Seed drying, seed selection, disinfection, and germination—every step of the process was crystal clear in Shen Weiwan’s mind.
The rice-farming methods of this era were crude and extensive. Farmers simply scattered seeds and relied on heaven for the harvest, resulting in extremely low yields. In cold-soaked fields, complete crop failure was almost inevitable.
What she wanted to do was not to miraculously develop some super rice variety overnight. Rather, she intended to use the safest and least suspicious methods of careful, intensive farming to increase yields little by little.
Once the seeds had been spread out to dry, Shen Weiwan took Shen Mingxuan to the two mu of paddy fields they had selected.
These fields sat on the highest ground within the cold-soaked paddies and had the shallowest layer of silt. The day before, following her instructions, Shen Mingxuan had dug shallow drainage ditches, removing most of the standing water and exposing the dark brown mud beneath.
“Brother, look at these ditches.”
Shen Weiwan pointed at the crisscrossing channels along the field’s edge with a wooden stick.
“The deadliest thing about cold-soaked fields is the cold water and rotten mud. We need deep ditches and raised ridges, keeping the water shallow so the sun can warm the soil. Otherwise, the seedlings’ roots will rot.”
Squatting on the field ridge, she drew a simple seedbed in the mud with her stick.
“We won’t sow the seeds directly. We’ll raise seedlings first. We’ll make a nursery bed on this sunny, elevated patch of ground and grow strong seedlings there. Once they’re about a foot tall, we’ll transplant them into the paddy.”
“Raise seedlings?” Shen Mingxuan blinked in surprise. “Wouldn’t it be easier to plant them directly?”
“Easier doesn’t mean more productive.”
Shen Weiwan looked up at him, her expression serious.
“Our land is poor, so we have to put in more care than others. By raising seedlings together, we can choose only the strongest ones for transplanting and throw away the weak ones. One mu of land can produce as much as two mu in other people’s fields.”
As she spoke, she directed Shen Mingxuan to get to work.
First, they repeatedly plowed, crushed, and leveled the soil in the nursery bed, leaving not a single large clump of mud.
Then they dug narrow furrows, arranging them neatly to ensure good airflow and sunlight.
Finally, they smoothed the surface and left it to dry for half a day so the soil could firm up slightly before sowing.
Every step was carried out with extreme care.
The evening glow dyed the northern fields outside the city a warm red, and the dilapidated house of Han Manor seemed quiet and reassuring in the dusk.
Shen Jingzhi also returned from his duties at the Ministry of Revenue.
As soon as he entered, he saw his son and daughter covered in spots of mud yet brimming with energy. Golden rice seeds lay spread out to dry in the main room, making the entire house seem more alive.
He sat there in a faded blue cotton robe that had been washed so many times its color had nearly disappeared. His frame was thin, and his temperament gentle and unassuming—completely lacking the bearing expected of a seventh-rank official.
His entire life had been smooth and uneventful, and his weakness had developed just as smoothly.
At the Marquis’s Manor, he listened to the legal wife of the household.
In officialdom, he obeyed his superiors.
At home, he had once listened to the old marquis.
Now that he had been driven out of the manor, he no longer knew what he should do or even what he could do.
It wasn’t that he didn’t want to support his family.
He simply didn’t know how.
Nor did he dare.
He didn’t understand business, didn’t know how to cultivate connections, didn’t know how to survive among the lower ranks of officialdom, and certainly didn’t know how to make a living from this barren estate.
All he knew was how to read a few dead books and perform his duties step by step. Whatever his superiors told him to do, he did. He had never dared disobey, nor had he ever dared fight for even the slightest benefit for himself.
“Xuan’er…”
Looking at his son, who now stood half a head taller than himself, Shen Jingzhi spoke in a low, weary voice.
“Your father is useless. I’ve made you, your sister, and your mother suffer alongside me. In the future, here in the capital, we have no one to rely on. I’m only a seventh-rank official… I’m afraid I can’t even protect you.”
Shen Mingxuan straightened his back.
Though still somewhat slender, the thirteen-year-old already possessed a handsome and upright bearing.
He was three years older than Shen Weiwan and studied at the Marquis Manor’s academy. He wasn’t exceptionally gifted, but he was diligent and hardworking. His handwriting was neat and forceful, and his essays were clear and well-structured.
Yet in the strictly hierarchical Marquis’s Manor, all his efforts were worthless.
The legitimate sons had the best teachers, the finest writing materials, and the best resources.
He could only make do with old books discarded by others and the remnants of someone else’s ink. Even the teachers treated him perfunctorily.
He possessed a burning desire to learn and an equally strong ambition to rise above his circumstances.
But his birth had chained him down so tightly that he could not move forward.
He had hated it.
He had resented it.
But in the end, all he could do was endure in silence.
Hearing his father’s words now, Shen Mingxuan clenched his fists upon his knees until his knuckles turned white. A defiant fire burned in his bright young eyes.
“Father, don’t say that. You’re our father, the pillar of this family. I’ve grown up now. I can study, I can take the imperial examinations, I can become an official, and I can support this family!”
“I know my birth is humble. I have no backers and no connections. But I’m willing to suffer hardships and work hard. I’ll study diligently and pass the county examination, then the provincial examination, and then the metropolitan examination. I’ll let Mother and my sister live good lives. I’ll make those who look down on us raise their heads and look at us with respect!”
The boy’s voice rang with conviction, filled with youthful passion and sincerity, echoing through the empty main hall.
It was the ambition he had suppressed for years.
The resentment born from years of being belittled.
The purest desire to protect his family and change his fate.
Looking at the light in his son’s eyes, Shen Jingzhi felt both comforted and saddened.
He knew his son had ambition and lofty aspirations.
But in the capital, in the Great Jing Dynasty where birth and power meant everything, how difficult was it for the son of a discarded concubine-born branch, with neither wealth nor influence, to rise through the imperial examinations?
Without money to hire famous tutors…
Without connections to pave the way…
Without family prestige to support him…
In the end, all that burning passion would likely come to nothing.
He opened his mouth, wanting to tell his son to be more realistic.
But he couldn’t bear to crush the boy’s only hope.
In the end, he could only let out a heavy sigh and pat his son’s shoulder.
“All right… all right. I believe in you. Study hard. Even if I have to sell everything I own, I’ll support your education.”
The conversation between father and son was heard clearly by Shen Weiwan, who had just stepped into the main hall.
She stood at the doorway and quietly looked at the two of them.
Her father was weak—that was true.
Her mother was gentle—that was true.
Her brother had grand ambitions but no path forward—that too was true.
This was her family.
Imperfect.
Not powerful.
In this world, so fragile that they could be crushed at any moment.
But they were also her only family in this strange new world—the people she would protect with all her strength.
Her father’s weakness was not evil; it was kindness and gentleness, a nature unsuited to conflict.
Her mother’s softness was not frailty; it was patience and resilience, a heart devoted entirely to her family.
Her brother’s aspirations were not empty dreams; they were sincere and earnest, worthy of trust.
What they lacked was merely a guide.
Someone to steer the ship.
Someone who could clear away the fog and lay out the road ahead.
And that person…
was her, Shen Weiwan.
She walked slowly into the hall, her voice calm yet clear.
“Brother, your ambition is admirable. As for your studies, don’t worry. I will hire the best teachers for you, buy you the finest books, and open the doors of the academies for you so that you can study in peace and have no worries.”
“Father, just focus on your duties. I will take care of everything else. I will help you advance steadily in officialdom, step by step, so that you no longer have to watch others’ expressions or live in constant fear and hesitation.”
Both Shen Jingzhi and Shen Mingxuan lifted their heads simultaneously and looked at this little daughter and little sister, who was only ten years old.