“Has he lost his mind?”

“What are you doing?”

“Stop it… quickly…”

Viewers immediately flooded the chat with comments, desperate to stop him.

But Tong Zhanyan never watched the chat during his streams. No matter how loudly they shouted, he showed no sign of stopping.

The crowd was furious and frantic, wishing they could burst into the studio, grab Tong Zhanyan by the collar, and shake him awake.

Amidst their burning urgency, that familiar rhythm played on for over ten minutes before finally, as everyone hoped, it stopped.

Along with it ceased the comic-strip-like camera movements—

Finding no trace of the former playmate, the camera finally gave up, turning obediently to focus on the young sapling before it.

Realizing it was too late to do anything, the viewers’ panic faded, replaced by boundless rage. Swearing and cursing, they flooded the comment section.

Even if Tong Zhanyan didn’t read the live chat during his stream, he would eventually open the comment section.

Trash streamer!

Unfollowed, goodbye.

After cursing and unfollowing, they didn’t immediately leave the stream. Instead, they stared blankly at the empty corner beneath the camera, unable to comprehend why things had suddenly turned out this way.

Everything had been fine just moments ago.

They had all started to like Tong Zhanyan…

Yan Zhenwen’s livestream.

“…Finally, to thank everyone for your support during this time, I’ve decided to hold a giveaway. The prize is the baby bok choy we harvested this time—one head per winner, five winners total. The giveaway will start shortly, so don’t miss it!” Wiping sweat from his forehead, Yan Zhenwen waved happily. “That’s all for today. Goodbye.”

With that, he picked up the insulated box of baby bok choy from the floor and left.

Stepping out of the camera’s frame, Yan Zhenwen’s smile faded. Someone nearby immediately took the box from him and handed him a bottle of water.

Yan Zhenwen took a couple of sips, then eagerly turned to the person monitoring the live stream’s backend data. “How many followers?”

“Well…” The other person’s eyes darted around.

Yan Zhenwen immediately stepped forward.

After a week of hype, he had gained 30,000 followers just this week alone. Before going live, his follower count had just broken through 260,000.

He looked again. The follower count was still 260,000—only now it was 264,000-something.

“How could this happen?” Yan Zhenwen frowned. He had expected a minimum gain of 20,000 followers this time.

After editing the footage from this period into a compilation, 50,000 followers would be the bare minimum.

“This…” The person directly sent Yan Zhenwen a webpage.

The page displayed a string of angry Weibo posts, all targeting the same person without exception—Senior Da Liu Never Gives Up.

“Him?”

Yan Zhenwen clicked into Tong Zhanyan’s livestream.

The room was empty, devoid of his usual tomato-throwing fans.

Tong Zhanyan’s pitifully low 300 followers had now dwindled to just over 100. Yet the bullet chat and comment sections remained bustling, swarming with newcomers drawn by the commotion.

In today’s climate, everyone approaches crops with near-religious devotion.

Tong Zhanyan’s abuse of them was pure suicide.

No one understood why Tong Zhanyan would do this, but Yan Zhenwen instantly grasped it—Tong Zhanyan was doing it on purpose. This was all a show.

Negative publicity is still publicity.

Tong Zhanyan was truly calculating.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t even glance at the livestream. After dismembering those tomatoes, he dumped them—soil and all—into the box previously used for storing soil, waiting for natural fermentation. Then, carrying the freshly picked tomatoes, he headed to the main city.

Though this batch also contained over ten tomatoes, their poor quality meant they only fetched a little over thirty thousand yuan.

After settling his debts, he had five thousand left.

He got three thousand back from the deposit on the refrigerated box, plus a little remaining on his card, giving him a total of just over nine thousand.

With the surplus, Tong Zhanyan decided to buy a new seed.

By the time he left again, his card held only three thousand yuan.

Fifteen hundred went toward rent, leaving fifteen hundred for his living expenses over the next two months.

Chinese cabbage and cherry radishes had short growth cycles. Even if the environment slowed their growth, two months should be enough for a batch to mature…

Walking along, Tong Zhanyan spotted a familiar figure at the school gate—Ning Langdong.

Tong Zhanyan spoke first, “Finishing work so early today?”

The school discouraged part-time jobs, arguing that energy should be focused on training. Yet many from the outer cities worked secretly—after all, training required staying alive.

Tong Zhanyan had considered working for himself. It was precisely while job hunting that he and Ning Langdong ended up at the same shop, gradually becoming acquainted.

“Yeah.” Ning Langdong’s expression was grim.

Tong Zhanyan opened his mouth to ask, but the words died on his lips.

Ning Langdong had always been a solitary type, and they weren’t close enough yet to share everything. If Ning Langdong didn’t speak, Tong Zhanyan knew better than to pry.

They reached the dorm just as lights-out began.

Tong Zhanyan washed up in the dark and went to bed early.

The next day was Monday. Before heading out, Tong Zhanyan opened all the seed packets and soaked them in warm water.

At noon, right after finishing lunch, Tong Zhanyan used tiredness as an excuse to return to the dorm and plant the seeds.

Counting the one from last night, his newly purchased seeds totaled eighteen, costing over 110,000 yuan.

A tiny handful of seeds, so light they felt weightless in his palm, had cost over a hundred thousand yuan. This made Tong Zhanyan hold his breath while planting, afraid the slightest carelessness might blow them away, never to be found again.

After planting, Tong Zhanyan sealed the cups with plastic wrap as usual, then placed them beside the tomato seedlings where the previous five tomatoes had been.

Finally, he adjusted the lights—direct sunlight during the seedling stage could scorch them.

The tomato seedlings were positioned to avoid direct rays.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t label the new seeds; he’d recognize them once they grew.

After finishing these tasks, Tong Zhanyan returned indoors to place orders. While he bought seeds and soil at the store, pots and grow lights required online purchases.

He had already selected the items, so placing the orders was straightforward.

With time to spare after completing his tasks, Tong Zhanyan headed to the training center’s billing office.

Monday brought a steady stream of people to the billing counter.

Tong Zhanyan waited a while before his turn came.

“This one here, three months.” Tong Zhanyan pulled out the map he’d obtained earlier.

The first-year dorms were at the front of the dormitory area, with upperclassmen in the back row. Staff dorms were to the left of the student dorms, though with few faculty members, only a few buildings near the students were actually occupied. Several other rows of buildings stood empty.

Tong Zhanyan chose a training room in the far left section of the empty buildings.

Students generally avoided the staff dorms. With no residents, teachers rarely went there either, making it a remarkably quiet spot.

Crucially, it wasn’t too far from his own dorm.

“Four thousand five hundred.” The same person who had collected payment last time was handling it again.

Tong Zhanyan, who had already found the payment page, froze. “Isn’t it five hundred a month?”

“Who told you that? Five hundred is the weekly rate. A month is fifteen hundred.” The person looked suspicious.

Tong Zhanyan choked. Wasn’t that what he himself had said?

“If you can’t afford it, you could split the rent with classmates,” the man suggested.

Tong Zhanyan remained silent. That approach wouldn’t work for him.

“If you’re not renting, move aside,” someone in line behind him said. They were waiting to go back for their afternoon nap.

Tong Zhanyan had no choice but to step aside. He only had a little over three thousand yuan on him.

Tong Zhanyan headed toward the dormitory.

Qing Jiyue, who had watched Tong Zhanyan leave, entered the room and immediately noticed that he looked pensive.

“Oh, right. The test report for that tomato you gave me last time is in. Infection rate: 44%.” Gu Yinfeng pulled out a sheet of paper and handed it to Qing Jiyue. “Where did you get it?”

Frenzy couldn’t be completely cured, but consuming fruits and vegetables could suppress it to some extent. The lower the infection rate, the longer the consumption period, and the better the effect.

The Qing Family’s situation was special. After the Qing Family Head was diagnosed, the Alliance provided the produce directly, and the infection rates were generally kept below 30%.

Where did Qing Jiyue get a tomato with such a high infection rate?

“Thanks.” Qing Jiyue made no attempt to explain, opening his terminal as he spoke.

Gu Yinfeng was about to say something else, but seeing Qing Jiyue already watching a livestream, he shut up.

Because of his father and grandfather’s situation, Qing Jiyue had always paid close attention to the topic of cultivation.

His brow furrowed tightly at something on the screen.

Even after lying down in bed, Tong Zhanyan’s mind remained in turmoil.

What seeds to buy, what pots to choose—he’d spent the past days meticulously calculating every detail to ensure nothing went wrong. Yet, unexpectedly, the problem arose right here.

Should he return some of the potting soil?

But the seeds were already planted.

Borrow some?

Tong Zhanyan dismissed the idea instantly. First, explaining why he needed money would be tricky. Second, he wasn’t keen on asking—most students didn’t have much to spare.

Unable to sleep, Tong Zhanyan opened his livestream channel.

Clicking in, he instinctively checked his followers.

Followers: 178

Comments: 352

Tong Zhanyan froze. For a split second, he thought he’d clicked the wrong stream. He looked up to confirm.

Had he lost followers?

Why?

Tong Zhanyan immediately swiped to the comments section, where accusations and blame flooded the screen.

After figuring out what happened, Tong Zhanyan felt both amused and exasperated. The next moment, he caught movement in the donation area on the right side of the comments.

Tong Zhanyan focused his gaze.

Someone had sent him a donation, and it was a substantial amount.

Tong Zhanyan immediately opened the backend. The earnings column, which had been showing zero, had somehow changed to five thousand.

Tong Zhanyan sat bolt upright on the bed.

The stream split profits evenly. Has someone tipped him ten thousand?

Tong Zhanyan immediately checked the tip history. The tip came from someone named “Charge Ahead.”

The maximum donation limit in the livestream room was one hundred. The donor had sent one hundred donations at once.

Donations came with a system message. The donor had edited it. The new message read: Don’t worry about it.

Recalling the skepticism in the comment section, Tong Zhanyan felt a warm glow in his heart, but more than that, he felt exhilarated. This was like someone handing him a pillow just as he was nodding off.

Tong Zhanyan promptly applied for a cash withdrawal.

Tong Zhanyan had expected to wait at least half a day, but five minutes later, he received a notification that the donation had been credited.

Without pausing to think, Tong Zhanyan rushed back to the payment counter.

After getting his access card, Tong Zhanyan posted a new announcement on his way to the training room, thanking “Charge Ahead” for the donation and mentioning the upcoming relocation of the livestream room in three days.

In the live stream room, Gu Yunyang saw the new announcement, which showed absolutely no intention of explaining anything, and was so infuriated he burst out laughing.

Tong Zhanyan really was consistent as ever.

As a member of the Planting Alliance, he was undoubtedly one of the most furious people witnessing Tong Zhanyan’s earlier actions. The only reason he remained was purely for the sake of those new seedlings.

Others might not have noticed yet, but he had already observed that Tong Zhanyan’s seedlings were thriving at an unprecedented rate.

Normally, it takes about a week for tomato seeds to germinate after sowing. After sprouting, it takes another ten days or so for the cotyledons to unfold and true leaves to emerge.

Yet Tong Zhanyan’s seedlings went from sprouting to developing true leaves in just one week—a full ten days shorter.

The previous blossom drop disease could be dismissed as a coincidence, but this time?

What baffled him even more was how every single one of Tong Zhanyan’s seedlings grew exceptionally robust, with leaves twice the size of his own tomatoes at the same stage.

This was unreasonable.