Yongchang Tenth Year of Great Liang, Spring.
Within the palace walls, the peonies were in full bloom, layers upon layers of rouge color spreading from the edge of Taiye Lake all the way to the front of Hanyuan Hall, their opulence nearly overflowing.
Ten-year-old Lin Shuying, wearing an apricot-yellow ruqun dress embroidered with twining crabapple blossoms, with twin looped buns tied with thumb-sized pearls atop her head, sat on a stone stool swinging her legs in utter boredom.
Today was her elder sister Lin Yueyao’s birthday.
As an imperial consort, her sister’s celebration was naturally extraordinary—most of the court’s noble ladies and imperial relatives had come, and even the Emperor himself had specifically moved his carriage to Yaohua Palace after the morning court session, saying he would join the consort for lunch.
As the consort’s most beloved youngest sister, Lin Shuying had been dressed up like a walking jewelry stand by her mother Gu Wanyin early on, then bundled into a carriage and sent to the palace.
“Auntie! Auntie!” A figure in an apricot-yellow dragon-robed outfit charged over like a cannonball, crashing straight into Lin Shuying’s arms and nearly knocking her off the stone stool.
Steadying herself, Lin Shuying looked down at the soft, chubby boy in her arms—this was her five-year-old nephew, Fifth Prince Xiao Shenglan, who was the same age as her.
The little one was adorable, with skin like snow and jade, and especially those eyes.
Everyone in the palace said they were the spitting image of the Emperor when he was a child.
Precisely because of this, the Fifth Prince could strut sideways through the palace and no one dared to stop him. The Empress Dowager doted on him, the Emperor indulged him, the Consort cherished him, and his siblings yielded to him—he was every inch a golden, precious little overlord.
Lin Shuying pinched his cheek. “You skipped class again, didn’t you?”
“The Grand Tutor’s lectures on the Book of Rites gave me a headache!” Xiao Shenglan pouted, pulling an oil-paper packet from his sleeve. “Look, I had the imperial kitchen make these fried shortcakes—they’re still warm! I saved them for you!”
In the past, Lin Shuying would have happily taken them and dragged him behind the rockery to split the spoils.
But today—
She looked at the golden, glistening shortcakes, but her mind flashed with a string of data: oil content approximately forty percent, carbohydrates fifty percent, saturated fatty acids too high—not conducive to children’s cardiovascular health…
Lin Shuying closed her eyes.
Ten days ago, on the night of her tenth birthday, she had a very long dream.
In that dream, she—no, more accurately, her previous life—
She had lived to be eighty-seven years old, never married, spending her days immersed in laboratories and fields. The drought-resistant rice she developed saved thirty million acres of farmland from total crop failure, and the grafting techniques she improved tripled fruit farmers’ incomes.
People called her “Academician Lin” and “The Bodhisattva of Crops.” When she wrote her final paper wearing reading glasses, she closed her eyes peacefully, pen still in hand.
When she opened them again, a judge of the underworld stood before her, smiling. “Academician Lin, your merits run deep. We have specially approved your rebirth in another world, granting you a life of abundance, wealth and leisure, family harmony, and descendants filling your halls. Once you recall your past life, you will receive a surprise—a ‘golden finger’ gift from Lord Yan himself!”
Before she could ask what surprise or what “golden finger” meant—
She was back at her tenth birthday banquet, with half a piece of osmanthus cake still stuffed in her mouth.
At first, Lin Shuying was dazed.
But after the memories fully merged, she looked at the plump, rosy little face in the bronze mirror, then at her own soft, delicate hands that had never even held a needle.
Then came the evaluations she’d previously dismissed without care:
“That Second Miss Lin is practically a little demon!”
“I heard even Old Master Lin can’t control her!”
“Whoever marries Second Miss Lin would truly be doing a deed of great merit”…
The rationality of a PhD in agricultural science immediately took the high ground.
This won’t do.
Absolutely not.
She had dedicated her previous life to science so more people could have enough to eat—not so she could spend this life as a spoiled, arrogant, useless parasite.
“Auntie? What’s wrong?” Xiao Shenglan waved the shortcake in front of her eyes. “Don’t like these? Then I’ll have the imperial kitchen make rose cakes instead!”
“Lan’er,” Lin Shuying suddenly grabbed his arm and lowered her voice, “Do you want to see something special?”
Xiao Shenglan’s eyes lit up: “What?”
Lin Shuying pointed at the peony thicket in full bloom not far away, her voice mysterious: “See those peonies? Aren’t they beautiful?”
“They’re beautiful—Mother loves them most.”
“But did you know,” she leaned close to his ear, “the reason the peonies in the imperial garden bloom so brilliantly is because there’s a ‘Water Spirit Wonderland’ beneath Taiye Lake. The lake water absorbs the moonlight, nourishes the flower roots, and that’s why the blooms are especially exquisite.”
Xiao Shenglan’s eyes went wide. “Really?”
“Have I ever lied to you?” Lin Shuying said with the utmost seriousness. “But this secret can only be seen by children—once you grow up, it disappears. Today the lake water is clear, perfect for viewing the wonderland~”
Before she even finished speaking, she grabbed Xiao Shenglan and ran toward the edge of Taiye Lake.
The palace maids and eunuchs following behind were terrified out of their wits: “Second Miss! Fifth Prince! Slow down! Watch your step!”
Lin Shuying ignored them completely.
She had already surveyed the terrain.
At the southeast corner of Taiye Lake there was a shallow area, no more than three feet deep, with fine sand at the bottom and a weeping willow by the shore that blocked the view.
Most importantly, it was neither too far from nor too close to the banquet—close enough that they could be found in time, yet far enough that they wouldn’t be rescued too quickly.
— —
“This is the spot!” Lin Shuying stopped and pointed at the water. “Look—don’t you see colored lights shimmering at the bottom?”
Xiao Shenglan leaned over the railing, craning his neck to look. “Where? I don’t see anything…”
“A little closer,” Lin Shuying said, reaching out stealthily as she spoke, “I’ll point it out to you—” Before she could finish, her foot slipped, and she lunged forward, “accidentally” grabbing hold of Xiao Shenglan’s sleeve.
“Splash!”
“Splash!”
Two enormous water blossoms exploded upward.
“Someone come! Fifth Prince! Second Miss has fallen into the lake!!”
Screams instantly tore through the peaceful spring afternoon.
Underwater, Lin Shuying held her breath and pushed her poor nephew upward, making sure he wouldn’t choke on water. Then she let go and allowed her body to sink. She deliberately relaxed her limbs, letting her dress absorb as much water as possible to accelerate her descent.
Muffled shouting, running footsteps, and the sound of heavy objects hitting the water reached her ears.
She guessed it was the eunuchs who could swim diving in.
But she wasn’t in a hurry.
In her previous life, she had participated in wilderness survival training and could hold her breath for two and a half minutes.
Though this body was delicate, one minute should be no problem at all.
She sank slowly, her fingers touching the fine sand at the bottom.
Right now!
Lin Shuying reached out and precisely scooped up a handful of waterweed from among the sand and stones.
Not just any waterweed—but the several stalks of water celery she had secretly tossed into the pond ten days ago.
This type of water celery had broad leaves and a vibrant green color, making it especially conspicuous in the murky water.
Then she closed her eyes and began counting silently in her mind.
…Fifty-eight, fifty-nine, sixty.
“Found her! Over here!”
“Quick! Quick! Fish the Second Miss out!”
Someone lifted her up out of the water.
Lin Shuying lay limp against that person’s shoulder, clutching the clump of waterweed in her hand, her eyes tightly shut.
When she was laid flat on the bluestone slab by the shore, a crowd had already gathered around her.
“Shuying! My child!” It was her mother Gu Wanyin’s voice, thick with tears.
“Imperial Physician! Summon the Imperial Physician at once!”
“And Lan’er? How is Lan’er?”
In the midst of the chaos, Lin Shuying coughed at just the right moment, spat out a few mouthfuls of lake water, and slowly opened her eyes. Her gaze first drifted blankly across everyone’s anxious faces, then finally fixed on the clear blue sky.
“Shuying? Shuying, can you hear Mother?” Gu Wanyin grasped her hand, tears streaming down her face.
Lin Shuying slowly shifted her eyes to her mother, then to her father Lin Huaizhou who had rushed over upon hearing the news, then to the Fifth Prince, equally drenched from head to toe, held in the arms of a nursemaid.
Finally, her gaze fell on her own tightly clenched right hand. One by one, her fingers loosened, revealing that clump of emerald-green waterweed.
“This is…” Gu Wanyin was stunned.
Lin Shuying raised the waterweed, and her gaze suddenly turned hollow and distant, as if through these leaves she could see something ordinary people couldn’t.
Her lips trembled slightly, and she uttered a few words: “So… all the splendor of this world… is but an illusion…”
With that, her head lolled to the side, and she “fainted.”
Absolute silence fell all around.
— —
After Lin Shuying “fainted,” she soon got so into character that she actually fell asleep.
Vaguely, she remembered having a dream.
In the dream, she groped her way forward through darkness, when suddenly a warm current flowed through her fingertips, followed by something that seemed to swim through her veins.
That warmth was very light, carrying a strange vitality.
She tried to focus her mind, wanting to see what it was.
But the warm current followed her will, flowing to her palm, then seeping out from her palm and melting into the void.
Then she “woke” up.
Opening her eyes, she saw her mother and the bright yellow canopy overhead.
The warmth at her fingertips had also vanished.
— —
But later on, Lin Shuying discovered that the warm current should have been the surprise gift from Lord Yan—the so-called “golden finger.”
From that day on, she found that her perception of plants had become unusually acute.
She could sense which potted flower was thirsty, which tree was sick, and which seedling was storing strength and preparing to sprout.
At first, she thought it was her imagination—until one day, she accidentally touched an orchid on the verge of death. The warm current surged from her fingertips, and the orchid actually revived within mere moments.
She stared at her fingers for a long time, then smiled.
If she’d had this skill in her previous life, she could’ve written another dozen academic papers to give back to society.
— —
The meditation room at Daxiangguo Temple was quiet and simple—one table, one chair, one bed, with a scroll bearing the character “Zen” on the wall and no other decorations.
Lin Shuying knelt on a cushion, with a copy of the Diamond Sutra spread open before her.
She held a brush and carefully copied the text stroke by stroke.
If one ignored the little drawings she sketched in the margins every three lines, that is.
On the edge of the first page was a diagram of watermelon grafting: how to cut the rootstock, how to trim the scion, how to wrap the binding tape—all clearly annotated.
On the second page was a hydroponic vegetable system: water level line, nutrient solution ratios, root oxygenation holes.
On the third page…
“Benefactor.” The door was gently knocked upon, and a young novice poked his head in. “The noon meal is ready.”
Lin Shuying looked up and put on the standard gentle smile of a proper lady: “Thank you, little master.”
She set down her brush, rose, and smoothed her plain-colored dress.
Her mother had specifically sent someone to deliver this outfit, saying that since she was to cultivate in quietude at the temple for half a month, she ought to at least look the part.
Leaving the meditation room, she walked along the bluestone path toward the dining hall.
The spring breeze brushed past, carrying the scent of soil and grass from the vegetable garden up the back hill.
Lin Shuying’s steps faltered, and her nose twitched unconsciously.
This smell…
“Benefactor?” The young novice turned back to look at her.
“Oh, nothing.” Lin Shuying quickened her pace, but her mind was already buzzing with activity.
The noon meal was simple—plain congee, greens, and tofu.
The other lay worshippers at the same table all ate with grim expressions, but Lin Shuying alone ate with evident relish.
As a researcher who’d eaten cafeteria food her entire previous life, she really didn’t have high standards for food.
Besides, the greens were stir-fried to perfection, the tofu was silky and tender, and the congee had that rich layer of rice oil on top.
“This young benefactor seems quite well adapted,” said an old monk sitting across from her with a smile.
Lin Shuying set down her bowl and chopsticks, pressing her palms together in greeting: “Master, are the temple’s vegetables grown in the back hill garden?”
“Indeed they are.”
“And the soil there,” she chose her words carefully, “seems to have good moisture content. It hasn’t rained these past few days, yet the leaves are fully spread with no signs of wilting—so the irrigation system must be very well done.”
The old monk paused in surprise.
Several other worshippers nearby also cast her strange looks—since when did a girl of her age casually toss around words like “soil moisture content”?
Lin Shuying blinked: “There are elders in my family who take great interest in farming—I’ve picked it up by osmosis.”
The old monk nodded without probing further. “The back hill garden is tended by my junior apprentice brother Huiming, and he is indeed very meticulous.”
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