“What’s all the commotion?” A man in his forties, ordinary-looking with a reserved demeanor, entered through the back door.

“Boss.”

The shop’s employees all turned to look.

“What’s going on?” The man immediately spotted the small tomatoes on the tray and the appraisal form.

“I have a batch of cherry tomatoes, about a pound. You said you’d take them.” Regaining his composure, Tong Zhanyan quickly steadied himself. At the same time, he noticed a cooler box placed on the floor nearby.

The box wasn’t large—one hand could easily lift it—likely used by the store for deliveries.

It would be just the right size for his cherry tomatoes.

“Cherry tomatoes?” The man sized Tong Zhanyan up, quickly figuring out the situation. “We do buy them, but the exact price depends on the infection level and quality. It ranges from one hundred to three hundred.”

“Who pays the appraisal fee?” Tong Zhanyan sharply zeroed in on the issue.

The man paused, then replied, “Of course, we do.”

Tong Zhanyan exhaled in relief.

At a hundred per unit, if he had to cover the appraisal fee too, his hundred thousand would effectively be halved.

“Got the goods?” The man eyed Tong Zhanyan’s bag.

“I’ll bring it in a couple of days. It just entered the mature stage.” Tong Zhanyan showed no awkwardness despite not having the item. “Could I borrow your box for a few days? I can pay a deposit.”

Everyone followed Tong Zhanyan’s gaze.

Seeing clearly, the expressions in the room varied.

The crop was precious, so naturally, the box wasn’t cheap either.

“Sure.” The owner sized Tong Zhanyan up. “Deposit… five thousand.”

Tong Zhanyan’s face fell. His entire savings didn’t even add up to five thousand.

“How much do you have?” The owner noticed Tong Zhanyan’s predicament.

“Three thousand.” Tong Zhanyan offered the highest amount he could manage.

Before the middle-aged man could respond, the clerk who had initially attended to him spoke up, “That box costs over ten thousand.”

If Tong Zhanyan ran off with the goods, they’d suffer a huge loss.

It was hard to say exactly how much Tong Zhanyan had.

But in his estimation, it couldn’t be that much.

“It’s fine, just three thousand.” The owner waved dismissively. “Write down your contact info.”

“Do you want these tomatoes?” Tong Zhanyan asked, his relief palpable.

Only now did he notice each tomato leaf had cut marks—evidence of the leaf samples taken for testing.

The man examined them. “They look decent. I’ll give you two hundred and thirty.”

Saying this, he turned to fetch a gram scale from nearby.

Several clerks nearby saw this and rushed over to assist.

The clerk who had initially attended to Tong Zhanyan glanced at the man but said nothing further.

Amidst the bustle, Tong Zhanyan stood watching.

The cherry tomatoes were sold individually, and each weighed separately. A person beside them was solely responsible for recording the grams—a rather bizarre scene.

“They’re all around ten grams… Five tomatoes total fifty-four grams.” The owner looked up at Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan nodded, saying nothing.

Seeing that Tong Zhanyan had no objections, the owner got up to handle the payment elsewhere, while the remaining staff carefully placed the items into a nearby refrigerated display case.

“These are pretty good quality. We’ll go with 230 yuan per 60 grams. Fifty-four grams comes to 12,420 yuan. Minus the 3,000 yuan deposit, that leaves 9,420 yuan.” With that, the man pulled out the store’s payment terminal.

Tong Zhanyan opened his own device.

A ding sounded, and nearly 10,000 yuan was deposited into his account.

Staring at the extra money in his account, Tong Zhanyan felt dazed as he walked out the door.

Five tomatoes sold for over ten thousand yuan—for the first time, he truly grasped the concept of “crops being valuable.”

Seeing Tong Zhanyan leave, the shop staff immediately began discussing.

“Boss, you’re just too soft-hearted…” remarked the clerk who had served Tong Zhanyan earlier. With Tong Zhanyan making money from selling tomatoes, they should have deducted more from the deposit.

“It’s fine. It’s tough at the beginning,” the man shrugged, heading toward the back door. “You guys keep busy. I’m going to check on the fields.”

The clerk pouted. He’d forgotten their boss was also a gardening enthusiast.

The money he’d earned over the years could have funded twenty more stores, yet he’d poured it all into that dilapidated greenhouse, only to lose his entire investment.

It wasn’t until Tong Zhanyan reached the dormitory building that the surreal feeling lifted, replaced by excitement.

Five tomatoes sold for over ten thousand yuan. Those five pots still bore dozens more. If he sold them all, a hundred thousand yuan wouldn’t even cover it—he might even fetch five hundred thousand.

The more he thought about it, the more excited he became, his steps lightening as he climbed the stairs.

Inside the room, Qing Jiyue was already gone.

At this hour, he was in the training room.

Tong Zhanyan set down the cooler and backpack, rushing straight to inspect the tomatoes.

After a night’s rest, more tomatoes had turned red, and several more had their calyxes curling.

The sight of branches heavy with fruit was already delightful, but now Tong Zhanyan found them even more endearing. Especially those bright red little faces—he felt like giving one a kiss.

His mouth watered involuntarily.

But this time, Tong Zhanyan felt no urge to eat even one. They were money, after all—and frankly, they didn’t taste good.

He fetched scissors from his room and prepared to start picking.

Most fruits, once ripe, would continue draining nutrients if left unharvested. These tomato plants were already malnourished; leaving them would hinder the growth of the remaining tomatoes.

Just as he was about to start, Tong Zhanyan noticed the camera nearby and remembered he had a livestream. His movements halted again.

He had been paying attention to his livestream these past few days.

As the fruits gradually turned red, his livestream views and followers had surged again. Now, he was getting fifty to sixty views daily, with ten to twenty new followers each day.

Compared to million-follower superstars, this was nothing. But for Tong Zhanyan, who’d recently been stuck with single-digit daily views and zero followers, it was remarkable.

Could harvesting count as “reaping”?

Tong Zhanyan pondered this, deciding against rushing the harvest. Instead, he gathered his things and returned indoors, where he studied his livestream terminal.

Half an hour later, he posted his first announcement since going live: Tonight at 7 PM sharp, he would conduct his first harvest.

The announcement was pinned above the comment section in the livestream room, visible immediately upon entering.

After posting and double-checking it, Tong Zhanyan switched pages to browse shopping platforms.

Time was running short; he needed to buy what he could first.

But he only had 13,000 credits total. Since he wasn’t planning to buy seeds online, he could only afford soil, pots, and tools…

At noon, Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran came to find him. The three had lunch together, then headed to the sports field for independent training in the afternoon.

In the evening, Tong Zhanyan used the excuse of an upset stomach to return to the dormitory building early.

Tong Zhanyan had somewhat underestimated the impact of that announcement. His livestream was bustling like never before.

New followers surged to thirty in just one afternoon, comments increased by over ten, and most significantly, the online viewer count soared to twenty-four.

To date, his total followers had reached over one hundred and seventy, but the online viewer count had always been in the single digits—never exceeding five.

Twenty-four concurrent viewers was unprecedented.

Tong Zhanyan returned early, before five o’clock, leaving him restless for the next two hours as he kept checking the livestream.

The livestream traffic indeed surged again after six o’clock, just as he’d hoped.

The final count at 6:50 PM showed thirty-two viewers online.

Seeing everyone’s genuine anticipation, Tong Zhanyan suddenly felt a bit nervous.

At 6:55 PM, Tong Zhanyan took a deep breath, washed his hands, gave his scissors a quick wipe, and headed toward the balcony carrying the insulated box.

The moment 7:00 hit, Tong Zhanyan got straight to work.

Gu Yunyang only saw the announcement around 4:00 PM that afternoon because earlier, he’d been busy pulling out the tomato plants in his greenhouse that had died from blossom end rot.

He hadn’t given up without a fight. After noticing the tomatoes’ symptoms, he had even mustered the courage to seek help from Old Xu. Yet no matter what he tried, he couldn’t alter their fate.

He’d just finished pulling out two-thirds of the tomatoes in his plot when Tong Zhanyan’s announcement appeared. His mood was understandably sour.

But despite his frustration, Gu Yunyang still showed up punctually in front of the livestream.

He enjoyed the sight of a bountiful harvest and was also curious to see what the old lady behind the livestream was really like.

Drilled holes all over the pot just because she was lazy, used her palm instead of a brush for pollination because she couldn’t be bothered, and that rope around the plant’s neck…

He’d never seen anyone so careless.

The streamer herself was punctual, though. At seven sharp, activity stirred in the livestream.

Someone crouched beside the camera, then produced a crumpled plastic bag from somewhere. Grasping both handles, they gave it a sharp tug and a flick, filling it with air.

Gu Yunyang began to feel a bad premonition.

Placing the plastic bag beside the pots, the figure reached to the side with their right hand, returning moments later clutching a pair of scissors.

Gu Yunyang sat up straight involuntarily, his brow furrowing.

Those scissors were the most common, old household type. Could Tong Zhanyan possibly be—

Before Gu Yunyang’s unease could fully take hold, he saw those menacing hands already reaching toward the five pitiable tomato plants.

Snip, snip, snip, snip…

Tong Zhanyan had been slightly nervous, but after years of planting and harvesting, his hands moved swiftly and precisely once he got started.

The first batch of ripe cherry tomatoes wasn’t large—just over a dozen in total. It took barely two minutes.

After swiftly snipping all the tomatoes with curled calyx leaves from the five pots, Tong Zhanyan glanced at them, lifted the plastic bag to weigh it, patted his butt, and called it a day. He was outta there.

Watching Tong Zhanyan snip away with a couple of quick cuts before just… walking off, walking off, walking…

Gu Yunyang nearly choked on his own spit.

He could overlook the plastic bag and tolerate the crappy shears, but what about the harvesting commentary?

Where was the fruit showcase?

In all the livestreams he’d watched before, didn’t every host drone on about how hard they worked and how tough it was, then endlessly snap photos of the crops before finally picking them together with the audience holding their breath?

While he admitted those streamers rambled too much, Tong Zhanyan didn’t even give them a moment to brace themselves. Just two snips with the scissors and he was gone?

Gu Yunyang felt a lump in his throat grow heavier, a nausea he couldn’t quite vomit up.

Clearly, he wasn’t the only one feeling this way. The entire chat was flooded with question marks.

Many had arrived an hour or two early to wait for this moment.

Tong Zhanyan just snip-snip…

Most hadn’t even gotten a clear look.