Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 52

52: Reputation Must Be Maintained

Yun Jingchu had indeed intended to return as promised. But just before departure, she learned of Madam Xun’s impending birthday. When she visited the Xun family with gifts and a letter, Madam Xun not only hosted her for dinner but had also shown her considerable kindness during her business endeavors in Hangzhou. Knowing this, Yun Jingchu couldn’t possibly leave without paying respects, delaying her return by several days.

It hadn’t occurred to Yun Jingchu that her delayed return might have contributed to Tian Qingyi’s drinking the previous night. Originally planning to reprimand Tian Qingyi about the seriousness of the situation, she now found herself unable to broach the subject.

Outside the door, Xiazhu, hearing movement inside, was about to speak when Qingyu swiftly stopped her. “As the saying goes, ‘Absence makes the heart grow fonder,'” Qingyu whispered. “The Second Madam just returned last night—they must have much to discuss. It would be improper to disturb them now. We’d better keep watch.”

Xiazhu pondered this briefly before nodding in agreement. “You’re right. After such a long separation, the Second Young Master and Second Madam surely have much to talk about.”

Unaware of the exchange outside, Tian Qingyi and Yun Jingchu, feeling the chill, had pulled the blankets up to their chins, leaving only their heads visible side by side.

Qingyu’s guess was correct—Tian Qingyi did have much to say. She’d even resolved to be late to work and reschedule her martial arts practice to the afternoon.

Though they’d corresponded frequently during their separation—far more than most couples—Tian Qingyi still felt the letters couldn’t contain all her daily experiences and longing for Yun Jingchu.

“My days have been quite routine since you left—either attending to official duties or staying in the rear courtyard. Nothing particularly noteworthy,” Tian Qingyi said. “How was Hangzhou for you? Was it truly as wonderful as Brother Xun described?” She yearned to know every detail of Yun Jingchu’s time away.

Indeed, her life had followed a steady rhythm. Beyond adding morning martial arts practice, her daily routine differed little from when Yun Jingchu was present—painting, calligraphy, reading miscellany, playing the flute. Only Yun Jingchu’s absence made it feel unfamiliar at first.

Another pastime had been rediscovering the ornamental plants of the Northern Song period. Even for plants she recognized, she consulted the gardeners, as many names differed from modern terminology.

By early December, Tian Qingyi had documented all the yamen’s ornamental plants through sketches. She’d planned to explore the outskirts next, but winter’s bleakness and the cold deterred her.

“Isn’t today a workday? Don’t you have official duties?” Yun Jingchu deflected the question. It was clear Tian Qingyi had no intention of rising, instead preparing for a long conversation in bed. Even if Tian Qingyi didn’t fear tardiness or gossip, and Yun Jingchu cared little for others’ opinions, there was no urgency—she wasn’t leaving again in a few days.

“I do!” The mention soured Tian Qingyi’s mood. Rising at 5 a.m. in winter—whether others could manage it, she didn’t know, but she longed to stay in bed. Since the start of winter, she’d typically risen after 6 a.m., arriving at the central hall by 7:30 at the latest, postponing her morning meetings with Registrar Li and others.

As for the rest? They still had to clock in punctually—even the clerks and their supervisors—unless with valid reason or prior leave. Otherwise, if Registrar Li or the personnel office reported them, punishment was inevitable.

“Then why aren’t you getting up?” Yun Jingchu had no intention of a prolonged conversation now. If they were to talk, noon or evening would suffice.

“You only returned last night. I want to spend more time with you,” Tian Qingyi said shamelessly, clearly intent on staying in bed.

“I promise to be diligent in my duties henceforth, to be a magistrate who… serves the people. I vow to…” Yun Jingchu deliberately mimicked Tian Qingyi’s earlier earnest pledges, even replicating the pauses.

“Stop! I’m getting up now.” Flushing with embarrassment, Tian Qingyi felt she’d shot herself in the foot. She dressed with unusual haste, fearing another recitation.

Only after Tian Qingyi left in her black martial arts attire did Yun Jingchu close her eyes with a smile, intending to sleep a little longer—though her mind remained filled with the dashing image of Tian Qingyi in her training clothes.

Grudgingly, Tian Qingyi practiced martial arts in the courtyard for fifteen minutes, washed up quickly, ate breakfast, changed, and then headed to the central hall with Wei Shier to attend official business.

As for Zhou Ba—considering his hard work during the trip—before her practice, she’d sent Xiazhu to grant him two days off, plus a string of cash for food and drink.

With limited time at noon and their need for a nap, their conversation remained unfinished. Only after work concluded could they talk at length.

Seated around the stove, they chatted while engaging in tea competition. On a whim, Yun Jingchu insisted on competing. Despite Tian Qingyi’s repeated refusals and even conceding defeat upfront, she was forced to participate.

Without the original host’s memories, Tian Qingyi wouldn’t have known the rules. But even with that knowledge, she stood no chance—the original host had only basic skills, and she fared worse. Her loss was absolute.

At least their talk continued uninterrupted. Hangzhou was indeed as prosperous as Xun Chang had described—bustling with goods from all directions. Yun Jingchu estimated at least 100,000 households resided there, and West Lake’s scenery lived up to its fame.

Tian Qingyi had visited modern West Lake multiple times and was curious about its Northern Song counterpart.

The more prosperous the place, the more developed its commerce. For Yun Jingchu—an outsider—breaking into Hangzhou’s saturated spice market without guidance would have been improbable. Even with the Xun family’s help, she’d faced numerous early setbacks.

Venturing into unfamiliar territory with a business requiring special licenses proved arduous, embodying the adage “All things are difficult before they are easy.” Despite the Xun family’s support and her willingness to spend on connections, obtaining the license took nearly two months.

To avoid worrying Tian Qingyi, she’d never mentioned these struggles in letters, claiming everything was fine. But the inner turmoil was hers alone. Having chosen this path, she wouldn’t quit—even preparing for failure, ready to pivot if necessary.

Fortunately, the outcome was positive. By her departure, the spice shop had stabilized. Though challenging initially and fraught with obstacles, the licensed spice trade’s profitability proved substantial.

Yun Jingchu calculated that at the shop’s recent earnings rate, she’d recoup her investment in about six months—justifying her all-in gamble. Though she’d dismissed Madam Wu and others, her dowry’s purpose was no secret to the Yun and Jiufang families.

To freely use her funds, she’d hinted to Jiufang Xin during a visit her willingness to contribute her dowry to household expenses. To her surprise, he refused, explicitly stating her dowry was hers to manage as she saw fit.

Jiufang Xin valued money but wouldn’t tarnish his reputation by using a daughter-in-law’s funds. Had Yun Jingchu quietly subsidized the household, he might have turned a blind eye. But since she raised it, refusal was inevitable.

Regardless of his reasons, she’d achieved her goal—her dowry was formally recognized as hers. Henceforth, she alone decided its use, converting nearly all available cash into flying money for her business venture.

“You’re truly remarkable, A’Dan,” Tian Qingyi praised sincerely. In just four months, Yun Jingchu had endured so much—earning both admiration and heartache. Were Tian Qingyi not magistrate, she’d have joined Yun Jingchu in Hangzhou, building their business together.

But without this position, she wouldn’t be Jiufang Xiyan or Liu Erniang, wouldn’t have transmigrated to the Northern Song, and wouldn’t have met Yun Jingchu.

“I think so too.” Yun Jingchu smiled. Even if the Yun family treated her as a pawn, even if the whole world opposed and mocked her dreams, she’d never give up—especially now with at least two people in her corner.

“When I was here, the litigation season hadn’t ended, and no major cases arose in the county. With barely any cases to adjudicate monthly, I wonder if you’ve been busier since the season concluded?” Yun Jingchu was curious about judicial matters. Having never been involved in lawsuits, she’d never entered the main hall and wondered how trials compared to operatic depictions.

The question unleashed a floodgate for Tian Qingyi. Beyond routine duties, she’d been occupied with autumn tax collection and post-litigation season tasks.

This tax season, she’d participated from start to finish as both decision-maker and implementer, learning the differences and similarities between autumn and summer taxes.

What astonished Tian Qingyi most was that beyond the basic land tax, the Northern Song levied both direct surcharges (like wastage allowances, oversized measures, odd-amount fees, document fees, transport costs, and charitable granary rice) and indirect surcharges (mainly commutation and requisition).

The base tax alone seemed manageable, but piled with surcharges, the burden grew heavy. While not immediately impoverishing peasants, it left them barely scraping by—one illness or disaster away from destitution.

As for adjudication, she’d initially hoped to crack major cases, testing her aptitude. Instead, petitioners squabbled over inheritances, neighborhood disputes, commercial conflicts, and divorces. Novels at first, they’d become tedious.

Tian Qingyi shared two memorable cases in detail: one involved an incompatible couple—the husband obsessed with reading, even sleeping with books, refusing divorce while the wife insisted. With no children and only the dowry at stake, Tian Qingyi granted the divorce, returning the dowry.

The other was a breach-of-contract dispute where the guilty party refused compensation. With clear evidence, Tian Qingyi ruled per the contract terms plus a punitive fine.

Even as her tea competition entered its final stage, Yun Jingchu couldn’t help remarking, “In business, reputation is paramount. That person’s lack of integrity spells failure.”

“Indeed. Everyone prefers fair-dealing merchants. To build a great business, reputation must be maintained.” Though anticipating her tea competition loss, Tian Qingyi didn’t slack off, observing and learning as she went. While Yun Jingchu’s tea formed perfect froth, hers resembled soapy water—undrinkable by any standard.