Thank you KoshkaHP for the kofis, hope you enjoy the bonus chapters!

━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

“When did you start studying?” Tong Zhanyan asked, refusing to give up.

“This month, after you said you wanted to take the exam.”

Tong Zhanyan completely lost his composure.

He had taken the exam once before and, having been relatively free lately, spent his days reading, passing it within a month.

Ning Langdong hadn’t slacked off during the day, meaning he only had nights free. And yet, he’d passed before Tong Zhanyan?

Tian Xinqing patted Tong Zhanyan’s shoulder sympathetically.

Su Yanran patted the other shoulder.

Half an hour later, after discussing the scaffolding matter with the three, Tong Zhanyan slunk away with his tail between his legs.

Instead of heading straight back to the base, he went to Mr. Bai’s place to ask about buying a truck.

Mr. Bai’s shop had been on the street for over a decade. As a local fixture, he knew the scene far better than Tong Zhan Yan ever could.

Mr. Bai didn’t disappoint. After understanding his needs, he drove Tong Zhan Yan to a nearby auto mall.

The trucks at Mr. Bai’s shop were small to medium-sized, perfectly adequate for hauling crops and supplies. But Tong Zhanyan intended to buy something larger—given his current situation, a small vehicle simply wouldn’t suffice.

The selection of trucks wasn’t extensive, and Tong Zhanyan quickly settled on one with a removable waterproof tarp canopy.

Beyond trucks, he noticed the shop also sold electric tricycles and took a look.

Most roads at the base were uneven, and many crops couldn’t withstand rough handling. Tong Zhanyan had searched online before but hadn’t found anything suitable.

This shop, however, had a model with excellent shock resistance and just the right size.

One pickup truck and two electric tricycles—the shop likely rarely encountered customers as decisive as Tong Zhanyan, and the staff practically beamed with delight.

The electric tricycles were in stock, but the pickup truck needed to be ordered from the factory.

When the shop delivered the tricycles to the base, they gave Tong Zhanyan a ride back.

In the vehicle, Tong Zhanyan felt somewhat dazed. In his previous life, he’d been just an ordinary person. Here, buying a vehicle felt like buying a toy.

But then he remembered the over two hundred million debt he was carrying. He shrugged it off—he hadn’t racked up that much debt in his previous life either.

The vehicles were unloaded outside the gate, and Tong Zhanyan drove them himself.

Instead of heading straight to the small building, he parked on the empty lot by the river across the bridge.

It wasn’t needed at this stage.

The truck arrived the following afternoon, and Tong Zhanyan parked it by the river too.

After securing the vehicles, his terminal buzzed—the boxes he’d ordered had arrived.

He’d ordered these boxes from the same shop that made his custom stands, but since they had these in stock, they shipped them first.

To accommodate the varying needs of different crops, Tong Zhanyan purchased over two hundred boxes—large ones, small ones, deep ones, shallow ones, and even baskets.

The boxes couldn’t be left by the river. After watching the delivery crew unload them, he made five or six trips with his newly purchased electric tricycle before finally stowing them all in the warehouse.

The electric tricycle proved far more practical for hauling goods than a personal scooter.

Two days later, Tong Zhanyan received another call—the frames had arrived.

Anticipating future use for cherry tomatoes, he deliberately ordered extra racks—over thirty bundles in total, sorted by length.

Once these were stored, the once-spacious warehouse now had over a third of its floor space covered.

Meanwhile, only one day remained until the scheduled “trellis assembly.”

At the hotel.

Bao Mingshi arrived at the hotel a day early. With such a rare opportunity, he wasn’t just planning to wander around inside.

And…

The moment he left the front desk, he eagerly opened the Victims’ Alliance Group 13 and sent three messages in quick succession: “I’m here.”

“I can already see Senior’s base. It’s huge—can’t even see the edges.”

“I’m heading down to check it out after dropping off my stuff.”

The once-quiet group instantly erupted.

“Damn it, why wasn’t I the one who won?”

“Can’t wait!”

“Go stake out the entrance—you might bump into the senior.”

“Jealousy is driving me insane, aaaah…”

…

Seeing the group instantly flood with 99+ notifications, the screen filled with envy and resentment, Bao Mingshi couldn’t suppress the smile curling his lips. His already excited heart raced even faster.

He’d been following the senior since his early days of farming in his room. Not among the very first fans, but definitely a long-time supporter.

Of course, he’d also experienced the whole “storming off in anger only to shamelessly return” routine.

Precisely because of that, even when many recently opposed the senior’s chicken-feeding experiment, he remained steadfastly in the livestream.

That steadfastness gave him the chance to spot the pop-up giveaway instantly and click on it immediately.

Recalling that moment still made Bao Mingshi’s heart race. Back then, if he’d been even a fraction of a second slower or had checked the instructions first, he might have missed it.

The Victims’ Alliance now spanned twenty-seven groups with over fifty thousand members, yet only he and one other person had won prizes.

They’d already made contact, though the other winner wouldn’t arrive until nightfall.

After stowing his things, Bao Mingshi headed downstairs.

He’d booked the hotel closest to the address his senior had given him—just a five- or six-minute walk to the base.

Bao Mingshi walked over, snapping photos nonstop of the towering glass wall looming behind a nearby building.

“Holy crap, is it really that big?”

“Of course it is. It’s over a thousand acres inside.”

“Ahhh, I really want to see our senior in person.”

“Can I share these photos in the other groups? The other groups in our Victims’ Alliance.”

“Sure.” Bao Mingshi agreed readily.

They quickly crossed the street and walked past another row of buildings. A green belt immediately came into view, encircling the glass wall and filled with trees and flowers.

Bao Mingshi immediately started snapping photos again. “It looks even bigger up close.”

“Hurry up, hurry up! I want to see the senior!”

“Jealousy makes me ugly. How about I buy a spot from you? Name your price.”

“Not selling.” Bao Mingshi refused without hesitation.

This was already the umpteenth person to make such an offer since he won the lottery, and some had offered prices that tempted him.

But he knew this chance was unique—once missed, it would never come again. He’d regret it forever.

“Looks like the main gate up ahead.” Bao Mingshi quickened his pace.

After fifty or sixty meters, the green belt abruptly ended, giving way to a vast open space.

On the right side of this clearing, a massive glass door stood sealed against a glass wall.

“So big…”

“Is this the base that the Alliance and the Four Great Families built together a few years ago?”

“Definitely. I saw the reports back then.”

“Where else could you find a base this massive?”

“Makes sense.”

“How did you secure this place, senior? It must’ve cost a fortune.”

Bao Mingshi approached the gate and peered inside.

Forests obscured both sides of the walls, and trees lined the river beyond. From other angles, the interior was completely hidden, and only a faint glimpse of the river was visible. Here, however, he could make out the mountains and a portion of the land.

Too bad the small building wasn’t over there.

Bao Mingshi found the perfect angle and snapped away furiously.

After finishing, he backed away to capture a wide shot of the gate.

This was firsthand material—he had no idea how many people were waiting for it.

As he retreated, a faint, almost imperceptible gaze fell upon him.

He looked over.

Behind him, to the left, beneath the building across the street, a bald man glared at him with a fierce expression.

Bao Mingshi couldn’t help but shiver. The next moment, forgetting about taking photos, he hurriedly sent a message in the group chat: “There’s a strange person at the entrance to the seniors’ base.”

“What? What?”

“A strange person?”

“Doesn’t seem like a good guy.” Bao Mingshi pretended not to notice the man, though alarm bells were already ringing in his heart. “What should I do? He’s still glaring at me.”

“Could he be trying to snatch your terminal and impersonate you to get in?”

“What does he want?”

“I’ve heard quite a few people asking about the seniors’ exact address and contact info,”

“You should head back to the hotel. Don’t wander around. Better safe than sorry.”

Bao Mingshi glanced at the other person again, confirming he was still being watched. He dared not delay any longer and hurried away.

Senior Da Liu’s livestream was buzzing with excitement.

This marked the first time since going live that Senior Da Liu had invited guests to his base—and to assist him, no less. Countless viewers who’d missed out were filled with regret.

Yet that regret was tempered by anticipation.

If there was a first time, there would surely be a second. They might have missed this opportunity, but they wouldn’t let the next one slip away.

“Streamer, please give us advance notice next time. I’m begging you!”

“Senior, Senior, look at me! Take me along next time!”

“Don’t get your hopes up, guys. Remember that last giveaway? Seventy thousand people were competing for thirty spots. The odds are even slimmer…”

“Waaah… but I really want to go.”

“Those seedlings are growing so fast! I only skipped coming for half a month, and look how big they’ve gotten.”

“I’ve been watching Senior’s planting videos nonstop lately. I used to think those guys were pretty good, but now that I compare…”

“The gap is huge.”

…

Watching the comments about Senior Dai Liu flood the screen, Gu Xiaoming struggled to keep his facial muscles still, but his expression remained twisted.

What was wrong with his seedlings?

These were his first batch! Didn’t that guy’s earlier seedlings look just as pitiful?

And weren’t they the ones who kept swearing they’d never come back?

Now they’re shamelessly coming back?

How embarrassing!

Gu Xiaoming stared at his seedlings, clearly lagging far behind those in Senior Da Liu’s livestream. He felt an urge to stomp on them.

Thinking this, he grabbed the spray bottle and hurried toward the bucket of fertilizer solution. The stench still lingered, but it was about time.

At the base.

Tong Zhanyan was roused at six by Tian Xinqing and the others.

At first, he thought something had happened. After much questioning, he learned they’d come early, worried they might be late.

All three were assisting Tong Zhanyan for the first time, their excitement and nervousness palpable.

Tong Zhanyan responded with a dazed glare, clearly sleep-deprived.

But since they were already here, he couldn’t go back to sleep. He gritted his teeth and went to wash up.

After finishing, he briefed the three on their extra tasks: assisting with ID verification and reception.

As for surveillance, that really wasn’t necessary.

Not counting himself, tens of thousands of eyes watched through the cameras. Even if someone wanted to do something, they wouldn’t be foolish enough to act under these circumstances.

 ━━ 🐈‍⬛ ━━

Over two hours later, Tong Zhanyan timed his arrival perfectly, arriving at the entrance twenty minutes early.

He thought he was early enough, but people were already waiting outside—exactly ten of them: six men and four women.

Tong Zhanyan hurriedly opened the door. “Why are you all here so early?”

Bao Mingshi and his group had arrived half an hour prior, their eyes practically popping out of their heads during that wait.

Spotting a car approaching their direction, recognizing Senior Da Liu inside, and then seeing the person they’d only ever seen in livestreams standing right before them, they were so excited their cheeks flushed crimson, leaving them speechless.

“Hello, I’m Senior Tong Zhanyan,” he introduced himself.

“Hello, I’m Bao Mingshi—wait, I mean Baozi…” Bao Mingshi was the first to react, hastily pulling out his prepared ID.

Ning Langdong stepped forward to inspect and verify it.

Seeing this, the others quickly followed suit.

Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran hurried forward as well.

With only ten people in total, the verification process took just a few minutes.

After checking everyone, Tong Zhanyan distributed shoe covers to each person before leading the group inside.

Each vehicle could seat four people. Tong Zhanyan, Ning Langdong, and the other two each took one car.

The small building wasn’t far from the gate, and they arrived within minutes.

Parking and getting out, Tong Zhanyan looked at the group excitedly, scanning their surroundings, and suggested, “Why don’t you all look around first?”

“Really?” Bao Mingshi asked in surprise.

Although this was the first time Senior Da Liu had allowed visitors into his livestreaming greenhouse, similar activities had been held in other cultivation facilities.

Crops were precious, and most streamers wouldn’t let visitors linger too long in their greenhouses, let alone roam freely.

“Sure,” Tong Zhanyan added a reminder, “Just don’t wander too far.”

This place covered thousands of acres—getting lost would be nearly impossible to find anyone.

“Alright.”

The group responded in unison, immediately scanning their surroundings before quickly dispersing. Some headed toward the tomatoes, others toward the cherry radishes, and still others toward the chicken coop.

Every single one of them was brimming with curiosity.

Seeing their excited expressions, Tong Zhanyan, who had been feeling a bit nervous, suddenly felt at ease.

Glancing around, he headed toward the patch of cherry radishes and bok choy, intending to feed the chickens first.

With the second batch of seedlings uncovered, the first crop of cherry radishes and bok choy began bolting in earnest. The faster-growing ones had already blossomed.

Soon they would be past their prime, so Tong Zhanyan planned to turn them all into fertilizer within the next couple of days.

“Chop chop chop…”

The familiar sound echoed through the still-cool morning air.

Before finishing the first bundle of bok choy, Tong Zhanyan had to pause and look up.

Ten people had gathered around him at some point, watching him with wide-eyed excitement.

For the past month, they’d heard this sound daily in the livestream.

But seeing it in person was entirely different from watching through a screen—especially with the distinct scent of bok choy filling the air, something viewers could never smell.

“…Want to give it a try?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

Bao Mingshi and the others exchanged glances, then nodded in unison.

Tong Zhanyan set down his knife and stood aside.

The group immediately scrambled forward.

Watching their excitement, Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but twitch his lips.

It’s just feeding chickens…

Looking up, Tong Zhanyan noticed Tian Xinqing and the other two beside him also had sparkling eyes.

Crops were precious, and they knew nothing about this field. Unless Tong Zhanyan brought it up himself, they’d never once suggested anything related to it.

Tong Zhanyan’s mouth twitched again.

It’s just feeding a chicken…

Live Stream Room.

The crowd waiting in front of their screens grew even more restless.

“Ahhh, let me try!”

“That single cut could be worth hundreds of thousands! Doesn’t your conscience hurt?”

“Their conscience hurts all right—haven’t you seen their mouths twisted into ear-to-ear grins?”

“Damn it, why not me?”

“That’s cabbage sold by the gram, you heartless bastards…”

Watching the crowd take turns slicing away with glee, Tong Zhanyan cast a sympathetic glance at the chickens beside him, already clucking with hunger. He turned and headed into the warehouse to drag out the frames needed for today.

Seeing this, Ning Langdong hurried after him.

The frames consisted of three types of poles, varying in length and thickness.

Two types served as the main supports—solid and sturdy. The third was a hollow pipe, about two fingers wide, with a rough, uneven surface ideal for climbing.

Tong Zhanyan and Ning Langdong hauled two bags at a time, quickly gathering a large pile.

When they finished, Tong Zhanyan looked up to meet a sea of expectant eyes.

The cabbage had already been chopped finely, and the next task was feeding the chickens.

Tong Zhanyan relented, “Pour a quarter of it over the chicks, and the rest goes to the adult chickens.”

At the command, the group nearly jumped with excitement, then hurriedly guarded the basin of cabbage toward the chicken coop.

Raising livestock inevitably brought odors. Though Tong Zhanyan kept both coops spotless, this was one unavoidable aspect.

The group showed no sign of disgust. Upon entering, they performed what seemed like a solemn ritual: one person solemnly carried the basin while the other nine instinctively formed a line.

Then, one by one, they carefully placed the greens into the basin amidst the eager chirping of the chicks.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but twitch his mouth again.

After feeding the chicks, the group moved on to the adult chickens, repeating the solemn ritual.

Tong Zhanyan struggled hard not to interrupt.

The chickens were nearly starving.

After over ten minutes, the ritual finally concluded.

The group wore expressions of deep satisfaction.

Feeding chickens with cabbage sold by the gram—this experience had made their lives worthwhile.

Tong Zhanyan forced a smile. “There’s water over there. Wash your hands, and let’s get started.”

The group glanced at their hands, reluctant to part with them.

But seeing the cucumbers and stringbeans waiting for them in the distance, they quickly got to work.

A few minutes later, Tong Zhanyan led the group to the cucumber patch.

“I’ll demonstrate first. Watch closely.” With that, Tong Zhanyan rolled up his sleeves and got to work.

Setting up the trellis required no special skill—it was something anyone could learn by watching.

First came two tripod supports, then the central crossbeam, followed by a stake beside each cucumber plant.

“When inserting the stakes, don’t go too close to the root base—it’s easy to damage the roots. Other than that, there’s nothing else to watch out for…”

After finishing his instructions, Tong Zhanyan looked up.

Three out of the ten people had already pulled out small notebooks to take notes. The remaining seven, without notebooks, either looked anxious or were recording the demonstration on their terminals.

Tong Zhanyan struggled to keep his lips from twitching again.

It’s just setting up a frame…

“Once the top is secured, you can start training the vines. Pick up the tendrils and wrap them around the frame. Ignore any that are too short to reach for now.”

A flurry of scribbling filled the air.

“Alright, let’s begin.” Tong Zhanyan announced after successfully assembling one frame.

The group looked around uncertainly, momentarily unsure how to start.

Unlike chopping cabbage, these were living seedlings destined to bloom and bear fruit.

“Three people per group…” Tong Zhanyan directed.

He assigned Tian Xinqing and the others to separate teams.

As for himself, he needed no help at all. In fact, without others getting in his way, his efficiency might even be higher.

“Is this right?” Tian Xinqing asked, supporting the frame while Bao Mingshi tied the ropes.

“It’s easier to tie the frame on the ground first before standing it up,” Tong Zhanyan advised.

“Oh, okay.”

“Is this height sufficient?” asked someone from Ning Langdong’s team nearby.

“About human height should be fine,” Tong Zhanyan replied.

“Got it.”

“Is this how it should be done?”

Tong Zhanyan glanced over. “Yes.”

The task itself wasn’t difficult, but the group’s excessive caution meant they needed confirmation after nearly every step.

Tong Zhanyan had intended to teach them and then move on to other tasks, but seeing this situation, he had no choice but to stay and supervise.

It took half an hour for the group to struggle with a single frame.

Half an hour later, after finally completing it, Tong Zhanyan was about to tell them to continue when the group wiped their sweat with satisfied expressions and began admiring their work.

“This is so hard.”

“Yeah…”

They had no idea how many times they’d watched Senior Da Liu assemble such things on screen, but it never struck them as particularly strenuous work—he always finished in no time.

But now that they were doing it, nothing seemed to go right. Add to that the seedlings right at their feet, the narrow trench making it easy to step on them if they weren’t careful, and they were drenched in sweat in no time.

Tong Zhanyan had been about to say something, but seeing their exhausted state, he swallowed his words.

He walked over, grabbed a pole, and began assembling it.

With so many seedlings in this batch, they’d have to hurry or risk not finishing today.

By the time everyone had finished watching, Tong Zhanyan had nearly completed a frame.

Seeing this, they finally remembered why they were there and scrambled to get moving.

Building the frames wasn’t difficult. With the success of their first attempt, they didn’t ask endless questions this time.

One, two, three…

Over an hour later, as fatigue and hunger began to set in, Tong Zhanyan was already assembling his tenth frame.

Meanwhile, they had only finished their fifth.

Two hours later, the group was so hungry their hands trembled. Just as Tian Xinqing and the others debated whether to remind Tong Zhanyan, he stopped after finishing the twentieth frame.

“Hungry?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

The group nodded vigorously.

They weren’t just hungry; they were utterly exhausted.

This work looked simple, yet for some reason, it was exceptionally draining.

“Then let’s take a break and grab some lunch.” Tong Zhanyan brushed the dirt off his hands and led the way toward the small building.

The group breathed a sigh of relief and hurriedly followed.

Tong Zhanyan had prepared the nutrient solution yesterday, specifically buying large bags of the higher-quality kind.

After washing his hands, he began distributing it. “I didn’t know what flavors you preferred, so I got plain ones.”

“Plain is fine.”

“Thanks.”

Once they got their portions, the group eagerly started drinking.

Most who usually drank the medium-sized bags would have some left, but this time they finished every last drop.

After drinking and belching contentedly, the group finally felt rejuvenated.

Exchanging glances, their gazes toward Tong Zhanyan grew unmistakably complex.

“What’s wrong?” Tong Zhanyan asked, puzzled.

“We just feel like it must be tough for you to manage such a large plot all by yourself, senior.”

“Yeah.”

Tong Zhanyan was speechless.

It was only two acres—it was just busy during peak times.

But Tong Zhanyan quickly caught on to what was happening.

He asked with a smile, “Tired?”

The group exchanged awkward glances and nodded in unison.

Tong Zhanyan chuckled. “How about you guys go back for a nap and come back later?”

They weren’t the most efficient, but their numbers made up for it. Together, they were as productive as he was alone. Another two hours in the afternoon should finish the job.

The group exchanged another glance, then shook their heads in unison.

This kind of exhaustion was quite unusual for them.

“Then rest for half an hour and continue,” Tong Zhanyan said.

He had always used the first floor as an office area, furnished with a large sofa set.

The group scrambled to sit down.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t idle. After handing each of them a bottle of water, he went upstairs to soak the seeds of those long-stored oranges and tangerines.

Back then, lacking space, he’d only planted ten seeds.

Now space was available. Though the soil would likely take some time to fully decompose, it was nearly ready for planting.

After soaking the seeds, Tong Zhanyan headed over to the chicken coop to collect manure.

In the living room, the group watched Tong Zhanyan bustling back and forth in silence, their moods as exhausted yet exhilarated as their bodies.

Bao Mingshi thought of something and opened the livestream to check.

“You’re exhausted from such light work? Seriously, you guys are hopeless. Should’ve let me do it.”

“Exactly. I could handle it better.”

“Bunch of useless losers.”

Bao Mingshi pursed his lips. They didn’t understand a thing.

Then he chuckled to himself.

They really didn’t understand, because they’d never had the chance to.

Seeing Bao Mingshi watching the stream, the other nine snapped to attention and hurriedly opened their terminals.

Normally at this hour, they’d be glued to their screens, but now they were inside the screen.

“Most of the time in the stream, it was just Senior alone, so I didn’t notice. But now that there are more people, why do I feel like Senior has such a good temper? He speaks so gently?”

“He’s always had a good temper. Otherwise, how could he keep streaming with the chat trashing him like this? If someone else had this kind of skill, and it was me, I’d have quit long ago.”

“Protect my senior.”

“Protect my senior +1.”

“Wait, didn’t you just say you wanted the guys at the base to help beat him up?”

“…”

“I didn’t say that.”

“Not me.”

…

Whether Senior had a good temper or not, those who’d actually interacted with him knew best.

That’s why, when they saw his figure pass by the door, their smiles softened involuntarily.

Bao Mingshi shut down his terminal and stood up, heading over. “Senior, what’s next? I’ll help you.”

“Despicable.”

“Shameful.”

The remaining few snapped out of it and hurried to follow.

Tong Zhanyan held a tray of chicken manure. “You guys rest a bit longer.”

Bao Mingshi and the others trailed behind.

Tong Zhanyan opened the composting bucket, and the pungent smell of manure immediately filled the air.

Bao Mingshi and the others stood on tiptoes, craning their necks to get a better look.

Tong Zhanyan raised all those chickens just for this little bit of fertilizer. The livestream had argued about it countless times over the past month.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at them, then handed over the basin filled with manure. “Want to try?”

Calling it a “try” was a stretch—it basically meant dumping the manure in and slamming the lid shut.

The barrel already contained some manure and water.

Bao Mingshi quickly reached out. “Yes.”

The group instinctively lined up, each wanting a scoop.

Tong Zhanyan stepped back.

Seeing this, he retreated another two steps.

Watching the group turn playing with shit into a ritualistic performance, Tong Zhanyan silently retreated two more steps.

They fiddled with that single bucket of chicken manure for nearly ten minutes.

“Is that it?” Bao Mingshi still seemed somewhat unsatisfied.

“Yeah, it’ll ferment on its own in a bit.” Tong Zhanyan collected the bucket and shovel.

“Should we fertilize today?” another person beside him asked eagerly.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at the plants. He’d last been fertilized about five days ago; the next application could wait another two days.

Bao Mingshi and his group all looked at him expectantly.

“You can water the cherry tomatoes. If you’re interested, you can try it later,” Tong Zhanyan said.

After all, it was just that little bit of fertilizer. A couple of days earlier or later made little difference.

Bao Mingshi and his group lit up with excitement.

“First, we need to set up the trellises.” Tong Zhanyan felt utterly helpless, as if he were supervising a group of kindergarteners.

“Then let’s start now.”

“Hurry, hurry, hurry!”

Bao Mingshi and his group rushed eagerly toward the cucumber patch.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t stop them, silently following behind.

With the morning’s experience and the motivation of fertilizing, the group’s efficiency improved noticeably. Though still far behind Tong Zhanyan, they managed to set up two frames by the time he finished three.

Seeing their enthusiasm, Tong Zhanyan didn’t rush to set up his own.

Two hours later, all the frames were complete.

Tong Zhanyan had planned a half-hour break, but Bao Mingshi and his group were already itching to get started.

Tong Zhanyan had no choice but to lead them in getting started.

The fertilizer from the cherry radishes and bok choy had long been used up. He was now using fertilizer from the tomato and eggplant seedlings.

The ratio of fertilizer to water wasn’t high. Tong Zhanyan filled a large bucket halfway before finally diluting it enough.

Carrying a basin over, Tong Zhanyan scooped half a spoonful and watered around the base of the cherry tomatoes, avoiding their roots. “This amount at roughly this distance should be sufficient.”

Finally, he handed the plastic scoop and two small pots he’d prepared earlier to Bao Mingshi and the others.

The eager group immediately sprang into action.

With the low fertilizer concentration, there was no risk of burning the roots. After watching for a while, Tong Zhanyan returned to sit under the eaves of the small building.

Bao Mingshi and his friends laughed constantly, thoroughly enjoying themselves.

Tong Zhanyan felt quite content with himself—after all, it wasn’t often farm work brought such joy.

Lost in thought, Tong Zhanyan looked up to find Tian Xinqing and the others staring at him with pitiful expressions.

They wanted to join in too, but since Bao Mingshi’s group was the focus of the day, they’d spent the entire time watching from the sidelines.

“Tomorrow,” Tong Zhanyan said.

“Hehe,” Tian Xinqing immediately beamed with joy.

Su Yanran and Ning Langdong also wore smiles.

With so many tomato seedlings, watering each one individually wasn’t easy, especially since Bao Mingshi and his group watered every single plant with meticulous care.

By the time they finished, the sun had already dipped behind the distant treetops.

Tong Zhanyan organized a dinner, then fed the chickens once more.

While everyone busied themselves chopping vegetables and tending the chickens, Tong Zhanyan picked some baby bok choy and cherry radishes, bagging them up.

When everyone washed their hands and looked at Tong Zhanyan with reluctance, he handed over the bags.

Each bag contained two bok choy and two cherry radishes.

“I’m really short on fertilizer right now, so this is all I can give.” Tong Zhanyan felt a bit embarrassed, especially since Bao Mingshi and many others had flown in specifically for this.

“Senior…”

Bao Mingshi and his group had seen Tong Zhanyan picking cherry radishes and bok choy, but they hadn’t realized it was for them.

After all, Tong Zhanyan had picked a large bunch—enough to be worth a pretty penny if sold.

“Come visit again next time,” Tong Zhanyan smiled.

Seeing Tong Zhanyan’s gentle smile and feeling the weight of the bag in their hands, Bao Mingshi and his group felt their eyes sting with tears.

“Senior, we’ll always support you.”

“Don’t pay attention to those negative comments. They’re just a minority. There are far more people who like you.”

“Yeah, you have no idea how much I love this livestream.”

“The first thing I do after work every day is turn it on.”

“Me too.”

“Thanks for teaching us how to grow things. I’m already saving up—once I have enough, I’ll try it myself. That way I won’t have to buy… Anyway, Senior, we all really like you.”

“Mhm.” Tong Zhanyan had long grown accustomed to the cold remarks and curses in the chat, but hearing these words spoken face-to-face suddenly moved him.

“Thank you.”

“We’ll be heading out now…”

Bao Mingshi took a deep breath and led the way toward the car parked beside the small building.

Tong Zhanyan followed, intending to see them out.

A few minutes later, at the entrance.

The group stepped outside with heavy hearts, watching the glass door close. They saw Tong Zhanyan waving at them as he walked back, until he disappeared from view.

Bao Mingshi sniffed hard. “Let’s go back.”

“Mm.”

The group exchanged glances, then looked down at the plastic bags they were carrying.

Senior… just how much does he like plastic bags?

Shouldn’t he have switched to nicer bags for an occasion like this?

Under the setting sun, each person headed back along the path they had come.

Stepping onto the street, Bao Mingshi was about to turn a corner when he spotted yesterday’s bald man talking to someone his age from afar.

Bao Mingshi’s footsteps halted.

He’d been having too much fun and completely forgotten to tell the sixth-year senior about this.

After a moment’s thought, Bao Mingshi took a deep breath and crossed the street toward the bald man.

He didn’t relish fighting, but he wasn’t afraid of trouble either.

“Hello.”

Wang Yanzhou was discussing the evening shift change with Yuan Yuepeng when he heard the voice.

He turned to look.

Recognizing the man he’d scared off yesterday afternoon, he raised an eyebrow. “What do you want?”

“Who are you? Why are you here? What do you intend to do to Senior Da Liu? Let me tell you, I’m part of the Senior Da Liu Protection Association. We’ve already noticed you. If you dare harm our seniors, don’t blame us for being ruthless.” Bao Mingshi summoned his spirit beast, ready to attack at any moment.

Protecting Senior Da Liu—they weren’t just paying lip service. At least he wasn’t.