If Jiang Chen had known that a casual flirtation in a peach garden would lead to nationwide chaos, he would have thrown himself into the nearest compost pit before breakfast.
Instead, he was sitting in a bamboo pavilion two days later, sipping tea, as an emergency council meeting took place because of him.
"Lord Jiang, please clarify: Did you or did you not accept the Empress's marriage proposal?"
"I WHAT?!"
Jiang Chen sprang to his feet so fast his teacup flung sideways and hit a nearby advisor in the face.
The man didn't flinch.
"According to fifteen scroll news networks, three poetic cabbage bards, and one highly emotional goose, you are now considered a royal fiancé."
Jiang Chen looked around wildly. The goose in question, General Honk Honk the Third, stood beside the cabinet ministers, wearing a ceremonial sash.
He honked solemnly.
"I was teaching her how to hold a rake!"
The Prime Minister—an elderly man with a beard shaped like a pinecone—nodded gravely. "We saw. It was very… intimate."
"It's a gardening tool!"
"Yes," he said, tapping a scroll, "but you corrected her grip. Twice."
"That's proper safety protocol!"
"And then she said you smelled like rosemary."
"That's just—personal hygiene!"
"Exactly," the Minister of Agriculture whispered. "She noticed."
Jiang Chen's soul left his body for a brief moment.
Meanwhile, across the capital, the scroll network had exploded.
BREAKING: THE EMPRESS AND THE HOE HERO – AN UNWEEDABLE LOVE?
Witnesses describe a "tension so thick you could plant a potato in it."
Princess Zhaohua allegedly seen crying with joy. Royal chefs ordered to prepare a seven-tier cake in the shape of a watering can.
Florists out of stock. Soap-makers overwhelmed. Rosemary now the symbol of pure, soil-scented love.
By noon, a rogue printing house released a romance novel titled Planted in Her Heart: The Weeder Who Tilled My Soul.
It sold out in minutes.
Jiang Chen had a nosebleed out of sheer stress.
Things only got worse when Lin Wuyue found him in the training grounds, attempting to bury himself under a pile of hay.
"You've been trending for eighteen hours straight," she chirped. "Congratulations."
"Don't talk to me. I've become agriculturally unhinged."
She tossed him a peach. "Eat something. You're going to need your strength. The Empress sent a carriage."
He peeked out of the haystack like a hunted mole. "Why?"
"Official garden inspection."
"I swear if she flirts with me using basil again—"
"She brought seeds labeled 'Heartsprout.'"
Jiang Chen threw himself face-first into the hay.
Wuyue sat beside him, legs crossed, eating her peach. "You know… you could just go along with it. Pretend for a bit. It's not like she's ugly or anything."
"I want peace, not political entanglements."
"Right. And yet, you're the face of a rapidly growing romantic movement called Hoe-mance."
He choked.
"Oh, and there's a fan club."
"Wuyue."
"They made tiny plush dolls of you."
"WUYUE."
She leaned over. "I have one."
He glared at her.
She smirked. "I sleep better with it. Very emotionally grounding."
He slumped. "You're enjoying this, aren't you?"
"Every second."
Later that evening, in the golden glow of lantern light, Jiang Chen stood stiffly in the imperial garden once more.
He had expected flirtation. He had expected more poetry. He did not expect the Empress to greet him while wielding a watering can like a holy relic.
"Master Jiang," she said gently. "Would you… care to water with me?"
He glanced at the ceremonial can.
"It's got gold filigree."
"Symbol of trust."
"It has your face engraved on it."
"Symbol of admiration."
He sighed. "Look, about the rumors—"
"I didn't start them," she said, stepping closer. "But I didn't stop them either."
He blinked.
"Why?"
"Because I find you… interesting." She raised a brow. "And the nobles haven't laughed this much in years. You've brought more healing to this court than any decree or tax cut."
"I'm not a healer. I'm a guy who got dragged here because of a system that talks like a drunk vegetable vendor."
She smiled. "Even more reason to like you."
"…You're not going to let this go, are you?"
"Would you?"
He looked at her. Then at the watering can. Then at the commemorative cabbage growing beside a pond with a plaque that read:
"First Hoe of Harmony – Jiang Chen."
He let out the world's heaviest sigh and took the can.
"Fine. Let's water the damn peonies."
Afterwards, he found Lin Wuyue waiting on the bridge.
"Well?"
"She made me sign her autograph cabbage."
Wuyue burst into laughter. "You're not famous anymore, you're a movement."
"I'm a national joke."
"You're adored."
"I'm being stalked by a goose."
"You're beloved."
"I can't even pick my nose without someone writing a romantic ballad about it."
"They say your nostrils flare like longing."
"…I want to go home."
Wuyue walked beside him, shoulder brushing his. "You know… you could come back with me. My sect's opening a new herb garden. Could use a scandalous weeder."
"…I'm tempted."
She stopped walking. Looked at him with something just a little too real in her eyes.
"I'm serious."
He swallowed. "You're not just messing with me anymore, are you?"
She smiled. Soft this time. No smirk. "Maybe I never was."
Silence stretched between them. A lantern flickered. Somewhere, a bard began singing about "Hoe of Destiny" again.
"I think I'm scared," Jiang Chen admitted.
"I think you're already mine," Wuyue said.
He didn't run this time.