The first rays of dawn slipped past the embroidered curtains, painting my chamber in pale gold. I rose before the maids could wake me. Silence was my ally. I needed these early hours when the palace was still half asleep. My plan was taking root, quite literally, and I would not let idle eyes see it too soon.
Behind my chambers, tucked between the old stone wall and a cluster of plum trees, there was a neglected patch of land. The soil was hard and dry, littered with weeds. No noble lady would bother with it, which made it perfect for me. In my time, I had watched countless videos and read articles about farming. I had even seen rooftop gardens in cities where space was scarce. If they could grow vegetables in cement jungles, then I could make this patch bloom in an imperial palace.
"Bring the buckets quietly," I whispered to the two young servants girls I trusted. Xiaolan and Mei were both orphans, sold into service. Loyalty to me was not born from affection yet, but from the fact that I was the only one who treated them as more than tools.
We worked in silence. I showed them how to loosen the soil with sticks instead of the heavy iron hoes that would draw attention. I mixed crushed eggshells and ash from the kitchen fires into the dirt, ignoring their puzzled glances.
"My lady, this will not work," Xiaolan murmured, glancing around nervously.
I smiled. "Wait a week. You will see."
It would not just work. It would thrive. In this world, no one thinks beyond the present season. They planted the same crop year after year until the land was tired. I would rotate vegetables, plant beans to feed the soil, and use compost to enrich it. In time, my harvest would be unmatched, and I would have wealth and influence hidden in plain sight.
When the sun rose fully, I cleaned my hands and changed into a pale blue silk dress embroidered with cranes. Today was the Crown Princess's tea gathering, a chance for noble ladies to flaunt themselves like peacocks. I had no desire to compete, but absence would be an insult. And insults in the palace had a way of becoming deadly.
The tea pavilion was open to the garden, the air filled with the faint scent of osmanthus. Dozens of ladies sat in delicate groups, their laughter thin and sharp. As I approached, the Crown Princess's smile was warm, but her eyes were cool. She invited me to sit beside her. A trap, perhaps, but I accepted without hesitation.
It was Lady Han who struck first. She was known for her gentle voice and cruel tongue. She lifted a porcelain cup and said sweetly, "I heard Lady Shi grew up in a humble home. You must find our palace customs strange."
A few ladies tittered.
I sipped my tea, letting the heat calm me. "Not strange. Only less… efficient."
Her brows twitched. "Efficient?"
"In my hometown, we did not spend all morning waiting for tea to be poured," I said lightly. "We boiled the water ourselves, and if a guest was thirsty, we served them before gossiping."
A ripple of muffled laughter spread through the younger ladies. The Crown Princess's lips curved in amusement. Lady Han's cheeks flushed.
I could feel eyes on me. When I glanced up, my gaze collided with the Crown Prince himself. He was passing by, speaking to an attendant, but for a brief moment, his eyes met mine. There was something unreadable there curiosity, perhaps, or annoyance. Either way, I had his attention.
The tea gathering ended without further insult, though I knew I had just painted a target on my back. Still, the small satisfaction was worth it.
As I left the pavilion, I nearly collided with a man in a robe of deep green. He bowed slightly, his long hair tied with a simple jade clasp. His face was refined, the sort that could belong to a scholar or a poet.
"My apologies, Lady Shi," he said, his voice warm like a spring breeze.
I studied him for a heartbeat too long. He was unfamiliar, yet there was something in his gaze a lingering look as if he knew me from another time.
"I am the Fifth Prince," he added with a faint smile. "I heard you have a talent for… unusual ideas."
My heart skipped. Was this coincidence, or had word already spread about my morning in the garden?
"I try to make the best of what I have," I said.
"An admirable trait," he replied, his eyes glinting with something I could not name.
He stepped aside, letting me pass, but I felt his gaze follow me until I turned the corner.
That night, I returned to my little patch of land under the cover of darkness. The moonlight was bright, silvering the leaves of the plum trees. I bent to check the soil, my hands brushing the small seedlings I had planted. They were delicate still, but they were mine.
A rustle came from behind the wall. My pulse quickened. I straightened, scanning the shadows.
"Who is there?" I demanded softly.
A figure stepped forward, the moon catching on the edge of a dark cloak. I could not see his face, but his voice was smooth and cold.
"So this is your secret."
The night air seemed to still. Whoever he was, he had seen too much.