When it came to the crops, whether it was the group infected by the “Frenzy Draw” or Gu Yunyang and the others who hadn’t been infected, everyone initially approached them with an almost reverent attitude.

However, as Tong Zhanyan kept coming up with new ways to prepare the food—and made it tastier and tastier—that reverence gradually began to take on a different flavor.

After finishing the noodles and drinking every last drop of soup, the group didn’t rush to leave. Instead, they stared at their empty bowls, rubbed their round, full bellies, and eagerly began discussing the meal.

“You can’t even taste the sweet potato anymore.”

“I never imagined sweet potatoes could be prepared like this—I’ve never even heard of it before.”

“It’s so good, especially the chicken—though there wasn’t quite enough…”

“We’re just lucky to have something to eat.”

“I don’t feel full yet. If only I could have another bowl…”

……

In the livestream chat, watching the crowd’s satisfied expressions and listening to their discussions, a group of people began to lose their minds in unison.

“I really can’t take this anymore. Why are they showing me this?”

“Damn…”

“I really want to punch them.”

“Learned something new. I’ll try this next time.”

“Watching this makes me want to eat it too. Crop prices are pretty low right now…”

“Better not, though. There are still so many people in a state of frenzy who need it.”

“Actually, it’s not that bad. Didn’t Heihei Yixiao harvest a batch of crops a while back? Besides him, a few other streamers I follow have been doing the same lately…”

“I’ve also seen several companies start setting up farming bases recently, and they’re all large-scale operations. It seems they’ve already accumulated enough fertilizer.”

“Even if you don’t grow them perfectly, they’ll still survive. Crops aren’t nearly as scarce as they used to be.”

“You’ve got me wanting to try it too. They look so delicious.”

……

After finishing their meal, Tong Zhanyan and Qing Jiyue didn’t linger in the cafeteria. They headed toward the mountains behind the cafeteria, planning to take a walk.

Since they’d eaten dinner early, a hint of sunset was still visible on the horizon, and the breeze carried a distinct warmth, so the two slowed their pace.

Tong Zhanyan had scattered some seeds of purple milkvetch and other plants in the mountains behind them. It had been half a year already—enough time for them to grow, bloom, and spread once more.

As they walked, Tong Zhanyan looked into the mountains.

Sure enough, the once barren forest was now overgrown with weeds.

Lupines and similar plants can fix nitrogen; besides surviving on poor soil themselves, they also benefit the surrounding crops.

As they grew, the new branches and leaves on the trees along the river and on the mountainside had clearly become much more extensive and lush.

Especially those by the river—their foliage was denser than ever before.

“The experiment over here at the back gate is almost finished,” Qing Jiyue said suddenly.

Tong Zhanyan looked over. “How much longer exactly?”

“About two months,” Qing Jiyue replied.

Qing Jiyue had mentioned earlier that once the experiment concluded, all personnel involved would be withdrawn.

Gu Yunyang and his team only had five or six months left. If Qing Jiyue’s team withdrew and Gu Yunyang’s group left as well, the base would suddenly become deserted.

Tong Zhanyan suddenly felt a sense of emptiness in his chest.

“What are your plans after that? Gu Yunyang and the others are about to graduate,” Qing Jiyue said, changing the subject as he walked toward the lake and sat down on the grass by the water’s edge.

There was a patch of land there without reeds; Tong Zhanyan had taken him there before to go fishing.

With Gu Yunyang and the others about to graduate, and his own security detail leaving as well, the base would lose over two hundred personnel in one fell swoop.

Once that happened, the base would be left with only the group of people who had been infected by the Frenzy Lottery.

There were only a little over a hundred of them in total.

Tong Zhanyan sat down beside Qing Jiyue, feeling a bit of a headache.

Old Xu and Old Wang would likely leave soon as well.

Old Xu and Old Wang had arrived half a year earlier than Gu Yunyang and the others, so they had already been at the base for nearly three years.

Three years might not seem like much to young people, but for them, who were already quite advanced in age, it was a considerable length of time.

Especially now that the weather has been getting hotter, their stamina clearly can’t keep up with Gu Yunyang’s group; they have to stop and rest for a while after working for just a short time.

Old Xu and Old Wang didn’t say anything themselves, but Tong Zhanyan noticed it all.

Gu Yunyang and his group were the first batch of students. Back then, everything was still in its early stages, and since the base was short-handed, they were brought in to help out while learning on the job.

But this arrangement wasn’t a long-term solution; if they were to study systematically, they really needed to go to school.

Old Master Xu and Old Master Wang had always wanted to establish a proper cultivation school. Now that they had accumulated sufficient knowledge and experience, it was the perfect time for them to go teach at the Sidi Military Academy.

This was a good thing.

Even if they didn’t bring it up themselves, Tong Zhanyan would have suggested it.

However, once the Sidi Military Academy has formal instructors and a structured curriculum, the students likely won’t come to his base every day to help out as they do now.

Aside from them, Ning Langdong and Su Yanran probably won’t leave, but Tian Xinqing is a different story.

Someone who can casually lend thirty million certainly isn’t short on money at home.

And farming is hard work—it’s grueling and exhausting.

Even if Tian Xinqing himself didn’t mind, his family might not be willing to let him waste his time like this.

Tian Xinqing has learned a great deal over the past three years; if he were willing, he could already manage a farming base on his own.

However, with this change, his base would be left with only a little over a hundred people.

With a base spanning over a thousand mu, a hundred-odd people simply wouldn’t be enough to handle it.

Noticing Tong Zhanyan’s frustration, Qing Jiyue suggested, “Why don’t I delay the withdrawal of those guards for a while?”

“No need,” Tong Zhanyan declined. “If it comes down to it, I’ll just open a farmstay.”

Qing Jiyue looked at Tong Zhanyan, not quite understanding what he meant.

Tong Zhanyan smiled. “We’ll charge per person, with room and board included, and they can play in the fields to their heart’s content every day.”

Qing Jiyue paused for a moment, then couldn’t help but curve his lips into a smile. It seemed Tong Zhanyan’s base really did have quite a large workforce.

By the time the two of them finished chatting, it had grown completely dark.

The temperature had dropped as well, no longer stifling but pleasantly cool.

Tong Zhanyan leaned back and lay down on the grass.

Seeing this, Qing Jiyue followed suit.

Knowing they often came this way, the area was rarely visited by others; only the occasional croak of a frog could be heard as the weather grew warmer.

The two chatted casually until it was completely dark, then headed back.

Having satisfied his craving, Tong Zhanyan made another batch of sweet potato starch over the next few days, setting aside some for the cafeteria and storing the rest for himself.

As for the remaining sweet potatoes, Tong Zhanyan set aside enough to feed the poultry and livestock in the breeding area, then had Boss Bai haul away the rest.

Although the plot of land remained the same, the yield from this batch of sweet potatoes was significantly higher than before, keeping Boss Bai and his crew busy all day.

By the time they finished with the sweet potatoes, the corn, pumpkins, and rapeseed in the fields had fully entered their peak flowering period.

At the same time, the wheat in the greenhouse had also reached harvest time.

This batch of wheat had grown to only waist-height at its peak; the leaves were completely limp, and the largest grains were no bigger than corn kernels.

Although it differed somewhat from the wheat in his previous world, compared to the massive plants over two meters tall from the very beginning, it was now a completely different matter.

Tong Zhanyan conducted another assessment on them; this time, their infection rate had dropped significantly from before, hovering around 52%.

Since this batch of wheat took a full three months to mature, the corn—planted nearly half a month earlier—was already ready for harvest.

Tong Zhanyan also tested the corn; the infection rate for the higher-risk plants was around 52%, similar to the wheat, while the lower-risk ones were around 23%.

After so many plantings, the infection rate of that corn had dropped to nearly 20%. With a bit of luck, Tong Zhanyan might be able to eat this batch.

After giving it some thought, Tong Zhanyan decided to keep all the corn in the greenhouse.

Including the ones with infection rates over 50%.

After all, at his base, low infection rates weren’t anything special; on the contrary, high infection rates were becoming increasingly rare.

What if they came in handy someday?

As for the soil in the greenhouse, due to the lower infection rate of the wheat itself, even the most severely contaminated section this time was only around 50%.

Considering he planned to continue lowering the wheat’s infection rate, he decided to replace it anyway.

With Qing Jiyue there this time, replacing the old soil with new took only half a day.

While Qing Jiyue was busy, Tong Zhanyan went about sowing corn as usual; by the time Qing Jiyue finished his work, he had just wrapped up his tasks.

With the new crops freshly planted and the corn, pumpkins, and rapeseed not yet ready for harvest, there wasn’t much to do at this stage, so Tong Zhanyan headed straight back to the dormitory with Qing Jiyue.

Half a month later, while transplanting the corn into the greenhouse, Tong Zhanyan also sowed wheat.

Previously, he had been worried that the corn wouldn’t be able to compete with the wheat, so he staggered the planting to allow the corn to establish its roots first.

Given the current growth rate of the wheat, that concern was no longer necessary.

This time, Tong Zhanyan planted a bit more wheat.

Previously, their roots had been too aggressive—just eight plants were enough to cover the entire plot. Now, while their root systems were still slightly more extensive than ordinary wheat, they were no longer a cause for concern.

By the time Tong Zhanyan finished his work, the pollination of the corn, pumpkins, and rapeseed in the fields was nearly complete.

More than half a year had passed, and the bees had already gone through two breeding cycles.

Having started with several hives, their numbers had doubled after these two cycles, and now there were at least 100,000 of them.

This increase in numbers also led to a higher success rate for pollination.

Plus, Tong Zhanyan hadn’t pruned many flowers or leaves this time. All things considered, the total number of successfully pollinated flowers might even exceed the count from the period when they had pruned the plants and pollinated them manually.

The number of flowers directly determines the yield.

That means the yield of this batch of corn, pumpkins, and rapeseed will be higher than any previous harvest.

Since corn and rapeseed couldn’t be manually pollinated in the first place, the difference was relatively minor, but the change was most striking with the pumpkins.

For a long time, the thing Ning Langdong and his team, along with the live-streaming audience, were most enthusiastic about was going to the pumpkin patch to count the pumpkins.

Before pruning the flowers and leaves, a single patch of five or six pumpkin plants would yield at most seven or eight fruits; now, they yield at least fifteen or sixteen.

As the pollination of the corn and pumpkins concluded, the temperature at the base rose once again, climbing from the original 20 to 30 degrees to 25 to 35 degrees.

Though this seemed like a rise of only five degrees, the difference in how it felt was significant. Before, when there was a breeze, one could at least feel a hint of coolness, but once the temperature hit thirty-five degrees, even the wind felt scorching.

The temperature inside the protective shield typically ranged from fifteen to twenty-five degrees, so apart from those who had come down from the front lines and been infected with the frenzy virus, Ning Langdong and his group had never experienced such extreme heat.

Suddenly exposed to it, they all felt like fish out of water, their eyes rolling back in their heads from the heat.

Amused by the scene, Tong Zhanyan urgently tasked the research team with developing an air conditioner.

It wasn’t that this world lacked refrigeration technology; it was just that such systems were generally used for preserving nutrient solutions and in industrial applications—there were none designed for human use.

Since there were similar technologies available, the development process was relatively quick.

Once the prototype was ready, Tong Zhanyan ordered several hundred units and had them installed in every room of the dormitory building, the cafeteria, and even the pens for poultry and livestock in the farming area.

Once the air conditioners started running, the contrast became even more striking, which made the group even more reluctant to venture outside.

While they were defeated by the heat, the crops in the fields were all thriving.

The grass was just as vigorous.

Many weeds were as resilient as those mutated wheat plants.

That was precisely why Tong Zhanyan had been so astonished when he first discovered that the people of this world couldn’t even grow weeds.

Because the temperatures were so high, going out to work during the day could easily lead to heatstroke, so Tong Zhanyan shifted work hours to the early morning and evening, resting during the midday.

He also appropriately reduced the frequency of weeding.

After all, he couldn’t risk his life.

Fortunately, the irrigation system now handles fertilizing, so they no longer have to water each plant individually—otherwise, that would truly be a death sentence.

The rising temperatures aren’t entirely without their benefits, and what pleased Tong Zhanyan most of all was that he could finally enjoy chilled watermelon.

For this, he even went out of his way to buy three large freezers.

After a busy morning, by 11 a.m., the sun was blazing, and the air was warping from the heat. The group rushed into the air-conditioned cafeteria, and each grabbed a slice…

Due to the extreme temperature difference, the watermelon flesh had become grainy. With one bite, the icy, sugar-rich juice instantly hit the spot.

“Ah…”

“So sweet.”

“It seems sweeter than the last batch.”

“It is sweeter.”

“I feel like I could eat half of one by myself.”

In the cafeteria, a group of people was eating and expressing their admiration.

In the livestream.

The viewers couldn’t taste it themselves, and most hadn’t experienced that intense heat, but seeing the satisfied expressions on the faces of the people in the cafeteria, they seemed to sense that sweetness too.

“Eating half of one by yourself? You really have some nerve.”

“I made some sweet potato noodles myself a few days ago to try them out, and they were seriously delicious. Too bad chicken is so expensive—I couldn’t bring myself to buy any… Senior, please bring down the price of chicken too, I’m begging you.”

“I like the corn buns.”

“I want some meat too…”

“I want an egg.”

“Enough already. Senior specializes in farming, and the crops are meant to suppress frenzy…”

“But it really smells so good, especially the ones with chili. That flavor is absolutely amazing.”

“Now you’ve got me wanting to try it too.”

……

Once the watermelons were ready to eat, Tong Zhanyan had them harvested and had Boss Bai haul the entire batch away.

Watermelons can’t be stored for too long; if left too long, the moisture evaporates, and the flavor isn’t as good.

As the watermelons ripened, many other crops also entered their harvesting season, such as corn and pumpkins.

Venturing into a dense, airless cornfield in temperatures nearing 40 degrees Celsius—that could literally kill you.

Tong Zhanyan simply turned off the high-temperature setting for three days and activated a “strong wind” mode specifically for harvesting.

To ensure everything was harvested within three days, Tong Zhanyan even drafted a group of people to help.

Not wanting to work in the sweltering heat, Gu Yunyang and his crew worked with all their might for those three days.

Three days later, they successfully harvested all the corn, pumpkins, and rapeseed.

Each of these crops covered nearly 200 mu of land. After the harvest, Tong Zhanyan immediately had the produce spread out on tarps to dry in the fields where they had been grown.

The drying area stretched for several hundred meters.

Under the high temperatures, the rapeseed didn’t appear to change much, but the corn and pumpkins showed quite noticeable changes.

The number of pumpkins increased, while the corn’s transformation was evident in the kernels.

Corn requires high temperatures to convert starch into dry matter. Previously, many of the kernels would shrink after drying, but this time, that rarely happened, and the kernels themselves became exceptionally plump.

The size of the corn cobs hadn’t changed, but they felt heavy in his hands.

Tong Zhanyan had anticipated this and wasn’t surprised, but Ning Langdong and the others were quite excited.

The infection rate for this batch of rapeseed had dropped across the board to below 20%, and the same was true for the corn and pumpkins.

The group in the mess hall had already been eating the corn and pumpkins, but Tong Zhanyan hadn’t tasted a single bite. As soon as the harvest was finished, he immediately made arrangements.

Boiled corn, corn buns, corn porridge, corn and egg rolls, as well as corn chicken soup and corn duck soup…

Stir-fried pumpkin, pumpkin stewed with meat, steamed pumpkin, dried pumpkin, pumpkin and corn porridge…

Tong Zhanyan ate so much in one go that he grew tired of the sight of corn and pumpkin.

Ning Langdong and his group, however, were still not satisfied. Once they left this base, they wouldn’t have many chances to eat so freely again, so they had to seize the opportunity while they could.

After the harvest, the temperature returned to normal.

Hot weather had its advantages; for example, drying corn and rapeseed went much faster.

A week later, the corn and rapeseed were nearly fully dried.

Some of the corn was sold, while the rest was stored in the warehouse.

Since there were no oil-pressing facilities nearby, Tong Zhanyan pressed all the rapeseed for oil. After setting aside some for the warehouse and some for their own consumption, the remainder was hauled away.

Once they finished here, the group had barely caught their breath when the crops planted after the corn and pumpkins also reached harvest time.

Unlike corn and pumpkins, which could be harvested all at once within a few days, these crops required multiple rounds of prolonged picking.

The group had no choice but to grit their teeth and get to work.

While Ning Langdong and the others were busy harvesting, Tong Zhanyan got busy sowing seeds.

With the corn and pumpkins harvested, the temperature at the base began to gradually drop, signaling that a new round of planting could begin.

Since autumn temperatures hover between 15 and 25 degrees Celsius, there are actually quite a few crops that can be grown.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t handle it all alone, so he simply assigned tasks by lottery.

When he arrived at the base and began assigning tasks, Qing Jiyue came by—it was already time for his group to start preparing for evacuation.

Ning Langdong’s mother had been awake for over half a year, and Qing Jiyue’s grandfather had been awake for several months as well.

Both of them were still very weak and didn’t move around much, but they had long since passed the stage where they might lose control at any moment.

They were among the longest-surviving infected individuals at the base. After they regained consciousness, the remaining three who had been infected even longer than they had also woke up one after another over the past few months.

Once they were awake, Qing Jiyue no longer had any experimental subjects left and had nothing to do.

Tong Zhanyan had been prepared for this, and Ning Langdong’s group had already heard about it.

That night, Tong Zhanyan organized a team-building event.

Though called a team-building event, it was really just a farewell dinner.

Tong Zhanyan took charge of the cooking, using whatever food the base had on hand.

This wasn’t the first time they’d gathered like this, but this time the atmosphere was the saddest, because after this parting, they would most likely never see each other again.

Some had come because they’d contracted the frenzy virus, some for security duties, some as doctors, and some to study…

Their reasons for coming varied, and after leaving, they would scatter to the four corners of the earth.

Those who’d arrived through the lottery—some had come late—hadn’t spent much time with those about to leave, so their bonds weren’t deep.

But Gu Yunyang’s group had lived side by side with them for nearly three years. By the end of the meal, some of them had tears welling up in their eyes.

After the meal, the group didn’t disperse as they usually did; instead, they lingered in the cafeteria for a long time, staying until it was time for bed and they had no choice but to leave.

Five days later, the group officially departed.

When they left, Gu Yunyang and his group gathered at the back gate to see them off.

Tong Zhanyan was there as well.

He watched as the group passed by him one by one, walked through the gate, and boarded the vehicles that had been waiting outside.

He heard each person bid him farewell as they passed by, and he heard himself say goodbye as well.

He tried to memorize every face—though he had already committed them all to memory.

After all, he had spent more time with them than even Gu Yunyang and the others had.

It wasn’t until the cars had been gone for quite a while that Tong Zhanyan closed the gate.

When he turned back, he met a pair of reddened eyes.

Tong Zhanyan sighed silently and decided not to schedule any more activities.

He wasn’t in the mood himself; after all, for Gu Yunyang and the others, the farewell was over, but for him, it was only just beginning.

Gu Yunyang and the others didn’t have much time left at the base.

The guards had withdrawn, but Qing Jiyue, Qing Suifeng, and Qing Zhenhai remained. Tong Zhanyan spotted Qing Jiyue immediately in the crowd.

Qing Jiyue was looking at him.

The others didn’t understand, but Qing Jiyue knew full well that for Tong Zhanyan, this was only the beginning.

The two stepped away from the crowd and headed toward the deserted lakeside.

Now that the peak heat had passed, the temperature at the base had dropped to around thirty degrees. It was still hot as they walked, but it wasn’t quite as unbearable anymore.

Neither of them spoke along the way.

Until they reached the lakeside.

Qing Jiyue stopped in his tracks. “I won’t leave.”

After a brief pause, Qing Jiyue added, “Even if I leave occasionally, I’ll come back. I’ll be back soon.”

Tong Zhanyan looked at him.

Qing Jiyue’s eyes were filled with resolve. “Even if you try to chase me away in the future, I definitely won’t leave. I’ll always stay by your side.”

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth curl upward. He actually believed Qing Jiyue on this point; after all, he was the kind of person who, once he set his mind on something, would never waver.

“Then… how about petting the cat?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

The resolve on Qing Jiyue’s face froze for a moment. In that instant, he seemed to be wondering if it was too late to take back what he’d just said.

Tong Zhanyan had definitely taken a liking to his cat.

Torn inside, Qing Jiyue glanced at Tong Zhanyan before summoning his Spirit Beast after all.

Spirit Beasts and their masters are one and the same; though the little tiger hadn’t been there earlier, it knew exactly what had happened.

It looked at Tong Zhanyan and, unlike before, didn’t turn and run away, but sat obediently.

Tong Zhanyan would only let him hold it for a moment—just a brief moment.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t pick it up right away. After crouching down, he stroked its head and pinched its ears.

Not getting the hug it expected, the little tiger looked at Tong Zhanyan with concern.

The next moment, it took a step forward, placed a paw on Tong Zhanyan’s knee, and then tried its best to imitate what Qing Jiyue had taught it, meowing, “Meow… meow…”

Don’t be sad, Tong Zhanyan.