After leaving the children's home, I returned to the market with a new purpose.
If the world refused to give me my beloved spices and vegetables, then I would search until my feet gave up. I wandered between stalls, scanning every wooden box and every cloth bag like a detective looking for clues.
Most stalls sold the same things—rice, beans, cabbage, radish.
Nothing exciting.
Nothing spicy.
Nothing life-changing.
Until…
A small, almost hidden stall came into view. A wooden box filled with tiny cloth packets, each tied with thin rope. Behind it sat an old man with sun-browned skin, a long beard, and bright, sharp eyes.
His stall looked older than my willpower.
Still… something pulled me toward it.
I stopped in front of him and asked, "Do you sell seeds?"
His eyes twinkled.
"Ah… you have a keen eye, young miss. Most ladies walk past without even noticing."
He opened a drawer and brought out more packets—each labeled in an unfamiliar script.
"Where did you get these?" I asked, picking one up.
He smiled proudly, stroking his beard.
"From faraway lands, beyond the great desert. Traders from southern kingdoms bring me strange things. Most customers avoid them. They fear what they do not recognize."
My heart skipped.
Southern kingdoms… hotter climates… stronger flavors…
Chilies? Tomatoes? Potatoes?
My inner chef screamed hope.
"Do you know what these grow into?" I asked, pretending to be calm.
"Not entirely," he admitted. "Some produce fiery fruit—burning red. The travelers say their people eat it with every meal. Others bear round red berries used for cooking. Many here think they're poisonous."
I nearly exploded.
CHILIES AND TOMATOES!!!
Oh my God.
I had found ancient gold.
I kept my face neutral—barely.
"How much for these packets?"
He shrugged. "Since no one buys them… you may take all five for one silver."
One silver for a revolution?
A bargain.
I bought **five packets** immediately.
He wrapped them carefully in parchment.
"Good luck, young miss," he said. "These seeds come from lands where food burns the tongue and warms the soul."
I grinned at that.
*Perfect. Exactly what I need.*
As I walked away, clutching the precious packets like treasure, the thought hit me:
If I grow these successfully…
I might just introduce **modern flavors** to this ancient world.
Spicy food.
Tomatoes.
Maybe even potatoes.
I hugged the seeds tighter.
Today…
I saved two children.
And I might have just saved my taste buds too
Once I reached the estate, I headed straight for the small backyard garden behind my courtyard. It wasn't anything fancy—just a square of dirt, a watering jar, and a few sad-looking plants someone clearly gave up on.
But today…
Today this place was my kingdom.
I rolled up my sleeves with determination.
"Alright, you ancient soil," I muttered. "Get ready for modern magic."
I opened the first packet.
Tiny red chilli seeds.
I swear I almost cried.
Then I opened another.
Round tomato seeds.
My heart did a full bhangra.
I knelt, loosened the soil, and planted each seed with more care than I had ever given to myself.
Just as I was patting the soil gently, a voice spoke behind me.
I jumped.
Junyue stood there, arms crossed, hair tied loosely, looking like he'd walked out of a historical drama poster. His expression was the perfect mix of suspicion and amusement.
I dusted my hands dramatically.
"Gardening."
He raised a brow. "I can see that. But what exactly are you planting? They look… unusual."
Unusual.
If only he knew.
"Oh, just… some vegetables from a faraway place," I said casually.
He knelt beside me.
"Let me see."
"No! Don't touch!" I yelped, slapping his hand away.
He blinked.
Then…
He smirked.
"Are you hiding something dangerous?"
"Vegetables," I repeated through clenched teeth. "Not bombs."
He laughed softly—a rare sound that made me pause.
"I've never seen you so protective."
"That's because these seeds are precious," I replied, patting the soil like it was a child. "They're special."
Junyue tilted his head, studying me.
"Special enough to make you sneak around like a thief?"
I glared.
He chuckled again.
Just like that—completely uninvited.
"Fine," he said. "Teach me."
"…Teach you what?"
"How to plant these 'mysterious vegetables'."
I stared at him.
"Why do you want to learn gardening all of a sudden?"
He shrugged.
"You seem happy doing it."
Oh.
That… was unexpectedly sweet.
I handed him a small seed.
"Put it in gently. Not aggressively like you're stabbing the ground."
He stared at the seed.
"Why is it so tiny?"
"Because it's a seed, not a dumpling."
He glared this time. And I smiled.
He made a small hole like I showed him and dropped the seed inside carefully—too carefully. Then he covered it with soil, patting it like he was putting a baby to sleep.
I tried not to laugh.
"You're treating it like a fragile royal secret," I teased.
He defended himself.
"This is the first time I've planted anything. Also, you threatened me earlier."
"I didn't threaten—"
He cut me off. "You said 'don't touch' like I was about to explode."
I lost it and giggled.
"You look… different when you smile."
I froze.
He didn't look at me when he said it—just at the soil, brushing dirt off his hands. But the warmth in his voice was unmistakable.
My heart did something I refused to acknowledge.
I quickly stood up.
"A-Alright! Gardening lesson over! Time to go inside!"
Junyue looked up, amused by my sudden panic.
"Very well," he said as he stood. "But tell me when they sprout. I want to see these 'special vegetables'."
He walked away, hands behind his back, calm and elegant.
I stared at the garden.
Then at the path he took.
"…Did I just accidentally create a gardening partner?"
I sighed dramatically.
Great.
Now I had seeds, responsibilities… and one curious brother keeping an eye on my chili empire.