The nightmare had not ended with the cabbage float, nor with the capital parade, nor even with the accidental proposal that Lin Wuyue was still refusing to let him forget.
It ended—no, escalated—when he arrived at the imperial palace the next morning and discovered a ten-meter-tall jade sculpture of himself in the Empress's garden.
Yes.Jade.Sculpture.Him.
In heroic weeding stance.
One foot forward. Arm outstretched. Hoe gleaming in the sunlight like a divine relic. Robes fluttering as if caught in a heavenly breeze.
Jiang Chen stared at it, speechless.
Lin Wuyue clasped her hands beside him and sighed. "They really got your cheekbones right. I'm proud of them."
"I—I've never made that face in my life."
"You did. That one time you bent down to rescue a baby rabbit. Remember?"
He turned to her, eyes wide. "That happened in private!"
"Apparently not private enough. You're famous now. Surveillance rabbits everywhere."
Before he could respond with the long, incoherent scream building in his throat, the royal attendant announced their presence.
"Announcing: Envoy of Agricultural Enlightenment, Hero of the Hoe, Weeder Supreme—Jiang Chen."
"I'm going to run into the lake," he whispered.
"Try not to. Ducks bite," Wuyue said, dragging him forward by the sleeve.
The Empress was seated cross-legged under a peach blossom tree, a teacup in one hand and a rake in the other.
Not just any rake.A ceremonial rake, engraved with golden vines and the imperial seal.Behind her, a group of stiff-faced nobles in embroidered robes were holding potted plants. Each one had a notepad. Some were sweating.
Jiang Chen frowned. "What is this?"
"A private lesson," the Empress said serenely. "You're here to teach."
"I—What?!"
She sipped her tea. "It has come to my attention that your cultivation methods have sparked emotional clarity, inner harmony, and in one noble's case, spontaneous poetic enlightenment. Duke Fei?"
A tall man with a square jaw and trembling hands stepped forward.
"My wife and I spoke for the first time in three months," he said, tears in his eyes. "All because I pruned a rosebush."
Jiang Chen blinked. "What."
"And I," said a short, round man, stepping up, "confessed my love to a woman who had only known me as 'the turnip guy.' She said yes."
Jiang Chen turned to Wuyue. "Is this a cult?"
She was too busy taking notes on 'emotionally evocative weeding patterns' to reply.
The Empress smiled. "So. Will you share your techniques?"
"I pull weeds," Jiang Chen said flatly.
"Yes," she said, eyes gleaming, "but how?"
"…I don't know. With… effort?"
"Brilliant. So humble," she whispered to a nearby scribe. "He embodies the Dirt Dao."
"I swear I'll bury myself right now," Jiang Chen muttered.
The lesson began.
It was chaos.
Ten nobles tried to copy Jiang Chen's weeding stance.
Three fell into flowerbeds.Two began crying over seedlings.One wrote a haiku so emotionally devastating that it caused a spontaneous group hug.
"The turnip trembles,as she passes in silence—roots echo her name."
Jiang Chen wanted to die.
Then the Empress herself rose, rake in hand, and asked:
"Master Jiang… could you correct my grip?"
Jiang Chen froze.
Every noble held their breath.
Lin Wuyue's eyes sparkled with mischief.
He stepped forward. Hesitant. Slow. Like a man walking toward his own execution. The Empress turned her back slightly, holding out the rake.
Jiang Chen reached forward, adjusting her hands carefully. "You need to keep the rake aligned with your—"
She suddenly turned her head. Their faces were close.Too close.
She smiled. "You smell like rosemary."
He nearly dropped the rake.
"I-It's just soap."
"A lovely scent," she said. "Clean. Grounded. Like soil after rain."
Is this flirting?Am I being seduced via herb metaphors?
Meanwhile, nobles were furiously scribbling down notes:
"Smell of rosemary = soil-like masculinity?""Imperial interest rising. Possible marriage proposal imminent.""Ask if he sells soap."
The lesson concluded with a ceremonial "seed offering" to Jiang Chen—five golden packets labeled:
Royal Hybrid: Emotionally Resilient TomatoesEmperor's Cucumber: Grows Despite Inner TurmoilSword Melon: Sharp but TenderPhoenix Basil: Rebirth in FlavorMood Lettuce: Changes Color Based on Your Crush
"I am going to burn this garden down," Jiang Chen said.
"Too late," Lin Wuyue whispered. "You've already planted yourself in their hearts."
He gave her a long stare. "Are you trying to woo me now?"
"Always have been," she replied, deadpan.
He blinked.
She smiled.
The moment hung there—soft, strange, and full of everything he didn't know how to deal with.
As they left the palace, Jiang Chen found himself walking slower. He looked over at Wuyue, who was humming a tune and spinning a tiny rake between her fingers like a fan.
"…Wuyue?"
"Hmm?"
He paused. "If I wasn't famous… if I was just a normal guy pulling weeds…"
"I'd still flirt with you," she said, without missing a beat.
"Really?"
"Definitely."
He hesitated. "What if I was also a terrible cook?"
"Then I'd cook for you."
He looked at her. "What if I had… emotional damage?"
"Then I'd water you until you bloomed."
Jiang Chen stopped walking.
"…I think I'm in trouble."
She leaned in, bumping her shoulder against his. "Too late. You're already trending as my future husband."
Author's Note:Royal rakes, poetic tomatoes, and flirting under imperial scrutiny?! Jiang Chen can't catch a break—or maybe he's catching feelings? Chapter 22 brings more misunderstandings, more noble gossip, and… someone has printed wedding invitations?!