Shen Zhiyi took the seed pouch and crouched down to start planting.
As she sowed, she reviewed everything in her mind.
There were two possibilities for Xiao Jue coming to Fangcao Hall last night.
First, he was testing her—the substitute bride—to see whether she was a useful piece or a discarded one.
Second, he was using this remote place to avoid someone… or to wait for news.
The timing of the palace maid’s death in Consort Shu’s residence matched.
He had stayed here for a quarter of an hour, then left.
What had he been waiting for during that time?
“Miss!”
Qingtang suddenly tugged at her sleeve, her voice cracking.
Shen Zhiyi looked up and followed her gaze.
At the courtyard entrance, someone had appeared at some unknown moment.
He wore a bluish-gray robe, his face pale and beardless, a smile lingering at the corners of his lips—gentle and approachable at first glance.
Not the young eunuch from last night.
This one was older, more composed. Just standing there, he exuded the unmistakable air of someone important.
“Greetings, Consort Shen,” he said with a bow.
“This servant is Huai’an, attending in His Majesty’s presence.”
Shen Zhiyi stood, brushing the dirt from her hands. “What brings you here, Eunuch?”
Huai’an’s gaze lingered briefly on the mud-stained hem of her skirt, his smile deepening. “By His Majesty’s verbal decree, you are invited to take a stroll in the Imperial Garden tomorrow.”
Shen Zhiyi raised an eyebrow. “His Majesty wants me to go to the Imperial Garden?”
“Yes,” Huai’an replied with a smile.
“His Majesty said that a newly entered consort shouldn’t stay cooped up indoors all the time. Getting some fresh air and sunlight would be good for your health.”
Shen Zhiyi looked into his eyes without speaking.
This decree was unusual.
Last night, Xiao Jue had been testing her. Today, he suddenly wanted her to go “enjoy the sun” in the Imperial Garden?
The sunlight was just an excuse. Letting others see her was the real purpose.
A maid had just died in Consort Shu’s palace—tensions were high.
The moment she, a consort relegated near the Cold Palace, appeared, all attention would shift to her.
Xiao Jue was drawing hostility toward her.
Or rather, assigning her a role.
“This concubine understands,” she said, lowering her gaze.
“Thank you, Your Majesty, for your concern.”
Huai’an acknowledged her with a smile and turned to leave.
“Eunuch, wait a moment,” Shen Zhiyi suddenly called out.
He turned back.
She pointed at the courtyard. “Do you see this? I’ve just turned the soil. I plan to plant radishes.”
Huai’an glanced at it and nodded. “Your Ladyship has refined interests.”
“Refined is too much. I’m just trying to get by.” Shen Zhiyi dusted off her hands.
“I’d like to ask you something.”
“Please, go ahead.”
“If I plant these radishes, how many days will it take for them to sprout?”
Huai’an froze for a moment, then smiled. “This… this servant knows nothing of farming. If Your Ladyship wishes to ask, you should consult a gardener.”
“Who oversees the gardeners?”
“The Imperial Household Department.”
“And who audits the accounts of the Imperial Household Department?”
Huai’an’s smile faltered.
He looked at Shen Zhiyi, the amusement in his eyes fading, replaced by something harder to define.
Shen Zhiyi still smiled gently. “Just a casual question. Please don’t take it to heart.”
After a brief silence, Huai’an bowed. “Your Ladyship is perceptive. This servant will remember.”
With that, he turned and left.
Qingtang hadn’t dared to breathe the whole time. Only after he was far away did she whisper, “Miss, why did you ask those things? About gardeners, accounts…”
Shen Zhiyi lowered her head and continued planting. “Nothing. Just asking casually.”
What she didn’t say was—
Huai’an’s brief hesitation had already given her the answer.
The accounts of the Imperial Household Department—someone dared to investigate them, but no one could truly get to the bottom of them.
Why?
Because someone powerful stood behind them.
As for who, there was no rush. She would find out in time.
She grabbed a handful of seeds, scattered them into the soil, and gently patted it down.
Qingtang crouched beside her and suddenly asked in a small voice, “Miss… are you… playing a very big game?”
Shen Zhiyi paused and turned to look at her.
Qingtang shrank back under her gaze. “Th-this servant was just talking nonsense… I don’t understand these things…”
Shen Zhiyi smiled.
This time it was a real smile—not the soft, polite one she used to deal with others.
“Qingtang,” she called.
“Yes?”
“Who taught you to say that just now?”
“No one…” Qingtang lowered her head. “It’s just that… Miss, you’re different now. The old you wouldn’t ask those questions, and wouldn’t… wouldn’t even plant radishes like you’re calculating something.”
Shen Zhiyi was silent for a moment.
The sun was setting, its afterglow stretching their shadows long across the courtyard.
“Qingtang,” she said.
“Yes?”
“From now on, outside, you know nothing. If anyone asks, just say your miss spends her days planting radishes and understands nothing else.”
Qingtang froze for a second, then nodded firmly. “This servant understands.”
Shen Zhiyi withdrew her gaze and finished planting the last row of seeds.
Radishes take seven days to sprout.
News takes about the same.
She looked up at the sky.
Tomorrow—the Imperial Garden.
That man who told her to “enjoy the sun”… would probably be watching from somewhere.