Shuyin closed her eyes briefly, letting the sound settle into her chest, pressing it deep into mory where it could be retrieved during harder monts that would inevitably co. For the first ti since returning to the estate from imprisonnt, the property no longer felt like a cage wearing familiar walls. It no longer felt like enemy territory where she had to guard herself constantly. It felt like sothing waking up after long dormancy. Like potential waiting to unfold. Like a ho beginning to rember what it was ant to be.
She opened her eyes and picked up her shovel again, feeling the weight of the tool settle comfortably in her muddy hands. "Co on," she called lightly to the children, her voice carrying across the busy garden. "We still have an entire garden to bring back to life. An entire history to resurrect from soil that’s been waiting to grow the right things again."
And this ti, when the household staff joined her in the work, when they followed her instructions and implented her vision, they did not hesitate. They did not question or worry or look over their shoulders for permission from absent masters. They simply worked, helping to dismantle the imposed order and prepare ground for sothing that belonged to this place, to this family, to the truth of what the estate had been before lies and imprisonnt and erasure had tried to rewrite its history.
The garden would grow again. But this ti, it would grow full of mories.
The work continued long past the point where novelty faded and genuine exhaustion set in. Mud dried slowly under the climbing sun, cracking against clothes and skin as the morning ward into proper day.
Servants moved in coordinated patterns now, no longer hesitant or uncertain, carefully lifting orchids into transport crates while the head gardener supervised with steady confidence that had replaced his earlier panic. What had begun as chaotic destruction had gradually transford into purposeful reconstruction, disorder giving way to intentional design.
Shuyin worked among them without pause, without claiming any special position. Not directing from a comfortable distance. Not issuing commands from shade while others labored in the sun. Working. Digging. Lifting. Sweating alongside servants who had once treated her as a fragile decoration.
The household staff noticed this shift first. The young miss who had once moved through the estate like porcelain too delicate to touch now knelt in soil beside them, her hands developing blisters she never ntioned or complained about. She listened when older gardeners spoke about root depth and seasonal soil balance, absorbing their practical knowledge with genuine interest. She asked questions about where the original irrigation lines had run beneath the ground. She rembered details none of them expected her to retain, the exact position of the old peach grove before it had been destroyed, the gentle curve of the gravel path before soone had straightened it into rigid lines, where sunlight lingered longest during winter months when most plants struggled.
mory lived in her movents, in the certainty of her placents, in the way she touched earth like greeting an old friend.
And slowly, hesitation lted into sothing else entirely. Into loyalty earned rather than demanded.
Yuyan collapsed dramatically onto an overturned planter after another hour of sustained effort. "I think I have died," she declared between heavy breaths, one muddy arm flung across her eyes. "Tell future generations I fought bravely against the tyranny of gardening."
"You lasted forty minutes before your first break," Lu Yuze replied with dry amusent from nearby, his own sleeves finally rolled up after surrendering his clean appearance to practical necessity. "History will record your sacrifice with appropriate proportion."
"I lasted heroically," she corrected with as much dignity as soone covered in mud could muster.
Chen Xiao sat quietly beside her, his small legs muddy up to his knees, carefully brushing dirt off a young peach sapling that soone had brought from storage. His movents were ticulous and protective, treating the fragile plant like sothing precious that required gentle handling.
Shuyin noticed imdiately, her attention drawn by that characteristic careful precision. "Where did you find that?" she asked, kneeling beside him with genuine curiosity.
The head gardener approached, wiping accumulated sweat from his weathered brow. "Miss, when Madam Lin ordered the complete redesign years ago, we were instructed to discard all the original trees. Every single one, she said, to make room for her vision." He gestured toward a shaded storage area most people had forgotten existed. "But so of us couldn’t bring ourselves to destroy living things that had done nothing wrong. A few saplings survived in secret. We kept them hidden in the back greenhouse where no one thought to look."
For a long mont, Shuyin couldn’t speak. Her fingers hovered over the small leaves, trembling just slightly before making contact with the delicate green. Alive. Still alive after all these years. Not completely erased after all. Her throat tightened unexpectedly with emotion she hadn’t anticipated. The original Shuyin was truly naive and thought human hearts stayed pure and genuine.
"Thank you," she said quietly, the words carrying more weight than their simplicity suggested. "Thank you for saving them when no one else would." These were her mother’s favourite. Shuyin’s mother was her mother now, the mories and sentints were attached to her forever.
The gardener bowed his head, visible relief washing over his features. "They belonged here, Miss. It felt wrong to let them die just because soone with authority said they should."
"Yes," she whispered, her voice thick. "They do belong here. They always have."
They chose the planting spot together, servant and young miss working as equals. The center of the lawn where rigid symtry had once ruled was broken deliberately. Shuyin drove her shovel into the earth herself, digging deeper than strictly necessary, each motion steady and deliberate and sohow ceremonial. This wasn’t just planting. This was restoration. Resurrection.
Chen Xiao knelt beside her when the hole reached proper depth, his small hands carefully lowering the sapling into position with the concentrated care of soone performing an important task. Yuyan helped dump soil back in, far too enthusiastically, nearly burying the poor tree sideways in her eagerness.
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