Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 84

84: Unnecessary Anxiety?!

As winter gave way to spring, Tian Qingyi’s sleepless nights left her visibly haggard—even distracted during moments with Yun Jingchu.

Yuzhu Residence servants assumed this stemmed from Yun Jingchu rejecting his “secret love child,” while others attributed it to unresolved grief over his father and brother’s deaths.

Concealing her distress from Fan Zhuzhu and Yun Jingchu required exhausting effort. Brief visits to Fan Zhuzhu prevented detection, though Yang Qiqi—assigned to serve her—noticed abnormalities but dared not speak.

Fear of Yun Jingchu kept Yang Qiqi from private contact with Tian Qingyi. Instead, while delivering new clothes under Fan Zhuzhu’s orders, she subtly hinted: “Someone saw the master alone at Shuiyue Pavilion for hours.”

Yun Jingchu had sensed Tian Qingyi’s unease but dismissed it after two deflected inquiries. Yang Qiqi’s report revived suspicions.

Yang Qiqi’s impeccable conduct since joining the household—including devoted service that pleased Fan Zhuzhu—lent credibility. That evening, dismissing attendants after dinner, Yun Jingchu confronted Tian Qingyi: “You’ve been unsettled lately. What troubles you?”

When Tian Qingyi attempted her usual evasion, Yun Jingchu warned: “You know my limits. My patience wears thin with repetition.”

Cornered, Tian Qingyi relented. The recent massacre of Shang Yan’s family by Ma Zhusege alone wouldn’t have caused such distress. The true source was a classified order and “family letter” received earlier.

Maintaining the original host’s habits, Tian Qingyi annually sent secret calligraphy/paintings to Ma Zhusege in Liao—including personal letters despite no replies. Last year was no exception. She suspected both her letters and Liu Daniang’s responses passed through Ma Zhusege’s scrutiny—explaining the original host’s deliberately mundane content.

The accompanying “family letter” matched previous handwriting and tone—but depicted Liu Daniang’s life as blissfully prosperous with a loving husband and three healthy children, urging Tian Qingyi to serve her “benefactor” diligently. This stark contrast to reality made Tian Qingyi question whether past letters’ instructions originated from Liu Daniang or Ma Zhusege’s manipulations.

The order imposed a ten-year deadline to become chief minister—failure meaning mission termination. The consequences needed no elaboration; inheriting the original host’s memories, Tian Qingyi understood perfectly.

Expecting a rookie official to rise to chief minister within a decade was ludicrous. The falsified family letter was clearly a loyalty test—was the order another probe?

At worst, failure meant death after ten extra years—but Ma Zhusege’s ruthlessness would surely extend to Yun Jingchu and others. This impending doom with no solution had driven her near collapse.

In desperate moments, she fantasized assassinating Ma Zhusege in Liao—eliminating the sole remaining witness (original leader and Shang Yan being dead). But lacking the original host’s martial prowess—despite three years’ practice—her skills paled in comparison, as evidenced during Ma Zhusege’s last visit.

This helplessness under looming catastrophe had shattered her peace.

Avoiding Yun Jingchu’s gaze, Tian Qingyi nervously adjusted the brazier with fire tongs—sparking embers that required hasty retreats.

Though yearning for openness, Yun Jingchu waited patiently without pressuring further.

Finally, Tian Qingyi confessed: “I had a nightmare—angered someone powerful, leading to my beheading and your deaths—you, mother, and Yuchen.”

They’d named Dongxue “Yun Qi”—from Wang Wei’s verse about finding hope in despair—symbolizing a fresh start upon returning to Song. To erase Ma Zhusege’s possible awareness, they changed her nickname to “Yuchen”—snowflakes in Bai Juyi’s poem.

Yun Jingchu’s startled expression softened into reassurance: “We cannot change the past nor predict the future. Don’t be like the man of Qi who feared the sky would fall. Even if your dream comes true, how do you know following you wouldn’t be our best outcome?”

This perspective stunned Tian Qingyi—she’d never considered their potential refusal to live without her.

Fan Zhuzhu’s resilience stemmed from shifting obsessions—first an ideal husband, then children, then revenge/gratitude, finally transferring affection to the original host. Tian Qingyi’s death would leave her anchorless.

Yun Jingchu—a modern soul in ancient trappings—had already achieved half her goals: avenging her mother and building her business. Should Tian Qingyi die in a decade, Yun Jingchu’s “jade shattered rather than intact” philosophy made her fate predictable.

Even Yuchen—merely twelve then—wouldn’t escape the fallout.

“Unnecessary anxiety indeed! The future’s unknowable—we must live fully now.” Tian Qingyi’s epiphany lifted her gloom.

That night, she composed a coded report and reply—counter-testing Ma Zhusege’s probes. The original host’s excellent memory enabled perfect imitation of her writing style and “loyal” phrasing—inconceivable to Tian Qingyi alone.

Ten years could change everything. Even certain doom might conceal survival chances—she couldn’t succumb to panic prematurely.

Post-confession, Tian Qingyi regained normalcy—eating, sleeping, and training vigorously with Zhou Ba, even learning self-defense techniques.

A scholar-official suddenly obsessed with martial arts bewildered Zhou Ba, Wei Shier, and Yun Jingchu alike. But as private practice didn’t neglect family, Yun Jingchu indulged in this fitness pursuit.

Yuchen’s adorable charm secretly captivated Yun Jingchu. Maintaining initial coldness grew difficult after the toddler’s persistent affection and “Mama” calls (taught by Ruoshui). Eventually dropping pretense, Yun Jingchu delighted in dressing her up—buying colorful outfits, styling her hair variously, and amassing herb-scented sachets.