Chapter 5
The morning after the downpour was fresh and moist, carrying the fragrance of earth and grass. The eerie standoff at the abandoned hunting lodge, like an unreal nightmare, was temporarily left behind as the carriage jolted along, but the chilling sense of oppression was deeply imprinted on Serena's heart.
Lucien departed before dawn, just as silently as he had appeared. There were no farewells, no further words, only the suggestive phrase, "The skies over the South don't always look so clear," which hung like a dark cloud over Serena's path.
The convoy continued its journey and finally arrived at its destination, "Sunset Vineyard," in the afternoon.
When the carriage stopped in front of the manor's faded, mottled wrought iron gate, Serena looked out the window with mixed feelings.
Contrary to her expectations of the Duke's estate's opulence, the manor before her exuded a sense of neglect and decay. The vast vineyards, though still verdant, showed signs of neglect and were overgrown with weeds. The distant winery also appeared quite old, its chimneys silent. The only residence was a three-story white house with a distinctly southern feel, its walls covered in dense ivy, giving it a somewhat somber appearance.
Upon receiving the news, the manor steward, a middle-aged man in a worn-out coat with a fearful expression, was already bowing to greet them at the door with several tenant farmers and servants.
"Welcome, Miss Serena, to Sunset Manor!" The steward's voice was visibly tense, and beads of sweat even appeared on his forehead. The sudden arrival of this spoiled young lady from the capital, a business long forgotten by her family, made him extremely uneasy.
With Anna's help, Serena gracefully stepped down from the carriage. Today, she had deliberately worn a practical off-white riding outfit, reducing the amount of elaborate decoration and making her appear more capable. Her gaze calmly swept over the anxious crowd and the somewhat dilapidated manor, without much disappointment in her heart, but rather a sense of "I knew it."
"Get up." Her voice wasn't loud, but it carried an innate air of nobility that commanded respect. "Show me around here."
For the next half day, Serena, accompanied by the steward, carefully inspected the entire estate. She looked closely at everything, from the soil condition and the health of the vines in the vineyards, to the dusty equipment in the winery, and the stockpiled wines of varying quality in the warehouse.
The steward nervously gave his introduction, trying his best to conceal the manor's predicament, but Serena, with her hastily acquired agricultural knowledge and the limited experience she had before her transmigration, always managed to ask insightful questions.
"The grapevines on that hillside to the east have yellowing leaves. Is it a disease or a soil problem?"
"Is the juicer in the workshop an old model from decades ago? Can you guarantee the juice yield?"
"Was all this wine in the warehouse brewed last year? Why is there so much stockpiled? Why can't it be sold in the nearby towns?"
The supervisor broke out in a cold sweat, stammering as he answered, his eyes darting around.
Serena sneered inwardly. It seemed the problems here weren't just mismanagement, but also likely involved embezzlement and deception by management. This was within her expectations, and it was the first problem she had to solve.
In the evening, in the fairly tidy but obviously outdated living room of the manor, Serena dismissed everyone except for the steward who was sitting on pins and needles.
She didn't sit in the main seat, but stood by the window, gazing at the vineyards bathed in the golden-red light of the setting sun, and remained silent for a moment. This silence almost suffocated the steward.
Finally, she turned around, her gaze calm yet carrying an undeniable air of authority, and landed on the steward.
“Manager Carl,” she said slowly, calling out his name, “Father entrusted this estate to me in the hope that it could be revitalized, instead of continuing to be a bottomless pit that devours the Wilder family’s gold coins.”
Karl collapsed to his knees with a thud, his voice trembling: "Miss, it's really...it's really because the weather has been bad these past few years, and sales have been..."
"Bad weather?" Serena interrupted him, her voice slightly cold. "I saw on my way here that the grapes at the neighboring vineyards are growing quite well. Poor sales? I checked the books. In the past three years, two-thirds of the wine produced by the vineyard has been sold at extremely low prices to a merchant named 'Grey Rat,' and this man seems to have close ties with your brother-in-law."
Karl looked up abruptly, his face drained of color, his lips trembling, unable to utter a single word in defense. He hadn't expected that this usually spoiled young lady would find his Achilles' heel in just half a day!
Serena looked at his pale face, but felt little pleasure.
He's just a minor character; getting rid of him is easy. The key is how to get the manor truly running.
“I’m giving you a chance, Karl.” Her voice softened slightly, but carried a deeper chill. “Write down everything you know about this estate, everything you’ve done in private. Then, cooperate with me in the upcoming restructuring. If you do well, I might consider letting you leave with dignity, even giving you a settlement allowance. If you try anything else…”
She didn't finish her sentence, but the coldness in her eyes said it all.
Steward Carl collapsed to the ground, kowtowing repeatedly: "Yes, yes! Miss! I will do as you say! I will do as you say!"
After dealing with Steward Karl, Serena didn't feel relieved. This was only the first step. Next, she would face the deeply entrenched problems of the land, the backward technology, the blocked sales channels, and... the possible spying from Lucien or other forces lurking in the shadows.
She walked to her desk, spread out a new sheet of parchment, and picked up a quill. The afterglow of the setting sun shone through the window, casting a soft glow on her, but her fingers gripping the pen were firm and strong.
She began to write down her initial ideas for the transformation of the estate: introducing new grape varieties, reforming the winemaking process, finding new sales channels... and, in her memory, that hillside that seemed more suitable for growing a certain precious spice.
The pen tip scratched across the paper, like a silkworm eating leaves.
Outside the window, the stars were just beginning to appear in the southern night sky. In stark contrast to the bustling and noisy capital, this place was quiet and vast, full of unknowns and challenges.
In the days that followed, Serena devoted herself almost entirely to the restoration plan of the manor. She shed the elaborate and gorgeous dresses she wore in the capital, put on more practical cotton dresses, and went about her days without makeup, running between the fields, workshops, and study.
The first thing she did was to remeasure the land and personally lead several honest, hardworking old tenant farmers, who had previously been oppressed by Karl, to examine the slope she remembered as suitable for growing spices. Soil samples were carefully collected and prepared to be sent to an elderly scholar in the capital who was knowledgeable in botany, whom she had secretly contacted.
Then, despite the skeptical looks of some conservative tenant farmers, she forcefully pushed forward the clearing and replanting of some aging and severely diseased grapevines. She introduced crop rotation and more refined weeding methods, knowledge that came from her fragmented memories from before her transmigration and the agricultural books she had hastily studied. This knowledge seemed quite novel in this world and attracted a lot of private discussion.
"Is this young lady here to torment us poor souls?"
"Who knows? She looks so delicate and tender, what could she possibly know about farming?"
"I heard she even got rid of Manager Karl; she's got some impressive skills..."
Serena had heard these rumors, but she didn't care. She needed to let her results speak for themselves.
At the same time, she also began to reorganize the distillery. She cleared out the backlog of inferior wines, dismissed several unscrupulous winemakers who were close to Karl, and tried to make some improvements to the winemaking process based on her vague memories, such as more strictly controlling the fermentation temperature and experimenting with different types of oak barrels for aging. These changes were small, even somewhat clumsy, but they showed the remaining workers that this young lady was not just fooling around; she genuinely wanted to make something of herself.
At night, under the dim light of an oil lamp in her study, she perused the estate's account books and records from over the years, trying to find more problems and potential opportunities. Her slender fingers traced the yellowed pages, her brow sometimes furrowing, sometimes relaxing. The soft light outlined her focused profile, a few strands of golden hair falling down, which she impatiently tucked behind her ears. Occasionally, she would pick up her slightly cooled red tea and take a sip before burying herself in the dry numbers and words.
Unbeknownst to her, her all-out efforts to seize any chance of survival had not escaped the notice of certain eyes lurking in the shadows.
A few days after she arrived at the manor, one evening, Lucien appeared like a ghost at the edge of the dense oak grove surrounding the manor.
He was still wearing that unremarkable dark outfit, travel-worn, but his eyes were sharper and deeper than when he was at the hunting lodge. He gazed at the small white building in the distance, and at the slender figure that occasionally appeared in the fields, seemingly out of place with its surroundings.
He saw her squat down on the edge of the field, not caring at all that her skirt was covered in mud, and carefully examining the soil with her hands;
He saw her in the workshop, gesturing at the heavy machinery and talking to the workers. Although she still maintained an aristocratic aloofness, her eyes were unusually focused.
One night, he even caught a glimpse of her profile as she hunched over her desk, writing furiously, through the gap in the curtains of her study that weren't fully drawn. The lamplight cast a soft halo around her, a stark contrast to her "pragmatic" image during the day, carrying a fragile yet persistent beauty.
An extremely complex emotion began to grow and spread in Lucien's heart.
The hatred remained deep and ingrained. It was she who had trampled his dignity underfoot, leaving humiliating marks on his body with a whip. It was she who, with that gold coin, once again trampled on his struggle for survival.
But besides hatred, there was something else.
He saw her change, a change he couldn't understand, nor could he entirely attribute it to a "noble lady's whim." She was no longer the shallow and vicious Serena Wilde who only knew how to vent her emotions with violence. She was struggling, striving, trying to control something, and that all-out effort was, inexplicably... dazzling.
This "dazzling" feeling irritated and angered him. Why should he find her dazzling? An abuser, an enemy!
However, one cannot take their eyes off her.
He watched her frown over a technical problem, watched the glimmer of light in her eyes at the slightest progress, even though that light was quickly replaced by worry, watched her force herself to stay alert despite being utterly exhausted...
A dark, twisted thought, like a vine, quietly coiled around his heart.
Destroy her.
Not simply killing her, because that would be too easy on her.
He would destroy everything she was working so hard to build, shatter all her hopes, and make her taste the bitterness of despair. Then, he would imprison her in this place she was trying to save, a place that would ultimately become her cage. He would break her wings, extinguish all her light, leaving her only able to depend on him, only able to watch him, whether with hatred or...
Lucien's breath hitched slightly, and a hint of confusion and fervor, which he himself was unaware of, flashed in his purple eyes.
He wanted her.
It wasn't love; it was a more obsessive, darker possessiveness. He wanted to completely control this "dazzling" thing that he couldn't understand, to turn this woman who had once been high above him and tormented him into a bird trapped in a gilded cage, belonging only to him. He wanted her to pay the price for her past actions, and to be responsible for the strange and scorching flame that had ignited in his heart.
“Serena…” he murmured her name, his voice fading into the silent forest, carrying with it a cold hatred and a quietly growing, twisted obsession.
He slowly curled the corners of his lips into a cold, confident smile.
Let her try her best first, let her think she has seen hope.
He would look at her like a hunter looking at a beautiful prey that had fallen into a trap but was unaware of it.
When the time is right, he will personally... take it all back.
Continue read on readnovelmtl.com
