The man blinked, visible relief flickering across his weathered face at receiving practical, reasonable instructions rather than emotional commands driven purely by anger. "Y-Yes, Miss. We can transplant them to the southern grounds or perhaps donate some to the botanical gardens in the city if you'd prefer."
"Use your professional judgment," Shuyin said, trusting his expertise. "Whatever will give them the best chance of continued health. I want them removed from this space, but I don't want them to die in the process."
She paused in her digging, straightening to survey the garden with calculating eyes. "And once the ground is completely cleared, once we've removed every trace of what was imposed here, we begin replanting according to the original design. I have my mother's garden journals stored away. They contain detailed notes about what grew where, what thrived in which seasons, how the space was meant to flow."
