Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 8

8: Failed Attempt to Return by Getting Drunk

Once the banquet began, Jiufang Xin didn’t linger long. After entertaining his old classmates and friends, he delegated host duties to his eldest son and excused himself, citing poor health.

Seizing the opportunity, Tian Qingyi launched her plan: drink herself into oblivion to return to the modern world. She ignored all persuasion, downing cup after cup, while Jiufang Qiyu egged her on.

To her surprise, a table of newly minted Doctoral Graduate and former classmates attended—including one who’d previously clashed with the original host, now all smiles.

Steward Liu reminded her to toast them. Among the faces, she recognized Shang Yan—and suddenly, it clicked.

Shang Yan resembled Jiazi!

The alcohol, though low-proof, sharpened her mind. The more she thought, the more certain she became: Shang Yan was Jiazi in disguise.

—

The Spy Connection

Jiazi, three years older than the original host, had once injured her during training. Now, his square jaw had rounded, his fair skin darkened, and a mole adorned his right cheek—a masterful disguise.

Elite Liao spies operated under single-line command, unaware of each other’s identities. The original host had loathed Jiazi for his ruthless loyalty to the Liao emperor—a rivalry with no personal bond.

Yet at the provincial exams, Jiazi must have recognized her.

How many other Liao spies passed the exams?

Historically, the Chanyuan Alliance (signed seven years prior) ensured nearly a century of Liao-Song peace. Unless this world diverged, war was unlikely.

But Tian Qingyi was no spy. Her skills began and ended with drafting and modeling.

Better get drunk fast and escape this mess.

—

The Drinking Spree

She toasted relentlessly, her uncharacteristic enthusiasm chalked up to “double happiness” (marriage and exam success).

Steward Liu, under Jiufang Xin’s orders, eventually intervened, signaling maids to escort her away.

“I’m not drunk!” she protested, but Qingyu and Ruoshui dragged her off. Around the corner, her steps faltered.

Her mind, however, remained painfully clear.

Today, I’ve been a puppet in this absurd farce.

—

The Bridal Chamber: An Uneasy Truce

In Yuzhu Residence, Yun Jingchu waited under Wu Ma’s watchful eye. A maid brought pastries, which Wu Ma initially forbade—until learning they came from Li Yan (Jiufang Qiyu’s wife).

Li Yan remembered her own wedding-day hunger.

When Baoqin spotted the drunken groom stumbling toward them, Yun Jingchu lowered her fan in relief.

“Let me help.” She took Tian Qingyi’s arm, surprised by his lightness.

Ruoshui muttered, “Other grooms cherish their wedding night. Ours drinks himself senseless.”

Wu Ma snapped, “Mind your tongue!”

—

The Long Night

Tian Qingyi, semi-conscious, caught Yun Jingchu’s unique fragrance—the same scent that had lingered near the bride earlier.

She barely registered being undressed and tucked in.

Will she… force me?

But Yun Jingchu kept her distance.

Hours later, nausea woke Tian Qingyi. She bolted up, prompting Yun Jingchu’s startled “What are you doing?”

Pointing frantically at her mouth, she grabbed the bedside bucket and fled outside to vomit.

The original host died of alcohol-induced heart pain. What if I…?

Panic set in—until the retching passed.

—

Morning After

Dawn found Yun Jingchu awake first, startled by the “year-painting handsome” face beside her.

So this is the man who skipped our betrothal meeting.

His leg draped over hers. A check confirmed both were still clothed.

Rumors claimed Jiufang Xiyan despised merchant daughters.

Good. Let him loathe me.

She’d never wanted marriage—let alone to a man. Her goals were revenge and wealth.

The previous night, Wu Ma had smuggled her an “educational” book. One glance at the obscene illustrations sent her vomiting. She’d burned it.

Now, dressing quietly, she left for morning rites:

1. “Bride’s Hall Worship” before a mirror altar.
2. Gift exchanges with Jiufang Xin, Fan Zhuzhu, and relatives.

The returns were cheap fabrics, a blatant insult to the Yun family’s wealth.

Money matters. Since her mother’s death, she’d learned its power.

—

The Cruel Awakening

Tian Qingyi woke naturally, lingering in a dream of family travels in Xinjiang—

—shattered by the crimson canopy overhead.

I’m still here.

No sorrow could match this despair.