A few days later, Yang Wanli came again.
This time, he looked somewhat haggard, with faint dark circles under his eyes—as if he hadn’t slept well. His steps were slower than usual as he entered, he wasn’t carrying his folding fan, and his robes were damp with dew.
“Master Yang,” Lin Shuying invited him to sit, her gaze lingering on his face for a moment, “you…”
“I’ve come to say goodbye.” Yang Wanli rested his hands on his knees, his fingertips tapping lightly twice. “Floods in Jiangnan—His Majesty has ordered me to accompany the imperial envoy south to relieve the disaster. This trip may take several months.”
Lin Shuying was taken aback.
Floods in Jiangnan?
She had heard Xiao Shengrui mention it, but she hadn’t expected it to be so severe.
“Is the disaster… very serious?”
“Very serious.” Yang Wanli’s expression was grave. “The Yellow River breached its banks, flooding three prefectures and eighteen counties. Hundreds of thousands of victims. The grain shortage is immense, and replanting after the disaster will be difficult.”
Lin Shuying’s heart tightened.
In her previous life, she had experienced floods and knew the devastation they brought—crops wiped out, homes collapsed, people displaced…
“Does the court… have a plan?”
“Still under discussion.” Yang Wanli gave a bitter smile, his mouth turning downward. “The usual measures—open the granaries, provide food-for-work. But grain is limited, the victims are too many—it’s like trying to put out a haystack fire with a cup of water.”
Lin Shuying was silent for a moment, then suddenly stood: “Wait a moment, Master Yang.”
She went to the study, retrieved the stack of manuscript pages she had been working on for a long time, reviewed them once more, and then brought them back to hand to Yang Wanli.
“I came across this by chance,” she said, pushing the papers toward him, her finger pressing lightly on the edge. “Some recommendations on fast-growing crops and post-disaster replanting. There are cultivation methods for ‘thirty-day cabbage’ and ‘sixty-day early rice,’ as well as simple drainage and soil stabilization measures. Perhaps… they might be of some use.”
Yang Wanli took the papers and flipped through them, page by page.
His brow first furrowed, then slowly relaxed, his eyes growing brighter and brighter. When he finally looked up, there was something complex in his gaze: “This handwriting…”
Lin Shuying inwardly groaned, her gaze dropping to the stack of papers: “This—this is a copy.”
Yang Wanli looked at her, his lips parting several times as if he wanted to say something, but he swallowed the words back.
He carefully folded the papers, tucked them into his sleeve, stood, took a step back, and bowed deeply: “Country Lady, on behalf of the people of Jiangnan, I thank you for presenting this. But might I ask—who copied this? Was it the Third Young Master of the Lin family, who is studying hard at your estate?”
Lin Shuying stepped aside slightly, not accepting the full bow, and nodded vaguely in reply: “You are too kind, Master Yang. Take care of yourself.”
Yang Wanli didn’t press further: “Take care, Country Lady.”
After seeing him off, Lin Shuying stood at the gate, watching his carriage disappear down the official road.
The morning breeze blew past, carrying the scent of grass from the fields.
She stood there for a while, then turned to walk back—and stopped short.
The young man had arrived at some point, leaning against a pillar in the corridor, holding nothing in his hands, his expression faint and unreadable.
“Your Highness, what brings you here?” she asked.
“Business.” Xiao Shengrui walked over and pulled a letter from his sleeve, handing it to her. “An urgent dispatch from Jiangnan—the disaster is worse than imagined. Father is sending the princes as well.”
Lin Shuying took the letter and scanned it quickly.
The handwriting was rushed, some parts smeared by water stains, but the content was alarming: granaries empty, grain merchants hoarding supplies, the victims already growing restless.
She handed the letter back: “You’re… going?”
“Yes.” Xiao Shengrui tucked the letter back into his sleeve. “We depart tomorrow.”
So soon?
Lin Shuying’s heart tightened.
Floods in Jiangnan—dangerous, with countless risks.
Though Xiao Shengrui was clever, he was still just a youth…
“Your Highness, be careful.” She said the words, but they felt too light, insufficient.
“Don’t worry.” Xiao Shengrui smiled—a faint smile that disappeared as quickly as it came. “I have a tough life.”
He paused, then suddenly tilted his head to look at her, a hint of testing in his eyes: “Shuying, I’ve read those notes of yours on fast-growing crops before… if you went to Jiangnan yourself to guide them, would the results be better?”
Lin Shuying was taken aback.
Go to Jiangnan herself?
She had never considered it.
But… it didn’t seem impossible.
The estate had A Li to manage it, the canteen had Auntie Liu, and the melon fields had Forester Chen.
If she left for a few months, it should be fine.
And if she could go in person…
“Your Highness,” she looked up without hesitation, “I’ll go with you.”
Xiao Shengrui had only been testing the waters. He looked at her, his lips parting slightly, then closing again.
After a few breaths, he asked: “It’s very dangerous… I was just—”
Lin Shuying smiled calmly: “I understand farming, and I have those fast-growing crop seeds. If I go, it’ll be more effective than talking about it on paper.”
Xiao Shengrui looked at her for a long moment, then slowly, the corners of his mouth lifted: “Good. I’ll return to the palace and report to Father immediately.”
“Wait.” Lin Shuying called him back. “I need to arrange matters at the estate. Also, I’ll need to bring Wei Fuyu and Zhao Di’er.”
“Why?”
“To protect me.” Lin Shuying said matter-of-factly, her tone leaving no room for negotiation. “Jiangnan is in chaos—it’s too dangerous for me to go alone.”
Xiao Shengrui laughed despite himself and shook his head: “Fine. Whatever you say.”
Lin Shuying stood in the courtyard, watching his retreating figure, the unease in her heart gradually settling into a steady calm.
— —
Lin Shuying first returned to the Lin residence.
Lin Huaizhou sat in his study, an account book open before him, but his eyes weren’t on it—they were fixed on the bamboo outside the window.
Hearing her footsteps, he turned his head.
“Father.” Lin Shuying paused at the doorway before stepping inside.
Lin Huaizhou closed the account book and gestured to the chair opposite: “Sit.”
Lin Shuying sat down and laid out her plan to go south.
She kept it concise, matter-of-fact—the disaster situation, the fast-growing crops, the court’s need for manpower.
Lin Huaizhou listened, his brow furrowing deeply.
He was silent for a long time—so long that Lin Shuying began to wonder if he had fallen asleep.
“The Jiangnan floods—what are you going there to do?” he finally spoke, his tone not harsh, but his meaning clear.
“Father, I have fast-growing crop seeds and cultivation methods.” Lin Shuying placed the stack of manuscript pages on the table. “If they can be promoted, post-disaster replanting will be much faster. The court doesn’t lack relief grain—what it lacks is a way for the people to grow their own food.”
Lin Huaizhou picked up the papers and flipped through them, reading each page carefully.
When he reached the last page, his hand paused: “You’re going alone?”
“The Seventh Prince will go, and Master Yang as well. Wei Fuyu and Zhao Di’er will come with me. Second Brother also said he’d go.”
“Your second brother?”
“Yes. He’s worried about Miss Zhao.” Lin Shuying paused. “And about me too.”
Lin Huaizhou was silent for another moment. “Your mother won’t agree. You don’t know how dangerous the floods are…”
“That’s why I came to you, Father.” Lin Shuying met his gaze without flinching. “Please help me persuade Mother.”
Lin Huaizhou stared at her for a long while, then let out a sigh. It was a light sigh, but Lin Shuying could feel the weight behind it.
“You’ve grown up—and you’ve grown your own mind.” He pushed the papers back toward her. “Go. Take your second brother with you and bring more people. Once you’re in Jiangnan, follow the Seventh Prince’s arrangements—don’t be reckless.”
Lin Shuying’s nose stung. She lowered her head and nodded: “Mm.”
Gu Wanyin, unsurprisingly, was not easily convinced.
After much pleading and persuasion, she still held her daughter’s hand and wouldn’t let go: “A girl like you going to a place like that…”
Lin Shuying held her mother’s hand and said nothing.
She knew that at this moment, words were superfluous.
Gu Wanyin cried for a while longer, repeating the same words over and over—dangerous, difficult, worried.
Lin Shuying acknowledged each one without impatience.
Finally, Lin Huaizhou stepped in, saying that the Seventh Prince would be traveling with her, that Jingshen would accompany her, and that Shuying held a noble title and was going on official business. Only then did Gu Wanyin relent—but she demanded that a letter be sent back every five days.
Lin Shuying nodded in agreement.
Gu Wanyin held her daughter’s hand and talked a while longer before finally letting her go.
— —
Back at the estate, Lin Shuying gathered everyone.
When A Li heard she was going south, her eyes reddened immediately, and she clutched the rag in her hands into a tight ball: “Miss, do you really have to go? Jiangnan is so far away, and there’s flooding…”
“I have to.” Lin Shuying patted her shoulder, her tone softer but leaving no room for argument. “A Li, I’m leaving the estate in your hands. The Vegetable Basket Project can’t stop, and the canteen stays open as usual. If anything comes up, discuss it with Eldest Brother.”
A Li lowered her head, tears falling onto the back of her hand. She wiped them away with her sleeve, looked up, and nodded firmly: “Yes…”
“I’m certainly willing!” Wei Fuyu hoisted her bronze staff onto her shoulder. “I can be of use there too!”
Zhao Di’er also nodded, her fingers tapping lightly on her sword hilt: “I’ve traveled through Jiangnan with the escort agency—I know the routes. I can be your guide.”
Lin Jingshen stood to the side without saying much. Having wandered the jianghu for years, he had seen displaced refugees before. At this moment, he was thinking about which of his old friends he could contact to lend a hand.
Lin Moqian and Lin Zhaoye also came.
Lin Moqian pulled a stack of banknotes from his sleeve and placed them on the table, pushing them toward her: “Five thousand taels. If that’s not enough, send word.”
Lin Zhaoye handed her a list of Jiangnan merchants he had compiled: “These are families we do business with. When you get there, you can ask them for help.”
Lin Shuying took the list, folded it, and tucked it into her sleeve, feeling much more grounded.
Xiao Mingyan, somehow having gotten wind of the news, came running over at dusk.
She didn’t look for Lin Zhaoye—she went straight to Lin Shuying and pressed a small box into her hands.
“What’s this?” Lin Shuying opened it—inside were several neat rows of small porcelain vials.
“Wound medicine—imperial-grade, better than what’s available outside. Take it with you.”
“Your Highness—”
“Don’t call me Your Highness.” Xiao Mingyan waved her hand, her tone casual but her eyes serious. “I’m your future sister-in-law, after all. Of course I have to look out for you.”
Lin Shuying laughed despite herself, didn’t take the bait, and tucked the box away: “Thank you.”
By the time everything was arranged, it was late into the night.
Lin Shuying stood in the courtyard, looking up at the star-filled sky.
Tomorrow, she would head south—to an unfamiliar place, to face unknown challenges.
There was some trepidation in her heart, but more than that, a sense of calm.
“Miss,” A-Gua came running over, his footsteps thudding on the bluestone, “someone from the palace has come—the Emperor has appointed you as ‘Advisor to the Directorate of Agriculture’ to accompany the imperial envoy south. The decree has been sent to the Lin residence.”
Advisor? Good—with an official title, things would be easier.
“I understand.” She nodded. “Tell everyone to rest early—we set out at dawn tomorrow.”
“Yes!”
Lin Shuying returned to her room and began packing.
Seeds—she needed to bring plenty: fast-growing cabbage, early rice, and the drought-resistant crops she had improved. A few agricultural books. And Old Lord Zhou’s Green Wood Guidance Art—just in case.
Just as she was busy, a tapping came from the window.
Lin Shuying pushed it open. Xiao Shengrui stood outside, dressed in travel-ready attire, his hair tied back neatly.
“Everything arranged?” he asked.
“Yes.” Lin Shuying tucked a book into her bundle. “Your Highness, why are you here again? Aren’t we leaving tomorrow?”
“Couldn’t sleep.” Xiao Shengrui leaned against the windowsill, arms crossed over his chest, tilting his head to look at her. In the moonlight, his face was half in shadow, half in light, but his eyes were bright.
“Shuying,” he said softly, “this journey to Jiangnan will be hard.”
“I know.”
“There may be danger.”
“I’m not afraid.”
“Good. I’ll protect you.” With that, he turned and left, his figure quickly swallowed by the night.
Lin Shuying stood at the window for a long while before closing it.
Leave a Reply