Qin Ke opened his eyes and looked at Lu Youqing, sleeping soundly in his arms. Her long, gentle breaths fell right against his neck. He wasn't in a hurry to get up, quietly admiring her delicate features—fair, tender skin, her eyelids closed tightly. Her usually cool and distant face was much softer in sleep.
Qin Ke knew that if she were to open her eyes and look at him, there would be gentle, lingering ripples in them—a tenderness meant for him alone.
Unable to resist, he raised his hand and lightly touched the tip of her straight, delicate nose, then leaned down to place a soft kiss upon it.
Still half-asleep, Lu Youqing was stirred awake by the ticklish sensation on her face. She groggily opened her eyes, her voice carrying a hint of sleep-softened sweetness. "What time is it?"
"About time to get up."
After a brief moment of confusion, she fully woke up and pushed at Qin Ke's wandering hand at her waist. "Stop fooling around. Get up."
Qin Ke quickly pecked her lips once and, before she could react, got dressed and slipped out the door.
Early in the morning, Li Nanqiao noticed the ominous look Qin Ke shot her and instinctively shrank back, saying, "Master, I was wrong."
Qin Ke kept his dark gaze fixed on her, watching her head lower and lower—almost to the ground—before he suddenly broke into a bright smile and patted her shoulder. "You did very well!"
Completely confused, Li Nanqiao scratched her head. Seeing Lu Youqing smiling softly, she hurried over and whispered, "Madam, is the Master angry or not?"
"He's just teasing you," Lu Youqing replied.
How could she not understand Qin Ke's considerations for her?
Li Nanqiao still didn't quite grasp his meaning, but she knew one thing for certain: telling Lu Youqing everything without reservation was not wrong—and she had done well.
Life returned to its proper course.
Qin Ke stored the redeemed potato seeds in the granary. Potato seeds were usually small and firm, round like little beans, with smooth surfaces and the occasional tiny bump or indentation.
He first led people to plant the potato seeds across twenty mu of land. He had already instructed Lei Zhong to arrange for deep plowing and ridge-making earlier; all he needed to do was ensure proper spacing during planting.
In less than two days, the planting was complete. Though the others didn't know what Qin Ke had planted, recalling the unfamiliar watermelons he had grown before, they trusted that he had his reasons.
Potatoes matured in three months. During that time, all that was needed was to clear weeds and ensure proper drainage.
Once the most urgent task was done, the next step was building greenhouses. Greenhouse construction consumed both labor and money, but thankfully his pockets were full enough to support such extravagance.
Still, Qin Ke couldn't help sneaking a glance at Pei Xiu nearby—even if he ran out of money, couldn't he just ask the boss for more?
In modern times, greenhouses were built using plastic film for insulation and light transmission, but such materials didn't exist here. So Qin Ke designed the greenhouses with very thick walls, using a semi-underground structure combined with above-ground heated platforms. Smoke channels were left in both the earthen walls and underground so that smoke could be vented during heating, preventing harm to the crops or people.
The roof used bamboo as its framework, covered with tarpaulin.
To prevent heavy winter snow from crushing the roof, he designed it with a steep A-frame slope, much sharper than ordinary rooftops, so snow would slide off on its own.
Experienced craftsmen were required for the construction. Qin Ke hired several from the city. They were baffled by the design—it didn't look like something meant for people to live in—but since Qin Ke paid well, they followed instructions.
After the autumn harvest, villagers in Qinghe Village had little to do. Though they didn't know exactly what Qin Ke was building, he hired them to construct buildings and farm land, paying wages higher than even city rates.
They were more than willing. After a full month of work, rows of low, long, rectangular buildings stood quietly across the open fields, each separated by two or three meters.
Qin Ke had previously redeemed potato seeds and planting techniques and still had fifteen points remaining.
Though Great Yan was not a dynasty he recognized, many aspects were the same—such as the scarcity of vegetable varieties.
This was something he had struggled to adapt to. No matter how he rotated his cooking methods, there were only so many ingredients available.
Aside from the vegetables he recognized—bok choy and eggplant—Great Yan had little else besides chives.
In ancient times, chives had low yields, and without greenhouse technology, fresh chives in winter were even rarer. Only the wealthy and powerful could afford them, making them a luxury.
After much consideration, Qin Ke decided to prioritize planting chives, tomatoes, and chili peppers in the greenhouses.
He redeemed tomato and chili seeds from the system store. It wasn't that he didn't want more varieties—these two were already things he could no longer endure being without. Judging by historical progression, he wasn't even sure he'd live long enough to eat them otherwise.
He knew that producing items far beyond the era was risky, but he couldn't worry about that anymore.
Moreover, deep down, he had a feeling that the Eldest Princess was not unaware of his peculiarities—she had simply chosen to remain silent. The benefits he could bring were enough for her to overlook such matters.
…
At that very moment, the Eldest Princess he had been thinking about was reclining half-lying on her bed, her posture lazy. But a closer look revealed a hint of pallor in her complexion.
"Your Highness, the palace has sent an imperial physician to examine you."
"Heh. My good imperial father really can't put his mind at ease," Jinyang said with a trace of mockery curling at her lips. "Let him come in."
The imperial physician knelt trembling to salute. Catching sight of the dignified, graceful Eldest Princess—her presence like that of an immortal—he struggled to keep his hand from shaking as he placed it on her wrist.
He knew this was an impossible task. The Eldest Princess had been injured in an assassination attempt on her return to the capital and had been bedridden since.
The Emperor had sent him to assess her condition. Any mistake—misjudging how severe her injuries were—could cost him his head.
"Physician Zhang, how are my injuries?" Jinyang asked meaningfully, her gaze carrying an unspoken weight of warning.
The atmosphere in the chamber grew increasingly tense.
"Reporting to Your Highness, your injuries affected your internal organs. You must rest and recuperate properly and should not overexert yourself."
Seemingly satisfied, Jinyang withdrew her wrist and said coolly, "I hope Physician Zhang will report truthfully to my imperial father, so he need not worry."
Understanding the implication behind her words, Physician Zhang quickly kowtowed in acknowledgment.
Once he left the room with his medical chest, Shishu, who had been standing silently to the side, lowered her head and said, "Your Highness, should I—"
"No need," Jinyang interrupted. "He's a smart man. A smart man knows what to do."
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Currently at chapter 228 for advance chapters
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