the most Tian Qingyi had ever packed was a single suitcase and a small backpack. This was her first time with such an extravagant setup—bringing books and folding chairs for a journey made her acutely aware of the inconveniences of ancient life.

For this trip to Huating County to assume her post, Tian Qingyi had initially planned to bring only a few people, but Jiufang Xin had disagreed. In the end, she brought thirteen: her maids Qingyu and Xiazhu from the Rain Bamboo Residence, her page Wei Shier, Jiufang Xin’s secretary Zhang Sancheng, bodyguard Zhou Ba, and eight strong male servants.

The servants worked efficiently, and the luggage was soon loaded. Just as the three were about to board, Liu Zhuo—a former classmate who had never gotten along with the original host—approached with a vaguely familiar woman.

“After years as classmates, I’ve often been disrespectful to Brother Jiufang,” Liu Zhuo said with a bow. “So today, I’ve prepared a generous gift to see you off—and to apologize. I hope you’ll accept it.” With that, he glanced at the woman behind him.

The female entertainer—who had once implicated Tian Qingyi and was later rescued because of her—was dressed in a beizi, adorned with pearl hairpins and wearing rouge. She seemed shy, but Tian Qingyi recognized her at once: the performer from Fan Tower that night and the woman she’d encountered on the street. At Liu Zhuo’s prompting, the woman stepped forward and curtsied. “Greetings, honored sir.”

Behind her, Xun Chang whispered enviously to Shang Yan, “Brother Jiufang is so lucky. Before even leaving Kaifeng, a classmate is rushing to give him a concubine.”

Only then did the puzzled Tian Qingyi grasp Liu Zhuo’s intention. Displeased, she refused outright: “In the past, I, too, acted improperly. Since it’s all behind us, let bygones be bygones. Our bond as classmates remains, so such a lavish gift is something I cannot accept.”

“If you refuse, it means you look down on me—and she’ll be of no use. In that case, I’ll have no choice but to sell her to a brothel,” Liu Zhuo sighed, as though the cruel fate awaiting the woman wasn’t his own doing.

Tian Qingyi felt this man was deliberately trying to unsettle her. Calling it an “apology” was nothing but lip service. She wanted to snap, “Do as you please,” but couldn’t bear to condemn a young woman in the prime of her life to such a wretched fate.

“As the saying goes, ‘One shouldn’t accept unearned rewards.’ If you sincerely wish to bury the hatchet, then arrange a proper life for this woman. Otherwise, this is nothing but malice, and our bond as classmates ends here,” Tian Qingyi declared after a long pause. The original host’s relationship with Liu Zhuo had never been good, and she wasn’t afraid to make it worse.

In the original host’s memories, Liu Zhuo was extremely petty. Their feud had started simply because the original host had once accidentally witnessed Liu Zhuo being berated by someone richly dressed at the Imperial Academy. From then on, Liu Zhuo held a grudge, often scheming behind the original host’s back and spreading malicious rumors.

The original host had dismissed Liu Zhuo’s petty schemes as beneath notice—most backfired on him anyway. As for the gossip, the original host found it contemptible and paid it no mind. Their strained relationship had become common knowledge, which was why Tian Qingyi had been surprised to see Liu Zhuo at the wedding banquet.

Given Liu Zhuo’s personality, today’s so-called “apology” was likely a front for some ulterior motive. Moreover, Tian Qingyi found the act of gifting a woman as a present utterly repulsive, so there was no way she would accept this “gift.”

Like the original host, Liu Zhuo was the son of an official, but his father had risen through nepotism—holding a high-ranking but powerless military position without even the scholarly credentials of a third-tier rank. Liu Zhuo’s inherited post was also military, and his academic performance was worse than the deliberately underachieving original host’s. His prospects in the imperial exams were bleak, limiting his future. Thus, Tian Qingyi wasn’t worried about retaliation.

Shang Yan, who had ignored Xun Chang’s earlier comment, wasn’t surprised by Tian Qingyi’s response—if anything, he seemed approving. Xun Chang, however, widened his eyes in disbelief. How could Brother Jiufang reject such a beautiful concubine?

Seeing Liu Zhuo’s hesitation, Zhang Sancheng stepped forward. “Though my lord and his wife are newlywed, they are deeply devoted to each other. Were it not for pressing family matters, my lady would have accompanied him to his post. By forcing this upon my lord, are you not deliberately making things difficult for him?”

“I meant no such thing. If that’s the case, I’ll arrange for her as Brother Jiufang requests and await his return. Farewell—who knows when we’ll meet again!” Liu Zhuo said irritably before leaving with the woman in tow. Though reluctant, the woman eventually followed.

“Take care, Brother Liu. Please find this young lady a dependable and kind husband,” Tian Qingyi called after him. Liu Zhuo pretended not to hear, walking away without looking back.

The encounter left Tian Qingyi in a foul mood for half the day, especially after Xun Chang teased her for “not knowing how to enjoy good fortune.”

Let whoever wants such “fortune” take it—I certainly don’t.

As the official ship carrying Tian Qingyi and the others departed Bianliang Port, a pair of young siblings disguised as brother and sister rode out of Kaifeng through Weizhou Gate.

After the Dragon Boat Festival, the weather grew increasingly sweltering. While the boat offered some relief near the water, nights brought swarms of mosquitoes. Whether sleeping on the ship or at roadside inns, Tian Qingyi was bitten relentlessly—only Qingyu’s smoke fumigation allowed her any rest.

Compared to her mosquito woes, Shang Yan’s seasickness was far worse. He vomited at least once or twice daily, sometimes up to five or six times, leaving him increasingly listless. After five days on the boat, he bid them farewell and switched to traveling by land.

Shang Yan had brought only a page and one servant, while Xun Chang had a slightly larger entourage: a page and four servants. Seeing how severely Shang Yan suffered and how few attendants he had, Xun Chang worried he might lack proper care and spent most of his time with him. Tian Qingyi, meanwhile, stayed mostly in her cabin, visiting the two only occasionally.

During her time at Rain Bamboo Residence, Tian Qingyi had sketched rough floor plans of the Jiufang estate, the ancestral home, and the Bamboo Garden Manor. Over these five days, she finalized all the floor plans and also painted the plain white folding fans—each adorned with various styles of bamboo.

After Shang Yan’s departure, Tian Qingyi and Xun Chang interacted more frequently, discussing everything from history and literature to poetry and painting. But when it came to chess, Xun Chang never missed a chance to mock her, claiming her skills weren’t even beginner-level.

Recalling her earlier games with Yun Jingchu, she realized Yun Jingchu hadn’t criticized her not because she was decent or talented, but because Yun Jingchu had impeccable manners.

The thought of Yun Jingchu loving chess yet having no one to play with made Tian Qingyi want to learn. With a ready teacher at hand and ample time, it seemed like fate’s perfect arrangement.

Under Xun Chang’s guidance, Tian Qingyi’s chess skills improved rapidly. As their journey neared its end, she returned to her cabin early one day and found Qingyu organizing books. Remembering the unnamed book Yun Jingchu had given her, she asked Qingyu to retrieve it.

Flipping through it casually, Tian Qingyi stumbled upon the flying money tucked inside—two notes worth a hundred strings of coins each, redeemable in Xiuzhou, similar to what Jiufang Xin had given her but ten times the amount. The neat stack he’d provided was equivalent to just these two notes.

Fan Zhuzhu had given her ten gold leaves, and Li Yan had contributed eight gold melon seeds—totaling eighteen taels of gold. Had she known everyone would give her money, she wouldn’t have exchanged any herself. She had converted a full two hundred strings of coins into flying money—if unused, she’d have to convert them again elsewhere, needlessly paying fees to the court.

As she retrieved the flying money, the title “Mo Jing” (Grinding Mirrors) in the book startled her. She snapped it shut, then reopened it uncertainly—yes, it really was “Mo Jing.” Could it mean what she thought? After handing the flying money to Qingyu, she began reading with grave focus.

Qingyu, busy shelving books, hadn’t noticed Tian Qingyi’s shock. Had she seen it, she would have been baffled.

After Qingyu left, Tian Qingyi read carefully, her heart pounding. “Mo Jing” indeed referred to what she’d suspected—and Yun Jingchu had even annotated it: “Love between women is also possible.”

Why had Yun Jingchu added such a note, deliberately given her this unnamed book, and placed the flying money on this very page? What was she implying? Was it what Tian Qingyi thought, or was she overinterpreting?

Tian Qingyi wrestled with the question all night, unable to sleep. Deep down, she and Yun Jingchu belonged to different worlds. The age gap was significant, and her current identity was too complicated for romance. Besides, what if she’d misunderstood?

By late June, the scorching sun baked the land relentlessly. Having finished the day’s official duties and drunk two cups of perilla tea, Tian Qingyi was about to return to her quarters to paint when Wei Shier’s booming voice gave her a headache.

“Lord! Wonderful news—truly wonderful!” Wei Shier shouted as he ran up.

Tian Qingyi fanned herself irritably with her bamboo-painted fan. “This had better be good, or you’re skipping dinner tonight.”

Wei Shier grinned. “It really is good news! The servant sent to Long Pavilion has returned—and brought great tidings. The lady has arrived and should be entering the city soon.” Had someone told him in the past that the lord would joke with him, he’d have thought them mad. Now, he was used to it.

Tian Qingyi’s eyes lit up. “You and Qingyu personally greet her at the main gate. Xiazhu, tell the kitchen to prepare chilled melons, ice-cold yuanxiao, and perilla tea. For dinner, have more lamb ready—and remember to chill the lamb wine.” With that, she hurried toward the inner courtyard, fan forgotten.

“Yes!” The three servants rushed off.

Yun Jingchu’s letter had mentioned her arrival within days. Unable to pinpoint the exact date, Tian Qingyi had sent servants to wait at Long Pavilion outside the city two days prior to avoid missing her. The lamb wine had also been specially fetched. She’d expected to wait another day or two—today’s arrival was a delightful surprise.

Unconsciously, three months had passed since Tian Qingyi transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty. Though merely a season, it felt like a lifetime—so long that she hadn’t thought of her ex for a month. Instead, Yun Jingchu often crossed her mind, along with her parents and sister.

Especially during quiet nights, the initial fondness, combined with the unnamed book’s hints and the letters probing, made her realize she might not have misunderstood. Her longing for Yun Jingchu grew uncontrollably—sometimes, even the clouds reminded her of her.

She remembered Yun Jingchu vividly: her adorable moments, her obedient demeanor, even her aloof distance.

But Yun Jingchu was only eighteen, and Tian Qingyi’s situation was fraught with complications. Love was out of the question. So she suppressed her feelings, repeating to herself:

“Can’t like Yun Jingchu.”