Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 60

60: Parting in the Snow

After a moment’s consideration, Tian Qingyi replied solemnly, “Husband and wife are one. Your stance is mine. While we can’t decide for the Jiufang family, you absolutely speak for our household.”

“To have such a partner is my greatest fortune.” Yun Jingchu’s face glowed with pride as she clasped Tian Qingyi’s hands tightly, as if physical closeness could merge their hearts.

Tian Qingyi reciprocated the grip. She adored this connection between them—were it not for the low table separating them, she’d have embraced Yun Jingchu fully.

Their intimacy was interrupted by Qingyu’s return. They sprang apart, Yun Jingchu suddenly fascinated by her own hands while Tian Qingyi remained unflustered. Upon learning the side chamber was ready, Yun Jingchu instructed Qingyu to prepare washing supplies and began urging Tian Qingyi to retire early.

Though not sleepy, Tian Qingyi reluctantly complied under Yun Jingchu’s insistence. The freshly made bed held warming pans, and the brazier kept the room toasty—a stark contrast to the winter chill outside. Too alert to sleep, she summoned paper and ink to write letters.

To Jiufang Xin, she penned a brief, formal note—a ritual obligation. But to Fan Zhuzhu, she poured out her thoughts, entrusting both letters to Yun Jingchu’s care for Kaifeng.

Meanwhile, Yun Jingchu also stayed awake, composing a letter and giving detailed instructions to Xiaozhu with a package, then to Qingyu.

The next morning, Yun Jingchu rose unusually early, dressed in the plainest mourning attire “a cutting mourning attire” , her hair simply knotted without adornment. Tian Qingyi, having asked to be roused when Yun Jingchu woke, joined her promptly—only to note her own pale blue robes seemed incongruously light beside Yun Jingchu’s stark hemp garments.

“Do I not need to wear mourning clothes too?”

“The fabric only just arrived. Yours will take longer—mine is simpler.” Yun Jingchu glanced outside where, as Yuanqi had warned, the cold had intensified overnight.

“Can’t you delay your journey until warmer weather?” Tian Qingyi pleaded, still feeling yesterday’s chill deepen.

“There’s a saying: ‘Filial piety is measured by mourning.’ Our families and your colleagues will be watching. If I’m late, even without Lady Yuan’s interference, others will condemn me. Is that what you want?”

“Of course not.” Tian Qingyi sighed. Rumors spread like wildfire—Yun Jingchu’s reputation mattered. “Take Zhou Ba with you. It’s colder today—bring extra clothes and warming pans.”

While Tian Qingyi cared little for others’ opinions, Yun Jingchu, progressive as she was for her time, still valued social standing. That mattered to Tian Qingyi.

Outside, the courtyard bustled as Yuanqi and Wei Shier supervised the loading of luggage.

As the mourning robe for Tian Qingyi was completed first, Yun Jingchu helped her into it, explaining the three-month mourning protocols—abstaining from meat, entertainment, and colorful attire. Compared to Yun Jingchu’s twenty-seven months, this seemed trivial.

When they reached the pavilion to part, snow began falling—soon thickening into flakes. Tian Qingyi stopped Yun Jingchu from alighting: “Don’t come out in this cold. I’ll remember all you’ve said. Take care of yourself—visit your mother when you can.”

Wei Shier, cheeks flushed from the cold, held an unopened umbrella until Tian Qingyi disembarked, then quickly shielded her. Snow already dusted hats and shoulders all around.

Seeing this, Yun Jingchu simply said, “You too—stay well,” before the carriage carried her away.

Watching her beloved depart again, Tian Qingyi stood motionless, heart heavy with helpless sorrow.

Back at the yamen, snow-laden and numb, she only revived in the bath’s warmth. Separation pained her deeply, yet neither could alter their duties. Yun Jingchu’s passion for trade would inevitably part them often—a pattern unhealthy for their bond.

Perhaps, Tian Qingyi mused, without modern comforts like phones, the distance feels greater. Or perhaps her love for Yun Jingchu simply ran deeper. Regardless, she resolved not to wallow—this parting paved the way for reunion.

Refreshed, she drafted a meticulous two-year plan, then summoned Qingyu: “Inquire at nearby temples about memorial rites for my father-in-law—the sooner, the better.”

By afternoon, Sheriff Wu returned. Tian Qingyi entrusted him with submitting Yang Dalang’s case to the prefecture while accepting condolences for her “loss.”

Registrar Li returned before the Lantern Festival; Zhang Sancheng arrived at month’s end bearing letters and Kaifeng delicacies from Fan Zhuzhu—surprisingly funded by Jiufang Xin. He also brought news: Yun Changliang’s sudden death had sparked fierce inheritance disputes among his three sons and Lady Yuan, with clan elders intervening.

Meanwhile, after a grueling journey through illness and winter roads, Yun Jingchu finally reached Kaifeng—just as the Yun family’s power struggle reached its peak.