Chapter 50: The Fifth Princess

Chapter 50: The Fifth Princess

In the evening, after Yinqi returned, An Qing briefly told him about the letter from the Fourth Princess. He felt greatly relieved and reassured.

"If you have time these days, could you go check on Aunt for me?" Yinqi said.

An Qing nodded. Even if he hadn't mentioned it, she had already planned to visit Lady Guo in the coming days. "Eighth Sister said that since Aunt received the Fourth Sister's letter, she has become much more spirited. The imperial physician also said that her illness was primarily due to worry. Now that she knows the Fourth Sister is doing well, she can be at ease."

Moreover, for the Mulan Autumn Hunt in August, Lady Guo needed to take good care of herself, otherwise, how could she meet with the Fourth Princess?

Yinqi softly acknowledged, "If Aunt is more cheerful, Mother will also be more at ease."

After having dinner and chatting about some family matters, they went to bed early to prepare for the next day's wheat harvest.

The next morning, just past dawn, An Qing and Yinqi appeared at the edge of the wheat field, dressed as farmers and holding sickles, eager to start harvesting the golden wheat.

The sky was bright but not yet hot, making it the perfect time to work in the cool morning air.

Harvesting wheat now was nothing like using modern combine harvesters that cut, thresh, and separate the grain all at once, leaving behind neatly arranged stubble while simultaneously crushing the straw back into the soil.

But in the agricultural era, each step—cutting, threshing, and separating—had to be done manually, which was both time-consuming and labor-intensive.

The first step was manual harvesting.

An Qing demonstrated for Yinqi, bending down, leaning forward, grabbing the mature wheat stalks with her left hand, and inserting the sickle at the base with her right hand. With a swift pull, the wheat stalks were cut, and she gently placed them on the ground. She repeated this process continuously.

Yinqi, despite never having harvested wheat before, quickly got the hang of it after a few attempts. Soon, his speed matched An Qing's.

This small plot of land wasn't too large; even if An Qing did it alone, it would take no more than two hours. With their combined efforts, it went even faster.

An Qing and Yinqi were responsible for cutting the wheat in the field, while Perilla and Cui Liu led others to transport the harvested wheat to the threshing ground, spreading it out to dry in preparation for threshing.

The threshing ground was where the harvested wheat was separated from the stalks. It was usually located near the fields and prepared by hardening and smoothing the ground before the harvest.

However, since An Qing's plot was small, she chose a stone-paved area in the courtyard as the threshing ground.

After about an hour, An Qing and Yinqi finished harvesting the entire plot. Their pants were wet from the morning dew, their foreheads covered in sweat, and their clothes stuck with wheat chaff. Despite their disheveled appearance, they looked at each other and laughed genuinely.

This was the joy of a bountiful harvest.

Harvesting was only the first step. Next, the wheat needed to be dried and then repeatedly rolled to separate the straw, ears, and grains.

While harvesting could avoid the midday heat, rolling had to be done during the hottest part of the day when the wheat was thoroughly dried. This made it easier for the grains to fall off.

Yinqi had official duties and couldn't spare the time during the day, so the subsequent tasks were carried out by An Qing and the servants under her guidance.

The drying and rolling were heavy physical labor, so An Qing mainly supervised while the servants took turns doing the work.

After months of hard labor, they finally reached the final step: weighing the harvested wheat. This was the last step described in An Qing's book, *Experimental Guide to Wheat Cultivation*.

That day, Yinqi brought a special measuring container used for weighing grain.

They didn't let anyone else help and personally weighed the wheat themselves.

When they finished, Yinqi looked at An Qing in disbelief. "There are three and a half bushels!"

An Qing was also surprised. She had expected a good harvest but not this much—it far exceeded her expectations.

One bushel was approximately 17.4 pounds, so three and a half bushels would be around sixty pounds.

A typical yield for one acre of wheat was between 150 to 220 pounds, with higher yields in the south and lower yields in the north.

So, a yield of over a hundred pounds per acre was normal, and disaster-stricken areas might produce only thirty to forty pounds or less.

Modern wheat yields of over a thousand pounds per acre were due to the widespread use of fertilizers, pesticides, and hybrid breeding.

Even in modern times, the cultivation of superior wheat varieties began in the 1960s, with successful breeding in the 1970s and widespread use of fertilizers starting in the 1980s. Before that, yields were consistently low.

An Qing's plot was about one and a half tenths of an acre, so based on this calculation, her yield was estimated to be between 350 to 400 pounds per acre. How could this not be exciting?

Yinqi stood there stunned for a moment. Recently, his father had been taking them to learn about national affairs related to agriculture, so he understood the significance of this yield.

He grabbed An Qing's hand, full of anticipation. "If we follow your methods for growing wheat, could we achieve similar yields?"

Things like soaking seeds, fertilizing, and pressing the wheat—all strictly following the instructions in her book!

An Qing shook her head. "Those methods can improve yields somewhat, but not to the extent seen here."

Yinqi paused for a few seconds, suddenly remembering what An Qing had said about why his father's imperial rice always grew better than others'.

Could the same reason apply to her wheat?

An Qing didn't know what Yinqi was thinking, but she explained straightforwardly, "The key lies in the wheat seeds."

Ancient people didn't know how to breed seeds, so poor seeds meant that no amount of effort would make a difference. She had been working on cultivating better seeds for years, but progress was slow due to various limitations.

Yinqi paused, then realized something. "Are you planning to keep this method secret from Father for now?"

"There are many aspects involved, and I need to organize my thoughts," An Qing said. "Besides, I have other plans."

She paused. "These results are from years of experimentation with my brothers in Horqin. So, I want to share them with my father..."

Yinqi gently shook his head and smiled, patting her hand. "You don't need to explain to me. I understand. If you need any help, just tell me."

An Qing felt warmth in her heart and nodded. "Alright, once I sort everything out, I'll explain it to you in detail. We are one, and I won't hide anything from you."

Yinqi smiled. "Good."

He seemed hesitant for a moment before asking, "May I ask when that would be?"

An Qing replied, "During the autumn hunt in Mulan."

By then, his second brother should also have some news.

It wouldn't be wise to present it to Kangxi piecemeal. When combined, it would strengthen their case, making it impossible for him not to take action.

Upon hearing this, Yinqi felt relieved.

If it's during the autumn hunt in Mulan, there will still be time for the winter wheat this year. At least An Qing’s measures for planting wheat can be implemented more widely. Hopefully, the severe frost damage from last year can be mitigated, and the lives of the common people can improve.

An Qing understood Yinqi's intentions and couldn't help but feel a sense of admiration.

Recently, she had heard that Kangxi was intentionally exposing his sons to the hardships of the common people. She didn’t know about the others, but it seemed Yinqi truly empathized with them.

Perhaps only someone like him, who has no interest in power struggles and is inherently kind-hearted, could easily connect with the impoverished.

They stayed in the palace for five days. When they returned to Changchun Garden, An Qing truly felt the difference between the garden and the palace.

No wonder Kangxi comes here to escape the summer heat. It really is much cooler here.

Especially with her courtyard surrounded by water on three sides, the natural coolness at night is far more comfortable than having ice indoors. She could sleep through the night without waking up due to the heat.

Compared to last summer, this one was much more bearable.

An Qing wasn’t as lazy anymore. Now, she spent her free time fishing or visiting Concubine Yi and the Empress Dowager. Of course, she still frequently visited the rice fields within the western wall, leading a rather pleasant life.

Last year, Kangxi generously allocated a melon field in the southern gardens for her. Although An Qing couldn’t personally plant watermelons, she gave the seeds she saved to Yinqi, who assigned skilled melon growers to cultivate them for her.

These people were trained by An Qing before being assigned to the task and had to report regularly on the growth of the watermelons. She would occasionally send Little Xizi to check on them.

In the end, the results were quite satisfactory, though most of the watermelons ended up in Kangxi’s possession.

This was something An Qing had anticipated. After all, it was his land, and he ultimately had the final say.

But An Qing didn’t mind. As long as she had enough watermelons to eat, and enough to share with Yinqi, she was content.

It was said that Kangxi continued to distribute watermelons this year, but they weren’t as novel as last year. Many recipients had saved seeds, but since they were imperial gifts, they were still highly valued.

Besides, these watermelons were genuinely delicious.

Days passed slowly, and before they knew it, it was mid-July.

With the arrival of the scorching summer, even Changchun Garden became unbearably hot during the day. An Qing resumed spending her days near ice basins.

She really hated the heat and often found herself longing for air conditioning from her past life.

However, compared to the palace, evenings here were cooler, allowing her to venture out. Her activities, however, were limited to sitting by the riverbank and fishing.

Over time, her fishing skills improved, and she began to enjoy it more. Whenever the weather wasn’t too hot, she would faithfully appear by the river with her fishing rod.

One cloudy day, An Qing sat by the river from morning until afternoon, catching a good haul.

Looking at the fish in the bucket, she suddenly craved grilled food.

When she wanted something, she indulged herself. Of course, sometimes Mai Dong would restrict her, like not letting her eat ice, which made summers difficult.

Mai Dong wouldn’t interfere with her grilling, though. After all, Mongolians were accustomed to eating grilled meat, and given her lack of appetite during the hot summer, her desire for grilled food was welcomed.

Not only did Mai Dong welcome it, but everyone in her courtyard sprang into action upon hearing her request. Soon, a grill and rack were set up in the courtyard.

Chunxiao prepared side dishes according to her taste and mixed garlic and various seasonings.

While Mongolians typically grilled beef and mutton, An Qing preferred vegetables—grilled eggplant, leeks, chicken wings, and potato slices were her favorites.

Of course, she would include some beef and mutton, but the highlight was the grilled fish she caught earlier.

When Yinqi arrived, An Qing was busy at the grill, just placing a few skewers of grilled eggplant over the charcoal.

"Sir, come and have some grilled meat," she called out cheerfully.

Yinqi was surprised, knowing how much An Qing disliked the heat. Seeing her standing by the charcoal fire was unexpected.

"Why did you suddenly want grilled meat today?" he asked as he approached.

An Qing shrugged, "I don’t know, I just suddenly craved it."

Yinqi smiled and took a few skewers of meat, starting to grill them himself: "Then let me show you my skills."

An Qing raised an eyebrow, "Oh, looks like Sir is quite skilled at grilling."

Before Yinqi could respond, Ma Xiang chimed in, "Madam, you don’t know, our Sir is the best at grilling. Every time we went hunting, the Emperor praised his cooking."

An Qing was impressed, "Then I’ll have to eat more."

After grilling for a while, they moved to a nearby table to eat and chat, mainly exchanging grilling tips.

Yinqi’s grilling skills were indeed impressive, and An Qing praised him both verbally and by eating several skewers. Yinqi also complimented her vegetable skewers.

Their mutual praise felt a bit commercial.

Soon, Chunxiao’s garlic-grilled fish was ready, and its aroma was intoxicating.

Seeing the grilled fish on the table, Yinqi seemed momentarily stunned.

An Qing didn’t notice; her attention was entirely on the fish. Taking a bite, she found the flesh tender and the skin crispy. "This grilled fish is excellent. Let’s have Chunxiao make more tomorrow and send some to Mother and the Empress Dowager."

Yinqi paused for a moment, then suddenly turned to look at her and said, "For the next few days, don't go to Mother."

An Qing let out a surprised "Ah," somewhat taken aback. "Why? What happened?"

But she quickly thought of something. "Is it the anniversary of Eleventh Brother's passing..."

Yinqi nodded slightly. "Eleventh Brother passed away in Changchun Garden."

An Qing immediately understood. Last year at this time, she had just entered the palace and visited Concubine Yi frequently during that period. It was Yinqi who reminded her not to go to Yikun Palace on that day.

At that time, seeing Concubine Yi acting normally, she thought she had come to terms with it. But now, looking back, she realized that Concubine Yi must have been putting up a brave front.

Eleventh Prince did not pass away as an infant; he lived until he was eleven years old under Concubine Yi’s care. She taught him to speak, held his hand as he learned to walk, and listened to him read. How could one be so detached when such a living child left them?

Now, being in Changchun Garden, Concubine Yi must find it even harder to bear.

As night fell, lanterns were lit in the courtyard.

The two sat on the steps in front of the house, gazing at the starry sky, lost in their thoughts.

An Qing didn’t know how to comfort him and could only sit quietly by his side.

After a long while, Yinqi suddenly said, "Actually, Eleventh Brother also liked watching stars. When he was young, he often begged Xiao Jiu and me to watch them with him."

An Qing turned to look at Yinqi, seeing the sorrow in his profile. "Sir, do you miss Eleventh Brother very much?"

He was someone who deeply valued relationships. Even witnessing sibling rivalry would make him feel sad. How could he not be heartbroken over the loss of his own brother?

Yinqi's breath hitched, and he suppressed a sob before softly saying, "Yes."

How could he not miss him? That was the brother he carried on his back since childhood, the one who gave him candy when he was down, the one who...

Though An Qing had never experienced the loss of a close family member, seeing his restrained expression, she knew he must be in great pain.

Perhaps speaking about what was buried deep inside might bring some relief.

"Sir, if you're willing, you can tell me about Eleventh Brother," she said, gently holding his hand.

Yinqi was silent for a moment, then returned her grip and said, "Okay."

After this simple "okay," he gazed at the night sky in silence for a long time, seemingly trying to decide where to start or perhaps lost in those memories.

An Qing didn’t rush him, waiting quietly.

After a while, Yinqi finally began slowly, "Eleventh Brother was always a very understanding child..."

He started recounting trivial matters, without any particular order, as if sharing whatever came to mind.

But strangely, through Yinqi’s descriptions, the image of the late Eleventh Prince became more vivid in An Qing’s mind.

Yinqi spoke for a long time, then suddenly turned to An Qing and said, "If Eleventh Brother were still alive, you would definitely like him."

An Qing was taken aback and asked, "Why?"

Yinqi looked at her quietly and then smiled. "Because Eleventh Brother looks most like Mother."

An Qing blinked and couldn’t help but smile. "Does Sir have a portrait of Eleventh Brother? I want to see for myself."

Yinqi gave her a helpless look, but then led her to the study and took out a carefully preserved portrait from a camphorwood box, handing it to An Qing.

An Qing opened the portrait carefully. Seeing the handsome young man depicted on the paper, though they had never met, her heart still ached.

Yinqi was right; he indeed looked most like Concubine Yi, despite being male, with a striking resemblance in demeanor.

"Yes, Sir is right. I like Eleventh Brother very much."

The next morning, shortly after Yinqi left, An Qing got up.

"My Lady, you slept so late last night. Why not rest a bit longer?" Perilla suggested.

An Qing waved her hand. "No need. I have something to do."

After getting dressed and having breakfast, she asked someone to fetch her charcoal pencils.

In her previous life, besides farming, An Qing’s other passion was drawing comics. Although she hadn’t formally studied art, she had a natural talent for it, honed by following tutorials online.

Her senior once joked that if farming didn’t work out, she could become a comic artist.

That day, An Qing spent most of her time at the drawing table, recording all the fun stories Yinqi shared with her in a cute comic format.

There were scenes of the brothers catching fish in the river, Xiao Jiu and Eleventh playing with spinning tops in the courtyard of Yikun Palace, with Yinqi and Concubine Yi watching and laughing.

Sometimes memories fade with time, but drawings preserve them, capturing moments to revisit whenever desired—a way to keep memories alive.

Before Yinqi returned, An Qing had Perilla bind the edges of the sketchbook with needlework.

When he received the sketchbook, he didn’t know what was inside. But upon opening it, he was immediately drawn to the little figures within—Eleventh Brother.

Although the style was unfamiliar and the facial features unrecognizable, the expressions and gestures made it clear who it was.

As he flipped through the pages, the memories seemed to come alive again. Seeing the lively and playful depictions of young Eleventh, Yinqi felt a rare absence of sadness.

After a long while, he looked up at An Qing and asked, "Why did you draw these?"

An Qing smiled and replied, "Sir, when I was young, I often asked my mother where people go after they die. She said they go to the heavens. Later, I heard some Han people say they go to the underworld. But no one knows for sure whether there is an underworld or heavens. So I wondered where the deceased truly go. The only certainty is that they remain forever in our memories."

She paused here, looking quietly into Yinqi's eyes, and said, "So I believe that in this world, as long as someone still remembers, one continues to exist."