Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 59

59: Yun Changliang’s Death

Though Jiufang Xin appeared indulgent toward her, he had firm principles—nothing could jeopardize the family’s future. If she alienated Chancellor Wang, not only would Jiufang Xin’s efforts be wasted, but his standing among colleagues would plummet further. This was his absolute red line.

Crossing it would provoke his fury. He might deem her shortsighted and incompetent, even sever ties for the family’s sake. If he then accused her of filial impiety, she could be dismissed.

This outcome, while desirable to Tian Qingyi, wasn’t attainable through such means. Dismissal would eliminate any chance of her becoming chancellor—a world of difference between having hope and none at all. And Ma Zhusege’s reaction would be predictable.

Captain Xu, tasked with Tian Qingyi’s assignment, immediately interrogated Yang Dalang in jail. Upon learning where the murder weapon had been discarded, his expression darkened. After hesitating repeatedly, he finally cursed under his breath and set off for Qinglong Town.

As dusk approached with no sign of Captain Xu’s return, Tian Qingyi grew anxious. Just as she considered sending someone to check, he arrived—the stench preceding him. She covered her nose with a handkerchief, signaling him to stop.

Awkwardly halting, Captain Xu bowed. “Your Honor, the weapon was found in the Yang family’s privy. Here it is.” He unwrapped a black cloth bundle, revealing a dagger matching the coroner’s sketch.

A privy? No wonder the stench was unbearable.

Holding her breath, Tian Qingyi confirmed the weapon before retreating. “Well done, Captain Xu. Have Yang Dalang identify it. Once verified, record everything accurately and transfer it to Clerk Luo.”

“Aye.” Knowing the magistrate’s fastidiousness, Captain Xu would have preferred washing up first, but time was short. Relieved she didn’t reprimand him, he rewrapped the dagger and prepared to leave.

Tian Qingyi added, “No need for overnight work. Clean up first.”

“Aye. Your humble servant takes leave.” Captain Xu, who’d planned to work late, changed his mind instantly. For the first time, the magistrate didn’t seem so harsh.

Exiting the central hall, he handed the weapon to a subordinate with strict custody instructions before heading home to wash.

Tian Qingyi hurried to the rear courtyard. At first, everything seemed normal—until faint sobs from the main chamber quickened her steps.

Inside, she found Yun Jingchu weeping over letters while Yuanqi and Qingyu comforted her. Among the attendants stood a flustered servant in Yun family livery.

Spotting Tian Qingyi, Qingyu and the others bowed. “Second Young Master.”

The Yun servant turned and saluted awkwardly. “This humble one greets the Fourth Son-in-Law.”

The address confirmed Tian Qingyi’s guess. Anxious to understand, she sat beside Yun Jingchu and scanned the letters—then froze. “Father-in-law was well when we left. How could he pass so suddenly?”

Yun Jingchu’s sobs intensified. The servant, not daring to withhold, explained: Yun Changliang, already with one wife and four concubines, had taken a musician as his sixth concubine half a year prior, doting on her excessively. Last winter, he’d caught a chill but resumed his indulgence before recovering fully. The relapse worsened until his death.

As the servant spoke, Yun Jingchu’s cries softened, then surged again. The sound wrenched Tian Qingyi’s heart. Unable to bear it, she covered Yun Jingchu’s hands—clutching a warming pan—with her own and gently squeezed.

Night had fallen, and the Yun servant had traveled far with the obituary. Tian Qingyi sent him with Wei Shier for food and rest, then asked Qingyu to hurry to the kitchen. The others she dismissed.

Alone, Yun Jingchu dried her sparse tears and met Tian Qingyi’s gaze squarely. “With Father’s passing, I must observe three years of mourning at home—no travel permitted. We’ll be separated all that time.”

The words struck Tian Qingyi like lightning. She’d braced for separation when Yun Jingchu went to Guangzhou—but three years?

Reading the obituary, she’d assumed Yun Jingchu would attend the funeral. As a son-in-law, she’d only need to observe minimal mourning. The three-year requirement for children had slipped her mind.

“Twenty-seven months at most,” Yun Jingchu amended, mistaking her shock for reluctance. “If your Huating tenure is just two years, we might reunite in a little over a year.”

She too disliked prolonged separation. Guangzhou would have meant a year apart at most—not this.

“Children should mourn their parents. Even three years apart, I understand and support you. But Father-in-law’s passing was so sudden—it still feels unreal.” Tian Qingyi hadn’t expected Yun Changliang to go so quickly. Life’s fragility and fate’s capriciousness stunned her.

“Exactly. Too sudden. Baoqin’s last letter mentioned his illness, but not its severity.” Yun Jingchu was equally shocked. Her schemes had only involved pitting her eldest and third brothers against Lady Yuan and Yun Anzhi—avenging herself while letting them compete for the family fortune.

Her suggestions had been deliberately ambiguous, nudging them to cripple Yun Anzhi—crushing Lady Yuan and Yun Changliang while securing the inheritance for one brother. How it escalated to this, she couldn’t fathom.

She’d known about the new concubine, suspecting a brother’s ploy to influence Yun Changliang. Now, she wasn’t so sure. The truth would have to wait until Kaifeng.

“Guangzhou is postponed. After I return, please oversee the Hangzhou spice shop. Baoqin will manage it—you need only assist or inspect occasionally.” Departing tomorrow, Yun Jingchu worried most for Tian Qingyi and her business.

“Of course. You’re giving instructions now—do you leave tomorrow?” Tian Qingyi already guessed the answer. Yun Jingchu’s nod plunged her mood to its nadir.

Facing imminent separation so soon after reuniting, both fell into sorrowful silence.

Dinner, usually prompt, was delayed. By the time it arrived, their hunger had passed. The vegetarian spread further dampened Yun Jingchu’s spirits; even Tian Qingyi was disappointed.

She nearly questioned the lack of meat, then remembered mourning restrictions—no indulgence in food, music, or finery. With the obituary delivered, as daughter and son-in-law, they could only eat plainly. The kitchen must have recooked everything—hence the delay.

After dinner, Yun Jingchu directed Yuanqi to pack while sending Wei Shier to purchase ritual incense, candles, and mourning garb fabrics—tonight if possible, otherwise at dawn.

When Qingyu went to prepare the side chamber’s bed, Tian Qingyi’s mind raced. With others present, she waited until Qingyu left to whisper, “Why prepare the side chamber?”

She glanced at Yuanqi packing clothes, ensuring they couldn’t hear, then found Yun Jingchu staring as if she were an idiot.

“Did I… ask something inappropriate?” Tian Qingyi asked weakly.

Seeing genuine confusion, Yun Jingchu explained softly, “During mourning, couples abstain from intimacy. Tonight, we need to sleep apart. If you dislike the side chamber, I’ll go.”

“Yuanqi still has packing to do. I’ll go.” More mourning rules! Tian Qingyi was aghast. Twenty-seven months without sharing a bed?

The thought nearly choked her. Recently, holding Yun Jingchu at night, she’d rejoiced—just one year until Yun Jingchu turned twenty. Now, that year has stretched to two, even longer.

Ancient customs were stifling. What if Jiufang Xin died too? Their separation would drag on further.

Distraught, Tian Qingyi changed the subject. “The Yun household isn’t home. Be careful—don’t let them bully you again.”

She recalled Yun Jingchu’s scalded hand—still slightly scarred despite the best treatments.

“I know. This time, I won’t give them the chance. But there’s something I must discuss.” Yun Jingchu believed Lady Yuan wouldn’t risk provoking her now—but if she did, Yun Jingchu was ready.

“Go ahead.” Noticing Yun Jingchu’s cold hands, Tian Qingyi warmed them between hers.

“I know neither of us represents the Jiufang family—Grandfather holds that authority. But you represent yourself. Back home, I’ll face decisions. Should my stance reflect only me, or us both?”

The question blindsided Tian Qingyi. Events had unfolded too rapidly. They truly couldn’t speak for the Jiufang clan—and Jiufang Xin’s heir remained uncertain.