“Excellent! Physician Shen, well said! His Majesty cares for the people of the world, and we are deeply grateful.”
The surrounding commoners were moved to tears.
As for public speaking, Shen He had honed her skills over the years at Qingfeng Village to perfection.
She knew exactly what the people wanted to hear…
No wonder the feudal lords used to hold the Son of Heaven hostage to command the nobles—speaking under the emperor’s banner certainly made things easier.
“In addition, regarding the Great Plague, His Majesty has already provided a solution. From now on, any citizen of our empire can come to Mu’en Hall to receive the vaccine. The vaccine prevents the Hundred-Year Sore. As long as you receive it before contracting the disease, I, Shen Yu, on behalf of His Majesty, guarantee that you will never be afflicted with the Hundred-Year Sore!”
Shen Yu smoothly followed up, revealing the plan she had finalized with the Empress the previous night: using Mu’en Hall as the anchor, the Imperial Court would fund free smallpox vaccinations for the people.
On this matter, the usually frugal Empress was exceptionally generous.
She immediately approved 100,000 taels of silver for Shen Yu and promised to cover any shortfall in the vaccination budget.
In terms of treatment for the common people, the Empress’s actions truly shattered Shen Yu’s understanding of the Emperor Wangshu as described by her grandfather.
“Physician Shen, you… you’re not joking, are you?”
“I saw this morning that the officials are organizing the refugees outside the city. Many military tents have been set up in the imperial manor outside the city, and those afflicted with the Hundred-Year Sore have been moved there.”
The crowd buzzed with discussion.
Though they doubted Shen Yu’s claim of “never contracting the Hundred-Year Sore,” the words came from Physician Shen, backed by His Majesty himself.
The temptation of eradicating the Hundred-Year Sore was too great.
They truly wanted to give it a try.
“Yin Qiu, you explain the rest to everyone. There aren’t many people today, so you can also start administering the vaccine. I taught you before, didn’t I?”
Shen Yu pushed Yin Qiu forward.
Standing before the crowd, Yin Qiu was a bit uncomfortable and seemed shy.
But this was a necessary step for Yin Qiu.
Shen Yu wanted to gradually cultivate her into an independent, capable child.
With Shen Yu’s encouragement, Yin Qiu gathered her courage and began explaining what the vaccine was and its effects, mimicking Shen He’s manner.
She even rolled up her sleeve to show the vaccination mark on her arm.
“It can really protect us from the Hundred-Year Sore?”
“Physician Shen uses divine methods!”
“Besides an immortal… who else could have such skills? That plague is a deadly scourge…”
“My husband passed early—he was tormented by the Hundred-Year Sore while stationed at the border. If only we had met Physician Shen sooner… sob…”
Everyone spoke.
Almost everyone present had been affected by the Hundred-Year Sore, either losing loved ones or surviving but being disfigured by the disease.
Shen Yu’s appearance undoubtedly gave them hope, making them realize for the first time that the plague, as fierce as a tiger, was not invincible.
This time, they wouldn’t have to rely on hiding or begging heaven for mercy.
The Empress had raised a living bodhisattva who stood up to lead the people and confront the deadly plague head-on!
Facing the overwhelming praise, Shen Yu almost laughed out loud.
‘So this is what it feels like to be revered by thousands… Not bad. It’s even a bit more satisfying than at Qingfeng Village.’
Speaking of Qingfeng Village, including the travel time, she had been away for about a month and a half.
The last letter from home was when her mother sent her some clothes.
It had been several days since she last received any news.
Shen Yu, used to being cherished as a precious treasure in Qingfeng Village, looked at the admiring eyes of the people before her and felt a bit unaccustomed.
She was a little homesick.
She missed the days of walking with her mother on the street, eating and drinking their fill, then heading to Xiaotian’s brothel to listen to music.
She missed the three beautiful courtesan sisters at Xiaobi’s brothel and the facial-cleanser service.
She missed the days of researching medicinal herbs with her mother until she was so tired she fell asleep right on her mother’s lap.
She missed the days when Grandpa would puff on his pipe and tell her about the Former Emperor’s embarrassing acts.
She missed everything in Qingfeng Village.
‘I wonder if Grandpa has found the sweet potatoes and potatoes he sent people to look for outside. It’s been so many years—shouldn’t there be some leads by now?’
Shen Yu inexplicably thought of the things she had been searching for so long, still without any news.
She wanted high-yield crops because the people suffered too much.
At the root, it was a problem of productivity and land—insufficient food, compounded by the deteriorating environment.
Such days would only get harder…
What could she do?
She charged only a symbolic fee for consultations, yet she couldn’t treat everyone.
So what could Shen Fu really do?
‘If we could find potatoes, sweet potatoes, and corn, maybe things could improve.’
Shen Yu sat down to rest, pouring herself a cup of tea and murmuring softly.
‘The Empress… doesn’t seem as bad as Grandpa said. She wants to do many things, and she has accomplished many things. Though not a revival lord, she’s at least a preservation king. At least she prevented the collapse of the state and its altars.’
‘But the natural cycle of dynastic rise and fall is unavoidable, compounded by climate deterioration and endless natural and man-made disasters. Can the Empress alone truly hold up this collapsing mansion?’
Shen Yu had seen what people on the verge of death looked like.
At the border, that horrifying scene was more terrifying than any book or painting depicting starvation she had ever seen.
After witnessing it, she couldn’t forget it.
Even a heartless person would be moved by such a sight.
“Shen Yu, what are you muttering about?”
Xiao Ban heard Shen Yi murmuring to herself while sipping tea, saying something about “beans” and “something.”
‘Is she talking about mung bean cakes to cool off? Is Shen Yu hungry too?’
“Nothing… By the way, Miss Xiaoyue, your family has imperial merchant caravans, right?”
“Imperial merchants? Oh, oh, you mean the imperial caravans. Yes, we do. And there are many of them, with a wide reach.”
Xiao Biao was initially taken aback before realizing Shen Yu was referring to the role of Miss Xiaoyue as the prized youngest daughter of that noble family.
“Do they do business with foreign lands?”
Shen Yu’s question puzzled Xiao Biao.
“Foreign lands? Few… but some. Though we don’t get along with the Northern and Southern Barbarians, there’s some trade. The Northern Barbarians raise excellent horses—fine, strong, adaptable, and fast—a solid currency even in other vassal states. The Southern Barbarians produce fruits and grains in large quantities at low prices, an indispensable part of the empire. But lately, the weather has worsened. Even the Southern Barbarians’ lands, once called the empire’s granary, now barely yield enough for subsistence.”
Xiao Biao couldn’t help but sigh.
These were the severe problems the Imperial Court faced.
Natural disasters were increasing.
Even in the mild climate of the south, grain yields had dropped, let alone elsewhere in the empire.
More and more people were dying of starvation, and the court had no good solution—poor grain yields were a gap that even money couldn’t fill.
“What if I told you that in some corner of the world, there are crops that are nutritious, can replace rice and wheat to fill the empire’s food gap, and yield a thousand jin per mu? Would you believe me?”
“Huh?”
Xiao Biao instinctively stood up and gently placed her soft hand on Shen Yu’s forehead.
“You don’t have a fever. Shen Yu, are you asleep? It’s still so bright, and you’re already talking in your dreams? Even weeds in the fields can’t grow like that. Northern wheat yields less than one shi per mu a year. Southern rice, even with two or three harvests a year, barely reaches four shi. And that’s the weight of unhusked grain. A thousand jin per mu? Even the weeds on the mountain can’t grow that lush!”
Xiao Biao genuinely didn’t believe Shen Yu’s words.
But the words came from Shen Yu…
In Xiao Biao’s impression, Shen Yu never joked.
At least, every word she said to Xiao Biao had come true.
“Then tell me, if such a miraculous product really had such high yields, why isn’t anyone growing it? Why doesn’t the court know? If someone really grew this grain, wouldn’t everyone be free from hunger?”
Xiao Biao seemed to be interrogating Shen Yu, but in reality, she was intensely interested and fantasizing about the thousand-jin-per-mu crop.
A thousand jin per mu—how densely would you have to plant to produce that much grain?
But planting too densely would prevent the crops from bearing fruit.
Even children in the countryside knew the saying, “Nine inches, three rings around the field, wheat fills the barn.”
“There must be, we just haven’t found them yet. I once studied an ancient text about a crop called the sweet potato.”
“Sweet potato? I know about the Western Fan’s imperial melon. Want some? If you do, I’ll have someone send some over!”
“No, it grows underground. Every part can be eaten. Especially the root—sweet, soft, and sticky, nutritious and delicious.”
Shen Yu completely ignored Xiao Biao’s mention of imperial melon and continued introducing the sweet potato’s excellent qualities.
“Moreover, it can grow in poor soil. Infertile mountain land, sandy soil, rocky land, newly reclaimed land—places that can’t grow wheat or rice—it can all be planted there. One mu can yield several dozen shi.”
“Wait a minute!”
Xiao Biao interrupted.
She understood every word Shen Yu said, but when strung together, it seemed so foreign.
A crop that can grow anywhere, doesn’t care about soil, high yield—several dozen shi per mu—and tastes so good Shen Yu described it as “sweet, soft, and sticky”?
Does such a thing really exist?
“Not only that, sweet potatoes can be propagated by cuttings, multiply quickly, and the tubers are deep underground, immune to locusts and pests. They can be eaten raw or cooked, dried, ground into flour, or made into wine. The whole plant is a treasure. Even the stems and leaves can feed livestock in good times or serve as emergency rations in hard times.”
By now, Xiao Biao was stunned.
She suspected Shen Yu was telling her a story.
The benefits of this crop were endless, making Xiao Biao drool.
Not because the sweet potato sounded delicious, but because such a high-yield crop was exactly what the empire desperately needed.
“Then! Then… where can we find it? I’ll go home right now and tell my family to search for it—to the ends of the earth if we have to!”
“I don’t know.”
Shen Yu shook her head, dousing Xiao Biao’s enthusiasm like cold water.
But Shen Yu felt the same.
If she could find it, Qingfeng Village would have already succeeded.
Since she was five, she had urgently asked her family to fund merchant caravans, enough to reach most countries around the empire, to search for potatoes, sweet potatoes, tomatoes, corn, and such.
But years passed with nothing—not even a sweet potato vine.
The caravans had reached everywhere human feet could go, but these crops were nowhere to be found.
Shen Yu refused to believe they didn’t exist.
Though the era’s background differed from any dynasty she knew, the world’s geography was essentially the same.
So these crops must exist; it was only a matter of time.
‘The answer probably lies across the ocean. Or maybe the things exist, but Qingfeng Village’s caravans are too weak and just missed them by chance.’
“Shen Yu, are you making up stories to cheer me up?”
Xiao Biao rested her chin on her hand, looking displeased, staring at Shen Yu with a sulky expression.
‘You got my hopes up, only to say it was all just a joke. How mean!’
“No… I’m sure these crops definitely exist. Not just the sweet potato I mentioned, but also potatoes, corn, tomatoes…”
As she was about to describe what borscht and tomato-scrambled-eggs were, or when she was vividly describing to Xiao Biao what divine delicacy tomato-scrambled-eggs were, Yun Wei walked in at just the right moment, carrying a potted green plant and two imperial melons with clear patterns.
She glanced at the betrothal gifts laid out in the courtyard, a peculiar expression flickering across her face.
“Miss Xiaoyue is here too. Perfect, I have something good. A gift from His Majesty!”
Yun Wei placed the plant, potted in an expensive-looking ceramic pot, on the tea table in the yard, along with the two heavy imperial melons.
“I thought it was something special—isn’t this just the Western Fan’s tribute of fire umbrella pearls and imperial melons? The imperial melons are fine, but fire umbrella pearls can’t handle the cold. This late autumn, if you expose them to the chill, they won’t bear red lanterns by New Year’s.”
“Fire umbrella pearls?”
Shen Yu stared at the plant on the table, dumbfounded.
‘This… this is no fire umbrella pearl! Isn’t it a tomato? The leaves, the smell… absolutely unmistakable!’