Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 39

39: Selecting Birthday Gifts for Fan Zhuzhu

The afternoon’s official documents had already been sorted by priority by Zhang Sancheng. For matters Tian Qingyi hadn’t handled before, Zhang even drafted preliminary suggestions. Tian Qingyi worked like an emotionless machine—reading, signing, and stamping without pause.

As a complete novice in magistracy, Tian Qingyi was genuinely grateful to the scoundrel Jiufang Xin for providing such a capable secretary. Without Zhang Sancheng, she wouldn’t have adapted so quickly.

Only when Zhang Sancheng finished drafting the Pu family’s verdict did Tian Qingyi pause her work. She reviewed the document and, finding no issues, began copying it meticulously.

While personality and habits could be adjusted with some effort, a handwriting style cultivated over a decade was far harder to alter. Moreover, after assuming office, her handwriting would be recorded by the Review Bureau, leaving no room for error. Thus, whether in Kaifeng, during her journey, or after arriving in Huating, Tian Qingyi never neglected her calligraphy practice—ranging from fifteen minutes to several hours daily.

Having practiced with the original host’s copybooks since her arrival, her handwriting now bore a seventy to eighty percent resemblance. To the untrained eye, the difference was negligible.

For magistrates and officials expected to showcase literary flair, verdicts had to be self-composed, with increasingly ornate phrasing. Tian Qingyi, devoid of classical prose talent, was an exception. Were it not for the unwritten rule requiring magistrates to personally draft verdicts, she would have avoided it altogether.

For unavoidable documents like verdicts, she always asked Zhang Sancheng to draft a preliminary version. The highly paid advisor compiled without hesitation—not out of loyalty, but because his son’s official position relied entirely on the Jiufang family, specifically her. Thus, maintaining good relations was imperative.

Wu Xiaoliu returned just before Tian Qingyi finished her duties. The news wasn’t good: the Pu family indeed had connections—their daughter was a favored concubine of the Liangzhe Circuit Fiscal Commissioner, Tian Qingyi’s superior’s superior.

Having offended such a high-ranking official so soon, Jiufang Xiyan’s future seemed precarious. Yun Jingchu could only hope Jiufang Xin’s connections were strong enough and focus on staying healthy to outlast their Huating tenure—otherwise, the outcome was uncertain.

After instructing Wu Xiaoliu to keep monitoring the Pu family, Yun Jingchu dismissed him. Shortly after, Qingyu returned from securing an ice supplier. Following Yun Jingchu’s approval, she left to finalize the contract.

Per the agreement, ice would be delivered before noon and again before dusk. By the time Tian Qingyi finished bathing and returned to their room, blocks of ice had already been placed around the chamber, cooling the space considerably. At the bedside, she found Yun Jingchu—who had bathed earlier—fast asleep.

Asleep, Yun Jingchu looked especially sweet and endearing—long lashes, flawless skin brimming with youth, and a tiny mole near her eye that tempted Tian Qingyi to kiss it. Startled by her own audible gulp, she averted her gaze in panic.

Lights out, Tian Qingyi—having retired too early—found herself unable to sleep. By the faint corridor light, she could only make out Yun Jingchu’s silhouette, but that didn’t stop her mind from replaying earlier moments. She’d initially thought two years would pass quickly, but now it felt agonizingly long.

Agonizing or not, she’d endure it.

With the ice cooling the room, neither woke from heat discomfort, sleeping soundly until dawn.

—

Their day off arrived. After a simple breakfast, they ventured out early to beat the heat—eschewing carriages, dressing modestly, and leaving all attendants behind despite protests from Qingyu and others.

Beyond the yamen gates lay the bustling Yamen Front Street. As they headed toward the jewelry shops, the lively scene unfolded: shopfronts adorned with plaques, lanterns, and banners; taverns with colorful facades. Though less grand than Kaifeng, Huating exceeded Tian Qingyi’s expectations of provincial bleakness.

Yet it shared Kaifeng’s urban woes—amplified. While the capital’s main roads were relatively clean and vendor encroachment tolerable, Huating’s streets—save the yamen vicinity—were littered, with some alleys barely wide enough for a single cart.

As they walked, a rough-looking man ahead cleared his throat. Anticipating a spit, Tian Qingyi pulled Yun Jingchu aside, shielding her nose and mouth with her sleeve while holding her own breath until they passed.

Baffled, Yun Jingchu asked, “I didn’t smell anything odd. Did you?”

“No,” Tian Qingyi whispered, watching the man’s retreating back. “But his spitting disgusted me. Diseases enter through the mouth—I acted on impulse. In the future, steer clear of such people.”

Their journey also featured litterers and children relieving themselves publicly—distasteful even to Yun Jingchu, who frowned throughout. After a while, she remarked, “You’re not wrong. I’ll avoid them. But unlike me, you could actually address these issues.”

“True. I’ll have Sheriff Wu draft a proposal.” Yun Jingchu’s reminder highlighted her magisterial authority to enact change.

After discussing specifics, they reached the jewelry shop. The manager, mistaking them for an ordinary scholar couple, delegated to a clerk. Unimpressed, Yun Jingchu left after a cursory glance, compelling Tian Qingyi to follow.

Next door, the manager personally attended them. Yun Jingchu examined pieces carefully while Tian Qingyi marveled at the intricate hairpins and diverse earrings—testaments to ancient craftsmanship.

Spotting a gold phoenix hairpin she thought Fan Zhuzhu might like, Tian Qingyi asked to see it. Noticing this, Yun Jingchu—after glancing between the piece and Tian Qingyi—tactfully demurred: “Your generosity moves me, but my hairpins have already overflowed. Let’s focus on mother-in-law’s gifts.”

The eager manager, undeterred, pitched to Tian Qingyi: “This masterpiece took six months to craft—utterly unique. With the lady’s beauty, wearing it would rival any titled madam’s elegance. A splendid choice for marital harmony!”

Having already bought Yun Jingchu four hairpins, Tian Qingyi had no intention of another. The suggestion was genuinely for Fan Zhuzhu—until Yun Jingchu’s words doused her like ice water: Fan Zhuzhu, as a concubine, couldn’t wear gold hairpins.

“As my wife dislikes it, we’ll pass,” Tian Qingyi returned the piece, baffling the manager—his usual scholar-couple tactics had never failed before.

But his audience included one who saw official titles as shackles and another forced into high office. Flattery about auspiciousness was doomed from the start.

Undeterred, the manager showcased other wares. After much deliberation, they selected two sets including a floral crown, silver comb, gold/silver earrings, pearl strands, bracelets, and jade pendants.

With limited cash and more shopping ahead, Tian Qingyi paid a deposit, scheduling pickup before leaving.

The manager, initially expecting a small sale, beamed at the substantial order, personally seeing them out.

Next came silks and satins at a fabric shop. By the time they finished deposits, noon’s peak heat arrived. Even fans provided little relief, forcing Tian Qingyi to hail a donkey cart. Sun-wary Yun Jingchu raised no objections.

“Just jewelry and fabric—is it enough?” Though they’d planned purchases last night, the haul seemed sparse—costly yet barely filling a cart.

Most fabrics were for Fan Zhuzhu, with smaller portions for Jiufang Xin, Li Yan’s family, and Yun Changliang’s household. Tian Qingyi had balked at buying for Jiufang Xin and the disliked Jiufang Qiyu but yielded to Yun Jingchu’s argument: as an official, reputation demanded at least superficial propriety.

The obligation mirrored her past life’s grudging compliance with clients’ design demands—necessary yet unpleasant.

Noticing Tian Qingyi’s discomfort, Yun Jingchu reassured her: “Knowing mother-in-law, even a letter would delight her for days. Besides, Huating can’t match Kaifeng’s offerings. Thoughtful gifts please her while avoiding envy from others.”

“Well said. As long as mother is happy.” Tian Qingyi fanned Yun Jingchu while scanning for their cart. Spotting it, she tipped the errand boy six coins before boarding.

Craving variety, Tian Qingyi directed the driver to the county’s finest restaurant.

—

Arriving at lunchtime, they found the main hall packed but secured the last private room upstairs. Hesitating over dwindling funds, Tian Qingyi pointed to her near-empty purse.

“Don’t worry, I have money,” Yun Jingchu whispered.

Relieved, Tian Qingyi followed the waiter upstairs, where they passed a portly man descending with attendants. Catching sight of Yun Jingchu, the man gaped, lingering until his servants pulled him away—unnoticed by either woman, absorbed in each other.

The wooden stairs’ instability had Tian Qingyi clutching Yun Jingchu’s hand, frequently glancing back to prevent missteps. Reaching the top, they reluctantly separated—this era frowned on prolonged public contact.

“Here we are, sir, madam.” The waiter wiped down chairs. “Your care for your wife puts me to shame—no wonder I remain unmarried!”

“Take notes—maybe you’ll find a wife someday,” Tian Qingyi deadpanned.

“Wise words! Now, our kitchen offers river, land, and sky delicacies, paired with premium Qingruokong or lamb wines. What would you prefer?”

Qingruokong—a renowned Xiuzhou wine—derived its name (“Clear as Void”) from its crystalline clarity. Tian Qingyi had sampled it chilled during official functions—exquisite.