Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 55

55: Wishing My Wife Eternal Joy and All Things Prosperous Though Tian Qingyi had never handled a case before, she’d watched enough crime dramas to have some idea. While the constables and coroner conducted their investigation, she circled the Zhou residence, chatting casually with the village chief. The Zhou family were middle-class landowners with modest wealth, so their house was built of brick and tile, with walls taller than most. An ordinary ladder wouldn’t suffice to scale them. Three neighboring households bordered the Zhou property—two belonged to Zhou’s cousins, who maintained good relations with the family. Passing the rear gate, Tian Qingyi noted it was bolted from the inside, impossible to open. According to the chief, the Zhou’s had gone to town for New Year’s Eve festivities and returned only at midnight. The chief had questioned nearby residents, but no one knew how the fire started. Even the closest neighbors reported no unusual activity. Was I overthinking this? Tian Qingyi wondered. Could the fire have been accidental? As she neared the front gate again, she spotted a thatched cottage in the distance—three bays surrounded by a wooden fence. Likely the farthest neighbor the chief had mentioned. Though distant, Tian Qingyi wanted to leave no stone unturned. With the chief and two constables, she approached the cottage. Before they arrived, an elderly woman’s scolding reached them—berating her grandson for eating too much of something. “This was bought by Father! I’ll eat it if I want!” The boy, about seven or eight, snatched the item and bolted—only to collide with Tian Qingyi’s group. Terrified, he scrambled back to his grandmother. The old woman, halfway through chasing him, froze at the sight of the officials. Instinctively, she turned to flee but stopped upon recognizing the chief. Clumsily, she performed a crossed-hands salute, too nervous to speak. Fearful of offending the magistrate, the chief hastily bowed. “Your Honor, forgive her. Old Yang is a country woman, unversed in etiquette.” “No matter.” Tian Qingyi couldn’t bear making the elderly woman bow. Returning the salute, she said gently, “No need for alarm, grandmother. I’m just passing through.” Relieved the magistrate wasn’t here to arrest anyone, the old woman relaxed slightly, pulling her grandson aside but remaining silent, afraid misspeaking might provoke the official. The chief, who’d expected outrage, gaped momentarily before closing his mouth. Other chiefs and clerks had said this new magistrate differed from predecessors, but he’d dismissed it—All crows are black under the sky. Now, he saw his error. Though educated and examined alike, magistrates clearly varied. Tian Qingyi inspected the yard. No other family members appeared, but behind the kitchen leaned a long ladder—tall enough to overreach the thatched roof if erected. The chief explained, “This is the Yang family, lower-class. Four members—the parents likely went to fetch water or wash clothes by the river. Decent folk never saw them quarrel, not even when the Zhou’s encroached on their burial plot. They just reasoned with them.” “A dutiful household.” Tian Qingyi glanced again at the ladder before departing. Before they’d gone far, the grandmother shouts and the boy’s wails follow. Though theories swirled in Tian Qingyi’s mind, they remained speculation. She kept silent, returning with the chief to the Zhou property. Wei Shier, left to supervise, hurried over upon her return. Learning the investigation might continue past nightfall, Tian Qingyi sent him to fetch Yun Jingchu and arrange lodging. As predicted, darkness fell before the team finished. Tian Qingyi called a halt, leaving ten constables to guard the scene and bodies while leading the rest to a tavern in town. There, she tasked the captain with organizing meals and shifts for the constables. The bitter cold made an all-night vigil unbearable; rotating shifts were more practical. The noisy tavern hushed as Tian Qingyi’s group entered. Any remaining conversation dropped to whispers. As for expenses, Tian Qingyi wouldn’t pay from her own pocket. Though her salary paled against high officials’, it sufficed—especially with additional allowances—to support herself and Yun Jingchu comfortably. It wasn’t stinginess. The Northern Song dynasty generously allocated public funds for local magistrates. According to Zhang Sancheng, higher-ranking magistrates could even pocket surplus funds as income. Being the lowest rank, Tian Qingyi’s public funds were limited and strictly for official use. Privately, she preferred not exploiting imperial coffers—nor being exploited by them. Public funds suited her fine. Additionally, during tax collections, superiors turned a blind eye to counties retaining small sums for operational costs—though exceeding quotas risked severe penalties for missing tribute payments. “Was it foul play?” Yun Jingchu asked upon seeing Tian Qingyi’s grim expression, pressing a warming pan into her hands. Tian Qingyi first removed her hat and cloak, handing them to Yuanqi before accepting it. “Unclear yet. It’s freezing, and everyone’s worked all afternoon, so I dismissed them for meals. They’ll report later—would you like to listen?” “Gladly. Eight lives lost—if natural, so be it. If murder, you must bring them justice.” Yun Jingchu, intrigued by the case, had pondered it all afternoon, gathering more rumors during her outing. She burned to know the truth. “Naturally.” Tian Qingyi quoted reflexively, “Officials who don’t serve the people should quit and sell sweet potatoes.” “Sweet… potatoes? What scrolls are those?” Yun Jingchu blinked, baffled. In all her reading, she’d never encountered crimson texts. Cursing her slip, Tian Qingyi backpedaled, “The color isn’t important—it’s just an expression. If officials won’t serve justice, they might as well copy texts for a living. Don’t you agree?” “An unexpected metaphor. But I’m glad you think this way. Commoners suffer enough—without your protection, what hope do they have?” “Exactly. As the saying goes, ‘payment demands service.’ The court pays me; serving the people is my duty. If it’s murder, even if I can’t solve it, the prefect can. The truth will come out.” Tian Qingyi kept her suspicions private, lest they prove wrong. “I believe you’ll solve it. I had Wei Shier order a meal—it should arrive soon. Meanwhile, drink this ginger broth with rock sugar to warm up.” Yun Jingchu guided her to sit by the brazier. Yuanqi, having stored the hat and cloak, brought the prepared drink. The bowl’s inward-curving mouth and rounded belly featured a hollow base—a Song-era “Kongming bowl” for insulation. Steam rose vigorously, yet Tian Qingyi offered it first to Yun Jingchu. Though unspoken, Yun Jingchu understood. Pushing it back, she said, “I’ve had mine. Drink—you have not had a sip of hot water since arriving.” The chief had offered tea, but fearing the cold and inconvenient toilet breaks outdoors, Tian Qingyi declined. Indeed, she’d gone all day without a warm drink. Tian Qingyi drained the broth in one go. Yun Jingchu, worried it wasn’t enough, ordered another. As the second serving arrived, so did the tavern’s dishes—still steaming, served in exquisite vessels. Tian Qingyi marveled at ancient ingenuity. But the spread, tailored to her tastes, pained her. “A’Dan, I’m sorry.” What grieved her wasn’t the food’s quality. Today was Yun Jingchu’s birthday—she’d planned a menu and surprises, even instructing Qingyu to oversee preparations. The Zhou fire had forced her to abandon everything. Yun Jingchu, initially confused by the apology, understood upon seeing Tian Qingyi’s guilty stare at the dishes. “I’m happy today—not just because it’s my birthday, but because it’s our first together. You gave me jade bracelets and brought me here. Knowing you prefer spicy food now, I ordered two such dishes. Do you like them?” “I do. Braving the cold with me yet still smiling—you’re the only silly wife under heaven.” Tian Qingyi laughed genuinely. With Yun Jingchu, she felt at ease—no reservations, no walking on eggshells. Yun Jingchu smiled wordlessly, thinking occasional silliness wasn’t so bad. She poured Tian Qingyi lamb wine and herself a cup, raising it. “Having you celebrate my birthday this year is wonderful. No need for pretty words—I’ll drink first.” She downed it before Tian Qingyi could reciprocate. “Wishing my wife eternal joy and all things prosperous.” Belatedly, Tian Qingyi raised her cup, offering the toast before drinking. “I thought you’d be upset. If not for me, you wouldn’t be suffering this cold. I felt I’d ruined your birthday.” Yuanqi refilled their cups while Wei Shier added charcoal to the braziers. Occasional gust through the window cracks made him rub his hands, wondering when he could finally rest.