Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 44

44: An Irreplaceable Void

Yun Jingchu glanced at her reflection in the mirror, her displeasure evident, then quickly adjusted her expression. “It’s nothing. Just someone with terrible sleeping habits—my arms gone numb from being crushed.” She even rubbed her arm for effect, selling the lie convincingly.

Qingyu, standing rigidly nearby, frowned. She might believe others slept poorly, but the Second Young Master? Unlikely. Since she began serving him years ago, his sleeping posture had been impeccably straight—never changing.

Even after marriage, though his temperament had softened (especially in summer, when he rarely let her attend him closely), and he’d become more approachable (even the master’s scrutinizing gaze no longer unsettled him as before), she doubted his sleeping habits had altered so drastically.

But as a servant, Qingyu couldn’t refute Yun Jingchu’s claim or question the Second Young Master. She could only bury her doubts for now.

Oblivious to the “false accusation,” Tian Qingyi walked cheerfully toward the central hall, even the roadside flowers reminding her of Yun Jingchu’s adorable demeanor earlier—completely unbothered by her tardiness.

Zhang Sancheng, who’d already drafted numerous memos, finally spotted Tian Qingyi’s belated arrival. He was about to mention Deputy Wu’s earlier visit when he noticed her radiant expression—happiness practically stamped on her forehead. As a married man, he understood, but as her subordinate, he felt compelled to advise: “Magistrate, you’re young and capable—don’t lose yourself in the comfort of a woman’s arms.”

Tian Qingyi’s mandatory naps were well-known in the yamen. Unless urgent, no one disturbed her midday rest. Today’s uncharacteristic cheer—contrasting her usual sleep-deprived grumpiness—clearly stemmed from the Second Lady’s influence. Hence Zhang Sancheng’s warning.

Zhou Ba, following Tian Qingyi inside, handed his umbrella to a guard and nodded in agreement. Though older and unmarried (his wages largely spent on brothels, preferring transient pleasures over commitment), he privately prioritize career over women—making Zhang Sancheng’s advice resonate.

“You’re right, Uncle Zhang. It won’t happen again,” Tian Qingyi replied solemnly after sitting down, secretly swapping her shoes while thinking: The “comfort of a woman’s arms” is indeed tempting—but I didn’t even do anything! Ah, unjust reputation.

Pleased by her receptiveness, Zhang Sancheng reported official matters. Learning of Deputy Wu’s visit, Tian Qingyi sent a guard to summon him—opting not to go herself to avoid appearing like an inspection and unsettling the staff.

Deputy Wu soon arrived. After formalities, he reported: “The prolonged rains have flooded some fertile fields and mulberry groves in Qinglong Town’s low-lying pu and tang areas. Fortunately, thanks to your preparations, we salvaged the harvest and relocated villagers to nearby temples. Losses remain manageable.”

“Excellent. Once this resolves, I’ll commend you and Clerk Li accordingly. How many more days can the county endure this rainfall?” Though flattered by Deputy Wu’s praise, Tian Qingyi knew credit wasn’t hers alone. Following Jiufang Xin’s notes on leadership, she prioritized fairness in rewards—key to maintaining loyalty.

“The lowest areas may hold for one more day. Higher ground remains safe. If necessary, we’ll evacuate per the contingency plan.” Deputy Wu’s expression brightened at the promise of recognition.

“Proceed with evacuations tomorrow if the rain continues. Dismissed.” Tian Qingyi observed his morale lift without judgment. For officials like him or Clerk Li—unlikely to advance beyond local posts—career ambitions were natural, even if their motives differed from hers.

Zhang Sancheng, watching discreetly, nodded approvingly. A superior who doesn’t steal subordinates’ merits, a magistrate who prioritizes the people—and this time, didn’t even glance at me for cues. Progress.

Worried about potential floods displacing villagers, Tian Qingyi grew restless—glancing outside repeatedly, questioning guards—leaving little afternoon work done. Yun Jingchu never visited as hoped.

Without modern computers or phones, Song Dynasty documents relied on couriers, causing delays that ironically benefited Tian Qingyi’s anti-overtime stance. No frantic calls from superiors or taking work home—bliss.

At day’s end, she returned promptly to the rear courtyard. Yun Jingchu, writing at her desk, looked up briefly: “Back so soon? Still up for rain-watching?”

“Not today. I’m in no mood.” Tian Qingyi handed her umbrella to Qingyu, shook rainwater from her robes, and headed behind a screen to change into dry attire.

“Worried about floods harming the villagers?” Yun Jingchu guessed, the brush still moving.

“Yes. Imagining displaced families and ruined harvests—it saps all joy from the rain.” Tian Qingyi clarified she still loved rain-watching, just not amid crisis.

“It might stop soon. You’ve prepared contingency plans—no need for excessive worry.” Yun Jingchu set down her brush, concerned enough to assist, but Tian Qingyi emerged dressed before she could rise.

Spotting Yun Jingchu’s worry, Tian Qingyi clasped her hand. “You’re right. We’ve done our best—the rain’s beyond control. No use agonizing. Enough of that—what were you writing so intently?”

They settled on the daybed as Qingyu and Yuanqi served perilla drinks.

“Replying to Baoqin’s letter. She wrote pages of trivialities—only one sheet contained updates: both shops are profitable, likely to meet targets, and the estate’s rice harvest looks abundant. For us, this year’s been unusually fortunate.” Yun Jingchu smiled, her past hardships feeling distant now that revenge was underway.

Baoqin, though her maid, was like a sister—raised together, secretly taught to read and write. Her letter overflowed with loneliness and complaints, making Yun Jingchu deliberate over her response.

“With your skills, every year will be prosperous,” Tian Qingyi reassured, adding, “If you miss Baoqin, summon her at year’s end.”

For Yun Jingchu, this year was fortunate—escaping the Yun family’s cage and launching her business. But for Tian Qingyi, it was bittersweet: meeting Yun Jingchu brought joy, yet nothing could fill the void left by parents and an elder sister she’d never see again.

Early after transmigrating to the Northern Song, she’d mourned many losses. But time revealed the deepest wound: family. She ached for them—a longing even newfound love couldn’t erase.