Ruan Mianmian almost blurted out, “You want this blessing or not?” but managed to stop herself in time. She burst out laughing through her tears and said, “So the prince was just trying to scare me! You’re terrible—scared me half to death. I thought you were truly going to punish them over such a small matter. That would’ve been my fault entirely.”
“They’ve grown too bold—it’s because you’ve spoiled them.”
Lin Zhuo tapped her lightly on the forehead. The maids nearby all lowered their heads, not daring to speak, though they couldn’t help complaining silently in their hearts: Too bold? Look at what Her Ladyship’s been doing! She’s covered in mud like a little farmer—how is that not our fault? No matter what happens, it’s always on us.
“What exactly are you doing here? Planting sweet potatoes? Why on the kang of all places? This is ridiculous—you could at least use a flowerpot.”
“You don’t know, my lord,” Ruan Mianmian said cheerfully. “Actually, few people in the whole country do. I just happened to hear about it once. Last year, when I found this bag of sweet potatoes, I wanted to try growing them myself. But before I could, the Duke’s Mansion came to fetch me back, and it got delayed until now. If you hadn’t mentioned changing the crops from grain to mulberry in Jiangnan, I might never have remembered them.”
“You said just now their yield was high—how high exactly?”
Curious despite himself, Lin Zhuo sat down on the edge of the kang to listen carefully to her explanation.
He thought, If they could produce five or six hundred catties per mu, that would already surpass rice, wheat, and millet—quite impressive already. If that were true, it might be worth trying.
But Ruan Mianmian thought for a moment, then raised two fingers and said briskly, “The person I heard it from said that if the land is rich, the fertilizer good, and the weather kind, then these sweet potatoes can yield at least two thousand catties per mu—sometimes even over three thousand!”
Even with Lin Zhuo’s self-control, he nearly fell right off the kang.
He seized her hand at once and said in a grave voice, “Princess Consort, do you even know what you’re saying? You’ve lived in the countryside—how can you be so ignorant of farming? The best lands in the whole realm, under the best conditions, can produce only around four hundred catties of rice or three hundred of millet. And you say two thousand? What is this, sorcery?”
“Well now, my lord, you actually know the yields of rice and millet?”
Ruan Mianmian was genuinely surprised. Lin Zhuo coughed lightly and said, “The people live by food; grain is the foundation of the nation. How could I not know?”
“Do the other princes know as much?”
“What do they matter? I’ve inspected fields personally with the Grand Minister of Agriculture. Naturally, I understand better than they do.”
I was right about him, Ruan Mianmian thought warmly. He truly has the people in his heart. Even the Emperor himself only cares about the treasury’s silver—he probably doesn’t even know how much grain the land yields. My husband, caring and wise as he is, is the one who deserves the throne. Your Majesty, I hope you have the sense not to let such a brilliant man go unseen.
Her eyes shone with pride and affection as she looked at Lin Zhuo, so much that he grew slightly uncomfortable under her gaze—but also, strangely, rather pleased.
“Anyway,” she went on, “that’s what I heard, and I can’t help believing it. So, my lord, you’ll see—this time I’ll grow you a field of sweet potatoes yielding three thousand catties per mu!”
In modern times, she knew, sweet potatoes could yield up to ten thousand catties per mu thanks to fertilizer and improved varieties. Even if the ancient conditions here were far less advanced, surely two or three thousand was possible. Ever since they’d been brought to China, sweet potatoes had been famed for their high yield.
Lin Zhuo held her hand, his gaze sharp yet burning. “You mustn’t spread this talk. No one can know. Plant them quietly. Honestly, I don’t believe such a thing is possible. If there truly were a crop yielding two thousand catties per mu, hunger would vanish from the earth. The person who told you that was likely just fooling a naive girl.”
“And if it is true?” she asked.
“Until we see the results, you are not to say another word like that. Do you understand what this could mean?”
Lin Zhuo drew a deep breath, released her hand, and looked sternly at the maids. “You all heard me?”
“Yes, Your Highness! We won’t breathe a word. If we do, you can have us beaten to death,” Yingchun answered first, and the others hurried to echo her.
Lin Zhuo nodded slightly, then turned to Ruan Mianmian. “Alright then—tell me, why are you planting them on the kang?”
He still didn’t believe her, but clearly he was intrigued—classic cold façade, warm curiosity.
Ruan Mianmian smiled to herself, then took out a sweet potato and placed it in the rectangular soil bed framed with wooden boards. “Sweet potatoes aren’t planted directly in the fields,” she explained brightly. “Before the Qingming Festival, you prepare a small bed of soil indoors and plant them here. By the time of the Dragon Boat Festival, they’ll have sprouted into lush shoots. You pick the strongest ones, transplant them into the ground, and once they take root…”
As she spoke in detail, Lin Zhuo’s eyes grew wider with astonishment. “I’ve never heard of such a method. That person didn’t trick you?”
“Even if they did, what does it matter? Since you’ve forbidden anyone to talk about it, we’ll try in secret. If it fails, no harm done—but if it succeeds, the benefits will be enormous, right?”
“Hmm.”
Lin Zhuo nodded. Ruan Mianmian, feeling secure with his support, carefully placed the rest of the sweet potatoes in the soil and then said to the maids, “Alright, cover them with soil.”
“Your Ladyship, these few aren’t being planted?” Fangcao pointed to the remaining small ones.
Ruan Mianmian grinned. “These may be smaller, but look how glossy and fresh they are—they’ll taste delicious. Have the kitchen roast them tonight so we can all have a bite.”
Heaven knew how long it had been since she’d eaten roasted sweet potatoes since crossing into this world. Just thinking of it made her mouth water.
After half a day of work, the planting was done. Lin Zhuo, still taking it seriously, assigned two skilled guards to watch over the room—doing nothing else but keeping an eye on those seedlings. If anything happened, they’d be held accountable.
Two thousand catties per mu, he thought. Even if it was surely an exaggeration, what if—just what if—it were partly true? Even eight hundred or a thousand catties would be an astonishing blessing.
Later that evening…
“The prince went to Anlexuan this afternoon and hasn’t come out since. He even stayed there for dinner. I heard… the princess consort had the kitchen make something called roasted sweet potatoes. The prince loved them—praised them endlessly—and even sent someone out to buy more, saying he wants to present them to the Emperor and Empress to try.”
Bai Chuchu sat upright on the couch, her back perfectly straight, face expressionless as Yuxue finished her report. Only after a long silence did she let out a cold laugh. “So our princess consort has some tricks after all. I underestimated her.”
“Yes. Without some means, how could she keep the prince for an entire afternoon? I asked around—His Highness is usually buried in state affairs and rarely visits the rear court except to sleep. Yet today, he made an exception.”
Bai Chuchu’s face went pale. Her hands clenched tightly on the table. Yuxue hurried to comfort her. “Your Ladyship, don’t be angry. Remember, on your wedding night, the prince did come to your chambers first—and he praised you then…”
(End of Chapter)