After wandering around a couple of times and taking in the sights, Tong Zhanyan headed back to continue his work.

The newly transplanted cherry tomatoes needed watering, and the eggplants, strawberries, and cucumbers beyond them were also due for a soak.

He hadn’t watered the eggplants, strawberries, and cucumbers earlier because the plastic sheeting made it inconvenient. Plus, with the sheeting, the moisture in the soil evaporated slowly, so he hadn’t bothered. Now, though, they absolutely needed watering.

The cherry tomatoes had also been watered after the plastic was removed.

After fetching water, Tong Zhanyan gazed at the seedlings and sighed.

Over a hundred pots of each of the four crops created a sea of seedlings that was soothing to the soul, but watering them was backbreaking work.

After sighing, Tong Zhanyan bent down and got to work.

Farming was always like this—except for harvesting and sowing, the rest was tedious and exhausting.

After thoroughly watering every single seedling, Tong Zhanyan straightened up. Three hours had passed.

He glanced at the time—it was already past two in the afternoon.

He hadn’t eaten lunch yet.

He didn’t miss those nutrient solutions at all, but he’d die without food.

“That’s it for today. I’m going to grab some food.”

With that, Tong Zhanyan left.

The live stream audience paid little attention, knowing full well Tong Zhanyan wouldn’t return until tomorrow at the earliest.

Besides, they had no time to worry about him now. Their full attention was fixed on the eggplant, strawberry, and cucumber seedlings.

As the seedlings grew, the disposable cups felt cramped. So after watering them, Tong Zhanyan didn’t crowd them together like before. Instead, he spaced them out a bit.

This made the once-crowded seedlings, which had resembled a thick blanket of grass, appear slightly sparser. It also revealed their sturdy stems, previously hidden by leaves and plastic film.

“Hehehe… they’re growing so well.”

“Look at the eggplants over there. The fourth one in the third row from the left—it’s almost two millimeters thick, right?”

“That’s nothing! Look at the second one in the seventh row—now that’s what I call thick.”

“So beautiful.”

“If they all bear fruit, how many pounds will that be…”

Chatting away, the group’s mouths were practically twisted into grins.

Especially the veteran viewers who’d witnessed the previous batch of cherry tomatoes’ yield—they were practically floating on air.

Though not grown by their own hands, these plants had been nurtured under their watchful eyes. They felt almost like their own children.

“Aren’t you doing a giveaway, streamer? I’d really love to try one—I’d buy it too!”

“Want to try +1.”

“Stop drooling, they’re still seedlings.”

“Hehe…”

 ━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

At the school.

The dorm was mostly empty.

After a short rest, Tong Zhanyan headed downstairs to train.

He skipped dinner back at the dorm, ate at the cafeteria instead, and kept training until past nine at night when exhaustion finally forced him upstairs.

Qing Jiyue was not reading but scrolling through videos. Judging by the commotion, it seemed the Qing Family’s expedition team, which had gone out on a punitive mission, had returned.

After a quick wash, Tong Zhanyan lay down on his bed and opened his terminal.

He wasn’t as fascinated by these matters as Tian Xinqing, but he still paid attention. After all, if the protective shields of the Four Great Houses were breached and destroyed, none of them would escape.

Indeed, an expedition team had returned from the outside. However, it wasn’t the Qing Family’s team that was sent to exterminate the mutant beasts. It was another team.

This expedition, orchestrated by the Planting Alliance and led by the headmaster of Sidi Military Academy, gathered elite combatants from the Four Great Houses. Their mission was to collect seeds of mutated crops that had naturally evolved and proliferated in the outside world.

They sought to understand why they couldn’t cultivate these crops now, while also attempting to reverse the mutations.

The seed bank’s reserves would inevitably be depleted someday. If they exhausted them before solving the cultivation crisis, everything would be lost. A contingency plan was essential.

The team had departed half a year ago and only returned today.

The news spread instantly, trending on social media.

Tong Zhanyan skimmed through the discussions, which were roughly divided into two parts: one focused on topics related to frenzy, while the other centered on the expedition team itself.

The world outside the protective shield teemed with mutated plants and animals, compounded by problematic sunlight. Merely clearing the mutated beasts outside the shield was already extremely dangerous, let alone venturing far.

Consequently, nearly all participants in this expedition were elite combatants of exceptional strength, with Chu Yi, the headmaster of Sidi Military Academy, standing out as the foremost among them.

If Qing Jiyue was the rising star everyone eagerly anticipated, then Chu Yi was undoubtedly the dazzling luminary currently reigning supreme at the zenith of the sky—the pinnacle of all.

He had once been a frontline fighter himself, but seven years ago, for reasons unknown, he abruptly stepped down and became the headmaster of Sidi Military Academy. Since then, he rarely appeared in public unless there was a major event.

Many speculated he had contracted the frenzy infection, but to this day, there has been no definitive confirmation.

Tong Zhanyan had yet to meet him, as the expedition team departed before the start of the semester.

Planting Alliance, Second Branch.

Reception Room.

When Chang Xian, head of the Second Branch’s External Liaison Department, entered, Chu Yi and Old Xu were already deep in conversation.

“What are you discussing?” Chang Xian nodded to them before taking a seat.

“The matter of the planting school,” Old Xu replied, his expression complex.

They had military academies, regular schools, and technical colleges, yet no institution dedicated to cultivation. The reason was simple: if they couldn’t even grow plants themselves, how could they teach others?

However, discussions about establishing such a school had persisted within the Cultivation Alliance. They might be incapable, but what if someone else could succeed?

Their decision to sell seeds with an infection rate exceeding 30% was fundamentally rooted in this very concern.

“It seems unlikely to happen anytime soon,” Chang Xian stated.

“If someone could take the lead, I could help draft the textbooks,” Old Xu offered.

Chang Xian looked at him with mixed feelings. In this regard, Old Xu had always commanded their deepest respect.

“That day will come,” Chu Yi smiled.

Neither Old Xu nor Chang Xian spoke further. Being immersed in the field, they understood its difficulties far more keenly than outsiders.

In truth, many technologies sparked fierce internal debates within their ranks—let alone integrating them into a single teaching manual.

“Enough of that,” Chang Xian shifted his focus. “Isn’t it about time for the assessments at Sidi Military Academy?”

Chu Yi seemed to suddenly recall his responsibilities at the academy. “Is that so?”

Chang Xian’s lips twitched, but he was somewhat accustomed to Chu Yi’s absent-mindedness. “Qing Jiyue is enrolled at your academy this year.”

“Him?” Chu Yi expressed surprise.

He knew Qing Jiyue, having taught him for two years.

Both were in the Supernatural Abilities Department, though Qing Jiyue’s powers were far more unruly than his. That was precisely why the Qing Family Head had sought him out.

Because of their sheer intensity, Qing Jiyue had been unable to control his abilities for a long time, nearly killing himself on multiple occasions.

Particularly when his mother died before his eyes at age four, he nearly destroyed the entire city that the Qing Family guarded.

“That Gu Family brat seems to be there too?” Old Xu remarked.

The Planting Alliance had only two divisions, each responsible for two of the Four Great Families, supplying them with crops regularly. The Second Division handled the Qing Family and the Gu Family.

Gu Yinfeng was also a prodigy. Had it not been for Qing Jiyue, he would be the one bearing the weight of everyone’s expectations now.

“Mhm.” Chang Xian’s mood lifted slightly. “The future looks promising.”

“How is the Qing Family Head faring?” Chu Yi inquired.

Chang Xian’s buoyant mood plummeted instantly. He sighed, “He’s reached a state where even without fusion, he’s constantly dazed.”

After a pause, he added, “Qing Jiyue might not even finish his fourth year.”

The agreement between Qing Jiyue and his father was known to many within the Qing Family and the Alliance.

Qing Suifeng wasn’t old—he’d just turned forty this year. He’d taken over the Qing Family at thirty, so it had only been ten years.

As for Qing Jiyue, he’d only turn nineteen this year.

A long silence fell over the room.

After a long while, Old Xu couldn’t help but sigh. “It’s our fault for being useless.”

Fifty years had passed. Resources from the outside world had consistently favored them, and their demands met unconditionally. Yet what had they achieved?

Forget solving the cultivation dilemma—they couldn’t even manage to grow more vegetables and fruits.

“Please don’t say that…”

Old Xu sighed again and rose to leave.

 ━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

When Tong Zhanyan returned to the greenhouse, it was already Friday night, six days later.

After removing the plastic sheeting, the eggplants, cucumbers, and strawberries began growing wildly. In just six days, their leaves had nearly doubled in size, crowding the space.

The cherry tomatoes, already thriving better than the others, shot up another five or six centimeters after a brief adjustment period in larger cups. They now formed a lush, forest-like canopy.

However, Tong Zhanyan’s primary purpose this time wasn’t for them, but for the cherry radishes and bok choy.

Nearly two weeks after sowing, the fertility of the humus soil used during seedling cultivation and the inherent vitality of the seeds had finally been completely depleted. While the viewers in the livestream couldn’t tell, he spotted it immediately—they were showing signs of stunted growth.

It was time to fertilize.

Entering the greenhouse, Tong Zhanyan first circled all the crops, confirming no issues had been missed by the cameras. He then headed toward the five earliest buckets of composting tomato plants.

During composting, crops produce large amounts of gas, which usually smells unpleasant. However, once the composting process is successful, the odor dissipates.

Those little tomatoes had been composting for nearly four months—the smell was long gone.

Lifting the lid, Tong Zhanyan peered inside. Since the tomato seedlings were so few, the liquid fertilizer amounted to about five mineral water bottles’ worth.

The potency of liquid fertilizer isn’t fixed; it varies based on the materials used, which is why his previous world had all sorts of recipes.

Simultaneously, due to differing nutrient potency, the dilution ratios for liquid fertilizers under various recipes also varied.

Orange peels were highly concentrated, achieving ratios as high as 1:1000 to 1:1500.

Those little tomatoes had struggled to survive back then, so the nutrient potency was negligible—the maximum dilution ratio was likely only 1:30.

Tong Zhanyan found a clean basin and poured everything into it. He then retrieved a spray bottle from the pile of tools he’d bought earlier, measured out the required amount, and mixed it with a bottle of water.

The fertilizer solution was too scarce to use for drenching; he needed to save some for the tomatoes. Instead, he planned to apply it as a foliar spray.

“Has the streamer been away for days?”

“I’ve been watching for five days now, and this is my first time seeing the streamer.”

“Isn’t the streamer worried these seedlings might get damaged?”

“Maybe something came up?”

“What’s in that bucket? Is it kitchen slop?”

“Looks disgusting…”

“What is the streamer planning to do?”

“That’s homemade compost I brewed myself. Today we’re fertilizing.” Tong Zhanyan carried the spray bottle toward the cherry radishes and bok choy. “Even if I came every day, they wouldn’t grow any faster. Besides, I check on them every night before bed.”

“What if something goes wrong when you’re not here, and you don’t notice in time?”

“You check before bed… So you really don’t tend to them at all?“

”Did you really grow those seedlings yourself? I just can’t believe it.“

Amidst a chorus of concerned murmurs, Tong Zhanyan had already reached the cherry radishes. He crouched down. ”There are two ways to fertilize: irrigation and foliar spraying. Right now, I don’t have much fertilizer, so I can only spray the leaves.”

“Fertilizer?”

“What? That bucket of slop is fertilizer the streamer made himself?”

“No way. That disgusting stuff? The streamer’s gonna spray it on the crops?”

“Seriously?”

Faced with a screen full of question marks, Tong Zhanyan sighed in resignation. Explaining this properly would consume his entire day.

Thinking it over, he decided to skip the chatter and started spraying the cherry radishes right in front of him. “The seedlings at this stage are still very tender, especially around the leaf center, so you absolutely have to avoid that area.”

“Ahhh! What are you doing, streamer?!”

“Has the streamer lost his mind?!”

“That stuff looks filthy! Such tender seedlings can’t handle it—they’ll catch viruses and die! Stop this madness, streamer!”

“Help! He’s actually spraying it?!”

The livestream exploded instantly.

Countless viewers jumped in to try to stop him, but no matter how loudly they shouted through the screen, it was useless. In just moments, over a dozen seedlings had already fallen victim to his actions.

This left the entire group feeling utterly mad.

Those seedlings were so precious, and this person treated them with such cruelty.

Seeing the screen flooded with indignant comments, Yang Hong and his group felt helpless.

No one could resist the sight of vibrant young seedlings, let alone a field of hundreds of them.

Thus, the live stream’s follower count skyrocketed these past few days, especially later on, gaining at least four to five thousand new followers daily.

Their messages were instantly drowned out.

Left with no choice, the group shifted its efforts to the chat.

“Is that really okay?”

“That water looks so dirty, almost black…”

“Probably. Didn’t they say even feces can be fertilizer?”

“But no one would pour feces directly onto leaves, right?”

A momentary silence fell over the group.

Even if they hadn’t personally grown plants, even if they still didn’t fully grasp how to use feces as fertilizer, they knew that was unlikely.

But…

If it were anyone else, they’d assume the person was just trying to stir up trouble for attention. But when it came to Senior Da Liu…

“More importantly, doesn’t that floating thing in the bucket look familiar to you?”

“Isn’t that just how slurry looks?”

“Alright, maybe I’m overthinking it…”

While the chat and group were buzzing, Tong Zhanyan was completely absorbed in his own task.

The seedlings were too tender; when spraying the leaves, he had to avoid the leaf centers, forcing him to be extra careful with every spray.

In his previous world, no one had ever tended to these plants with such meticulous care. Here, they were practically getting VIP treatment.

Though their “VIP” treatment amounted to little more than low-potency compost.

With so many seedlings, Tong Zhanyan mixed five or six bottles of water before finally spraying them all.

Finished, he used mineral water bottles to collect the remaining fertilizer solution—three and a half bottles in total.

After finishing the cherry radishes and bok choy, Tong Zhanyan took a deep breath and turned his attention to the cucumbers, eggplants, and strawberries—they were ready for transplanting.

Just looking at them made Tong Zhanyan wince, as their numbers were more than double that of the cherry tomatoes.

Repotting those cherry tomatoes alone had taken him a solid two to three hours.

Despite the mental anguish, Tong Zhanyan rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

Amidst the busyness, he glanced at the livestream again. Probably because a new batch of viewers had joined, many couldn’t grasp his method of replacing small pots with larger ones.

Tong Zhanyan could only briefly explain once more.

The explanation was useless; more questions poured in.

Tong Zhanyan decisively gave up on explaining and buried his head in his work.

Compared to eggplants and cucumbers, strawberries had much weaker fruiting ability, so among the three seeds, they had the fewest seedlings.

Tong Zhanyan prioritized repotting them.

It was already getting late.

Tomorrow was Saturday; repotting the remaining two types could wait until then.

By the time he finished, it was just past nine at night.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t return to campus, choosing instead to sleep in the small building.

The next day, he started again around nine and didn’t finish until about one in the afternoon.

After a brief rest and watering the plants, Tong Zhanyan gazed at the seedlings, contemplating the next steps.

As these seedlings gradually unfurled and their true forms began to show, the weight on his heart finally found some respite.

To his eye, they still fell a bit short, but compared to what others in this world had grown, they were already quite decent.

As long as nothing went wrong from here on, getting noticed by the school seemed inevitable.

As for the assessment, since there was no precedent, he’d have to take it step by step.

In contrast, the greenhouse project demanded more of his attention.

The cherry tomatoes would be ready for transplanting into the field in about a week. The eggplants would take a bit longer, but still only about a week.

Though the cherry radishes and bok choy were intended as fertilizer, they still needed to be grown larger first.

The fertilizer solution from those five tomato plants wouldn’t even cover them, let alone other crops.

But once the tomatoes and eggplants were transplanted, the fertilizer from the second batch of tomatoes should be ready, perfect for the first stage of fertilization.

After that, the orange peels would be fully decomposed, ready to take over.

This batch of orange peel liquid was plentiful. Even with the increased number of crops planted this time, it should last a month—though he doubted there would be any leftovers.

By the time the orange peel liquid was nearly used up, the cherry tomatoes and eggplants would be entering their sprouting phase.

The third stage involved the cherry radishes. They would be ready in another half-month, and their composting would take about another month—timing out perfectly.

After that comes the harvest.

Then the problems would follow.

This harvest should yield quite a bit, but once he sold it all, he’d be left with nothing again.

He could save the seeds, and the next batch of seedlings grown from these seeds would likely thrive better. But the soil remains the same, and all the fertilizer has been used up.

Especially the fertilizer—even if he could immediately replant another batch after these cherry radishes and bok choy mature, then compost them as soon as they’re harvested, that small amount of fertilizer solution would still never be enough.

Fertilizer made from a single crop would also be nutritionally limited. While it was a treasure in this situation of starting from nothing, using it to advance further was nearly impossible.

The fertilizer made from those tomato and eggplant seedlings was even less effective than these two.

Those tomato and eggplant seedlings weren’t really suitable for composting anyway; they were better suited for making humus soil, since they contained a lot of fiber, and humus soil needed that.

They could also be dried and used to make plant ash. Those leaves looked fine for now, but if possible, Tong Zhanyan still preferred to use crop ash, since that felt more reliable.

As for the orange water.

Oranges are perennial plants. Acquiring them this time was already so difficult; trying to buy more soon would only be harder.

This wasn’t even a matter of whether Qing Jiyue was willing to help anymore, but whether any were still available on the market.

Tong Zhanyan pulled out his terminal and opened the livestream room.

The number of viewers in the livestream room had already surpassed 130,000.

After the second batch of cherry tomatoes, the numbers had once dropped to just over ninety thousand. While they hadn’t completely vanished, nearly all the daily viewers had unfollowed. For a long time afterward, the numbers would dip by a few every now and then.

Recently, with the new seedlings released, the numbers had started skyrocketing again.

Tong Zhanyan’s focus wasn’t on that. He opened the backend and looked at the earnings section.

The Melancholic Researcher had tipped him thirty thousand yuan. He should receive over fifteen thousand from that, plus the three thousand-plus he already had—

Total earnings: over thirty thousand yuan.

Tong Zhanyan quickly tapped to view the details.

Besides the over ten thousand from The Melancholic Researcher, Green Shade had been consistently paying him wages—at least a thousand yuan per month, peaking at nearly four thousand.

Numerous smaller tips also trickled in.

Tong Zhanyan examined the detailed tip history.

Sure enough, most were from the past week—new viewers lured in by those seedlings.

Tong Zhanyan felt both amused and exasperated.

This meant the insults would probably get even more intense from now on.

Feeling utterly helpless, Tong Zhanyan began seriously contemplating the lottery matter.

Unlike the urgency of the previous two times, he wasn’t short on money this time. He could just draw multiple shares once these crops matured.

Having made up his mind, Tong Zhanyan refocused his attention and continued pondering the next steps.

The soil issue was relatively easy to solve.

He had ready-made soil; he just needed to gather more leaves to decompose. The only problem was buying some barrels.

Leaves couldn’t be buried directly in the soil because the decomposition process generated heat. That heat was negligible to humans but could burn crop roots fatally. To decompose them, he had to dig them out.

He still had over thirty thousand left—more than enough to buy buckets.

This batch of tomatoes and eggplants wouldn’t reach maturity for another two months, giving him ample time.

The real issue remained fertilizer.

Besides cherry radishes and bok choy, he could also set aside some of this batch’s eggplants and cucumbers to compost. But that approach offered poor cost-effectiveness.

First, the yield is limited. To produce enough compost to cover the entire growth cycle of the next crop, at least two-thirds of the current harvest would need to be set aside.

Second, the nutrient content of the compost produced this way remains limited. As a result, the next crop grown with it would likely yield results not significantly different from this current batch.

Insufficient fertilizer means crop yields can’t increase; yields can’t increase, yet fertilizer remains insufficient—it’s a vicious cycle.

He must find another breakthrough.

He was unwilling to use the liquid fertilizers of this world. Though he had no evidence they were problematic, he felt a deep-seated resistance to them.

As for contacting factories to synthesize fertilizer himself, a millennia had passed, and a great catastrophe had intervened. Many chemical names in this world didn’t match those from his previous one.

Though he studied agriculture, he wasn’t at the level where he could identify every trace element just by looking through a microscope.

If he ever acquired everything he needed, he could consider reverse-engineering extracts from existing materials—but who knew when that might happen?

How about raising a few chickens?

Livestock manure has always been an excellent fertilizer. Beyond containing far more trace elements than ordinary compost, it enriches the soil.

Unlike decaying leaves or plant ash, which merely alter soil texture, animal manure not only loosens the soil, preventing clumping, but also cultivates beneficial bacteria for plants. This creates a virtuous cycle, enriching the soil with each use.

Plus, this would provide eggshells, potentially allowing him to eat eggs daily.

Pondering this, Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but feel a surge of excitement. Yet that excitement proved fleeting, as a problem quickly followed.

He had previously tested the manure from the trash bins behind the cafeteria. The infection rates were all severely above the standard.

Livestock were equally scarce in this world. However, since they could consume synthetic food just like humans, their situation was considerably better than that of crops.

Farmers wouldn’t deliberately feed them food with a high infection rate—after all, infected meat would be unsellable.

The most likely explanation was that synthetic food inherently caused this condition.

If that were the case, the simplest solution would be to stop feeding them synthetic food and instead give them crops not heavily infected.

But feeding chickens crops…

Tong Zhanyan could already picture the reactions in the livestream chat.

He might get taken down in a live-streamed showdown.

Visualizing that scene, Tong Zhanyan rubbed his nose bridge, suddenly regretting going on camera.

Despite the headache, Tong Zhanyan still went online to research.

Livestock fared slightly better than crops but remained rare commodities. A mature rooster weighing about four jin fetched around 100,000 yuan, while a live laying hen commanded even higher prices, starting at a minimum of 200,000 yuan.

After pondering for a moment, Tong Zhanyan looked up chicks.

The adult chickens had been fed synthetic food for a long time. If the high infection rate was due to the food, their digestive systems would likely already be severely compromised.

Chicks were a better option.

Chicks weren’t much cheaper, though. Probably because they might include hens that could lay eggs, each one still costs around sixty to seventy thousand yuan.

Spending tens of thousands of yuan on a chicken? In his old world, Tong Zhanyan would have walked away immediately. But here, after looking around, he found it somewhat acceptable.

After all, he’d just made over three million from twenty tomato plants.

The problem was, where would he keep the chickens once he bought them?

Tong Zhanyan surveyed his surroundings.

Every available space in the greenhouse, except for the tool shed area, was already allocated. There was simply no room to carve out a chicken pen.

Even if he squeezed out some space, letting them loose in the greenhouse without knowing if their droppings were usable was too risky.

Outside?

Tong Zhanyan got up and went to the greenhouse entrance to take a look.

Outside the greenhouse, there was a ring of empty concrete ground in all four directions, which would be more than enough space. However, if he wanted to use the manure, he’d have to figure out a way to isolate them from the ground…

Build a completely isolated chicken coop?

Tong Zhanyan pondered this, then sat back down where he had been before.

After going back and forth, Tong Zhanyan had calmed down.

For an experiment, one or two chickens wouldn’t suffice—at least five were needed to start. Add in the isolated pen, and the whole setup would cost a pretty penny.

His current three hundred thousand yuan definitely wouldn’t cover it.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at the seedlings at his feet. They were still young, and maturity was a long way off.

As if reading his thoughts, the seedlings seemed to radiate a sense of innocence.

The camera that had been circling the tomato seedlings lifted its gaze.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at the cherry radishes and bok choy. Maybe he could set some aside?

He stood up and headed over to calculate if he could spare any.

Live Stream Room.

“Why do I feel a chill down my spine?”

“Chill down spine +1.”

“He’s been deep in thought for ages…”

“I just have this bad feeling.”

“Stop talking, I’m scared.”

These were clearly the veterans like Yang Hong.

Because the newcomers all looked utterly bewildered.

“What?”

“So mysterious.”

“What’s wrong with the streamer?”

“He’s just taking a break from being busy. You’re overreacting.”

Yang Hong and his group didn’t bother explaining. Even if they tried, they couldn’t put it into words—it was just a feeling.

“Whatever. We’ve already seen the worst, right?” Changge said in the group chat.

She was in a great mood lately. The four seedlings she’d planted following her senior’s method weren’t as lush as those in the livestream, but they were growing quite well.

The healthiest one already had four leaves after just half a month.

Yang Hong pondered this, then exhaled. “True enough.”

Later that day, Tong Zhanyan ordered a batch of over ten large buckets and headed back to campus.

The cherry radishes and bok choy still needed another half-month to mature, so whatever he planned would have to wait.

In stark contrast to his orderly preparations, the campus atmosphere grew increasingly tense as time passed.

The playground was packed, everyone drenched in sweat.

The dormitory building, however, was deserted.

Upon reaching the sixth floor, Tong Zhanyan rounded a corner only to see a tall man impaled through the wall between his and Qing Jiyue’s dorm by a silver-white spear.

“Get lost.” Qing Jiming’s expression remained impassive.

The man chuckled, seemingly unfazed. “We were teacher and student, after all—”

His words trailed off as the spear thrust straight toward his throat.

He dodged it with a light step.

At the same moment, he noticed Tong Zhanyan at the end of the corridor.

So did Qing Jiyue.

The man said nothing more, turning to approach the stairwell where Tong Zhanyan stood.

Tong Zhanyan eyed him suspiciously for a moment before brushing past him and walking toward Qing Jiyue.

Drawing closer, Tong Zhanyan asked, “You know him?”

Qing Jiyue raised an eyebrow. “You don’t?”

“Should I?” Tong Zhanyan looked bewildered.

Qing Jiyue turned to scrutinize Tong Zhanyan, as if examining some strange creature. But he quickly broke into a smile. “Just a nutcase. Ignore him.”

Tong Zhanyan was even more perplexed.

Whenever he asked for help, Qing Jiyue was always willing. He’d piled a mess of junk on the balcony without complaint. In Tong Zhanyan’s memory, Qing Jiyue had always been easygoing.

This was the first time Tong Zhanyan had seen him get physical with anyone, or even call someone a lunatic.

Though puzzled, Tong Zhanyan nodded. “Alright.”

Unexpectedly, Tong Zhanyan agreed. Qing Jiyue paused, then felt his mood lift considerably.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t return to the greenhouse on Sunday, but visited once each on Tuesday and Friday.

Both times served the same purpose: fertilizing the baby bok choy and cherry radishes.

With liquid fertilizer, as long as the concentration wasn’t too high, it could actually be applied daily.

However, he didn’t have much fertilizer, and the cherry tomatoes needed it later, so he sprayed every three days.

Because the fertilizer wasn’t quite enough, the growth of the cherry radishes and bok choy could only be described as average. Still, as the days passed, they gradually matured.

Many bok choy leaves now exceeded four fingers in width, while most cherry radishes had grown to the size of coins.

With the time approaching, Tong Zhanyan visited the store after a long absence to inquire about chicks.

The chicks weren’t available at the store, but Mr. Bai knew someone in that line of work and promised to inquire.

Before leaving, Tong Zhanyan also asked about the prices for cherry radishes and bok choy, as his last visit to sell produce had been over two months prior.

The purchase prices for crops weren’t fixed.

The prices hadn’t changed much.

Hearing that he had a batch of cherry radishes and bok choy nearly ready to harvest, Fang Yiguang was more excited than Tong Zhanyan himself.

On Saturday, Tong Zhanyan went to transplant those little tomatoes.

Having shown superior growth since germination compared to the other three crops, their advantage became even more apparent once they began flowering. Though sown simultaneously, they stood half a foot taller, and their leaves spread like umbrellas compared to the others.

The pots could no longer accommodate them.

It was time to apply fertilizer.

After transplanting, the seedlings needed time to adjust, so fertilizing was best done afterward.

Transplanting was far more troublesome than temporary planting. As usual, Tong Zhanyan dug holes first, then carried the seedlings in a pot, placing one seedling per hole.

The livestream became quite lively in an instant.

In just one week, the livestream audience had already surpassed 150,000, even approaching 200,000.

The level of excitement was unimaginable.

Tong Zhanyan paid it no mind, continuing with his tasks.

This batch of seedlings was even healthier than the last. During the temporary planting phase, thick white roots were already visible through the pots. Now, after transplanting, the root systems appeared layered and densely packed.

Many roots had even pushed through the pots’ ventilation holes.

Tong Zhanyan was careful not to damage the roots, but inevitably pulled some out.

The cups were too thin and sharp.

Faced with this, not just the newcomers but even the veterans like Yang Hong couldn’t help but feel their blood pressure spike.

What was even more infuriating was that Tong Zhanyan had always been this careless, yet the seedlings in his livestream were visibly thriving.