After the noon meal, Lin Shuying didn’t rush back to her meditation room.
She strolled slowly around the temple, and whether it was on her way or not, she just happened to wander over to the back hill vegetable garden.
In the tranquil woods, rows of vegetable plots were neatly arranged—greens, radishes, and scallions all thriving.
A middle-aged monk was carrying a bucket to water them, his movements unhurried, carrying a sense of Zen tranquility.
Lin Shuying stood outside the fence and watched for a while, then suddenly spoke: “Master, the radishes in the third plot need thinning.”
Monk Huiming looked up and saw a plainly dressed young girl, somewhat surprised: “Does the young benefactor understand vegetable farming?”
“Just a little.” Lin Shuying pointed at the radish plot. “The seedlings are too dense—the roots compete for nutrients and won’t grow large. You should pull out every other one, so the ones left behind can grow thick and strong.”
Huiming stared at her for a few seconds, then suddenly smiled. “The benefactor speaks sense. In your opinion, when is the best time to thin them?”
“Evening.” Lin Shuying didn’t hesitate. “After the sun sets, the temperature drops and transpiration weakens, so transplanted or thinned seedlings won’t lose water as easily. If you water them thoroughly once afterward, they’ll recover even faster.”
Now Huiming was genuinely surprised—what on earth was this benefactor talking about?
He didn’t understand, but somehow it sounded remarkably reasonable.
He set down his bucket and walked to the fence. “May I ask the benefactor’s name?”
“Second daughter of the Lin family, here for half a month of quiet cultivation.” Lin Shuying said frankly. “Our family library is quite extensive—I’ve read a few books on agriculture.”
This was half-truth and half-lie. The Lin family did indeed have a library.
But it mostly contained classics on history, philosophy, poetry, and prose—there were only a handful of agricultural texts, and those were mostly for decoration.
Huiming apparently believed her, though. He nodded. “If the Lin benefactor is interested in farming, you may come to the garden during the day to observe. But please don’t do any physical work, lest you dirty your clothes.”
“Thank you, Master.”
Lin Shuying agreed, but thought to herself: Not do any physical work? Then why would I come here?
In her previous life, she’d spent decades crawling through experimental fields—dirt was the last thing she feared.
But the time wasn’t right yet.
She had to wait.
Wait until the performance of “sudden enlightenment” was complete.
— —
Half a month later, in the Lin family’s main hall.
Lin Huaizhou sat in the head seat, his brow furrowed into a deep crease.
Gu Wanyin sat beside him, dabbing her eyes with a handkerchief without stopping.
Below sat the eldest son Lin Moqian and his wife Su Qingyun, both wearing grave expressions.
Lin Shuying knelt in the center of the hall, dressed in plain clothes, not a single pearl or hairpin in her hair. She kowtowed, and when she raised her head, her eyes were red.
She’d pinched her thigh hard just outside the door moments ago.
“Father, Mother, I’ve come to understand.” Her voice was choked with sobs, yet carried a strange, firm resolve.
“During these half a month at Daxiangguo Temple, I copied scriptures and recited the Buddha’s name day after day, watching the sunrise and sunset, listening to the morning bells and evening drums. One night there was a thunderstorm, and as I sat by the window, I suddenly thought of that clump of waterweed in my hand when I fell into the lake…”
She paused, and tears rolled down at just the right moment. “That waterweed grew in the mud, yet it could still grow lush and green. I thought—fine clothes, fine food, jewels and silks—all of that is certainly good. But if I can’t do something truly substantive, then aren’t I just like duckweed without roots, drifting with the current, muddling through life in a daze?”
Lin Huaizhou said in a deep voice: “What kind of ‘substantive thing’ do you want to do?”
“Your daughter…” Lin Shuying took a deep breath. “Your daughter wants to farm.”
“Pfft—”
A stifled laugh came from the corner.
Everyone turned to look with reproach, and there was Third Brother Lin Zhaoye covering his mouth, his shoulders shaking with suppressed laughter.
He was Lin Shuying’s twin brother, his face bearing a seven-tenths resemblance to hers, though with a more boyish mischief in his brows and eyes.
“Zhaoye!” Gu Wanyin glared at him.
“No, Mother,” Lin Zhaoye barely held back his laughter, “don’t blame me. I just can’t help remembering how last month, someone said she wanted to be ‘Jinling’s number one wastrel,’ buy up every shop along Vermilion Bird Street to collect rent, and lie around counting silver every day…”
Lin Shuying’s expression didn’t change: “That was then, this is now. At that time, I was young and ignorant. Now I have seen through the vanities of the world.”
“Seen through the vanities and you want to farm?” Lin Zhaoye muttered. “You don’t even know what a hoe looks like, do you?”
“I can learn.” Lin Shuying turned to look at him, her gaze clear. “Third Brother, do you know how many grains of rice one ear of rice can bear? Do you know how much a single acre of good farmland can produce in a year? Do you know the difference between the paddy fields south of the Yangtze and the dry fields up north?”
Lin Zhaoye was stumped.
He opened his mouth, then finally said sulkily: “I… why would I learn all that? I’m not taking the imperial exam for an agricultural post.”
“So let me go learn.” Lin Shuying looked back at her parents and kowtowed once more. “Father, Mother, I seek neither great wealth nor fame across the land. I only wish to spend the rest of my days among green seedlings and yellow earth—planting in spring, harvesting in autumn, living by my own labor. Please grant your daughter’s wish!”
Silence fell over the hall.
Gu Wanyin’s tears flowed even harder.
Lin Huaizhou’s brow furrowed deeper and deeper.
Lin Moqian and Su Qingyun exchanged a glance, each seeing worry in the other’s eyes.
Just as the stalemate reached its peak—a sudden announcement came from outside the door: “The Empress and Seventh Prince have arrived!”
A voice, gentle yet full of authority, came from beyond the threshold: “Miss Lin’s realization is truly commendable.”
Everyone hurriedly rose and bowed: “Greetings to the Empress, greetings to the Seventh Prince.”
Lin Shuying looked up and met the Empress’s dignified face, along with the eight-year-old boy beside her—Seventh Prince Xiao Shengrui.
The Empress’s late mother had been a close childhood friend of Lin Shuying’s mother.
Back when her eldest sister entered the palace, the Empress had offered much guidance and care, and the two had kept each other company through the years in the vast harem.
She had always been very kind to the Lin family, especially to Lin Shuying. Even when she caused all sorts of trouble in the palace, the Empress mostly shielded her.
As for the Seventh Prince—
Lin Shuying looked at him. This child was the quintessential little grown-up.
Xiao Shengrui had delicate, handsome features, but his brows carried a stillness beyond his years. Today he wore a moon-white brocade robe with a white jade pendant at his waist, and he stood quietly watching Lin Shuying kneeling on the ground, his eyes holding something unreadable.
The Empress helped Gu Wanyin up and said gently: “I brought Rui’er back to the Mu manor for a visit—it’s on the same lane as your Lin residence. Then my attendants mentioned that the Second Miss Lin had returned home today, and Rui’er wanted to see her. I didn’t expect to walk into a family matter.”
She then turned to look at Lin Shuying, her gaze assessing: “You truly want to go farming?”
“Your Majesty, yes.” Lin Shuying kept her eyes lowered and her manner humble.
“Farming is hard work.”
“I am not afraid.”
“People will mock you.”
“I do not care.”
The Empress was silent for a moment, then suddenly smiled: “You have spirit.”
She turned to Lin Huaizhou and said, “Master Lin, since the Second Miss has made up her mind, why not grant her wish? I’ve heard there are estates outside the city with accompanying farmland—quiet and pleasant surroundings. That way, the Second Miss can pursue her wish without truly suffering too much.”
Everyone was stunned.
The Empress was… supporting her?
Even Lin Shuying was taken aback. Her original plan had been to wear her parents down over several more months, but she hadn’t expected the Empress to step in like this.
She quickly recovered, however, and kowtowed again: “Thank you, Your Majesty, for your kindness!”
The Empress waved her hand, signaling her to rise, then said to Xiao Shengrui: “Rui’er, didn’t you say you had some agricultural books to give to the Second Miss Lin?”
Xiao Shengrui nodded, took a bundle from the eunuch behind him, and walked over to Lin Shuying.
“Second Miss Lin,” he said in a clear, measured voice, “these are the Essential Techniques for the People, the Compendium of Agriculture and Sericulture, and the Complete Treatise on Agricultural Administration. I hope you will study them well and not betray the words you have spoken today.”
Lin Shuying took the bundle—it was heavy.
She looked up at Xiao Shengrui and met his deep, unfathomable eyes.
In that instant, she suddenly had the peculiar feeling that this eight-year-old child seemed to know something.
But Xiao Shengrui quickly looked away and retreated to the Empress’s side.
The Empress exchanged a few more pleasantries, then departed with Xiao Shengrui.
The Lin family saw them off to the main gate and only returned to the main hall after the carriage had driven off.
The atmosphere was even heavier than before.
Gu Wanyin took Lin Shuying’s hand, tears welling up again: “My child, why are you so stubborn… How could farming possibly be work for you? Out in the wind and sun, your hands will grow calluses, your face will get tanned…”
“Mother,” Lin Shuying held her hand back, “I’ve truly thought this through.”
Lin Huaizhou stared at her for a long while, then finally let out a long sigh.
“Very well,” he waved his hand. “Since even the Empress has spoken, what more can I say? Moqian, go to the outskirts tomorrow and look for a suitable estate—one with farmland, in pleasant surroundings, preferably near a village for convenience.”
Lin Moqian acknowledged: “Yes, Father.”
“But Shuying,” Lin Huaizhou looked at his youngest daughter again, “let’s agree on three rules. First, you are not to work the fields yourself—just direct the servants. Second, you must return home to stay for two days every five days. Third, if it becomes too much, you may come back anytime—no stubbornness.”
Lin Shuying was overjoyed inside, but her face maintained the serene detachment of one who had seen through worldly vanities: “I obey, Father.”
“And also,” Lin Huaizhou rubbed his brow, “what do you plan to grow?”
Lin Shuying thought for a moment, then said seriously: “Watermelons, to start with.”
“When the watermelons ripen, they’ll be sweet and thirst-quenching—perfect to cool you both down in the summer heat.”
Lin Huaizhou: “…”
Gu Wanyin: “…”
Lin Zhaoye finally couldn’t hold it in and burst out laughing: “Watermelons? Lin Shuying, are you planning to open a melon stall?”
Lin Shuying turned to him with a slight smile: “Third Brother, when the first melon is ready, I’ll make sure you get a taste.”
But what she was actually thinking was: Watermelons are perfect. Short growth cycle, high economic returns, and great for all kinds of grafting experiments.
Most importantly, the watermelon varieties in Great Liang right now were small, full of seeds, and only moderately sweet.
If she could improve them…
The soul of an agricultural PhD was already burning with passion.
And at this moment, inside the carriage returning to the palace—
Xiao Shengrui leaned against the carriage wall, idly playing with a lotus seed in his hand.
It was a very strange lotus seed—darker than ordinary ones, nearly ink-green, with faint golden veins across its surface.
He had found it by the edge of Taiye Lake half a month ago.
Right on that stretch of shallow water where Lin Shuying had fallen, mixed in among the waterweed she had been clutching so tightly.
On a whim, he had hidden it away without telling anyone.
“Rui’er,” the Empress suddenly spoke, “what do you think—does the Second Miss Lin truly want to farm?”
Xiao Shengrui put away the lotus seed and looked up: “Mother, I do not know.” He paused. “But I saw the way she held that waterweed when she fell in—it didn’t look like panic.”
“Oh?”
“She gripped it very tightly,” Xiao Shengrui recalled, “as if she had been prepared to grab something all along.”
The Empress was silent for a moment, then smiled: “Interesting.”
“Mother?”
“Nothing.” She patted his hand. “Since she wants to farm, let her. If you have time, go visit her now and then. I’m curious to see what this Second Miss Lin—the one who gives your imperial sister headaches and leads the Fifth Prince into mischief—can actually grow.”
Xiao Shengrui nodded, but in his mind floated the expression on Lin Shuying’s face as she knelt in the hall and spoke of “seeing through the vanities.”
Those eyes were very bright.
So bright that… they didn’t look like those of someone who had seen through anything at all.
The carriage rolled slowly through Vermilion Bird Street, and from outside the window came the cries of street vendors, the laughter of children, and the clamor from taverns.
The smoke of mortal life, the splendor of three thousand worlds.
Xiao Shengrui tightened his grip on the lotus seed.
He thought, perhaps he should find more agricultural books to read.
After all, when you see a thing through, you see it through.
Since he had set this in motion, he might as well see how it ended.
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