Huge thanks to KoshkaHP for the Kofis. Enjoy the Bonus Chapter. Lots of love!

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Faced with this, the live stream audience went wild.

They endlessly speculated on every possibility, racking their brains and debating nonstop, yet no matter how hard they tried, they couldn’t discern the cause.

Among them all, Gu Yunyang was the most baffled.

Unlike the others, he was a professional, and his recent research focus had been on cherry tomatoes.

Yet despite examining those tomatoes countless times, he still hadn’t grasped the reason.

Growth hormone’s effectiveness lasts only about ten days, and Tong Zhanyan’s seedlings were already over two weeks old.

Could it be because of those cups?

But how could that be?

Potted plants lag behind ground-grown ones precisely because pots are too small—let alone Tong Zhanyan’s tiny cups.

But if it wasn’t the cups, then what was it?

Surely it wasn’t because Tong Zhanyan had previously crushed the previous batch of five tomatoes right in front of them, scaring them?

Considering this possibility, Gu Yunyang glanced at the vibrant little forest on his screen—its vitality palpable even through the display—then turned back to his own patch. His tomatoes were already ripe for picking, yet their yield still fell short of Tong Zhanyan’s five dwarf cherry tomatoes…

He snatched up the pruning shears beside him and snarled, “What’s all this noise? Quiet down, all of you! Or I’ll kill you!”

“Snap…”

The greenhouse door swung open unnoticed. A man and woman stood in the doorway, staring at him in shock.

After the initial shock, the man’s eyes welled up with tears. “Sister Shen, Brother Yang… has he finally lost his mind?”

The woman called Sister Shen flushed, her expression shifting rapidly as she turned to run for help.

Gu Yunyang’s face flushed crimson. He snapped, “Get back here!”

Friday.

That night, after dinner, Tong Zhanyan returned to the dorm. After staying inside for a while, he opened the door and peered out.

The seedlings needed watering.

The door across the hall was closed. No one was visible in the corridor.

Tong Zhanyan hurried out.

Crossing the hallway into the stairwell, Tong Zhanyan was just exhaling when he collided head-on with Su Yanran ascending the stairs.

“Where are you going?”

“To buy a late-night snack.” Tong Zhanyan regretted the words the moment they left his mouth—they’d just finished dinner.

Su Yanran raised an eyebrow as expected, halting her steps.

Tong Zhanyan felt a chill run down his spine.

“Want to talk?” Su Yanran asked, but his body turned directly toward the stairwell corner.

Tong Zhanyan sighed and followed.

Coming to a stop, Su Yanran studied Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan pondered how to broach the subject.

Truthfully, he wasn’t intent on hiding it, but at this stage, he genuinely lacked convincing evidence.

“There are only six months left until the assessment,” Su Yanran remarked unexpectedly.

“I know…”

“I don’t want you expelled,” Su Yanran met Tong Zhanyan’s eyes. “I’m definitely staying. I want you to stay too.”

Tong Zhanyan’s breath caught.

Su Yanran and Tian Xinqing were polar opposites in temperament. Tian Xinqing was smooth-talking and gossip-loving, while Su Yanran was steady and composed.

Su Yanran’s words weren’t spoken lightly.

He considered him a friend.

“Is this something that can keep you here?”

“I suppose so…”

Su Yanran didn’t press further and headed upstairs. “If you think you can pull it off, then go for it. Don’t worry, I’ll keep an eye on Tian Xinqing’s side for you.”

Tong Zhanyan had always been someone who understood the stakes.

After taking two steps, he paused and said in a resigned tone: “Tian Xinqing thinks you’re secretly working because you’re broke. He wants to lend you money so you can focus on the assessment, but he’s afraid of hurting your pride and is figuring out how to approach it.”

Tong Zhanyan’s mouth opened, momentarily unsure how to respond. Only a wave of bittersweet tenderness washed over his chest.

Su Yanran didn’t wait for him to speak again, heading straight upstairs.

Tong Zhanyan stood in the hallway for a moment longer before descending the stairs.

The overhead lights in the training room had remained off. After nightfall, the supplementary lights automatically switched off too, leaving only the faint moonlight filtering through the ventilation skylight above.

After switching on the lights and changing clothes, Tong Zhanyan crouched down before the seedlings.

Compared to when he’d repotted them, the tomato seedlings had grown significantly taller and larger, their condition now far more obvious than when they were young sprouts.

Tong Zhanyan frowned as he looked at them.

Judging by his previous standards, aside from the five or six healthiest ones, the rest were all weak and diseased seedlings—ones he would never choose if given the option.

Sighing, Tong Zhanyan stood up to tend to them.

The water in the seedling cups was nearly gone. The moment he placed them in the water, they began slurping it up with a gurgling sound.

During the wait, Tong Zhanyan glanced at the other seedlings still covered by plastic film nearby.

Over a week had passed since sowing. Most had sprouted, with the fastest growing already reaching seven or eight centimeters tall. Yet overall, their growth paled in comparison to the tomatoes.

Especially the bok choy and cherry radishes. They should have matured in just over twenty days, yet nearly ten days had passed, and they were still in seedling form.

The reason was not hard to guess.

The seed viability was too low.

He had saved the seeds for this batch of tomatoes himself. Although the mother plants hadn’t grown particularly well, the two fruits used for seed saving were the healthiest on the entire plant, relatively well-nourished.

The purchased seeds, however, were another matter.

Tong Zhanyan peeled off the plastic wrap and placed them in water as well.

Finally, he walked over to the pile of pre-drilled boxes and pots nearby, pulling out a shallow industrial crate.

He planned to plant the cherry radishes and bok choy directly in a large pot together.

Cherry radishes and bok choy have short growth cycles; transplanting them was unnecessary. Repeated repotting might cause them to become stunted and fail to thrive.

Soil Tong Zhanyan intended to use the nutrient-rich, decomposed soil purchased from the store exclusively for growing tomatoes.

At this stage, his greenhouse still depended heavily on those tomatoes.

However, Tong Zhanyan was generous with the plant ash, pouring in all the leftover ash he had.

He also added some eggshell powder. This material was primarily used to prevent flower and fruit drop, but since he had no other fertilizer on hand, he had to make do with it.

After thoroughly mixing the soil, Tong Zhanyan turned to check the seedlings soaking in water. In just a few moments, they had already absorbed their fill.

Tong Zhanyan returned the tomato seedlings and other plants to their original spots, placing the cherry radish and bok choy seedlings in front of the freshly mixed soil.

He had bought eighteen seeds in total, with the cherry radishes and bok choy accounting for twelve of them.

Digging holes, repotting, covering with soil—twelve seedlings took only a few minutes.

Finished, Tong Zhanyan submerged the entire pot into the water basin.

The seedlings had been soaked before, but that soaking was to prevent the soil from loosening and damaging the roots during repotting. This time, it was to encourage root growth.

While waiting, Tong Zhanyan noticed a problem: the bottom of the industrial crate was flat and couldn’t be placed directly on the ground; the drainage holes would be useless.

It was too late to go find bricks now.

After a moment’s thought, Tong Zhanyan fetched two perforated trash bins from nearby and inverted them on the ground to serve as supports.

After waiting a bit longer, Tong Zhanyan retrieved the pots and placed them atop the bins.

The freshly soaked pots dripped continuously, quickly saturating the ground beneath, though the makeshift support seemed surprisingly stable.

Satisfied it was secure, Tong Zhanyan adjusted the light.

Instead of returning the basin to the tomatoes, he placed it alone beneath the left stand and turned on the lamp.

With the lighting set, his tasks were done.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t rush back. He glanced at his livestream room for the first time in ages.

Followers: 642

Comments: 639

The moment he saw the numbers, Tong Zhanyan froze.

After losing followers last time, he’d been stuck with just over a hundred. Since then, his growth had stagnated for a long stretch.

Tong Zhanyan immediately swiped to the comments section. Sure enough, the earlier questioning comments had been pushed down. Now the comments were all about the tomato seedlings.

Realizing what had happened, Tong Zhanyan felt both amused and exasperated.

What amused and exasperated him even more was that, in his opinion, most of those tomato seedlings were subpar.

He didn’t have fixed online hours. Only about sixty people were currently in the livestream room, but it was quite lively—all discussing those new seedlings.

Tong Zhanyan glanced through it briefly before leaving.

It was almost lights-out time.

The moment he entered the dorm building, Tong Zhanyan sensed something was off. Usually at this hour, the building would be filled with the sounds of people washing up, but today it was unusually quiet.

Reaching the sixth floor, Tong Zhanyan immediately spotted Su Yanran and several classmates gathered around Tian Xinqing, all staring intently at something.

“What’s going on?” Tong Zhanyan approached.

“The Qing family compound was attacked half an hour ago, and then…” Tian Xinqing trailed off.

Tong Zhanyan quickened his pace, glancing at Tian Xinqing’s terminal.

The video feed was severely shaky. Tian Xinqing had the volume turned down low, but faint shouts from the person filming could still be heard.

Under the night sky, the dilapidated city was filled with fused humans engaged in combat. Their adversaries were a horde of pitch-black, canine-like creatures.

These things were unlike any known species, each bearing a grotesquely mutated form.

The closest one to the camera possessed half a head and six legs.

Its two extra legs protruded from its right flank, never touching the ground. The superfluous half-head emitted incoherent sounds while drool dripped incessantly.

Its speed was astonishing. In the brief moment Tong Zhanyan watched, it had already killed two people who couldn’t withstand its attacks.

Just as Tong Zhanyan’s heart clenched in horror, a massive gray-white tiger suddenly charged forward. Far more formidable than the previous two fighters, it instantly pounced, biting through the monstrosity’s neck.

Yet merely killing the creature seemed insufficient to quell its rage. Like a true wild beast, it tore and clawed at the corpse relentlessly…

The bloody scene made Tong Zhanyan’s stomach churn even through the screen.

Someone rushed over to try and stop it, but before they could get close, the tiger let out a furious roar, looking as if it were guarding its kill.

The video abruptly ended there.

Dead silence filled the hallway.

“Yes…” The tiger’s form, Tian Xinqing, and the others’ reactions—Tong Zhanyan glanced toward his dorm room.

“Mhm.” Tian Xinqing nodded, his eyes filled with concern.

Though the video had only been posted half an hour ago, it had already surged to the top of the trending charts. Qing Jiyue must have seen it too…

Suddenly, the hallway plunged into darkness.

Lights out time.

“Alright, everyone, back to your rooms,” Tong Zhanyan said.

The group exchanged glances before dispersing.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t enter immediately. He stood at the doorway for a moment longer before pushing the door open.

The door barely swung open when he met a pair of eyes.

Qing Jiyue was preparing to leave.

Before Tong Zhanyan could speak, Qing Jiyue sidestepped him and headed for the exit.

Tong Zhanyan hesitated briefly before following.

Downstairs, Qing Jiyue hailed a nearby car and headed toward the left side of the dormitory building.

The school gates weren’t in that direction.

Tong Zhanyan hurried to keep pace.

Qing Jiyue headed for a sports field on the left—a vast space typically used only for school events.

As he approached and parked, the door slammed shut before Tong Zhanyan could enter. Immediately afterward, waves of intense noise and vibrations erupted from within.

Tong Zhanyan sighed and returned to his car to wait.

Half an hour, an hour, three hours passed. Just as Tong Zhanyan thought Qing Jiyue might stay inside all night, the door finally opened.

Clearly not expecting him to be waiting there, Qing Jiyue froze for a moment.

Tong Zhanyan said nothing, merely patting the seat beside him.

Qing Jiyue got in.

The moonlight shone brightly, unable to conceal Qing Jiyue’s unease and disarray.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t look over. He simply started the car and drove slowly toward the dormitory.