The next morning, just as dawn brushed the sky with pale light, Lin Yue successfully slipped into Lin Yuqin's courtyard after quietly coordinating with Qing He.
By then, Lin Yuqin had already finished bathing. Dressed simply, she sat waiting by the table, her fingers unconsciously tightening around the edge of her sleeve.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
The soft, rhythmic knocking sounded from outside. Lin Yuqin rose almost at once and went to open the door herself.
"I hope you didn't run into any trouble on the way," she asked, as her eyes swept over Lin Yue.
Lin Yue shook her head and bowed respectfully. "Everything went smoothly, Young Mistress. Qing He helped a great deal."
At the mention of Qing He, Lin Yuqin paused.
For some reason, a faint, unfamiliar emotion stirred in her chest.
She had never heard Lin Yue speak so earnestly about anyone before, and the realization made her oddly uneasy—as if her place beside Lin Yue had been subtly threatened.
Unaware of her thoughts, Lin Yue mistook the silence for interest and added cheerfully, "When things settle down, I'll introduce her to you one day."
Lin Yuqin lowered her gaze and replied with a quiet, "Mm."
They soon turned their attention to the task at hand.
Together, they carefully packed the dried herbs into sturdy sack bags, wrapping the more delicate ones in layers of cloth.
Lin Yue moved with practiced efficiency, clearly intending to shoulder everything herself.
"I'll carry them," Lin Yue said firmly. "You shouldn't trouble yourself with this, Young Mistress."
Lin Yuqin frowned. Being protected like a porcelain doll made her uncomfortable. "I can carry some," she insisted softly. "I don't want to be useless."
After a brief exchange, they reached a compromise—Lin Yue would take the heavier sacks, while Lin Yuqin carried a smaller bundle.
Once ready, they headed toward the stables.
As the duke's daughter, Lin Yuqin had the privilege to use horses or carriages freely.
The stable worker straightened when he saw her and asked respectfully, "Young Mistress, would you like a carriage prepared, or a horse?"
Considering their plans, a carriage would draw too much attention.
"A horse," Lin Yuqin answered after a brief pause.
Lin Yue's brows knit together immediately. "Young Mistress… riding a horse isn't easy. Are you certain?"
Instead of answering directly, Lin Yuqin accepted the reins handed to her by the stable worker. With practiced movements, she mounted the horse smoothly and adjusted her posture.
"Father used to have me trained," she said calmly. "It's not as difficult as it looks."
Lin Yue knew this, yet she still couldn't suppress her worry.
Once both were settled, they rode quietly out of the courtyard.
...
In the novel, Xu Wenyi was a retired imperial physician who had withdrawn from court life long ago.
He resided deep in the cold mountains, living alone in a humble cottage where mist lingered year-round.
Though his dwelling was modest, the medicines he refined there were anything but ordinary.
Xu Wenyi was a man of refined taste and sharp discernment.
Though he claimed to have retired, merchants across the kingdom still sought him out. Any medicinal formula bearing his name was worth a fortune.
Quietly, he had become one of the most influential pharmaceutical merchants in the realm.
He was also known to be sharp-eyed, cautious, and exceedingly selective in choosing partners.
Lin An'an had come to know his value through Lin Yuqin's former fiancé, Gu Jinghan.
After discovering the rare medicinal herbs in her garden, Lin An'an had seized the opportunity to form an alliance with Xu Wenyi.
With his expertise and her resources, the two had quickly forged a powerful partnership.
Lin Yue understood this well.
Xu Wenyi was not a man who could be swayed by flattery or silver alone.
To gain his cooperation, one had to prove their worth—both in knowledge and sincerity.
Her fingers brushed against the ginger roots tucked carefully inside her pouch.
In ancient times, ginger was not widely cultivated, nor was its medicinal and culinary value fully understood.
Its use was often dismissed as bitter and disruptive.
Many even considered it a forbidden root, lumped together with chili peppers and other "harmful" ingredients banned from refined kitchens.
Lin Yue did not intend to sell the ginger to Xu Wenyi.
She intended to cook with it.
Only by showing its true value—both as medicine and as nourishment—could she demonstrate that they were worthy allies.
Beside her, Lin Yuqin rode quietly, deep in thought.
Ever since the incident where Mei Lin had fallen from the rooftops, she had changed.
The once timid maid had grown sharp and deliberate, and her calm strategies betrayed a mind far beyond her years.
Even her temperament felt different.
Earlier that morning, Lin Yue had explained how they intended to gain Xu Wenyi's favor: by preparing a simple, authentic broth centered around ginger.
Lin Yuqin had nearly stopped breathing when she heard it.
Ginger was a forbidden root in the kingdom even more than Chili peppers.
And the dish Lin Yue described sounded completely foreign—something she had never seen or heard of before.
The ingredients Lin Yue mentioned were simple, yet strange in their combination:
Fresh ginger root, Clear spring water, Chicken bones for broth, A pinch of salt and Scallions, lightly bruised.
Nothing extravagant. Nothing excessive.
Lin Yuqin could not understand how such a dish could please a man like Xu Wenyi.
Yet Lin Yue spoke of it with confidence, as though she had tasted it countless times before.
Soon, the path narrowed and the horses slowed. They had reached the tip of the hill.
Ahead of them stood a small cottage nestled against the mountainside.
Its wooden walls were weathered by wind and snow, and thin wisps of smoke curled lazily from the chimney.
Medicinal herbs hung from the eaves to dry, their faint scent carried by the cold air. The place was quiet—so quiet it felt removed from the rest of the world.
Lin Yue tightened her grip on the reins.
This was Xu Wenyi's domain.
And whether their fate changed today… would depend on what they did next.