Tong Zhanyan worked with remarkable efficiency, mixing a large basin of soil in just a few minutes.

Seeing the task complete, Gu Yunyang habitually opened the chat stream while deep in thought.

Perhaps due to being completely self-managed, the viewers in Tong Zhanyan’s livestream weren’t like those in other streams who constantly spammed meaningless comments. Most of the time, they were actively discussing and speculating about what was going on with those seedlings. It was actually quite interesting to watch.

Because of this, even though Tong Zhanyan was mostly absent, the average number of viewers in the livestream remained quite high.

Opening the comments to see what everyone was discussing, Gu Yunyang froze for a moment.

He’d forgotten that Tong Zhanyan’s space was a livestream, not the Planting Alliance.

In the Planting Alliance, to quickly overcome the challenges of cultivation, old scholars like Master Xu would even hold regular lectures on proper planting techniques. But in a live stream, that was a major taboo.

During the moment Gu Yunyang was distracted, Tong Zhanyan, who had finished mixing the soil, got up and went to the corner to bring over the twenty flower pots he had bought earlier.

The pots had pre-drilled drainage holes, ready for immediate use.

A sudden ringtone shattered the silence.

Startled, Tong Zhanyan nearly dropped the pot he was holding. Only then did he realize it was his terminal ringing.

His original self had no relatives left. He’d long told Tian Xinqing and the others his terminal was broken—who would call him?

Surprised, Tong Zhanyan set down the pots, removed his mud-covered gloves, and approached.

After the call connected, it took Tong Zhanyan a moment to grasp the situation—and it left him both amused and exasperated.

They were overreacting.

Such a small thing—whether others could learn it or not, even if they did, it wouldn’t cost him anything.

Farming wasn’t that simple, especially in this world where cultivation techniques and conditions were quite barren.

As for surpassing him? Even he, barely considered an expert, was still struggling over a single fertilizer. If those people could outdo him with just this little information, it only proved that his knowledge was worth precisely that.

After ending the call, Tong Zhanyan didn’t check the livestream. He returned to the potting soil and got back to work.

Those pots held two gallons each. Stacked up, they didn’t look like much, but filling every single one would easily use up all the soil.

Live Stream Room.

The ringtone jolted everyone awake, followed by a collective sigh of relief.

They’d worked so hard to figure this out—it would be such a waste if someone just stole it!

Tong Zhanyan, please be careful.

Just as they were lamenting, Tong Zhanyan hung up the phone and walked straight back to the potting soil. With nimble movements, he began filling the flower pots with a small shovel.

That large tub of soil was only enough for six pots.

The soil ran out. Tong Zhanyan decisively stood up and began mixing more soil following the previous steps: plant ash, eggshell powder…

The collective gasp nearly knocked the wind out of everyone.

What on earth was Tong Zhanyan doing?

Or had that call not been from Green Shade after all?

“It was Green Shade. I got through, and they said they’d help remind them.”

“I got through, too.”

“Should we try again?”

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Unlike the newcomers filling the screen, Yang Hong watched the figure below the camera, busily absorbed in its own tasks as always. After initial surprise, he quickly realized what was happening—and nearly choked on his own blood.

Other things could be overlooked, but this? Did Tong Zhanyan even know what he was doing?

Or was he truly that confident no one would recognize what those were?

Had Tong Zhanyan lost his mind?

Yang Hong wanted to storm into the livestream and punch Tong Zhanyan awake, but he lacked the authority. As for lecturing in the comments section, Tong Zhanyan never responded to anyone, not even when he was criticized before.

Yang Hong rose and paced the room, patting his chest to steady his breath as he moved.

Watching Tong Zhanyan’s livestream too often could easily drive one to fury.

Gu Yunyang was equally familiar with Tong Zhanyan.

Realizing Tong Zhanyan wasn’t ignorant but simply indifferent, his eyebrow involuntarily arched.

He felt a sense of utter absurdity.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t think others couldn’t figure out what his stuff actually was—he simply didn’t care.

Yes, he didn’t care.

Gu Yunyang suddenly thought of Old Xu.

Old Xu was the big shot overseeing the second branch of their planting alliance. He gave off the same vibe, but Old Xu was genuinely skilled. What about Tong Zhanyan?

Where did he get his confidence?

On camera, after filling the second pot, Tong Zhanyan immediately began preparing the third, continuing until all twenty pots were filled to seven-tenths capacity before pausing.

A week passed, and the moisture in the tomato soil had long since evaporated to almost nothing. Worried that loosening the soil during repotting might damage the roots, Tong Zhanyan followed his usual routine: soaking each cup in water before removing it from the pot.

This time, the pots were larger. Though the tasks remained the same, efficiency dropped noticeably.

Especially the final step of leveling the soil. Before, with the small cups, a handful of soil sufficed. Now, he had to use a trowel to add soil bit by bit, all while carefully preventing the seedlings from tilting due to his movements.

A full half-hour later, all the seedlings were finally repotted.

The training room always kept water on hand, but it was too heavy to carry. Tong Zhanyan had no choice but to move the seedlings to the water.

Large pots weren’t like cups. Soaking a cup took only two or three minutes, but a large pot needed at least seven or eight minutes to fully soak.

When Tong Zhanyan bought the water-holding basins, he deliberately chose several wider and larger ones, precisely for this moment.

After submerging ten tomato pots at once, he stretched his legs.

Having squatted for nearly forty minutes, his legs had gone numb.

A few minutes later, the first batch of seedlings was fully saturated, and he submerged the second batch.

Meanwhile, he examined the eggplant, strawberry, and cucumber plants.

A week passed, and they had grown considerably. The tallest eggplant plant was nearly ten centimeters high.

At this size, they were ready for repotting.

After a moment’s hesitation, Tong Zhanyan decided to let their roots develop further. Only with strong roots could the plants thrive.

He squeezed them into the gaps beside the tomato seedlings to save soaking time.

A few minutes later, Tong Zhanyan removed them along with the tomato seedlings.

After soaking twenty tomato pots, the water in two containers was nearly drained. Tong Zhanyan combined them, added a bit more water, and placed the cherry radishes and bok choy inside.

The cherry radishes and bok choy required larger pots and longer soaking times. Tong Zhanyan used this opportunity to rearrange the tomato seedlings.

Previously, they were in cups arranged in a 4×5 grid, perfectly fitting under one lamp.

Now, with all the plants in large pots, that arrangement wouldn’t cover them all. Tong Zhanyan rearranged them into a 3×6 grid and turned on another lamp.

Swapping the small cups for large pots made the tomato seedlings, which had looked lush and dense in the cups, appear sparse and scattered.

But soon enough, they would start branching out. When that happened, they would become crowded again, requiring more spacing and another light.

After adjusting the light distance, Tong Zhanyan also repositioned the fan to ensure constant airflow above all seedlings.

In stagnant air, soil moisture evaporates poorly, leading to root rot over time. Plants also need fresh air to breathe.

As an indoor grower, this aspect demanded particular attention.

By the time he finished here, the cherry radishes had soaked through. Tong Zhanyan carried them out and returned them to their original spot.

He refilled the two empty pots with water, ready for next time.

Completely done, Tong Zhanyan exhaled deeply, washed his hands, and finally checked the livestream.

Seeing him finally check the stream, the screen flooded with comments reminding him of others’ malicious intentions.

Tong Zhanyan felt utterly helpless, then habitually glanced at his follower count.

7426

Over seven hundred? Tong Zhanyan froze in confusion. How had he lost followers again?

The next moment, realizing it wasn’t a three-digit number but a four-digit one, his heart skipped a beat.

Over seven thousand?

Tong Zhanyan immediately looked again. The string of numbers remained unchanged—still four digits.

Tong Zhanyan was stunned.

For a long time, his stream’s follower count had hovered in the hundreds. There was no way he’d misread or misremembered. Had they all gained in just these seven days?

Over six thousand in seven days?

Tong Zhanyan found it hard to believe. What on earth had happened these past few days?

He was about to open the backend to check the detailed data when he noticed several notifications from Green Shade’s official account.

Tong Zhanyan opened them and instantly understood the source of those new followers.

On Green Shade, registering a livestream channel and meeting specified follower counts and broadcast duration within a set timeframe triggers a seven-day promotional push.

His channel had met the requirements the very night he first arrived here, automatically entering the promotional phase.

Green Shade’s promotions operated like a ranking system. The first day’s promotion volume depended on chart performance, while subsequent days’ volumes were determined by the previous day’s follower conversion rate and new viewers’ average watch time.

If the conversion rate was low, only the base promotion would be granted going forward.

If the conversion rate exceeded the set threshold, additional recommendations would be added to the baseline starting the next day, proportional to the excess.

Perhaps due to the unusually robust growth of those tomato seedlings, his stream’s conversion rate was exceptionally high. From the day he entered the recommendation phase, he received a notification every night congratulating him on increased exposure.

The notification didn’t specify the exact final recommendation level, but judging by the results, it must have been substantial.

Tong Zhanyan checked the backend and, sure enough, the data showed a steep upward trajectory.

Yesterday alone saw a surge of nearly two thousand followers.

Today wasn’t even over yet, and it had already climbed another two thousand. At this rate, it might gain another thousand by nightfall.

After figuring out what was happening and returning to the homepage to see several more followers added in just a few minutes, Tong Zhanyan felt a mix of emotions.

Those tomato plants had already started branching out.

Even with ample nutrients, pruning and pinching back were necessary. Now, with fertilizer still unavailable, he’d have to be even more ruthless.

Last time, he’d merely pruned a few old tomato plants and was lambasted so harshly. This time…

Tong Zhanyan glanced at the pile of tomato seedlings beside him. Swaying gently in the breeze, they looked utterly innocent.