Envisioning a field stretching as far as the eye could see, filled with tomato seedlings—each one laden with fruit as abundant as this harvest, perhaps even more so—Gu Yunyang felt his blood rush to his head, leaving him with an urge to gasp for oxygen.

If this could truly be achieved…

No, Senior Da Liu’s words assured it was possible…

Gu Yunyang took a deep, forceful breath, his composure wavering in that moment. He pulled out his terminal and hurried toward the door. “I’ll go check where Qing Jiyue is.”

They had spoken just half an hour ago.

Ever since Old Xu spoke up, they had been investigating Senior Da Liu’s real identity.

Their first thought was Green Shade. Registering a Green Shade account required highly detailed personal information.

But Green Shade had been evasive all along. Nearly a week had passed, and they still hadn’t gotten a clear answer.

They weren’t stupid. They almost immediately understood what was going on, which only made them more uneasy.

Green Shade might already be taking action.

If it was without malice, fine. But if…

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Tong Zhanyan was in a good mood.

But he didn’t dwell on it for long. After circling the tomato seedlings once, he turned his attention elsewhere.

After pollinating the eggplants and cucumbers, the strawberries—whose leaves he’d pinched back to almost nothing—finally began to produce flower buds, though rather late in the season.

The buds emerged alongside new leaves.

The new leaves grew faster, emerging in clusters of several at a time, forming dense bunches.

The flower buds lay hidden beneath those blossoming leaves.

Significant changes were also happening with the cherry radishes and bok choy. The third batch of seeds, combined with the decomposed soil, plant ash, and eggshell powder, finally entered their expected growth cycle of twenty to thirty days per rotation.

Just one week after sprouting, the plastic film covering them was pushed upward.

Tong Zhanyan peeled back the side to check and, seeing it was nearly time to water, decided to remove the film entirely.

The dense, tender green sprouts, nearly obscuring the ground, swayed in unison.

The nearby camera lens extended, precisely capturing this scene before transmitting it to the livestream.

“I can’t believe it. Is this really not a dream?”

“There must be at least three or four hundred plants here?”

“Ahhh…”

“I wish I could be in the livestream room, I wish I could see this with my own eyes…”

Rolling up the plastic film for storage, Tong Zhanyan rolled up his sleeves and mixed fertilizer solution, preparing to water the cherry radishes and baby bok choy while applying fertilizer at the same time.

The fertilizer solution made from orange pulp had been used up two days prior, so today he used one made from orange peels.

The seedlings at this stage were still too tender, and because the seeds had been sown too densely, it was impossible to avoid the leaves. Tong Zhanyan diluted the solution further than usual, adjusting the ratio to about 1:1800.

With the watering solution prepared, Tong Zhanyan carried the containers over and retrieved a sprinkler he hadn’t had a chance to use before, distributing the liquid evenly.

The seedlings, already bursting with vitality, turned even greener and more vibrant after the rain. Watching this, the already excited crowd in the livestream room grinned from ear to ear.

With water remaining, Tong Zhanyan poured the rest around the base of the yardlong beans, chili peppers, corn, and carrots.

After watering them, Tong Zhanyan mixed another batch of 1:1000 solution to water the strawberries, eggplants, and cucumbers.

Supplementing fertilizer during the flowering and fruiting stages is crucial.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t water the cherry tomatoes again; instead preparing to restrict their water intake.

While vegetables were fine, fruits like cherry tomatoes and strawberries typically undergo water restriction as their fruits approach ripeness.

Restricting water helps convert more moisture within the fruit into sugar, resulting in a sweeter taste.

More importantly, without water restriction, many fruits risk cracking—especially cherry tomatoes.

Tong Zhanyan hadn’t restricted water during the previous two sessions because the plants hadn’t even reached basic nourishment levels at that stage, let alone sugar production.

After finishing his tasks, Tong Zhanyan departed.

The training grounds were packed with people, yet the dormitory was completely empty.

After washing up, Tong Zhanyan lay on his bed and browsed shopping websites.

Plastic bags had been convenient when tomato yields were low, but they would definitely have to stop using them now.

Anything touched by crops became absurdly expensive.

After searching for a while, Tong Zhanyan finally found an alternative: plastic containers used for transporting nutrient solutions.

Each measured 75cm long, 50cm wide, and 20cm tall, of food-grade quality. Tong Zhanyan bought ten of them.

After some thought, he also purchased some anti-vibration, crush-resistant foam film.

After finishing the main task, Tong Zhanyan pondered for a moment and bought a batch of small foam pouches to prepare for the upcoming raffle.

He studied the raffle function.

The feature was quite simple. Upon entering the page, various condition options would appear, and he just needed to select them one by one.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan went to the cafeteria alone.

The assessment was now just about two weeks away.

Su Yanran also began getting up early for extra training in the mornings. Tian Xinqing still hadn’t explicitly stated his thoughts, but he followed along too.

Quite a few others in the first year had made the same choice.

This made Tong Zhanyan seem unusually free.

With first-years on high alert, the cafeteria was even more crowded with second and third-year students.

“Did you hear? That Senior Da Liu is supposedly from our school.”

“Seriously?”

“Someone in the third year saw him. And that screenshot room really looks like our training facility…”

Two upperclassmen blocked the doorway.

Mentioning Senior Da Liu, both couldn’t help recalling the little tomatoes they’d seen last night—the sight that had made their blood boil.

Such imagery, such a fruit-bearing rate—they’d dare say it was absolutely unprecedented in the fifty-plus years since the seed bank was first opened.

“Excuse me.” Tong Zhanyan stepped between them.

The two hurriedly moved aside, simultaneously sucking on the nutrient solution in their hands.

The next moment, the liquid in their mouths splashed up their noses.

“Cough.., cough…”

They whirled around to look.

Inside the room, Tong Zhanyan chose the shortest line to queue up.

The two at the door exchanged a glance, entered the cafeteria in unspoken agreement, then pretended to walk past Tong Zhanyan.

Seeing Tong Zhanyan’s face clearly, their already flushed cheeks from the coughing fit grew even redder.

Tong Zhanyan, who had long noticed the pair, looked their way.

The moment their gazes met, blood rushed to both their heads.

Their eyes widened in disbelief.

The next instant, they spun around and bolted toward the exit.

Tong Zhanyan, who had been seriously considering whether to smile, froze with his lips parted.

After a moment’s thought, he gave a faint smile and fell into line properly.

A few minutes later, having purchased the nutrient solution, Tong Zhanyan was about to down it in one gulp when he spotted the two who had fled earlier returning excitedly with a crowd in tow.

Leading the way, the pair chattered animatedly.

As they approached, the two stopped in their tracks upon seeing him.

The crowd beside them followed their gaze.

Recognizing him, the faces of the previously puzzled group flushed crimson, their eyes brimming with excitement.

Tong Zhanyan abandoned his plan to down it in one gulp, attempting elegance instead.

A small sip sent the taste of saccharin mixed with plastic straight to his temples. Tong Zhanyan instantly felt like his facial features were about to betray him.

He decisively abandoned the plan, downed the entire cup in one gulp, and walked away.

He simply wasn’t the type to be all about refinement.

Not in the livestream, and certainly not in real life.

Like a giant boulder suddenly tossed into a calm lake, senior students began peering around the corners near Tong Zhanyan’s classroom door before the first period bell even rang.

By the first break, the hallway was packed.

“Where?”

“The middle seat in the back row…”

“I see him, I see him…”

“Is that him?”

“Yes, it really is—”

Whispers filled the corridor.

Faced with this sudden influx of upperclassmen, the group of first-years in the classroom was somewhat startled.

Though they attended the same school and were close in age, the second and third years underwent practical training and actually encountered mutant beasts. Combined with their limited daily contact, the first-years harbored an instinctive sense of awe toward the older students.

With so many suddenly appearing, many in the classroom felt their limbs stiffen.

Some bolder souls attempted to inquire.

Inside the classroom.

Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran instantly grasped the situation, both turning their gaze toward Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan carried on with his own business.

Having endured criticism in the livestream chat, he now felt genuinely unfazed.

“What’s going on?” Ning Langdong, seated in the front row, turned to look.

“Nothing,” Tong Zhanyan replied.

Suspicion filled Ning Langdong’s eyes.

The break was brief; the bell soon rang again.

Clearly, someone had asked about something, because the entire classroom was buzzing with whispers during this period. At the same time, eyes kept darting toward Tong Zhanyan. The bolder ones even started sneaking peeks at their terminals to go online.

Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran had somewhat anticipated this, but they couldn’t match Tong Zhanyan’s composure when faced with such a situation, even though those glances weren’t directed at them.

By the end of the second period, both their palms were coated with a thin layer of sweat.

The moment the bell rang, the hallway quickly filled with people again.

This time, even their own classmates began turning their heads to look.

Ning Langdong spent his breaks either working or on his way to work, so Tong Zhanyan was practically the only person in class he could talk to.

But by now, even without actively seeking information, he could piece together what was happening from the scattered whispers.

Opening his terminal and finding the livestream, Ning Langdong saw the tomato vines bent double under the weight of their fruit. Turning back, his eyes widened in shock.

“You grew these?” Ning Langdong asked.

The noisy classroom fell silent in that instant.

Everyone turned to look.

The corridor, packed almost to bursting, did the same.

They were almost certain Tong Zhanyan was the senior from the sixth year, but that certainty lacked one final confirmation—confirmation from the person himself.

Tong Zhanyan smiled. “Yes.”

The classroom fell silent.

Then, whispers erupted instantly.

Not the kind of noise from shrieks or shouts, but low murmurs—quiet yet brimming with excitement.

“I knew it was him.”

“You didn’t say that earlier.”

“His voice sounds just like it does in the livestream.”

“What’s his real name?”

“Tong Zhanyan.”

“I think he’s from the outer city…”

Amidst the tidal wave of chatter, Ning Langdong opened and closed his mouth repeatedly, yet no words came out for a long while.

His astonishment wasn’t merely surprise; beneath it lay a layer of complexity.

He seemed to want to ask something, but didn’t know where to begin.

The break was brief; the bell soon chimed.

The teacher entered.

With textbooks tucked under his arm, a water bottle brimming to the top, and his impeccably styled hair, the history teacher merely gave Tong Zhanyan a fleeting glance.

That single glance confirmed to Tong Zhanyan that the school was undoubtedly aware of his livestream.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but ponder the school’s intentions.

They clearly knew, yet remained silent. They couldn’t possibly be uninterested. Was this deliberate stalling, an attempt to gain the upper hand?

He had no right to stay in the Inner City.

With only half a month left until the assessment, failing meant he’d have to leave.

By the end of the third class period, even more onlookers had gathered.

During lunch break, Tong Zhanyan became the center of attention wherever he went—from the cafeteria back to his dorm. Even after locking his door, people lingered in the hallway, peering in.

Fortunately, the afternoon class was taught by Devil King.

Devil King had taught other grades before, and his notorious reputation was well-established elsewhere.

The moment he frowned, most of the onlookers dispersed. With a single stern glance, the rest scattered completely.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t fare any better.

That night, he stayed put in his dorm instead of heading to the greenhouse.

At seven o’clock, his terminal suddenly buzzed.

An unknown contact sent him a communication request.

Tong Zhanyan accepted.

The other party wanted to discuss a partnership.

Tong Zhanyan firmly refused, then immediately set his terminal to the highest anti-harassment level.

The next day brought no improvement.

After two full days of fermenting, things finally eased up on the third day.

Though curious onlookers still lined the streets, the crowd gathered outside his classroom had thinned considerably.

Tong Zhanyan patiently endured another day on campus. On the fourth night, he headed to the greenhouse.

The box he’d ordered had already arrived.

After signing for it, Tong Zhanyan unpacked and inspected the contents to ensure they were functional before entering the greenhouse.

The pollinated fruits grew rapidly. When Tong Zhanyan had last visited, everything had been a lush and green. Now, the largest ones had begun turning red, while those on the second tier were all thumb-sized.

The tomato seedlings looked as if they might snap at any moment, making one anxious to watch.

After surveying the area, Tong Zhanyan retrieved the iron rods he’d used in the training room, skillfully assembling the support framework before pulling out the rope.

“Again? Seriously, could you be any more stingy?”

“It’s just…”

“Heartbreaking…”

The moment Yang Hong and the others saw the rope, they felt like they might spit blood.

This batch of fruit was even more abundant than last time, and each one was larger than before. Wouldn’t doing it like last time really cause them to break?

The group of newcomers, however, was clueless.

“What?”

“What what?”

“I think I already know what’s going on…”

“Explain yourself, upstairs.”

“Just look at that screenshot from before, and you’ll get it.”

“Screenshot?”

Moments later, the obedient group returned after checking the screenshot, and the livestream erupted even louder.

“Help! Host, could you possibly be any more stingy?”

“If it comes to it, I’ll donate some support for you.”

“Please, just spend some money on a support frame. Even the cheapest one will do.”

“Relax, they’re not that fragile. Besides, these are dwarf cherry tomatoes, not regular ones…” Tong Zhanyan said while swiftly getting to work.

Minutes later, viewers watched as the tomato seedlings—which should have been carefully nurtured with branches heavy with fruit—were strung up like they were hanging by their necks.

A breeze made them sway.

In that moment, everyone felt as if their own necks were being choked, gasping for air.

Back in the training room, there had only been two sets of trellises—far too few. But Tong Zhanyan had deliberately bought extra when purchasing those cucumber trellises earlier.

“Hanging them by the neck is bad enough, but the trellises are just cobbled together…”

“If it’s really that bad, just kill me already. Why make me watch these little tomatoes suffer?”

“Pinch my nose hard.”

After spending some time hanging all the tomatoes, Tong Zhanyan crouched down and began pollinating them.

Some flowers were just opening now.

Since the branches were already heavily laden with fruit, Tong Zhanyan dared not slap the entire plant as he had before. Instead, he gently tapped the flower buds.

He believed he was being extremely careful.

Yet the viewers in the livestream felt as if their own hearts were being plucked with each flick of his fingers, throbbing with each sharp movement.

For with every motion, the branches laden with tiny tomatoes swayed precariously, appearing as if they might snap at any moment.

By the time he finished pollinating all the flowers, his hands and forehead were drenched in sweat.

After finishing with the cherry tomatoes, Tong Zhanyan inspected the eggplants and cucumbers.

With pollination complete, both plants now bore visible fruits, though their flowers wouldn’t fall off immediately, making the changes less obvious.

The strawberries, however, showed significant progress. The new leaves unfurled fully, each now two to three times larger than before, creating a lush, vibrant display.

The earliest flower buds had already bloomed.

Tong Zhanyan inspected them carefully, pruning the flowers as he went.

He planned to leave only six or seven fruits per plant.

After pruning, he tossed the flower buds into a bucket and glanced at the cherry radish and bok choy seedlings.

Well-fed and well-watered, they were growing rapidly.

Especially the bok choy, which had a shorter growth cycle to begin with. The fastest-growing ones were already half a palm long.

As they grew, the already slightly crowded seedlings became even more cramped. Many couldn’t grow straight upward and were instead pushed sideways.

“These seedlings are too densely packed—they’ll compete for nutrients. Normally at this stage, we’d thin them out by pulling one or two from the crowded spots…” Tong Zhanyan explained.

Watching the seedlings grow, seeing them bent sideways by the crowding, many viewers in the livestream had already started feeling sorry for them.

They debated whether to separate them immediately, yet feared transplanting such tiny seedlings would kill them. Countless rounds of discussion had already cost them more than a few strands of hair.

Suddenly hearing about “pulling out one or two,” they nearly choked on their own blood.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t pull any.

He desperately needed them now, so he could only apply extra fertilizer—though this would inevitably compromise their quality.

But since they were meant for composting and feeding chickens anyway, it wasn’t a major issue.

Tong Zhanyan turned to inspect the breeding yardlong beans, chili peppers, carrots, and corn.

Seeing him spare the cherry radishes and bok choy, a wave of tears washed over the live stream audience.

The corn, planted earliest, now stood nearly knee-high.

The yardlong beans, peppers, and carrots, sown later, were just beginning to shoot up.

They all looked pretty miserable.

Tong Zhanyan sighed, then turned to mix the fertilizer solution for watering.

Two days later, Tong Zhanyan visited the greenhouse again.

The tomatoes that had already turned red were now fully ripe, and the second tier of tomatoes had also begun changing color.

This stage wasn’t particularly appealing—the fruits, turning from green to red, looked bruised and somewhat dirty.

Figuring the timing was right, Tong Zhanyan posted an announcement early: picking and a prize draw would take place at 10 a.m. on the following Saturday, five days hence.

The moment the announcement went live, the livestream exploded. The already substantial online audience of nearly 100,000 surged to 150,000—and beyond—in a flash.

They’d been counting down since the blooms appeared. Watching the fruits swell, they’d counted the days on their fingers, eagerly awaiting harvest.

They relished the joy of picking and were eager to see how many fruits this batch of saplings would yield.

Last time, just twenty saplings produced twenty-three or twenty-four jin. This time, with one hundred and seventy-two saplings, even using last time’s yield as a benchmark, it should easily reach two hundred jin.

But this batch of fruits was clearly larger and more abundant than the last.

Just imagining it made them all start to get excited.

What excited them even more was the possibility of actually getting to eat those fruits, because this time, Senior Da Liu was going to hold a raffle.

Most streamers hold raffles after the harvest, which was nothing unusual. Many of them had participated in at least ten such events before. But those giveaways were worlds apart from Senior Da Liu’s.

Forget the size and quality—just the sight of branches heavy with fruit on camera was enough to make their mouths water.

They couldn’t even count how many nights they’d fallen asleep drooling, only to wake up with saliva still dripping.

Now, they finally had a chance to fulfill their dreams.

Though that chance was slim.

That night, the livestream remained bustling. Even at four or five in the morning, the comment stream kept refreshing nonstop.

That night, the livestream’s peak concurrent viewers hit ninety-nine thousand.

This not only shattered Senior Da Liu’s own record for concurrent viewers in his stream but also set a new all-time high for concurrent viewers across all streams under the “Green Shade Cultivation” topic.

And this wasn’t even the official harvest—just a preview.

It was also on this night that the stream’s follower count officially broke the one million mark.

Originally hovering around 930,000, the moment the announcement went live, all the channel’s metrics shot straight up. It rocketed to the top of every channel and recommendation list under the “planting” topic, instantly bringing “Senior Da Liu” to the attention of countless people who hadn’t known him before.

And once anyone entered the stream, seeing those fruits made leaving impossible.

Tong Zhanyan only learned of this the next day, amidst his classmates’ congratulations. When he logged back in, his total follower count was already nearing 1.1 million.

Tong Zhanyan had one thought about this: his head was spinning.

With so many people, how many prizes should he give away?

This was his first time streaming, and his first time hosting a giveaway.

Pondering this, Tong Zhanyan stayed away from the greenhouse for the next few days.

Three days later, on a Friday night, Tong Zhanyan left campus after dinner.

The school gates were bustling with people.

The moment he stepped out, Tong Zhanyan sensed a faint, lingering gaze.

He scanned the area but saw nothing out of the ordinary.

Several people did recognize him, staring curiously.

Moments later, his ride arrived. After carefully verifying the details, Tong Zhanyan got in.

Since his identity had been discovered, he’d been taking taxis to the greenhouse lately.

The trip passed without incident.

The greenhouse had high security protocols. Upon entering, Tong Zhanyan deliberately checked—no anomalies appeared in door access logs or surveillance footage.

Harvest was scheduled for tomorrow morning, so Tong Zhanyan only glanced inside briefly that night.

Four days had passed. The fruits that had been unevenly colored were now uniformly red, transforming the scene into a pleasing spectacle once more.

Especially from a distance, the entire view was ablaze with crimson.

The branches, weighed down by the increasing number of fruits swelling to their limits, drooped even lower.

That night, Tong Zhanyan retired early.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan entered the greenhouse ahead of schedule at 9:50 AM.

He carried four boxes inside.

Inside, he had lined them with foam sheets and sterilized the scissors.

By the time he finished, it was exactly 59 minutes past.

Without hesitation, Tong Zhanyan walked straight toward the cherry tomatoes. “Time’s up. Let’s get started.”

Live stream room.

“Here it comes, here it comes.”

“Aaaah—!”

“I’m so nervous, I’m so excited…”

“Those are huge boxes.”

“First time I’ve seen anyone use such big boxes for picking cherry tomatoes.”

“…It’s good they’re not plastic bags, but these boxes kinda look like…”

“No need to wonder, they’re for other stuff.”

“Four boxes—will they hold? Can I even use the word ‘enough’?”

Senior Da Liu’s timing for this harvest was completely unreasonable. Even on a Saturday, many people had to work. Yet despite that, the concurrent viewers in the livestream had already approached 200,000 two hours prior.

As 10 PM approached, the number surged past 250,000.

That once again broke the all-time record.

The numbers were so absurd that even viewers who usually ignored such things were discussing them.

Leaning closer, crouching down, Tong Zhanyan reached out. “Snap, snap, snap…”

The screen filled with gasps, then the pent-up excitement erupted instantly.

“Is it starting already? No introduction?”

“Is it really this casual?”

“I’ve heard about this before, but it still feels awkward. Couldn’t you at least wrap things up?”

“I might complain about others, but for a streamer…”

Amidst the clamor, many viewers turned off the bullet comments.

They refused to let distractions disrupt their focus, wanting only to quietly savor the joy.

Click, click, click…

Not a single unnecessary word, not a hint of sentimental fluff. Those slender fingers deftly weaved through the dense foliage, effortlessly locating ripe fruits before skillfully snipping them off.

One, two, three…

When they couldn’t hold any more, they tossed them into the crate.

Each fruit was thumb-sized, perfectly round, bright red, and glossy. They looked delicious, they looked…as if they could even cure frenzy.

They knew edible crops could only suppress symptoms, never truly heal.

But these fruits were different. They radiated such vitality, as if touching them could infuse one with strength…

“Clack, clack, clack…”

One, two…

When they couldn’t hold any more, they tossed—

The crowd, their eyes already reddened, finally snapped. After witnessing those fruits casually tossed into the box for what felt like the hundredth time, the last thread in their minds snapped.

They wiped their eyes and dragged their keyboards over.

“You trash streamer, can you be gentler?”

“Those are fruits, not rocks! They’ll get damaged.”

“Do you have a grudge against those fruits?”

“What did they ever do to you…”

The crowd’s keyboards clattered loudly.

Inside the livestream, Senior Da Liu’s movements remained utterly unhesitating.

He picked one plant after another, filling one box after another. Soon, he had packed the plastic crate—large enough for them all to crouch inside—to the brim.

Then, as if it were the most ordinary thing in the world, he simply switched to another box and continued.

Once that was full, he moved on to the next.

As if it were no big deal.

Nearly an hour later, when all four boxes were full, Tong Zhanyan had just finished circling all the tomato seedlings.

The first batch of tomatoes had the best color, but not the largest quantity. After picking them, Tong Zhanyan looked back and saw the plants still laden with fruit.

However, since the ripest batch had been picked, the remaining red tomatoes were tinged with shades of purple and green.

Tong Zhanyan flexed his already slightly sore wrists, opened his terminal, and posted the long-prepared raffle event. “The raffle is open. You guys go ahead and draw tickets while I go process the picked tomatoes…”

The crowd had been waiting for this moment.

Even though their emotions hadn’t fully recovered from the shock of those four hefty boxes, they instinctively dove into the raffle.

Before Tong Zhanyan could finish speaking, the number of participants had already surpassed ten thousand and was still steadily climbing.

Tong Zhanyan abandoned further commentary, glanced at the follower count and online audience, and got busy with his own tasks.

Followers had surpassed 1.3 million, with 270,000 concurrent viewers.

This was Tong Zhanyan’s first livestream. He knew these numbers weren’t insignificant, but in the group chat, Yang Hong and the others had gone from pre-harvest excitement and wild enthusiasm to complete silence.

“270,000. Have you ever seen a livestream with this many concurrent viewers before? Counting other topics too.”

“The official Green Shade event at year-end?”

“Not even close.”

“Four years ago, when the beasts breached the shield and the Four Great Houses nearly fell? I recall Green Shade’s official battle livestream had over 500,000 concurrent viewers back then.”

“How can you compare?”

“My point is, even that only had over 500,000…”

The group fell silent.

Tong Zhanyan tidied up several tomato plants, covered them with a layer of foam plastic, and then carried them toward the door.

Half an hour later, at the shop entrance.

After unloading several boxes from the car, Tong Zhanyan entered the building.

Mr. Bai was talking to someone in the meeting room, while other employees gathered around the cash register, chatting and laughing.

“Where’s Fang Yiguang?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

Fang Yiguang was nowhere to be seen in the crowd.

The smiles on the faces of the group who had just been laughing turned awkward.

The next moment, one of them approached him. “He’s on leave. What brings you here today?”

“To sell something.” With that, Tong Zhanyan turned back, picked up a box of tomatoes placed by the door, and carried it inside.

Seeing the box, the employees hurriedly cleared the counter. Though not deep, the box was quite large.

One of them went to the conference room to notify Mr. Bai.

Tong Zhanyan placed the box on the table.

Emerging from the conference room were not only Mr. Bai but also Old Jin, who seemed to have encountered some good fortune, his face beaming with joy.

“What are you selling?” Old Jin asked, hands clasped behind his back.

“Cherry tomatoes,” Tong Zhanyan replied.

“Well, what a coincidence! I’m selling cherry tomatoes today, too,” Old Jin said, his smile growing even broader.

For a moment, Tong Zhanyan didn’t know what to say.

He turned to go back outside and continue unloading.

“How’s this batch? Growing well?” Old Jin asked.

“Not bad.” Tong Zhanyan had to stop. “How many did you plant? This amount must be over a hundred plants, right?”

“One hundred sixty or seventy.”

“Let me see?” Old Jin looked at the box on the counter.

“Sure.” Tong Zhanyan didn’t mind and turned to go back outside to continue unloading.

Old Jin smiled as he lifted the foam wrap covering the top.

Seeing the contents inside, his smile stiffened slightly.

Each fruit was thumb-sized, uniformly shaped, and looked exceptionally healthy.

He had planted a hundred trees himself, and his first harvest was nearly filling a box like this. Yet many of his fruits were smaller in size.

But Tong Zhanyan had planted nearly twice as many trees as he and only produced this one box. Calculating it out, his overall yield was still greater…

This thought brought a smile back to Old Jin’s face.

Old Jin was about to ask Tong Zhanyan to show him his harvest when he turned around and saw Tong Zhanyan, who had been empty-handed moments ago, now carrying in another box of the same size.

Clunk.

After setting it down, Tong Zhanyan turned and walked out the door again.

Moments later, he entered carrying a third box.

Placing the third box beside the cash register, Tong Zhanyan clapped his hands and didn’t leave again.

He kept one box.

He’d promised to treat Qing Jiyue to his fill.

Old Jin’s smile vanished instantly. He flung his hand and turned to walk out the door.

Tong Zhanyan had no idea what he’d done to offend this man again, looking utterly bewildered.

Mr. Bai, however, had no time for Old Jin. Seeing Tong Zhanyan carry in the third box, his expression darkened as well.

He immediately peeled back the protective foam wrap covering the other two boxes.

The quality of the other two boxes matched the first—plump, large fruits, with scarcely any small ones in sight.

“You really only planted 170 plants?” Mr. Bai asked incredulously.

“Close enough.” Tong Zhanyan hadn’t counted precisely; he’d just remembered the number from someone mentioning it in the livestream chat.

Mr. Bai’s expression shifted repeatedly. Even if it were 200 plants, this quality and quantity were extraordinary.

And if this was the first batch… what about the second?

Judging by Tong Zhanyan’s earlier cluelessness, he’d only started growing this year. These cherry tomatoes were likely his third batch.

Mr. Bai gave Tong Zhanyan a long, thoughtful look, took a deep breath, then signaled to his staff. Everyone sprang into action.

With this much produce, they’d be busy all day.

That was precisely why Tong Zhanyan had rushed them over immediately after picking.

If he’d delayed, he wouldn’t have slept a wink tonight.

Tong Zhanyan’s estimate had been too optimistic.

He’d thought arriving early would mean finishing by eight or nine at night, but testing didn’t even begin until ten o’clock.

Tong Zhanyan was tempted to say he’d head home first and they could transfer the payment once finished—he trusted Mr. Bai—but considering the appraisal results, he steeled himself to wait a little longer.

That wait stretched into three hours.

At 1:00 AM, when the entire street had shut down for the night, the appraisal results finally arrived.

Tong Zhanyan casually took the report, though his heartbeat had already accelerated uncontrollably.

He had previously lied about having purchased seeds with an infection rate in the thirties, so as long as this batch of tomatoes didn’t have an infection rate below thirty, it would be plausible.

But that was only plausible to outsiders.

If the infection rate dropped further…

“Most are around forty-two or forty-three,” one of the testing staff reported.

“Nothing exceptionally high?” Tong Zhanyan paused, his breath momentarily catching, before asking with feigned nonchalance.

“No. They’re remarkably consistent—either forty-two or forty-three.”

Tong Zhanyan nodded, handing back the thick stack of test reports.

No decrease?

Was it really the seed seller’s mistake?

Bai Boss and his group began calculating the accounts.

Tong Zhanyan waited silently.

Half an hour later, nearly ten million yuan appeared in Tong Zhanyan’s account.

Stepping outside, he gazed at the pitch-black street and felt a surge of tension he hadn’t experienced in a long time.

“I’ll drive you,” Mr. Bai offered.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t refuse.

Better safe than sorry—too many eyes were already watching him.

Tong Zhanyan returned to campus.

Lights-out had long passed, but thankfully the moonlight was bright enough.

As he unlocked the door and prepared to grope his way to the bathroom, something stirred on the bed to his right—the one that had been empty for nearly two weeks.

Tong Zhanyan instantly went on high alert.

The figure on the bed sat up, long hair cascading over their shoulders.

Tong Zhanyan’s taut nerves relaxed. “When did you come back?”

Qing Jiyue offered no explanation. Instead, he got out of bed and walked toward Tong Zhanyan. As he passed the desk, he picked up a document from it.

Approaching, Qing Jiyue held the document out before Tong Zhanyan. “This is the purchase contract for the cultivation base next to the school. The final price is three hundred million yuan. It’s a complete buyout.”

Tong Zhanyan’s heart, which had just begun to settle, gave a sharp thud. Yet he did not reach out.

Qing Jiyue held the document steady. “Once the paperwork is complete, it will belong entirely to you. There, you won’t have to kowtow to anyone. And in the future, no one will be able to take it from you.”

“The Qing Family, the Gu Family, the Planting Alliance, Sidi Military Academy, the Ye family—plus over a dozen other enterprises and families with good relations to the Qing Family—I’ve already negotiated and reached agreements with them all. They won’t come bother you, nor will they allow others to.”

If Tong Zhanyan wanted to be himself, then he would build him a wall no one could cross.

He meant what he said.