After Gu Hanzhou slunk out of the capital, Little Lin Manor returned to its usual peace.
Morning sunlight spilled over the melon field, where Lin Shuying was crouched by the plots, checking the mold fixtures on the second batch of square watermelons.
With the experience from the first batch, she’d improved the ventilation holes this time—hopefully, no more strange spots from trapped moisture.
“Miss! Miss!” A-Gua trotted over, his face a mix of excitement and nervousness, cradling a round bundle wrapped in cloth.
Lin Shuying didn’t even look up: “Which melon has turned into a spirit now?”
“It’s not a melon!” A-Gua lowered his voice. “It’s oranges! Tribute oranges!”
Lin Shuying finally looked up: “What tribute oranges?”
A-Gua glanced around—Wei Fuyu was still practicing with her spear in the distance, and Zhao Di’er was leading the servants on their laps around the field. Satisfied they were out of earshot, he carefully unwrapped the cloth.
Inside were three golden, plump oranges, their rinds glossy and nearly twice the size of ordinary ones, with a sweet, refreshing fragrance.
“The quality…” Lin Shuying took one and hefted it. “Doesn’t look like anything from the market.”
“It’s not even close!” A-Gua leaned in mysteriously. “These are ‘Honey Tribute Oranges’ from the south—only a few hundred catties are produced each year, exclusively for the palace and a few princes! But last night, a whole crate went missing from the courier station west of the city!”
Lin Shuying raised an eyebrow: “How do you know?”
A-Gua puffed out his chest with pride: “My ‘Melon Field Intelligence Network’ found out!”
— —
It all started half a month ago.
When Gu Hanzhou was staying at Little Lin Manor, Lin Shuying had given A-Gua fifty taels to “develop his own intelligence network.”
The honest boy didn’t use the money to bribe servants of nobles and officials—instead, he focused on the grassroots.
Old Wang the vegetable seller, Liu Ergou the city gate guard’s brother-in-law, Little Stool the teahouse storyteller’s apprentice—even Widow Li, the night-soil collector, became his “informants.”
Each got two hundred wen a month as “tea money,” with only one requirement: report any news or oddities, especially anything related to Little Lin Manor, immediately.
At first, A-Gua thought the money was wasted.
Old Wang reported that “Butcher Zhang’s sow on East Street gave birth to eighteen piglets.” Liu Ergou reported that “Zhao Laosan, who guards the north gate, lost his pants gambling yesterday.” Little Stool was even more absurd—he reported that “Wang the merchant’s concubine ran off with an actor, and Wang was so furious he cursed in his courtyard for three straight days.”
Yet Lin Shuying took every report seriously, jotting them down, and told A-Gua to keep up the connections.
Until this tribute orange theft case.
“Last night, Old Chen the courier station groom came to my house for a drink with my dad,” A-Gua said animatedly. “After a few drinks, he let it slip that a tribute convoy from the south had stopped at the station. One of the crates contained ‘Honey Tribute Oranges’—specially meant for Consort Rong, whose family is in Jiangnan and loves them. But when they did inventory this morning, that crate was gone!”
Lin Shuying peeled one of the oranges. The rind was paper-thin, the segments plump and translucent.
She tasted a segment—her eyes lit up. Sweet, purely sweet, almost no tartness, with juice so abundant it was like drinking honey.
“Really good.” She offered another segment to A-Gua. “Then what?”
A-Gua took it, flattered, popped it in his mouth, and mumbled: “The whole station is in chaos! Magistrate Zhang’s face turned green—those were tribute goods, losing them means losing his head! He’s keeping it under wraps for now, sending people to search secretly in the city. Old Chen said Magistrate Zhang suspects someone at the station stole it from within.”
“So these oranges…” Lin Shuying looked at the two remaining ones.
“Old Chen snuck them out!” A-Gua lowered his voice. “He said the crate’s seals were intact, but there was a hidden compartment at the bottom—someone had emptied it from underneath, leaving just a layer on top for show. He grabbed three during the chaos, thinking they could serve as evidence if an investigation started.”
Lin Shuying pondered: “Since Magistrate Zhang is keeping it quiet, he wants to resolve it privately. Does he have any suspects?”
“Yes!” A-Gua perked up. “Old Chen said Magistrate Zhang’s prime suspect is Steward Liu, who runs the warehouse. Because yesterday afternoon, Liu suddenly asked for leave to go home, saying his mother was sick. But Old Chen saw that he left carrying a pretty heavy bundle.”
“Interesting.” Lin Shuying finished her last orange segment. “A-Gua, I need you to do a few things.”
“Name them, Miss!”
“First, have Old Wang find out where Steward Liu lives and whether his mother is really sick. Second, have Liu Ergou keep an eye on the city gates to see if anyone’s trying to unload a large batch of fresh oranges. Third,” Lin Shuying paused, “have Little Stool spread a rumor at the teahouses—say that the palace already knows about the stolen tribute oranges, that the Emperor is furious and will launch a full investigation, and that whoever returns them now will get lighter punishment.”
A-Gua’s eyes widened: “But doesn’t the palace not know yet?”
“Exactly—that’s why we make them think they do.” Lin Shuying smiled like a fox. “A guilty conscience crumbles easily under pressure.”
“Got it!” A-Gua turned to run.
“Wait.” Lin Shuying called him back. “Don’t say anything about this yet—especially not to Miss Wei and Miss Zhao.”
“Why?”
“If they find out,” Lin Shuying imagined Wei Fuyu charging to the courier station with her spear and Zhao Di’er surrounding Steward Liu’s house with her escorts, and couldn’t help but hold her forehead, “this’ll blow up into a huge mess.”
A-Gua ran off, stifling a laugh.
The intelligence network swung into high gear.
By the afternoon, Old Wang had sent word: Steward Liu lived on Huai Tree Lane in the west of the city. His mother was indeed sick—but only with a cold, and a doctor had already seen her. Steward Liu had gone home yesterday afternoon and hadn’t left since.
Liu Ergou had news too: that morning, a stranger had been asking around the black market south of the city if anyone would buy “top-grade honey oranges,” looking to offload a large quantity—but the deal hadn’t gone through yet because his asking price was too high.
Little Stool’s rumor spread the fastest—by evening, half the capital was buzzing with the news that “tribute oranges had been stolen and the Emperor was going to have someone’s head.”
Lin Shuying was watering the newly arrived foreign watermelon seedlings in the greenhouse when A-Gua came running back.
“Miss! There’s movement!” He panted. “Liu Ergou said the orange seller on the black market got desperate—he dropped the price and said the deal had to happen tonight, at the abandoned City God Temple south of the city!”
“And the buyer?”
“The buyer is…” A-Gua’s expression turned strange. “a minor steward from the Imperial Household Department’s procurement office—surnamed Sun. Liu Ergou’s brother-in-law works in the procurement office and recognized him.”
Lin Shuying set down her water ladle: “Someone from the Imperial Household Department, buying tribute goods on the black market?”
“Exactly! It’s the thief crying ‘thief,’ isn’t it!” A-Gua said indignantly. “Steward Sun and Steward Liu must be in cahoots—steal the oranges, sell them to their own people, then report them as ‘lost,’ and the books are wiped clean, no one’s the wiser!”
“Clever.” Lin Shuying praised, but her brow furrowed slightly. “But then the oranges still don’t reach the open market—how do they cash out?”
A-Gua was stumped: “Oh, right…”
Just then, Zhao Di’er strode into the greenhouse, holding a letter: “Shuying, I just got a carrier pigeon from my father’s escort agency—the Zhao Family Escort Agency in Jiangnan is sending a shipment into the capital. It’s the second batch of Honey Tribute Oranges, arriving tomorrow. Father asked us to help arrange lodging at the courier station.”
Lin Shuying and A-Gua exchanged a glance.
“The second batch arrives tomorrow?” Lin Shuying took the letter.
“Yes.” Zhao Di’er was confused. “Why?”
Lin Shuying’s mind raced: the first batch lost, the second arriving soon; someone from the Imperial Household Department desperate to buy oranges on the black market; Magistrate Zhang sitting on the news, too afraid to report it…
She suddenly smiled.
“A-Gua,” she turned, “have Old Chen pass a message to Magistrate Zhang—tell him the Second Miss Lin of Little Lin Manor has a way to ‘find’ the missing crate before the second batch arrives.”
A-Gua was baffled: “Where are we supposed to find it?”
“The oranges aren’t the point,” Lin Shuying’s eyes sparkled, “the point is to make the thieves bring the oranges back themselves.”
— —
At the third watch of the night (around 8:45 PM), the abandoned City God Temple south of the city.
Spider webs draped everywhere, and moonlight streamed through the broken roof, illuminating the altar table—where two boxes sat: one filled with golden Honey Tribute Oranges, the other with gleaming silver.
Steward Liu rubbed his hands nervously, peering around: “Why isn’t Master Sun here yet…”
“What’s the rush?” A slow voice drawled from the shadows.
Liu jumped, turning to see three figures in black drop down from the beams—the lead one was a woman, her voice deliberately low but sounding young.
“Who are you…” Liu stepped back.
“Master Sun sent us to inspect the goods.” The woman walked to the altar, picked up an orange, and hefted it. “Mm, good quality.”
“Of course! Authentic Honey Tribute Oranges—twenty-four per crate, not one missing!” Liu hurriedly said. “Master Sun promised a hundred taels of silver…”
“The silver’s here.” The woman kicked the money box. “But first, you need to tell me—how does Master Sun plan to handle this batch?”
Liu was taken aback: “This… didn’t Master Sun tell you?”
“He did,” the woman said without changing expression, “but Master Sun instructed me to hear it from your own mouth, in case anything goes wrong.”
Liu, unsuspecting, lowered his voice: “Tomorrow, when the second batch arrives at the courier station, Master Sun will use the pretext of ‘inspection’ to mix this crate in and cover the shortage. That way the books will match, and Magistrate Zhang will be satisfied. As for the surplus oranges…” He chuckled, “Master Sun has his own channels to move them—we split fifty-fifty.”
“Just as I thought.” The woman nodded, then suddenly raised her voice: “Miss Zhao, did you get all that?”
Outside the temple, torches flared to life!
Zhao Di’er strode in with a lantern, followed by seven or eight burly men in escort uniforms, all wielding clubs.
Her face was covered with a cloth, but her eyes were sharp as knives.
“Got it all!” Her voice boomed. “Stealing tribute goods, colluding with an Imperial Household Department official, attempting to deceive the higher-ups—Steward Liu, how many times could your head be chopped off for this?”
Liu’s legs gave way, and he collapsed to the ground: “Y-you’re not Master Sun’s people?!”
“Of course not.” The lead woman in black pulled off her face covering—it was Lin Shuying.
She smiled, her eyes curving: “We’re just concerned citizens who ‘see injustice and step in to help.’”
A-Gua slid down from the beam, charcoal stick and notebook still in hand: “Steward Liu, I wrote down every single word you just said. Want to hear a replay?”
“You—you set me up!” Liu’s face was ashen.
“Set you up?” Lin Shuying walked to the altar and picked up an orange. “You did this to yourself. Daring to steal tribute goods, then selling them back to the Imperial Household Department—trying to pull a ‘hide the sky and cross the sea’! Steward Liu, your nerve is bigger than a watermelon.”
Zhao Di’er waved her hand: “Tie him up! Take the oranges!”
The escorts moved in.
“Wait!” Lin Shuying called them back, then turned to Liu. “I’ll give you a chance. Tomorrow morning, go to Magistrate Zhang yourself and confess. Say you acted out of momentary foolishness, that you’ve seen the error of your ways and are voluntarily returning the stolen goods. That way, at worst, you’ll be convicted of ‘theft by a custodian’ and exiled three thousand li. But if we send this confession and the oranges to the Imperial Household Department…”
She didn’t finish, but Liu understood—that wouldn’t be exile; that would be the annihilation of his entire family.
“I confess! I confess!” Liu kowtowed frantically.
—
The next morning, Magistrate Zhang stared at Liu, who was kneeling in the hall weeping, and the recovered crate of tribute oranges, utterly bewildered.
Even more bewildering was the anonymous letter he also received, detailing in full Steward Sun’s collusion with Liu, with a postscript: “Considering that Magistrate Zhang recovered the tribute goods in time and averted a major disaster, this matter will be shelved for now. I trust you will act wisely.”
No signature—but the letter paper bore a small drawing of a watermelon.
Magistrate Zhang stared at that watermelon for a long time, then suddenly remembered the “Little Lin Manor” and its melon-growing Second Miss, who had been making waves in the capital.
He wiped the sweat from his forehead, quickly added the oranges to the second shipment, and made the accounts flawless.
As for Steward Liu? He was given thirty lashes for “theft of courier station property,” stripped of his post, and thrown out.
Exile? Not an option—what if, in desperation, he spilled everything?
As for Steward Sun? Magistrate Zhang personally paid him a “visit.” They had a “candid talk” in the study for half an hour. When Sun came out, his face was pale, and the next day, he “voluntarily requested a transfer” to some remote imperial estate.
The storm quietly subsided.
Three days later, the chief eunuch of the Imperial Household Department personally arrived at Little Lin Manor, bearing a plaque inscribed with the words “Public-Spirited and Righteous.”
Magistrate Zhang had reported that Little Lin Manor had assisted in recovering “lost courier station property,” earning this commendation.
Lin Shuying accepted it with a smile and sent the eunuch back with a basket of freshly picked rainbow watermelons to “sample.”
After the eunuch left, A-Gua looked at the plaque hanging in the main hall and couldn’t help asking: “Miss, after all that trouble, we just got a wooden plaque?”
“Not just that.” Lin Shuying pulled a piece of paper from her sleeve. “Take a look at this.”
A-Gua took it and saw it was a supply contract.
The Imperial Household Department’s procurement office had specially approved “Little Lin’s Fine Delicacies” as an authorized distributor of tribute oranges for the civilian market, allowing a certain quota of Honey Tribute Oranges to be purchased each year for “restaurant exclusives” and “premium gifts.”
“This…” A-Gua’s mouth fell open.
“Magistrate Zhang’s thank-you gift.” Lin Shuying tucked the contract away. “With this, our restaurant and vegetable basket project have a new golden seal of approval.”
She paused, then added with a smile: “And after this, your ‘Melon Field Intelligence Network’ has truly proven its worth. Starting next month, give Old Wang and the others an extra hundred wen each.”
A-Gua grinned from ear to ear: “Thank you, Miss!”
“Oh, and by the way,” Lin Shuying remembered, “Liu Ergou did well this time. Ask him if he’d like to come work at the estate as a formal ‘outer court steward,’ specializing in information gathering.”
“He’d love it! Definitely!” A-Gua pounded his chest. “He’s already told me he’s bored at the city gate and wants to work for Miss!”
Lin Shuying smiled and nodded, walking to the window.
In the courtyard, Wei Fuyu and Zhao Di’er were sparring, blades flashing.
A Li was clicking her abacus, brow slightly furrowed—probably calculating this month’s income and expenses again.
In the distance, the second crop of watermelons had grown to fist-sized, glowing with healthy luster under the sun.
Everything was on track.
She stretched, in high spirits.
“A-Gua.”
“Yes!”
“Tomorrow, go to the market and buy some good meat. We’ll have a nice dinner tonight to celebrate.”
Leave a Reply