Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 35

35: You Are Also Outstanding

Tian Qingyi returned to the main chamber of the rear courtyard with eager anticipation, her excitement so palpable that even Wei Shier trailing behind could sense it. Yet a quick scan of the room revealed no sign of Yun Jingchu, dashing her hopes. Just as she was about to ask the maid polishing ornaments, Yun Jingchu entered with Yuanqi, who carried a vase of freshly arranged flowers.

Unable to resist, Tian Qingyi stepped forward. “The sun outside is scorching—why not arrange flowers indoors?” she chided gently, already fanning Yun Jingchu.

“Qingyu said the Emerald Light Pavilion was cooler,” Yun Jingchu replied, her eyes crinkling with amusement as she watched Tian Qingyi—beaded with sweat yet still fanning her—and instinctively reached out to dab the moisture from her brow with a handkerchief. Her touch was tender, almost reverent.

Their proximity was intimate. A slightly deeper breath would mingle their exhales, warm and ticklish. Yun Jingchu’s unique fragrance and the tempting proximity of her lips magnetized Tian Qingyi, flushing her cheeks and reddening her ears until even her fanning slowed. “…Official duties today weren’t too busy,” she finally managed, voice unsteady.

Had they been alone, or had Tian Qingyi possessed less self-restraint, she might have surrendered to the impulse to kiss Yun Jingchu then and there. What horrified her more was the fleeting desire to push her down—a thought so shameless it scalded her from within.

“Not busy? Before coming, I’d heard magistrates were overwhelmed. Mother and I worried you’d exhaust yourself.” Oblivious to her effect, Yun Jingchu continued wiping Tian Qingyi’s seemingly endless sweat, now noticing her rising body heat. “Are you feverish?”

“Just walked too fast earlier. Resting will help.” Tian Qingyi tugged Yun Jingchu to sit, tossing the fan to Wei Shier with a meaningful glance.

Wei Shier, now fully aware of the falsity of past rumors about their master’s indifference, diligently fanned them. The sight of the magistrate’s open devotion to his wife erased any latent disrespect in his mind.

Distance from Yun Jingchu—the source of her overheating—coupled with dual manual fanning, gradually cooled Tian Qingyi. Yet surrounded by attendants, she could neither act nor speak freely. The memory of her earlier impulse tormented her with shame, leaving her too flustered to meet Yun Jingchu’s gaze.

Though experienced in relationships, Tian Qingyi had always been conservative. Never before had daylight and an audience provoked such urges. Had abstinence twisted her instincts?

“Rest a while then. I’ve already sent for lunch,” Yun Jingchu said, sitting where pulled. Where Tian Qingyi’s fingers had brushed, her skin tingled. That warmth seeped into her chest, kindling a desire for deeper closeness—though she knew not how to bridge the gap.

Among the servants, only Qingyu maintained a stoic facade while inwardly distressed. The others rejoiced at their masters’ harmony, knowing domestic peace eased their own burdens.

Before further conversation, the kitchen staff arrived with lunch. Among the dishes was braised duck—one of Tian Qingyi’s mother’s favorites. At the sight, homesickness surged, misting her vision and freezing her hands mid-motion.

Three months in this era hadn’t dulled her longing. Familiar foods or fruits her family loved could still ambush her with grief, stealing her breath.

“You dislike braised duck?” Yun Jingchu asked anxiously, noting her reaction. Every other dish was a regular preference—only the duck had been the kitchen’s recommendation, which she’d accepted for variety.

Swallowing tears, Tian Qingyi shook her head. “No, it’s… just memories. I’m fine now. Let’s eat.”

“Good. They say this duck is excellent—try it.” Relieved, Yun Jingchu served her the choicest piece. Though curious about Tian Qingyi’s sorrow, she wouldn’t pry.

“The steamed perch is also superb—have some.” Since arriving in Huating, Tian Qingyi had stopped restricting herself—no longer mimicking the original host’s manners and even dictating kitchen rules: boiled eggs at breakfast, fish, spicy dishes, and seasonal vegetables for lunch and dinner.

Typically dining alone, she received two meat dishes, two vegetables, and a soup. Today’s additions included two lamb dishes—Yun Jingchu’s favorite—which needed no encouragement.

They fed each other bites, radiating joy that envied bystanders. Post-meal chilled desserts stretched the simple lunch into a leisurely two-hour affair.

Post-lunch drowsiness tempted Yun Jingchu toward a nap, but Tian Qingyi—citing digestion—enthusiastically proposed chess instead.

Yun Jingchu’s internal refusal wilted under Tian Qingyi’s hopeful gaze, and she reluctantly agreed.

Noon’s peak heat made the waterside Emerald Light Pavilion the coolest retreat. By arrival, Qingyu had prepared the board, pieces, chilled fruits, and even lit incense.

Watching the couple’s visible affection, Qingyu’s heart sank further. Was it her imagination, or was the master’s acting flawless? Without knowing the truth, even she might believe this a loving marriage.

Having suffered Tian Qingyi’s past chess skills, Yun Jingchu expected little. Yet the game revealed marked improvement—still no match, but tolerable for casual play.

“Yongnian’s skills far surpass mine. I’ll have to practice harder to be your worthy opponent,” Tian Qingyi conceded cheerfully after her inevitable loss, beaming as though victorious.

Yun Jingchu surveyed the board—three-fourths dominated by her stones—and smiled. “A scholar apart three days must be eyed anew. Your progress is remarkable. With time, you’ll surpass me.” That Tian Qingyi had studied earnestly to play with her warmed her heart.

Her mother’s influence had fostered her love for chess, even securing her a renowned tutor. But Yuan Shi, citing “virtue over talent,” had dismissed the teacher upon her mother’s death. Left with only self-study and old manuals, Yun Jingchu had grown accustomed to playing both sides—never considering it lacking until now. The prospect of Jiufang Xiyan as her opponent thrilled her.

Tian Qingyi, too, was pleased. Compared to last time’s crushing defeat, holding a quarter of the board signaled real progress—though the gulf between them remained vast. The road is long; effort must continue.

Post-nap, Tian Qingyi returned to official duties until late afternoon. After dinner and ablutions, Yun Jingchu suggested rereading “The Nameless Book”. Though familiar, Tian Qingyi agreed.

Dismissing servants, Tian Qingyi retrieved the hidden tome. Side by side on the daybed, they read by candlelight, fanning themselves intermittently. The first account was an elder’s ghost story: a missing boy found dead days later on a thoroughly searched mountain—a “ghost wall” attributed to ancestral sins.

Finishing it, Yun Jingchu sighed wistfully. “If ghosts exist, I could see my mother again.”

“You don’t believe in spirits?” Tian Qingyi gaped. Feudal societies earned the label through superstition—yet here was a native Song dynasty skeptic.

“As a child, I feared them,” Yun Jingchu admitted mournfully. “But after Mother died, I stopped. If the dead could linger, she’d have visited—I was her deepest worry. Yet… she never came.” Tears spilled over.

In her bleakst hours under Yuan Shi’s cruelty, she’d prayed desperately to deities and begged her mother’s spirit for comfort. But prayers scattered like dust, and no phantom ever came. That was when she knew—ghosts were lies. Gone was gone.

Moved, Tian Qingyi set aside her fan and tentatively rested a hand on Yun Jingchu’s shoulder. Sensing no resistance, she drew her into an embrace, murmuring, “I don’t believe either. But living well would make any parent proud. You’re extraordinary—the bravest woman I’ve known. Your mother would be proud.”

Her own homesickness lent sincerity to the words.

“Really?” Yun Jingchu lifted tear-brimmed eyes, wrenching Tian Qingyi’s heart.

“Really. Truer than pearls.” Impulsively, she pressed a kiss to Yun Jingchu’s forehead. “And I’m proud of you.”

Without Yun Jingchu’s courage, she might still be trapped in self-denial, stifling her feelings until opportunity withered.

Flustered by the first kiss, Yun Jingchu buried her face against Tian Qingyi’s chest until concern about overheating made Tian Qingyi resume fanning.

Long moments later, Yun Jingchu’s muffled voice emerged: “You… are also outstanding. I’m… proud of you too.”

Raised with criticism, praise didn’t come easily. Tian Qingyi’s blunt admiration had embarrassed her; reciprocating was harder still. But mustering courage, she spoke her heart.