Transmigrated to the Northern Song Dynasty as a County Magistrate (GL) - Chapter 95

95: Side Story 1 – Qiqiao Academy

After her promotion, Tian Qingyi found herself with unexpected leisure. Beyond court attendance and yamen duties, her daily workload rarely exceeded half an hour—no wonder most local officials coveted capital postings. Beyond proximity to power, the lighter workload was undeniable.

Initially unaccustomed to this sudden idleness, Tian Qingyi sought ways to fill her time. Without phones, computers, or television, reading became her refuge. She borrowed books from the Zhaowen, Jixian, and Historiography Institutes, alleviating boredom.

The grand “Imperial Library” reminded her of their privately-built academy’s meager collection—nowhere near the imperial repository’s scale, likely inferior even to other private schools. This inspired her to compile a reading list of interesting or educational works for Qingyu to purchase and expand their shelves.

The Jiufang household lacked a dedicated library, though Jiufang Xin had amassed over a thousand volumes—mostly Confucian classics for imperial examinations—in Shangfu Courtyard’s study. Yuzhu Residence and Qinhai Residence each housed a hundred-odd books, largely untouched by either the original host (before exam preparation) or Jiufang Qiyu.

Through continuous acquisitions, Yuzhu Residence’s collection had grown to two hundred volumes. Reflecting the couple’s preferences, later purchases emphasized unofficial histories, journals, and travelogues. To avoid “corrupting” Yuchen, these were relocated to Shangfu Courtyard when they moved.

Their joint efforts expanded the women’s academy’s library to nine hundred volumes—classics, poetry, histories, travel accounts—nearly every commercially available genre. But disagreement arose over including texts like Admonitions for Women.

Tian Qingyi loathed such female-disciplining texts, opposing their inclusion. Her academy aimed to help women “open their eyes to the world” and awaken consciousness—however minimal the historical impact, she was determined to try, cost be damned.

Yun Jingchu similarly disliked these works but argued their inclusion was essential for the academy’s survival. Without accommodating mainstream expectations of female education, the school would fail before beginning.

—

Early summer breezes carried post-rain freshness as bustling streets teemed with activity. Riding home from court, Tian Qingyi passed their women’s academy and, spotting slightly ajar gates, impulsively alighted despite intending only a glance.

Recognizing the gatekeeper as Yun Jingchu’s attendant, she hurried inside, finding her wife in a goose-yellow beizi and gold hairpins directing servants to carry book chests into the library. Baoqin, Yuanqi, and Xiazhu organized shelves within.

Baoqin—first to marry among Yun Jingchu’s maids—now had two children with a Hangzhou shop manager. Yun Jingchu had provided generous dowry and restored her commoner status, though she still worked half-years in Kaifeng while managing Hangzhou operations otherwise.

Xiazhu had married a household guard—a gentle pairing that earned them wedding arrangements and dowry from the masters.

Yuanqi, youngest and last to wed, remained childless. Her choice—the new steward’s son—proved reliable under Yun Jingchu’s scrutiny.

Seeing their diligence, Yun Jingchu sent for refreshments. Tian Qingyi intercepted: “Get some perilla drinks too.”

“You’re home early today,” Yun Jingchu remarked, fanning herself with a flamboyant chrysanthemum-patterned round fan mirroring her own confident vibrancy.

“Light workload,” Tian Qingyi grinned, fanning Yun Jingchu with her bamboo-and-chrysanthemum folding fan as they entered the library.

Spotting Xiazhu shelving Admonitions for Women, Tian Qingyi shot Yun Jingchu a questioning look, pausing her fanning.

Yun Jingchu sighed. “After all our investment, shouldn’t establishing the academy take priority? I don’t make losing investments. I’m considering renaming it Qiqiao Academy—what do you think?”

“Qiqiao”—”Seven Skills”—implied needlework. Tian Qingyi balked at this divergence from their original vision. “Money isn’t an issue, even if it fails.”

“But sometimes indirect approaches succeed where direct ones can’t—like besieging Wei to rescue Zhao,” Yun Jingchu countered, envisioning eager learners before these shelves. Delaying was no longer an option.

The analogy struck home. Current societal norms made conventional academies for women untenable—without civil exam eligibility, classical education offered limited prospects. Needlework, however, provided tangible livelihood skills attractive to pragmatic parents.

“Brilliant! Qiqiao Academy it is. I’ll inscribe the plaque immediately!” Tian Qingyi conceded—without students, there was no academy.

Their initial women’s academy had floundered from lack of teachers and students despite publicity, becoming a subject of ridicule. Living in Northern Song deeply impressed upon Tian Qingyi how challenging changing societal norms could be. Her efforts—whether slight official biases toward women or this academy—aimed to incrementally shift perspectives.

Yun Jingchu’s reframing was revelatory. If lower-class girls came for needlework but left literate, their reading choices would become their own.

Unlike conventional schools, their academy specifically targeted underprivileged girls with age limits, though wealthy families’ daughters were accepted at higher tuition.

This reorientation simplified teacher recruitment. While classically educated women were rare, skilled needleworkers abounded. They hired two middle-aged embroidery specialists, one literary-inclined instructor, and an efficient young single mother for logistics, plus four sturdy women as guards and cleaners—maintaining their all-female environment.

Yun Jingchu initially sought a headmistress, but Tian Qingyi suggested sister-in-law Li Yan—capable and trustworthy. However, Li Yan’s focus on Wanyue and asset management left no bandwidth. With no ideal candidates, Yun Jingchu assumed the role herself—a decision Tian Qingyi accepted given her wife’s unparalleled investment in the project.

—

By late summer, Qiqiao Academy opened with forty-nine students—thirteen servants’ children and six Jiufang clan referrals—ranging ages five to ten. Though nearly half the enrollment came through connections, the founders celebrated this hard-won beginning.

Distinct from male academies, they addressed instructors as “laoshi” (teacher) rather than “xiansheng.” Tian Qingyi adapted most readily, using the term effortlessly.

The academy boasted superior facilities, including unique features like counseling services—personally provided by Yun Jingchu. Only Yuchen and Wanyue’s ages and identities precluded their enrollment.

—

Winter winds stung faces as Tian Qingyi waited in the carriage outside Qiqiao Academy—avoiding hypocrisy by not entering the female-only space she’d mandated. After fifteen minutes, Yun Jingchu boarded.

“Teacher Yun’s schedule is truly packed—even running two businesses never kept you this busy,” Tian Qingyi teased.

“Must you joke?” Yun Jingchu huffed, clutching her heating pan across the carriage, though flushed cheeks betrayed pleasure at the endearment.

END.