Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 74

74: A Sudden and Unexpected “Surprise”

The next day was another busy one, so much so that Tian Qingyi didn’t even have time to deal with Li Yan’s matter. Fortunately, while her body was occupied, her mind wasn’t—she had already figured out how to handle it and deliberately set aside time before bed to write a letter.

Given her current circumstances, it was neither appropriate for her to attend banquets nor to host them. Thus, writing a letter to Li Yan’s father was the quickest and most practical solution.

Worried she might have missed something, Tian Qingyi didn’t seal the letter immediately after writing it. Instead, she waited until the next day to show it to Yun Jingchu for review. Only after confirming there were no issues did she seal and send it.

Although members of the Li family had come to offer condolences, the final decision-maker was Li Yan’s father, who held an official post in the provinces. Since the matter of whether Li Yan would remarry ultimately rested with him, Tian Qingyi, after careful consideration, decided to communicate directly with the person in charge.

Writing this letter had cost her a great deal of mental effort. She could only hope that Li Yan’s father, considering her sincere words, the marital ties between their families, and their shared status as colleagues, would make a decision that preserved harmony—and that they would achieve the desired outcome.

Before heading to the mourning hall, Tian Qingyi followed the routine and went to Shangfu Courtyard to visit Jiufang Xin. When she arrived, Fan Zhuzhu was directing maidservants to wipe Jiufang Xin’s face and hands. Seeing the maids about to pause and greet her, Tian Qingyi waved them off, allowing them to continue their work. After paying her respects to Fan Zhuzhu, she looked at Jiufang Xin, whose complexion had worsened, and asked, “Has Father’s condition improved at all?”

“Still the same. Who knows if he’ll ever wake up.” With Tian Qingyi’s arrival, Fan Zhuzhu lost interest in her performative concern and let the maids handle Jiufang Xin while she pulled Tian Qingyi aside for a closer look. Almost immediately, she scolded, “I told you you’ve lost weight, but you insisted otherwise yesterday. It’s even more obvious today. Once this period is over, I’ll make sure to nourish you properly.”

Tian Qingyi, who didn’t feel she had lost weight at all, quickly took Fan Zhuzhu’s hand and coaxed her into sitting down. “Alright, alright, I’ll listen to you, Auntie. But you must take care of yourself too. During this time, not only have Yongnian and I been working hard, but you’ve also been exhausted. Without you, Yongnian wouldn’t even know where to begin.”

Fan Zhuzhu was soothed into a smile, and Jiufang Xin was completely forgotten. In truth, the maids were the ones actually tending to Jiufang Xin—Fan Zhuzhu merely supervised from the sidelines while silently mocking him in her heart.

She had once hesitated over whether to take drastic action against Jiufang Xin, given his status and her fear of implicating Tian Qingyi. But before she could decide, fate had intervened, delivering an unexpected boon.

Ever cautious, Fan Zhuzhu refrained from openly gloating over Jiufang Xin’s downfall. Instead, she confined her mockery to her thoughts, occasionally even feeling a twinge of pity—though she would immediately berate herself for it. Her compassion would be better wasted on a dog than on Jiufang Xin.

Though she hadn’t witnessed the first half of Jiufang Xin’s life, the latter half had unfolded before her eyes—seen, heard, and even participated in. His current state was nothing but the consequence of his own actions. Having sown no goodwill, he reaped no kindness. It was no one’s fault but his own.

Reflecting on the Buddha’s protection over her and now seeing Jiufang Xin’s fate, Fan Zhuzhu suddenly felt a profound sense of release. A soft glow seemed to radiate from within her, making her appear utterly unlike a woman on the verge of widowhood—which was precisely why she wasn’t fit to receive outsiders at the moment.

After chatting with Fan Zhuzhu for a while about trivial matters, Tian Qingyi took her leave. Before departing, she deliberately glanced at Jiufang Xin twice, her eyes filled with disappointment. She had originally planned to give him a grand “gift,” but it seemed that chance had slipped away—a true pity.

Though Jiufang Xin was a failure as a partner and a father, by the mainstream standards of the era, he was a successful man. After all, he had once held office and nearly became a chief minister. But fate, inherently unfair, occasionally balanced the scales.

Thus, when relatives and friends came to mourn Jiufang Qiyu, they invariably inquired after Jiufang Xin’s condition, with many even requesting to see him.

Unfortunately, Jiufang Xin remained unconscious, and the physician had advised rest. Moreover, Fan Zhuzhu had no desire to entertain visitors, so Tian Qingyi declined most requests. Only for the Third Uncle and a few elders of the clan—those she couldn’t refuse—did she permit a brief glance. And it was truly just a glance.

Reflecting on Jiufang Xin’s life, it seemed everything he had valued had vanished like smoke. Take his family, for instance—outwardly harmonious but bound solely by interest. Or his sons, meant to carry on his lineage—his sole legitimate heir had predeceased him, while she, the illegitimate “son,” wasn’t even his bl00d. In the end, as he had feared, his line would die with him.

Jiufang Qiyu’s sudden death and Jiufang Xin’s impending demise forced Tian Qingyi to confront mortality, leaving her with profound reflections and a newfound solemnity.

It wasn’t that their misfortunes had devastated her—rather, her innate kindness couldn’t help but evoke pity. After all, these were two living lives.

With the large number of mourners in recent days, both Tian Qingyi and Yun Jingchu had been swamped, barely exchanging more than a few words. To avoid gossip, Tian Qingyi avoided sneaking into the main quarters unless absolutely necessary. As a result, not only had they gone days without proper conversation, but they hadn’t even shared a bed for several nights.

Tian Qingyi resolved that after today’s duties, she would stealthily visit the main quarters to surprise Yun Jingchu. But the moment she stepped into the study, an enormous “surprise” was already waiting for her behind the desk—one that nearly made her scream.

The moment she recognized that face—the very one that had haunted her nightmares—Tian Qingyi fell utterly silent, frozen in place.

Try as she might, she could never forget that long, horse-like face. If anything, her (or rather, the original host’s) exceptional memory made forgetting impossible.

“What? Have you forgotten how to greet me?” Ma Zhusege asked, seated behind the desk with her hands folded over her abdomen, watching Tian Qingyi with an ambiguous smile. Her voice was neither loud nor soft—just enough to be heard clearly but not so much as to carry beyond the room.

“Greetings, Chief,” Tian Qingyi said, snapping out of her daze and stepping forward to perform a respectful bow.

Her heart pounded with shock and terror. How had Ma Zhusege infiltrated the Jiufang residence? What was her purpose here? Thankfully, she had sent Qingyu to prepare a bath earlier—otherwise, who knew what might have happened?

Seeing the once-adoring and dependent youngster now rigid with fear, Ma Zhusege’s expression darkened. “You’ve changed.”

Alarm bells rang in Tian Qingyi’s head as she hurriedly declared, “This subordinate’s loyalty to the Chief has never wavered.”

Ma Zhusege rose and circled Tian Qingyi slowly before stopping a step away. After a long pause, she asked skeptically, “Is that so?”

“Heaven, earth, the sun, and the moon bear witness,” Tian Qingyi replied, maintaining her bow. Without Ma Zhusege’s permission, she dared not move. The mere thought of the other woman’s ruthless, bloodthirsty nature sent chills down her spine.

At this distance, if Ma Zhusege struck, Tian Qingyi had no confidence in escaping. Her martial skills paled in comparison to the original host’s—and even the original might not have been a match for Ma Zhusege. Who knew how much deadlier the Chief had become over the years?

“It had better be true. Otherwise, you know exactly what will happen to you—and to Aunt Liu’s family,” Ma Zhusege said, probing Tian Qingyi’s resolve.

“This subordinate would never gamble with my life or my family’s. My allegiance to the Chief is absolute,” Tian Qingyi replied, choosing her words carefully. What she truly thought, of course, remained hidden—Ma Zhusege was no god; she couldn’t read minds.

“Good. At ease. Do you remember your mission?” Satisfied with Tian Qingyi’s obedience, Ma Zhusege returned to her seat.

Finally freeing her hands, Tian Qingyi replied, “This subordinate has never forgotten—to strive for the position of Chief Minister.”

“Excellent. Fulfill your mission, and the Khan will reward you handsomely.” Hearing footsteps approaching, Ma Zhusege stood and moved toward the window.

“For His Majesty, I would die without regret,” Tian Qingyi declared, her words dripping with insincere loyalty.

With that, Ma Zhusege vaulted through the window and vanished. No wonder the window had been open—she had entered the same way.

The moment Ma Zhusege left, Tian Qingyi’s legs gave way. It took her a long time to recover. Only after sitting on the couch did she realize her underclothes were drenched in sweat. A breeze from the window chilled her further.

When Qingyu entered, she found Tian Qingyi frowning, her face etched with distress. Assuming her mistress was unwell, Qingyu rushed forward to check her pulse, but Tian Qingyi waved her off.

“The Second Young Master has never been one to avoid treatment,” Qingyu protested.

“It’s nothing. Just exhaustion and some restlessness,” Tian Qingyi replied, wiping the cold sweat from her brow with a handkerchief.

Qingyu had no choice but to relent. “The end of August is approaching. The Second Young Master should take care.”

“I know. If necessary, we’ll resort to the old method. Is the bath ready?” Tian Qingyi asked, desperate to wash away the clammy discomfort.

“It is,” Qingyu replied, recognizing her mistress’s stubbornness.

The shock of Ma Zhusege’s appearance had drained Tian Qingyi of any desire to see Yun Jingchu. It wasn’t that she didn’t miss her—she simply feared Yun Jingchu might notice something amiss, leaving her with no way to explain.

After her bath, Tian Qingyi retired to study. But sleep eluded her. Every time she closed her eyes, questions swirled: Why had Ma Zhusege come in person? Who was with her? What was her goal?

Her thoughts grew increasingly wild until, fearing she’d scare herself, she forced herself to count stars instead. Eventually, exhaustion claimed her.