001’s somewhat urgent voice came through, “Alright, alright, there was a little accident, it wasn’t intentional.”
Not intentional?
Zhao Xuwan flipped over, threw off the covers, and sat halfway up in bed, calculating, “You didn’t come when I was born. Do you know how many years I’ve eaten grass roots and beans? You didn’t come when I was sold either. Why are you here now?”
“Sorry,” 001 seemed a bit aggrieved. Who could have known it would get lost on the way and be so many years late? She really had suffered, and 001, being a higher-dimensional being, felt it should cut her some slack.
“Fine,” Zhao Xuwan waved her hand. “I accept. Do you have any drinks or snacks or something? Give me some.”
A full eighteen years! Heaven knows how she managed.
“No,” came 001’s weak voice.
“No?” Zhao Xuwan frowned. “What about food? I want white rice, braised pork, cola chicken wings, sweet and sour pork with pineapple.”
“…No, not that either,” the voice seemed even weaker.
“No food, then… what about supplies?” Zhao Xuwan suddenly thought of something and grew excited. “You must have sanitary pads, right? I’m so tired of using plant ash and straw. And this pillow—I’m done with it, it’s rock-hard. You’re so late, can’t you at least give me this much?”
“…”
The atmosphere fell into a brief silence. After who knows how long, 001 piped up, “None of that either.”
That damn innocent voice sounded so grating. Zhao Xuwan clenched her fists, resisting the urge to punch the bedding.
“But don’t worry,” 001 said in a coaxing tone. “You can earn corresponding things by completing tasks. With just a little effort, you can gain so much. Isn’t that tempting?”
“What do you want me to do?” Zhao Xuwan didn’t blindly agree but asked warily instead.
“Ahem,” 001 turned serious. “This system is a farming system, here to assist you with farming. You just need to complete what I say, and you can exchange for whatever you want in the mall—whether it’s cola, chips, spicy strips, white rice, braised pork, or even blankets and pillows. Everything is available.”
“Farming?” Zhao Xuwan hesitated. She’d been here for eighteen years, which meant farming for seventeen of them. She was taken to the fields by Father and Mother to farm before she could even walk.
“Yes, exactly. Isn’t that a great deal?” 001 sounded proud.
“Alright, what do you want me to plant?” Zhao Xuwan asked.
“Hmm,” 001 thought for a moment. “Let’s start with something simple, as a sort of beginner’s gift pack. The three essentials for transmigrators: potatoes, sweet potatoes, and corn. Which one do you want to plant first?”
Zhao Xuwan took a sharp breath and said firmly, “Sweet potatoes first.”
Since transmigrating here, she had hardly eaten any sugar. There was maltose, but as a Shuren before, she couldn’t afford it. Now she had money and had servants buy it once, but the astringent taste made her uncomfortable.
Sweet potatoes are great—they fill you up and let you taste sweetness.
001 agreed, and a sweet potato appeared in Zhao Xuwan’s hand.
“This is a sweet potato, soft, glutinous, and sweet in taste, suitable for cultivation,” 001 introduced. “To avoid being seen, I can’t give you too many for now. First, figure out how to introduce this thing.”
After 001 left, Zhao Xuwan tossed and turned, unable to sleep while holding the sweet potato. Eventually, she quietly made her way to the kitchen.
The mute servant was sitting behind the stove and, upon seeing Zhao Xuwan arrive, widened her eyes as if asking a question.
“Roast something,” Zhao Xuwan said, holding up the sweet potato in her hand.
The mute servant had never seen it before. Seeing Zhao Xuwan approach the stove, she quickly stood up to stop her.
She had learned earlier that morning that the Zhumu was pregnant and should not move around carelessly, needing to take good care of her health.
“It’s fine, it’s fine,” Zhao Xuwan gestured with her hands, trying to prove she wasn’t up to anything reckless—just roasting something.
The mute servant didn’t believe her and kept a close watch by her side. Zhao Xuwan found it both amusing and frustrating but had no choice but to let her be.
The sweet potato was tossed into the fire and began to roast with a crackling sound.
It was only early April, and the weather was still occasionally cold. Roasting by the fire while waiting for food was truly the best way to pass the time.
Once the sweet potato was roasted, Zhao Xuwan carefully pulled it out with a stick. After letting it cool slightly, she picked up the blackened object.
The mute servant had never seen such a thing and seemed puzzled as to why Zhao Xuwan would do this.
When she saw Zhao Xuwan break it open, revealing the golden interior, the mute servant’s astonishment reached its peak.
“Ouch,” Zhao Xuwan couldn’t avoid burning her fingertips even as she carefully broke it open.
Freshly roasted sweet potatoes were delicious. Zhao Xuwan sighed with each bite—eighteen years, and she had finally managed to eat something that felt remotely modern.
Seeing the mute servant holding the sweet potato, too hesitant to move, Zhao Xuwan lifted her hand for her. “Eat it quickly, it won’t taste as good once it cools.”
The mute servant obediently took a bite of the sweet potato, and the sweet flavor instantly spread across her lips.
Watching the mute servant’s widened eyes, Zhao Xuwan smiled. “Isn’t it delicious?”
She had been craving this taste for years, and now she had finally eaten it.
Zhao Xuwan held the rare, modern sweet potato, taking bite after bite with a devout and earnest expression.
At noon, the Prince returned. Zhao Xuwan felt awkward seeing him now and knelt on the cushion without acknowledging him.
The Prince didn’t notice. After washing his hands, he knelt down as well. “How are you feeling? Any discomfort?”
“None,” Zhao Xuwan replied, keeping her eyes lowered.
“This child has come at quite a timely moment,” the Prince said.
Zhao Xuwan secretly glanced up, unsure of the Prince’s true feelings.
Was he happy or surprised?
In the afternoon, the Prince didn’t leave and stayed alone in the study. Zhao Xuwan peeked in several times until the Prince finally noticed and beckoned her. “Come in.”
“Prince,” Zhao Xuwan stammered.
“What is it?” The Prince was reading a thick scroll of bamboo slips. If Zhao Xuwan hadn’t made too much noise moving around, he wouldn’t have been forced to notice her.
“I found a food I’ve never eaten before. I just tried it with the mute servant at noon, and it was quite good. Would you like to try it, Prince?” As she spoke, Zhao Xuwan’s palms grew damp with sweat. Food was scarce these days, and there wasn’t much to eat. Sweet potatoes were introduced from abroad during the Qing Dynasty, and bringing them out during the pre-Qin period was uncertain—she didn’t know if it would be well-received.
“Food?” The Prince frowned. “You ate it? Why didn’t you tell me first? What if there was something wrong…”
“I was just a bit greedy,” Zhao Xuwan said, lacking confidence. “But there’s no problem. After all, I’ve been farming since I was young, so I have some experience. It’s very sweet. Would you like to try it, Prince?”
What was it like to give ancient people modern food?
Zhao Xuwan found it amusing because she saw the same shock on the Prince’s face as she had seen on the Mute servant’s.
“How does it taste, Prince?” Zhao Xuwan suppressed a smile as she asked.
“Quite good,” the Prince said seriously, then changed the subject. “How did you discover this?”
Zhao Xuwan smiled. “Have you forgotten, Prince? My family has always been Shuren who make a living by farming. The children of Shuren naturally know how to farm and identify crops.”
The Prince’s gaze seemed somewhat complicated. He gently placed his hands on Zhao Xuwan’s shoulders, his tone gentle but firm. “This is also your home.”
Zhao Xuwan understood his implication—no matter how he collaborated with the Shangren, she would always have a safe place to belong.
After finishing one sweet potato, the Prince said, “This is good. One is enough to fill you up. If it could be cultivated on a large scale, it could help alleviate famine.”
During this period, the main foods in the north were millet, glutinous millet, wheat, and soybeans, while the south also cultivated some rice.
Millet, also known as small grain, was widely grown in the north, along with glutinous millet, wheat, and soybeans. Glutinous millet, or yellow rice, was used for brewing wine or sacrificial offerings. Soybeans were the staple food for commoners and ordinary people.
Zhao Xuwan’s grievances when she had accused 001 were genuine. As a commoner, wheat porridge and boiled beans were their best meals. During famine years, even these were scarce, and they had to survive on grass roots and tree bark, mashed into a paste, gulped down with eyes closed and teeth clenched.
There were countless times she wanted to die, but when she saw her younger siblings tugging at her clothes, fearfully calling out “Elder Sister,” she gave up.
Was the Warring States period harsh? Extremely so. Starvation and cold were constant. If not for Father and Mother repeatedly giving up their food for her and her siblings, Zhao Xuwan might have died during the famine years.
The reason she didn’t give up was simply that Zhao Xuwan disliked owing favors. As the eldest daughter and the third laborer in the family, if she died first, there would be no one to cook, no one to care for her younger siblings, and no one to share the endless suffering that her honest, simple commoner parents could never escape.
Suppressing the warmth in her eyes, Zhao Xuwan leaned closer to the Prince. “Of course, I’ll listen to you, Prince. But we should first try it at home to see how the yield is and what the growth cycle is like.”
“Good,” the Prince nodded, then added, “You mustn’t exert yourself anymore. Resting and taking care of your health is most important.”
Zhao Xuwan clearly didn’t look healthy. Her face, no larger than a palm, was somewhat sunken, and her sallow complexion immediately revealed her identity—a commoner.
Her body was emaciated, appearing short and small. The Prince had long wanted to say how bony she felt when held, but out of propriety, he had been too embarrassed to mention it.
He could refrain from saying it before, but now that Zhao Xuwan was pregnant, he couldn’t stay silent. The child’s growth depended entirely on the mother’s nutrition. For the past three months, Yiren had been having the Mute servant brew soup for Zhao Xuwan every day, but the results had been far from satisfactory.
Zhao Xuwan was unaware of the Prince’s thoughts; otherwise, she would have mercilessly mocked them. Most meat in this era had an unpleasant odor, was poorly handled, and lacked sufficient seasoning. The resulting broth was so unpalatable that the first time Zhao Xuwan tried it, she vomited immediately.
Later, with reddened eyes and pinched nose, she forced herself to drink it solely because it was meat broth. After a prolonged lack of meat, no matter how unappetizing it was, Zhao Xuwan still ate it—though the difference was that she retched while eating.
“Yes,” Zhao Xuwan naturally wouldn’t joke about her own health, but, “But I think since I found this thing, I must be more familiar with it. Could the Prince allow me to direct from the side?”
She leaned close to the Prince, almost pressing her entire body against his chest. Over the past three months, they had grown accustomed to intimate gestures, yet genuine embraces were still few.
“Alright,” the Prince’s tone carried a hint of helplessness, “but you must not take action. Don’t harm your health.”
“Yes,” Zhao Xuwan’s voice brimmed with excitement, and a sparkle flashed in her eyes.
The Prince watched expressionlessly, though the slight upturn of his lips betrayed his true feelings.
Author’s Note:
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