Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 5

5: The Imperial Name Announcement Ceremony at Chongzheng Hall

As for whether Fan Zhuzhu’s cover-up was professional? It didn’t matter—the former spy leader had meticulously ensured that any investigation would confirm the original host was Jiufang Xin’s biological son, down to the last detail.

Unlike Fan Zhuzhu’s limited knowledge of the original host, the host knew everything about Fan Zhuzhu. At first, she’d looked down on her, thinking her a fool for being so thoroughly deceived by a scoundrel.

Yet Fan Zhuzhu, unaware of this disdain, genuinely treated the host as her own child. Her care and affection were sincere—and the host, starved of maternal love, gradually softened.

The host lived by the rule: “To deceive others, first deceive yourself.” She “forgot” her true identity so completely that she began to believe Fan Zhuzhu’s lies. But hearts aren’t stone. A woman overflowing with maternal love and a girl deprived of it—when forced into a “mother-son” relationship, the outcome was inevitable.

To outsiders, Fan Zhuzhu was a doting mother, and the host was the filial son who nursed her through illness for a month. A touching portrait of familial harmony.

In Jiufang Xin’s social circle, the host’s reputation as a devoted son was ironclad. Even her aloofness was excused—after all, what scholar wasn’t eccentric?

But the one who truly cared for Fan Zhuzhu was the original host.

Tian Qingyi could only mimic the host’s behavior, though she knew prolonged acting was impossible. If she couldn’t return to the modern world, she’d need to gradually adjust her personality—lest she be branded a demon and burned at the stake.

—

The Marriage Dilemma

Privately, the original host and Fan Zhuzhu had agreed: wed a controllable woman—a peasant girl or courtesan—to maintain the disguise. Fan Zhuzhu, obsessed with a monk’s prophecy about the host’s longevity, never considered revealing her true gender.

To the host, gender didn’t matter unless mission-critical. A fake marriage was the logical solution.

But Jiufang Xin moved faster. The moment the mourning period ended, he secured a betrothal with the Yun family, completing the betrothal rites: Presenting the Bride Price, Confirming the Auspicious Match, and Presenting the Bride Price before objections could surface.

The host’s protests were ignored. Fan Zhuzhu, as the “mother,” had no grounds to refuse—a 21-year-old “son” refusing marriage was unconscionable in Song society.

—

The Morning of the Ceremony

Fan Zhuzhu intercepted Tian Qingyi at dawn, ostensibly to check on her but really to offer comfort:

“A virtuous wife outweighs noble birth,” she whispered, squeezing Tian Qingyi’s hand.

Tian Qingyi replied in the host’s stiff tone: “Mother’s wisdom guides me.”

Relieved by her composure, Fan Zhuzhu left.

—

Journey to the Palace

At the gate, Tian Qingyi mounted a black horse (her first time riding) with Wei Shier and two others—a groom and Zhou Ba, her hulking, loyal bodyguard.

The streets of Kaifeng teemed with life:
– Vendors hawking vegetables,
– Foreigners in Han attire,
– Aromatic lamb stews (she yearned for chili oil).

Most commoners wore drab hemp tunics, but shopfronts blazed with festive lanterns.

Entering the inner city, the crowd grew richer in both wealth and attire. At Donghua Gate, armored guards—all over 180 cm—stood sentry.

Wait. If guards must be 180 cm… Tian Qingyi realized: This body is at least that tall.

From 174 cm to 180+ cm overnight? She wasn’t sure whether to celebrate.

—

The Ceremony Begins

Hundreds of scholars gathered outside the gate. Tian Qingyi, mimicking the host’s aloofness, lingered at the periphery. A swarthy man greeted her—Shang Yan? No memory of him surfaced, but she played along.

Eunuchs emerged, announcing Emperor Zhao Heng’s decree. After inspections, they filed into the palace, flanked by towering guards.

Chongzheng Hall loomed ahead, its plaza draped in banners. Officials in purple and crimson robes filled the space, their wives glittering in jeweled headdresses.

When the emperor arrived—red-robed, black-hatted—silence fell.

To Tian Qingyi’s relief, no kneeling was required—just a clasped-hand bow (Ceremonial Bow and Worship).

Thank you, Song Dynasty etiquette.

—

The Announcement

The top scholars’ names were bellowed by guards, echoing to the city gates.

Tian Qingyi barely registered “Jiufang Xiyan—Second Rank, Tenth Place” until Shang Yan nudged her.

She hurried forward, bowing to the emperor (whose face she avoided studying) and accepting her yellow silk decree—the mark of a Doctoral Graduate.

The top three received personal audiences and gifts. Her group got ceremonial robes and tablets, which she fumbled to don.

Thank god for hanfu style modeling experience.

The emerald-green robe and black hat with wing-like flaps felt absurd—but the real discomfort was nostalgia.

—

Historical Tidbits (Tian Qingyi’s Musings)

– Song emperors rarely executed scholars—thanks to Taizu’s decree.
– Zhao Heng (Emperor Zhenzong) famously diminished Mount Tai’s prestige by overusing it for rituals.
– Civil officials ruled: High pay, rapid promotions, and immunity to capital punishment.

A spy’s dream… if not for the whole “woman in disguise” thing.