Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 50

50: A Bit Unaccustomed

After Yun Jingchu left, Tian Qingyi’s daily routine remained largely unchanged. Yet with one less person at meals and bedtime, she found herself feeling unaccustomed to the solitude. She no longer rushed to take her midday rest or finish her official duties as eagerly as before. Sometimes during meals, she would even catch herself staring blankly at the seat Yun Jingchu usually occupied.

One day at lunch, Qingyu noticed the Second Young Master once again lost in thought while gazing at the empty seat. Unable to hold back any longer, she spoke up: “Overthinking shortens one’s lifespan. Second Madam’s trip to Hangzhou will last at least two or three months, at most three or four. She will surely return by winter—no more than four months. If the Young Master misses her terribly, you can always write more letters. But for now, it’s best to focus on your meal.”

With Yun Jingchu gone, the rear courtyard’s servants were once again reduced to just Qingyu and Xiazhu. The male attendants were even fewer—previously, there had been one and a half, since Zhou Ba had counted as half. Now, even that half was gone, leaving only Wei Shier.

Standing nearby, Xiazhu nodded in agreement. Before Second Madam left, she had specifically instructed her and Qingyu to take care of the Second Young Master’s daily needs. Recently, however, he had often been distracted during meals, occasionally spacing out—hardly beneficial for his digestion. She had wanted to advise him earlier but hesitated, fearing her words would carry little weight.

Wei Shier, less observant than Qingyu and Xiazhu, simply noticed that the Second Young Master had grown quieter lately, somewhat melancholic. Considering Second Madam’s recent departure, he could empathize with the Young Master’s mood. Since Second Madam had also reminded him to be attentive, he served with even greater diligence—in his eyes, he was already doing an excellent job.

To Wei Shier, Qingyu’s advice seemed unnecessary. He believed the Young Master would naturally adjust with time.

“You’re right. Remind me if I do this again.” Tian Qingyi found Qingyu’s words reasonable. Though Yun Jingchu’s absence left her unsettled, life had to go on—especially since Yun Jingchu’s choice to pursue business meant separations might become routine. If she reacted like this every time, it wouldn’t do.

“Understood.” Qingyu and Xiazhu were pleased that the Young Master took their advice, as if they had accomplished something significant.

After finishing lunch with full focus, Tian Qingyi decided to stroll alone in the rear courtyard, dismissing Qingyu and the others to take their own meals.

By August, the weather was no longer as scorching as midsummer, but it was still warm. During her post-meal walk, Tian Qingyi often found herself drawn to the breezy, open-viewed Cuiguang Pavilion, where she would sit for a while.

She had barely settled in the pavilion when Qingyu returned—without Wei Shier or Xiazhu. Tian Qingyi thought little of it and prepared to return to her room for a nap.

But Qingyu suddenly stepped into her path and bowed. “This servant has never forgotten the Young Master’s past teachings. Yet recently, the Young Master has acted without the caution and restraint you once emphasized. If Second Madam were to discover the truth, it could cost you your life.”

Qingyu had observed the changes in Tian Qingyi since the marriage. At first, she rejoiced—this warmer, more approachable version of the Young Master treated his nominal wife with proper boundaries. But after arriving in Huating County, especially after Second Madam joined them, the Young Master’s behavior toward her had grown visibly ambiguous.

At first, Qingyu dismissed it as her own imagination. But as the moments multiplied—especially with the way Second Madam’s gaze lingered on the Young Master—she realized things had spiraled beyond control. She longed for a private conversation but had lacked the opportunity.

Today, however, Xiazhu complained of a stomach ache, and Wei Shier was a slow, hearty eater. Seizing the chance, Qingyu sent Xiazhu to rest and let Wei Shier eat at his leisure while she hurried back to attend the Young Master’s nap. Fortunately, she caught him before he retired.

The open surroundings of Cuiguang Pavilion, with no obstructions or buildings nearby, made it ideal for a discreet talk—timing and location aligned perfectly.

Caught off guard, Tian Qingyi froze for a moment. After hearing Qingyu’s words, she instinctively scanned the area to ensure no risk of exposure, then reflected on the original host’s teachings to Qingyu and the others: obedience, caution, and restraint.

The original host had drilled these principles into her four attendants—and herself—ingraining caution and self-control to the bone, alongside absolute submission to Ma Zhusege.

But Tian Qingyi had no concept of blind obedience. Caution, however, was necessary—given her precarious identity in feudal Northern Song, a single misstep could be fatal.

As for restraint, she had maintained it well in Kaifeng, mimicking the original host’s demeanor. But after leaving the capital, she had let go—without pressure, why force it?

The saying went: “One person’s plan is short; two people’s plans are long.” Though the original host was capable, she worried about oversights. Qingyu and Ruoshui, being trusted and personally trained, were given the duty of remonstrance. Qingyu’s concern for her safety was, in fact, her responsibility.

The original host would have simply accepted or rejected advice without explanation—to her, the four were merely tools, mindless blades to be wielded.

But Tian Qingyi saw them as long-term employees—lifelong, in fact. She couldn’t dismiss Qingyu as coldly as the original would have.

Since a nap could wait, she motioned for Qingyu to sit and prepared for a proper talk.

Qingyu, already uneasy, grew even more nervous as the Young Master remained silent. The master was kind but strict—merciless when angered. She braced for a scolding, only for the situation to turn—the Young Master wanted a full discussion.

Once seated, Tian Qingyi spoke carefully: “If this is your only concern, set your mind at ease. Yongnian and I have an agreement—she will be my wife from now on, and the secret will remain just that.”

“Understood.” Qingyu was stunned by the explanation—such openness was unprecedented.

“Any news from Ruoshui or Shi Qian?”

“No word from Ruoshui or Shi Wan. Shi Qian is also silent—likely all is well.”

Before leaving Kaifeng, Tian Qingyi had instructed Shi Qian to deliver The Heavenly King Sending a Son and another painting to a designated fur shop by winter. In previous years, Shi Wan handled this task, but with him assigned elsewhere, Shi Qian had to step in.

Additionally, Tian Qingyi had agreed with Shi Qian: no news meant normality; urgent matters required express letters. Qingyu, as the covert manager of the four, was aware.

Still, Tian Qingyi didn’t share every detail with Qingyu. The original host had strict confidentiality rules—assignments were often one-on-one, so the others only knew someone was on a task, not its nature.

No news from Shi Qian was reassuring. But the silence from Ruoshui and Shi Wan unsettled her, though there was nothing to do but wait.

Seeing the Young Master’s grave expression, Qingyu frowned, mentally reviewing for oversights.

“To deceive others, first deceive yourself. So if Yongnian and I seem overly intimate in the future, don’t worry—it’s deliberate.” Tian Qingyi wouldn’t dare say this if Yun Jingchu were present. If overheard, she’d be ruined.

Explaining same-s3x love to Qingyu was pointless—given her upbringing, she’d likely struggle to grasp it. Some might even deem it madness and resort to violence.

“This servant will remember.” Qingyu found the reasoning sound. Her doubts dissolved—the Young Master’s act had nearly fooled even her. There were moments she truly wondered if the two were involved—or if she’d misremembered the Young Master’s gender.

“Anything else?”

After a pause, Qingyu shook her head—her deepest questions were answered.

“Then let me add this—for you and the others. If any of you find someone you wish to marry, you must inform me. If possible, I’ll arrange it—but never at the cost of exposing your true identities. Moreover, serve me faithfully for thirty years, and I’ll grant you civilian status.”

Having read enough novels and dramas, Tian Qingyi knew disasters often stemmed from inner circles. If avoidable, she’d take precautions.

Qingyu’s eyes widened, her face a picture of shock. It took her a moment to steady her racing heart before she rose and bowed. “Without the Young Master, we would be nothing. Your grace is beyond repayment—we only wish to serve you for life.”

Freedom was tempting, but Qingyu wasn’t fooled. The four knew too many secrets—if the Young Master truly let them go, that would be the real terror.

“Very well. After your status changes, you may continue serving by my side.” Tian Qingyi never intended to set them completely free—unpredictable threats were best kept close.

“Thank you, Young Master.” Qingyu relaxed fully, already calculating how many years remained until her freedom. She hadn’t forgotten Shi Qian and the others—she’d write to them later.

With Qingyu reassured, Tian Qingyi returned to her room for a nap. That afternoon, on the way to the office, she repeated the same terms to Wei Shier—though extending his term to thirty-five years. Overjoyed, Wei Shier took it as recognition of his efforts, inwardly declaring the Young Master a good man and vowing absolute obedience henceforth.

On the seventh morning, during martial practice with only Xiazhu in attendance, Tian Qingyi relayed the same promise to her. The guileless Xiazhu spent the following days in visible delight.

Qingyu and Wei Shier were also pleased, though less obviously so. By the time they noticed Xiazhu’s cheer, their own excitement had faded. When they asked, Xiazhu only claimed a family celebration, refusing to elaborate.