Yongchang Fourteenth Year, Spring.
The southeast corner of the Lin family’s back garden—originally a flower bed planted with peonies and tree peonies—had been quietly transformed into a “test plot.”
To call it a “test plot” wasn’t quite accurate.
It looked more like a meticulously tended little flower garden.
But if anyone knowledgeable looked closely, they would notice that the plants were arranged with extreme precision: sun-loving ones in the south, shade-tolerant ones beneath the rockery’s shadow, water-needy ones near the small pond, and drought-resistant ones in a dry area paved with crushed stone.
Fourteen-year-old Lin Shuying crouched before an orchid, holding a pair of delicate little silver shears.
This was a plain-hearted orchid, which should have bloomed in spring, but for some reason its leaves had yellowed and its buds refused to open.
The gardener had examined it and said it was root rot, beyond saving, and recommended replacing it.
But Lin Shuying hadn’t agreed. She reached out and lightly touched the orchid’s leaf.
The moment her fingertip made contact, a faint, almost imperceptible warm current flowed from her body into the orchid.
She called it her “Wood Spirit Root.”
She couldn’t explain its mechanism, nor its origin.
All she knew was that when she concentrated, she could vaguely sense the plant’s “condition”—whether it was thirsty, hungry, sick, or simply being lazy.
Going a step further, she could transfer some kind of “energy” from herself to the plant, helping it recover its vitality and even… grow better.
“Miss,” her maid A Li approached with a tea tray, “the Lady asks you to come over—she says the gold-veined peonies sent from the palace have arrived, and she’d like you to have a look.”
Lin Shuying didn’t look up: “Noted. Move this orchid to the east window, keep it out of the midday sun, and mist it once each morning and evening. Use the nutrient solution I mixed.”
“Yes, miss.” A Li acknowledged, and looking at the orchid that had visibly improved, she couldn’t help but add, “Miss, your skill with flowers is becoming more miraculous by the day.”
Lin Shuying smiled but didn’t respond.
Miraculous?
Perhaps it was.
But only she knew that this so-called “miracle” was actually the result of decades of agricultural research experience from her previous life, combined with this inexplicable “Wood Spirit Root” gift from her rebirth—all painstakingly tested out bit by bit.
Four years had passed.
From the staged drowning at age ten to now at fourteen, she had conducted countless small experiments in this modest corner of the Lin family’s back garden: soil pH testing, the effects of different light durations on plant growth, optimizing homemade organic fertilizer formulas…
The results were remarkable.
Last autumn, she successfully cultivated a new strawberry variety.
The fruits weren’t large, but they were a vivid, translucent red, extremely sweet, with a faint milky fragrance.
She named them “Jade Dew Strawberries.” Of the first batch she grew, she only let her family taste them.
Her eldest brother Lin Moqian ate one, and his eyes immediately lit up.
“Shuying,” he called her into his study after dinner that night, “how many more of these strawberries do you have?”
“About a dozen plants in the greenhouse—why?”
“Can you grow more?” Lin Moqian’s eyes gleamed. “I had someone try them—using your strawberries in pastries, the flavor is even better than the best Red Face strawberries on the market. The owner of Drunk Immortal Tower tasted them and said he’d pay triple the price for a long-term supply.”
Lin Shuying’s heart stirred at that.
Not for the money—the Lin family had never lacked for that.
But for the opportunity: a chance to legitimately engage in agricultural business, build capital and connections, and prepare for her eventual complete independence.
So the siblings reached an agreement: Lin Shuying would provide the cultivation techniques and seedlings, Lin Moqian would handle the land, labor, and sales channels, and they would split the profits fifty-fifty.
Over the course of a year, “Jade Dew Strawberries” became Drunk Immortal Tower’s signature dessert, with demand outstripping supply.
Lin Moqian seized the opportunity to launch a brand called “Little Lin’s Fine Delicacies,” specializing in these exotic fruits and flowers.
Of course, to the outside world, they only said these were rare varieties found down south.
— —
“Miss, please hurry,” A Li urged. “The master and mistress are both waiting in the front hall.”
Only then did Lin Shuying get up, brushing the dirt off her skirt. “Let’s go.”
In the front hall, a half-man-tall potted peony had been carefully placed on a rosewood flower stand.
It was the very imperial-bestowed gold-veined peony.
This variety was a tribute item—ordinary households could never even lay eyes on one. It was said that the petals were jade-white at the base, with fine golden veins naturally growing across them. Under sunlight, the whole flower looked as though it had been embroidered with gold thread.
The palace only produced about a dozen pots each year. The one the Emperor bestowed upon the Lin family was a favor granted on account of Consort Lin Yueyao.
But at this moment, this priceless peony was in poor condition.
Its leaves drooped, its buds remained tightly closed, and its stems, which should have been emerald green, bore an unhealthy yellowish tinge.
Gu Wanyin’s face was clouded with worry: “What are we to do? This was specially bestowed from the palace—if it dies…”
“Don’t worry, madam,” said the gardener Old Zhao, wiping his sweat, “perhaps the journey was rough and damaged the roots. I’ll try to nurse it back—it might recover.”
“How long will that take?”
“Well… at least ten days to half a month.”
“Ten days to half a month?” Gu Wanyin grew even more anxious. “In a few days, the Consort will be returning home to visit her family. If she sees this flower half-dead…”
Lin Huaizhou, who had been silent all along, suddenly spoke: “Shuying, come take a look.”
Everyone’s gaze turned in unison toward Lin Shuying, who had just entered.
Today she wore a light turquoise ruqun dress, with only a white jade hairpin in her hair—so plainly dressed she didn’t look like the daughter of the wealthiest family in the capital, but rather like a young lady from a scholarly household.
After four years of “quiet cultivation,” her old arrogance had largely worn away, replaced by a… peculiar steadiness.
“Father, Mother.” Lin Shuying performed a slight bow and walked over to the peony.
She didn’t rush to touch it. Instead, she first examined the soil carefully—too wet, overwatered.
Then she looked at the leaves—faint spots, suggestive of a fungal infection.
Finally, she reached out and gently touched the flower bud.
The perception from her Wood Spirit Root rushed in at once: the roots were mildly rotting, nutrient transport through the stems was sluggish, and the bud’s development had stalled…
There were several issues, but none fatal.
“It can be saved.” Lin Shuying withdrew her hand, her tone calm.
Old Zhao was taken aback: “Second Miss, this flower—”
“Give me three days.” Lin Shuying turned to Gu Wanyin. “Mother, have this pot moved to my courtyard. For these three days, no one is to touch it—I’ll handle all watering and fertilizing.”
Gu Wanyin hesitated: “Shuying, this is an imperial bestowal…”
“Precisely because it’s an imperial bestowal, we can’t afford any mistakes.” Lin Shuying spoke with sound reasoning. “Uncle Zhao’s method is safe but takes too long. I’ve recently been reading some ancient formulas for healing flowers—this is the perfect chance to try them.”
Lin Huaizhou stared at his youngest daughter for a few seconds, then suddenly said: “Let her try.”
With the head of the family having spoken, the matter was settled.
— —
The gold-veined peony was moved into the greenhouse in Lin Shuying’s courtyard.
For the next three days, she spent an hour each morning and evening “treating” the flower: first replacing the soil with a more breathable mix, trimming away the rotten roots, then using her Wood Spirit Root to gently nourish the damaged parts.
By the evening of the third day, the peony’s leaves had straightened back up, and their color had returned to a vibrant green.
On the morning of the fourth day, just as Lin Shuying was getting up, A Li burst in excitedly: “Miss! It’s bloomed! The flower has bloomed!”
She threw on an outer robe and walked to the greenhouse.
The jade-white petals were layered upon one another, each one traced with delicate golden veins that shimmered iridescently in the morning light.
Even more astonishingly, the flower was a full size larger than ordinary gold-veined peonies, and its fragrance was richer and more intense.
“This…” Old Zhao, who had followed her in, stood gaping. “Th-this… how is this possible…”
Gu Wanyin, having rushed over at the news, was both shocked and delighted when she saw the blooming peony: “Shuying, what method did you use?”
“Ancient formulas, plus a few adjustments I worked out myself.” Lin Shuying lied without batting an eye. “Mother, don’t you think this flower looks even better than before?”
Better? It was far more than just better.
It was overwhelmingly so.
That afternoon, Consort Lin Yueyao returned home to visit her family.
When she saw the gold-veined peony in full bloom, she too was astonished: “This flower… even the best-blooming pot in the palace this year isn’t half as vigorous as this one.”
Gu Wanyin quickly said: “It was Shuying who nursed it back.”
Lin Yueyao looked at her younger sister, who stood quietly nearby with a gentle smile, her gaze complex: “Shuying has grown up.”
She remembered the little girl who had babbled nonsense after falling into the lake four years ago, and she also remembered how her sister had gradually grown quieter and more composed over the years.
It wasn’t that she wasn’t relieved—but there was always a nagging, indefinable worry.
This child had become a little too quiet.
— —
At the family banquet, Lin Yueyao specifically called Lin Shuying to her side and asked in a low voice: “Shuying, tell me the truth—do you really want to go farming?”
Lin Shuying nodded: “Really.”
“Why?”
Lin Shuying thought for a moment, then said earnestly: “Elder Sister, have you ever seen rice in full ear? An entire field—thousands upon thousands of rice plants—swaying together in the wind, their ears so heavy with grain they bend low. At that moment, you feel that the most solid things in this world are these crops that fill people’s bellies.”
Lin Yueyao was stunned. She hadn’t expected such an answer.
“And watermelons too,” Lin Shuying continued, her eyes bright, “the watermelons in Great Liang right now are small and full of seeds. I want to try growing a melon that’s big and sweet with few seeds—to make eating watermelon in summer an even happier affair.”
Lin Yueyao stared at her sister for a long time, then finally let out a soft sigh and patted her head.
“Very well. Go if you wish.” She said quietly, “But remember—no matter where you go, the Lin family will always be your backbone. And your sister will always be your backbone too.”
Lin Shuying’s nose tingled with emotion, and she nodded firmly.
— —
News of the gold-veined peony somehow reached the Emperor’s ears.
A few days later, imperial rewards arrived: a pair of jade bangles, a bolt of cloud brocade, and a verbal decree from His Majesty: “The Lin girl certainly has an affinity with flowers and plants.”
When word spread, the entire city of Jinling buzzed with talk.
Some said the Second Miss Lin had been blessed by fortune, others said she was just lucky, and still others claimed she must have learned some esoteric arts.
Lin Shuying paid them no mind at all.
She was busy expanding the cultivation scale of “Jade Dew Strawberries” with her eldest brother Lin Moqian.
“There’s an estate on the west side of the city up for sale—fifty acres of good farmland, plus a fruit orchard.” Lin Moqian pointed at the map to show his sister. “I’m thinking of buying it and planting specifically with your strawberries. But strawberries alone are too monotonous—think about what else we could grow.”
Lin Shuying stared at the map, her mind racing. Fifty acres—not large, but not small either. Strawberries were a delicate crop requiring intensive labor, so at most ten acres could be used. As for the rest…
“Watermelons,” she said.
“Watermelons?”
“Yes.” Lin Shuying took the brush and began sketching on paper. “Look, Brother—watermelons love sun and heat. From those fifty acres, pick twenty acres of south-facing slope, preferably sandy loam. The next twenty can be planted with muskmelons and cantaloupes—they sell well in summer too. And leave a few acres for me to try growing some rarer things—like the ‘cucumbers’ from the Western Regions, or the ‘golden pumpkins’ from the south.”
Lin Moqian listened attentively: “You know all this?”
“A fair bit.” Lin Shuying nodded with a slight furrow of her brow. “I’ve read about them in books and worked things out myself. Besides, there’ll be a farm steward and hired laborers—I’ll just have to give instructions.”
This was half-true and half-false.
She had indeed read many books.
Over these four years, Seventh Prince Xiao Shengrui had sent her no shortage of agricultural texts—from the Essential Techniques for the People to regional farming gazetteers—stacked higher than she stood.
But even more than that, it was the knowledge she had stored up in her previous life.
Lin Moqian pondered for a moment, then slapped the table: “Done! We’ll do it your way! I’ll buy the estate in the next couple of days, and I’ll arrange the workers. You just write down clearly what to grow and how—leave the rest to your big brother.”
“Thank you, Brother.”
“What’s there to thank?” Lin Moqian laughed and ruffled her hair. “We’re family. Besides, this ‘Little Lin’s Fine Delicacies’ business of yours has earned me quite a bit of face! These days, all the nobles and officials in Jinling take pride in being able to eat our family’s fruits.”
The siblings discussed more details until the sky grew late, and only then did Lin Moqian take his leave.
Leave a Reply