Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 72

72: All That Remained Was Heartache

Though the entire party traveled on horseback, the combination of the long distance, scorching heat, and unpaved dusty roads meant they didn’t arrive in Minquan County until midnight. Without stopping to rest, they immediately headed to the Patrol Inspector’s office.

Jiufang Qiyu died suddenly. Although the deputy inspector had promptly reported the circumstances to higher authorities, a replacement wouldn’t arrive so quickly, leaving the deputy in temporary charge.

Upon hearing that representatives from the Jiufang family had arrived, the deputy—a rough-looking man named Tang who wore a cross-legged headscarf and crimson military uniform with an unkempt beard that made Tian Qingyi frown—came out to greet them. After exchanging courtesies, Tian Qingyi directly stated her purpose. Deputy Tang, despite his coarse appearance, proved surprisingly meticulous, providing a detailed account of events before leading them to the temporary mourning hall that had been prepared.

Though addressed as “Deputy Inspector,” Tang held no official rank—he was essentially just a squad leader. For young superiors like Jiufang Qiyu who were assigned to these posts for prestige rather than merit, Tang always spent money to investigate their backgrounds in the capital beforehand—after all, many were prone to boasting.

Unfortunately, Jiufang Qiyu, resentful toward his father and disliking his family, never spoke of them. Tang’s informants could only uncover publicly known information, so his understanding of the Jiufang family remained superficial. However, he did know that Jiufang Qiyu’s father had once held high office and that his younger brother was a Doctoral Degree graduate currently serving as a county magistrate. Thus, when he learned that the visitor was Jiufang Qiyu’s brother, his obsequiousness was such that one might think Tian Qingyi was his superior instead.

According to Deputy Tang, after Jiufang Qiyu’s death, his servants had carried the body back immediately. Tang had promptly summoned a coroner to confirm there was no foul play before purchasing a high-quality coffin. Following Kaifeng customs, he had arranged for temporary encoffinement and acquired ritual items like incense and candles.

Being somewhat superstitious, Deputy Tang—fearing that Jiufang Qiyu’s sudden death might leave behind powerful resentment—had even hired two Daoist priests to perform brief rites. To others, including Tian Qingyi, he explained this as “summoning the deceased’s spirit.”

Tian Qingyi, aware that ancient people took such beliefs seriously, didn’t think much of it and remained oblivious to Tang’s underlying concerns. Even had she known, she likely wouldn’t have cared.

Due to the intense heat, Deputy Tang had ordered large quantities of ice placed in the mourning hall to preserve the body. When Tian Qingyi entered, she immediately felt the chill.

Only after attendants removed the coffin lid did the solemn-faced Tian Qingyi see Jiufang Qiyu’s remains. His appearance hadn’t changed much from her memory—just somewhat paler and noticeably heavier.

Deputy Tang, worried she might be overcome with grief, offered numerous words of comfort. Not wishing to engage further, Tian Qingyi took the opportunity to affect a grieving demeanor and requested solitude. Leaving behind a guide, Tang tactfully withdrew.

After offering incense and burning paper money for Jiufang Qiyu, Tian Qingyi followed the guide to her quarters. Having ridden all day, her backside ached terribly—her desire to rest was no pretense. Exhausted, she longed only to collapse into bed.

While Tian Qingyi slept, Wei Shier and the others had a more demanding night—interviewing Jiufang Qiyu’s servants, conducting another examination of the body, and settling financial matters with the patrol office. Tian Qingyi had assigned these tasks during travel breaks, so despite the workload, with eight people sharing responsibilities, each only had two or three duties.

Though Tian Qingyi fell asleep quickly, her soreness made for a restless night, so she rose immediately upon waking with no desire to linger in bed.

Wei Shier, having stayed up later yet needing to rise earlier to stand watch outside her door, appeared noticeably sleep-deprived when summoned, even yawning inappropriately.

Once certain he was fully alert, Tian Qingyi—while preparing to brush her teeth—asked, “What were the examination results?”

“No wounds, bruises, or signs of poisoning on the Eldest Young Master’s body,” Wei Shier replied. Fortunately, he’d gathered everyone to review findings before retiring, otherwise he might not have been able to answer.

Though this outcome was expected, Tian Qingyi had deemed the verification necessary. Patrol Inspectors, though low-ranking, commanded actual troops at strategic locations—better safe than sorry. Confirming Jiufang Qiyu hadn’t been murdered eliminated potential complications, putting her mind at ease.

“What about the expenses? How much did they advance?” Tian Qingyi asked while washing her face.

“The office spent 125,527 cash on the coffin, burial garments, incense, and other items. Additionally, the Eldest Young Master owed gambling debts of 109,000 cash.” Having handled this personally, Wei Shier provided precise figures.

Tian Qingyi turned from her washbasin to give Wei Shier a puzzled look, which he met with equal confusion, utterly failing to grasp her meaning.

“Why is it so expensive?” When eye contact proved ineffective, Tian Qingyi voiced her question. Based on her experience as a Huating County magistrate, a family of five could live comfortably on just over 30,000 cash annually. For a county under Kaifeng’s jurisdiction to spend over 100,000 on funeral items seemed exorbitant.

Wei Shier now seemed doubtful himself. “Expensive? According to the purchasers, they bought only the finest for the Eldest Young Master—a cypress wood coffin, Shu brocade burial garments, century-old brand incense and candles. At market prices, if I recall correctly, this seems reasonable.” Meaning it wasn’t actually overpriced.

“I thought Deputy Tang was decent, but to exploit us financially like this!” Tian Qingyi now found his beard even more repugnant.

Yet Wei Shier unexpectedly defended him: “Though illiterate, I know life’s practicalities. People desire lavish burials to maintain status in the afterlife—some go bankrupt holding funerals, even selling land or incurring massive debts. If commoners do this, how much more should prominent families? The Eldest Young Master was an important official—Deputy Tang’s purchases preserved yours and the Master’s dignity.”

He immediately lowered his head, fearing his bluntness might offend. But the room remained silent.

Tian Qingyi knew ancient people viewed death as an extension of life, but hadn’t realized the extremes. Recalling original host’s memories—like the elaborate two-month funeral for Jiufang Xin’s wife with its staggering costs—confirmed this was indeed standard practice.

By Wei Shier’s logic, she should be thanking Deputy Tang? Thank him my foot! He got to play the gracious host while spending her and Yun Jingchu’s money—who knew if he’d taken kickbacks?

Jiufang Qiyu was equally contemptible. According to Fan Zhuzhu, when he took up his post, Jiufang Xin had given him funds—likely comparable to what she’d received. Combined with nearly a year’s salary, to have not only saved nothing but accrued debts marked him as truly “exceptional.”

Now Jiufang Qiyu is gone, leaving her—just returned from her official post and awaiting reassignment—in a predicament. According to court regulations, a brother’s death required a year’s mourning—absurd and infuriating.

While she wouldn’t mind leaving, observing mourning for someone like Jiufang Qiyu disgusted her, given both her and the original host’s poor relationship with him.

When departing, Yun Jingchu had suggested bringing more money drafts. Thinking 200,000 cash would suffice, she hadn’t taken extra—never anticipating Jiufang Qiyu’s gambling debts. How unpredictable life was—now she was short.

Meanwhile, Deputy Tang, believing he’d earned Tian Qingyi’s goodwill, remained oblivious to her disdain. Had he known, he’d have been baffled—extravagant funerals were longstanding tradition.

As for the servants who’d accompanied Jiufang Qiyu, their accounts matched those of the messenger and Deputy Tang.

After breakfast, Tian Qingyi sent Wei Shier to ask if Zhou Ba and others could cover the shortfall. If possible, they’d settle all debts immediately; otherwise, they’d pay the office first and send someone later to clear the gambling den’s dues.

As a non-native Song person, Tian Qingyi felt no shame borrowing from servants. But Song-native Wei Shier couldn’t comprehend why she wouldn’t simply send the balance later.

Though confused, he followed orders. Unfortunately, while Tian Qingyi was willing to ask, Zhou Ba and the others had empty pockets—accustomed to having expenses covered while traveling, they rarely carried much money. Combined, they couldn’t even scrape together 3,000 cash, let alone over 30,000.

After sending Wei Shier to repay the office, Tian Qingyi took Zhou Ba to bid Deputy Tang farewell. Though reluctant, she maintained proper etiquette.

When Tang offered an escort back to Kaifeng, she declined—between Jiufang Qiyu’s twelve servants (ten men and two maids) and her eight retainers, twenty people were sufficient. Moreover, escorts would require food and lodging along the way, plus hospitality in Kaifeng—potential complications she wished to avoid.

Failing this gesture, Tang made another request: due to official duties, his staff couldn’t attend the Kaifeng funeral, so they wished to pay respects before the coffin’s departure. Unable to refuse, Tian Qingyi agreed.

The memorial ceremony proved far larger than anticipated—over a hundred mourners formed lines to pay respects, leaving Tian Qingyi, as the sole family representative, mechanically returning bows until numb.

Once concluded, she immediately arranged for the coffin’s transport. Having expected only the outbound journey to be under scorching sun, she now faced the same on the return—frustrating indeed.

With the coffin requiring a carriage and two maids plus luggage to accommodate, Tian Qingyi had Wei Shier hire an additional wagon. Following Deputy Tang’s suggestion, she even engaged the two Daoist priests to escort the coffin back to Kaifeng.

Carriages moved slower than horses. Combined with those on foot, though departing and resting at the same times as before, by midnight they’d only covered half the distance, forcing them to seek lodging at a nearby Taoist temple.

Tomorrow is the Mid-Autumn Festival. She’d hoped to surprise Yun Jingchu by returning in time for her to wake to Tian Qingyi’s presence. That was now impossible—though barring further mishaps, they should arrive by afternoon, allowing them to share the reunion dinner with Yun Jingchu and Fan Zhuzhu.

But the weather proved fickle. Before dawn, thunder rumbled, escalating by daybreak into a full thunderstorm. Travel became impossible—within minutes under an umbrella, clothes were soaked through, let alone the loosely sealed coffin.

The thought of the combination of heat and water exposure turned Tian Qingyi’s stomach.

They waited out the storm for two hours before continuing. The rain-sodden roads proved even worse than the dusty ones—wagon wheels frequently stuck in mud. However urgently Tian Qingyi wished to proceed, their pace refused to quicken.

In the end, Tian Qingyi missed the reunion dinner after all. Her boots and robe hems were caked with mud—those on foot fared worse, eventually removing their shoes and rolling up trousers.

Yun Jingchu, initially angry at what seemed like deliberate tardiness, felt only heartache upon seeing Tian Qingyi’s exhausted, disheveled state. While arranging baths and meals, she took charge of funeral preparations—determined to spare her weary partner further strain.