Chapter Bonanza (4/10)

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“There’s one here too.” Su Yanran’s voice came from the left front.

Old Xu and the others immediately headed in that direction.

Tong Zhanyan followed.

As he approached, Tong Zhanyan spotted a small tomato at Su Yanran’s feet that had also been gnawed off at the root.

Because of its small size and the support stakes preventing it from toppling over, it hadn’t fallen, but due to the sheer weight of the fruit, it was top-heavy and had tilted upward.

Ning Langdong and the others all looked quite grave.

“How could this happen?”

“I wonder how many more there are…”

They all looked back at the crops behind them.

“I saw a snake last night…” Tong Zhanyan briefly recounted the incident with the rope from the previous night.

“Black, thin, and long…”

Old Xu and Old Wang exchanged glances, both sensing that something was wrong.

“You know about this?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

Neither spoke; they simply opened their terminals simultaneously and began searching for something.

Moments later, two images were handed to Tong Zhanyan.

“That’s it,” Tong Zhanyan recognized immediately.

The images showed a pile of black, slender strands, each about thirty to fifty centimeters long. They were pitch-black, covered in ring-like scales.

They didn’t appear to be snakes; rather, they looked more like…

“What is this?” Ning Langdong asked.

“Earthworms,” Old Master Xu replied.

“What?” Tian Xinqing had never heard of them.

Old Master Wang explained, “In ancient times, there was a creature that lived underground called an earthworm. Later, during the Great Cataclysm, the soil became infected, and they mutated…”

“These creatures feed on crops; they’ll gnaw on anything. Their reproductive capacity is astonishing—they can lay a hundred or two hundred eggs at a time, and they can lay another batch every two or three months.”

“Over fifty years ago, when we first lifted the ban on crops, we knew nothing. We simply planted them directly into the ground. At the time, aside from the infection rate skyrocketing, the biggest problem was these creatures—they gnawed many plants to death.”

Hearing this, Tian Xinqing and the others grew even more uneasy.

“What should we do?”

“Is there a way to solve this?”

Two or three hundred at a time, reproducing every two or three months—that means in just three to five months, there’ll be tens of thousands of them?

Won’t they devour all the crops in the fields?

“There are two options. One is to hunt them down and destroy their nests, but that won’t solve the problem completely—they’ll just come back before long.”

“The other option is to thoroughly disinfect all the soil.”

The group instinctively glanced behind them. This base covered over a thousand acres—if they had to disinfect it all, how long would that take?

“We can’t disinfect it. Disinfection would destroy the beneficial bacteria and nutrients in the soil…” Tong Zhanyan rejected the idea without a second thought.

As if. It had taken him over a year just to barely get this soil in good condition. Disinfecting it now would be like starting all over again.

Old Xu and the others weren’t hearing Tong Zhanyan talk about his soil-cultivation methods for the first time, so they weren’t surprised.

“Then what should we do?” Ning Langdong asked anxiously.

“Let’s look for them first,” Tong Zhanyan said.

Old Xu hurriedly opened his terminal again, and moments later, he sent the group a batch of images.

The images included photos of the entrances to the earthworm-snake nests, as well as pictures of both adult and juvenile specimens.

The images of the adults and larvae were taken at the excavation site. Amidst the undulating mounds of earth, a mass of black, twisted lines writhed ceaselessly…

Tong Zhanyan didn’t suffer from trypophobia, but even he felt a chill run down his spine at that moment.

A zombie-like resurrection was bad enough—could they at least not be this terrifying?

The group immediately scattered to thoroughly inspect the plot of land where the crops were planted.

During this time, Old Wang contacted Gu Yunyang and asked him to go buy something.

Tong Zhanyan thought for a moment, then contacted Qing Jiyue and asked him to call over anyone available near the back gate to help.

Last night, he’d only seen a single one of those things, yet so many crops had already been destroyed. If they didn’t get the situation under control quickly, once they started reproducing again, it would be all over.

In the Live Stream.

“We’re screwed.”

“Damn it.”

“I see a lot of the cucumbers have been bitten off over there…”

“Several rapeseed plants have been knocked over, too.”

“My heart is bleeding.”

“We can’t catch them all, and we can’t disinfect the soil—what are we supposed to do?”

…

The lower leaves of the crops had mostly been picked, so the lower sections were fairly open, but some plants were short, making them difficult to inspect.

Tong Zhanyan found it particularly difficult to inspect the cherry tomatoes.

With so many fruits, many of their branches were drooping toward the ground.

Qing Jiyue and the others arrived quickly.

Seeing the fallen crops and hearing what had happened, everyone’s expressions turned grave.

They spread out to conduct a thorough search.

Half an hour later, just as Tong Zhanyan’s pant legs were caked in mud, a voice came from Tian Xinqing’s direction.

The group hurried over.

At the junction of the rapeseed and Chinese cabbage fields, in a small gully, were five or six dense, honeycomb-like holes.

“Is that it?” Tian Xinqing asked.

“That’s right.”

Ning Langdong turned and went to fetch a shovel and a spade.

“Bring a box,” Old Xu reminded them before heading toward the front door; it seemed the supplies Gu Yunyang had ordered had arrived. “We can’t just dig these things up directly.”

Tong Zhanyan unlocked the door remotely.

A moment later, Old Xu returned carrying a bucket of liquid.

“Those things move very fast; if we dig them up directly, they’ll escape. This stuff will slow them down…” Old Xu explained as he unscrewed the lid and poured the liquid into the holes.

As the liquid poured out, a slightly pungent odor wafted through the air.

Tong Zhanyan took a step back.

After drenching the entire patch of ground, Old Xu also stepped back.

Two or three minutes later, Old Xu looked at Ning Langdong and Su Yanran.

The two hurried forward to start digging.

Those things weren’t buried very deep; after just two shovelfuls, they were visible.

They had already begun to reproduce; the soil, riddled with holes, was teeming with larvae.

They were still active; as their home was turned over, many tried to escape, so Tian Xinqing quickly stepped forward and used a shovel to scoop them all into a box.

In addition to the insects, the soil contaminated by the liquid was also dug up.

By the time they finished, a large pit had formed on the ground.

The crowd of onlookers didn’t breathe a sigh of relief; they immediately turned back to continue searching.

The previous box was covered up; they would wait until everything was found before disposing of it all together.

The situation was even worse than Tong Zhanyan had anticipated. By noon, when they had finished inspecting the field where crops were planted, they had already found four nests.

All four nests were already in the breeding stage.

That meant they likely belonged to the same batch, which meant there had probably been a previous breeding cycle, and that meant there might still be two or three hundred nests currently breeding at the base.

They also cleared away the crops that had been bitten through—there were over forty of them. The cucumbers were the worst off; more than twenty of them had been knocked down.

Those crops were all in the harvest season, with ripe and unripe fruits hanging heavy on the vines. Xu Lao, Ning Langdong, and the others couldn’t help but circle around them, their hearts aching at the sight.

The viewers in the livestream were also deeply distressed.

After a quick meal, the group discussed the situation and decided to call in more people.

If they were to search the entire base on their own, it would take at least half a month.

There were members of the Planting Alliance at the front gate, and some from the Qing Family were with Qing Jiyue. Chu Yi summoned all the trusted teachers from the school and some fourth-grade students, while Tong Zhanyan contacted Mr. Bai’s team.

An hour later, the group had swelled to four or five hundred people.

For many, it was their first time entering Tong Zhanyan’s base, yet no one could muster any excitement at that moment, as everyone had already learned the situation from the livestream.

Those crops were the fruit of Tong Zhanyan’s labor; for them, their significance was even greater.

It directly concerned their own lives and those of their loved ones.

The group split into rows and began a thorough, grid-style search starting from the lowest part of the base.

If even a single nest was missed, it wouldn’t be long before those creatures were everywhere.

With so many people, they worked efficiently; by late afternoon, two-thirds of the area had already been checked.

They found a total of over 140 nests.

For the first time since Tong Zhanyan took over the base, he turned on the lights at night.

The entire base was illuminated as bright as day.

The group continued their search.

By a little past eight o’clock that night, they had finally gone through the entire base once.

By then, they had uncovered over thirty more nests.

The excavated creatures were taken out to be destroyed, and the volunteers went home.

By the time Tong Zhanyan returned to the small building, it was nearly 10:00 PM.

Tong Zhanyan turned off the lights.

The world suddenly plunged into darkness, with only the light in front of the small building still glowing.

Ning Langdong suggested keeping watch.

Tong Zhanyan had intended to refuse, but before he could speak, the others had already begun discussing shift rotations.

With such a vast expanse of land and the world shrouded in darkness, keeping watch was essentially pointless, yet they wouldn’t feel at ease unless someone stayed behind.

Those crops were sown, transplanted, and nurtured by their own hands; seeing them destroyed pained them more than anyone else.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t say much; he could only let them do as they pleased.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan rushed downstairs to check on the situation as soon as he woke up.

Everyone else was already downstairs, including Ning Langdong and Old Xu, who had kept watch through the first half of the night.

Last night, more crops had been bitten—two plants in the exact same spot.

It must have been the work of the same earthworm-snake.

While keeping watch last night, they had searched the field where the crops were planted with flashlights but found no nest. Yet, it seemed they had missed something.

Everyone was on edge, discussing the need to search the area from scratch again.

Old Xu suggested bringing in a few scanners.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t object, but he wasn’t as anxious as the others.

Pest infestations weren’t exactly rare in his former world, though they usually weren’t quite this severe.

With Tong Zhanyan’s approval, Old Wang and Old Xu immediately contacted the Planting Alliance, while Ning Langdong and the others headed back to the fields to search again.

A little later, Yang Hong and his group arrived on their own to help with the search.

They had already learned that two more crops had been damaged last night.

After a busy half-day, the group found nothing.

As evening approached, the scanners arrived.

Old Xu and Old Wang hurried to set them up.

There were five scanners in total; like the cameras, they were quite intelligent—they only needed to be programmed with a route to receive feedback.

The whole group went over to help monitor the screens.

The scanners proved to be very effective; in less than two hours, they located over ten more nests.

After another scan, at 10 o’clock, everyone’s nerves—which had been on edge for two days—finally relaxed.

This should be the end of it.

The next day, crops were found toppled again, this time two more than the day before.

Ning Langdong and the others, who had finally gotten a good night’s sleep after two days, instantly lost their smiles.

They immediately dug out the scanner.

Yang Hong and his group also rushed over a little later.

They had all learned about it from the livestream.

Compared to Ning Langdong and his team, who could still lend a hand at the base, the group in the livestream was the most anxious.

They kept offering advice and suggestions, and quite a few even volunteered to stay up all night watching the camera feed.

The scanner scanned the entire base, but found no trace of those creatures.

The group refused to give up, continuing to scan while searching on foot.

Tong Zhanyan took advantage of their distraction to feed the pigs and chickens, then grabbed a shovel and headed into the chicken coop.

The chicken droppings hadn’t been shoveled out for several days.

The chickens were used to Tong Zhanyan and the others being around; they went about their business, paying him no mind.

As Tong Zhanyan was busy, he saw a rooster walking past him, dragging a black rope behind it, looking proud and strutting with its head held high.

That earthworm had been dead for a long time.

Tong Zhanyan paused for two seconds, then called Ning Langdong and the others back.

A few minutes later, Tong Zhanyan opened the gate to the large chicken coop and herded all the chickens out.

The chickens had thought about escaping before, but Tong Zhanyan had always kept them in check.

Suddenly driven out, they were bewildered, standing motionless in front of the coop for a long time.

Tong Zhanyan continued shoveling the manure.

Half an hour later, when Tong Zhanyan finished his work, the chickens had completely scattered.

Ning Langdong and his group kept scanning the area while nervously watching them.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t join in. After dumping all the chicken droppings into the compost pit, he set about dealing with the crops that had been bitten off.

Earthworms aren’t poisonous.

The mature crops were picked and fed to Yang Hong and the others; the unripe ones were fed to the pigs and chickens; and the seedlings were shredded and dumped into the compost pit.

Once the work was done, Tong Zhanyan was just about to go check on the patch of soil he’d been composting when a commotion broke out in the distance.

A chicken was fighting something in the woods.

Ning Langdong and his group, who had scattered to observe, immediately rushed over.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at it from a distance, then went back to his own work.

The soil had decomposed almost completely; in two more days, the plastic sheeting could be removed.

In the back door.

Wang Zhengshu hesitated for a long time, but finally steeled himself to find Qing Jiyue.

Yan Zhenwen was still in the hospital.

People from the Yan family had already arrived.

He didn’t regret hitting the man.

He didn’t know if the earthworms at the base were connected to Yan Zhenwen, but it was a fact that Yan Zhenwen was planning something.

He felt Qing Jiyue needed to know.

After hearing his words, Qing Jiyue didn’t show any obvious anger, but in that moment, facing this future Qing Family Head—who was much younger than him—he felt a chill run down his spine.

Qing Jiyue said nothing, merely telling him to go back.

An hour later, while Wang Zhengshu was busy, members of his team gathered around to show him the Qing Family’s official account on Green Shade.

The Qing Family strongly condemned certain individuals with ulterior motives.

No sooner had the Qing Family’s announcement been released than the other three of the Four Great Families, as well as Sidi Military Academy and the Planting Alliance, issued similar condemnation statements one after another.

Their announcements made no mention of Senior Da Liu, but given the timing of their release, the implication was clear.

The news sent shockwaves through the internet, and the already angry online community immediately began discussing what was going on.

Their discussions also spread to Tong Zhanyan’s livestream.

Many viewers in the stream had already suspected that someone had deliberately planted those things; upon seeing those condemnation statements, their anger flared even more intensely, and they began scrambling to find out what was going on.

In less than half an hour, details about who was stationed outside Tong Zhanyan’s base were all dug up, including the news that Yan Zhenwen had been hospitalized.

Watching the discussions, Wang Zhengshu felt a chill run down his spine.

The Yan family was finished.

Wang Zhengshu believed the earthworm incident was most likely unrelated to Yan Zhenwen—after all, he was currently lying in a hospital bed—but he felt no sympathy for Yan Zhenwen whatsoever.

It was true that Yan Zhenwen wanted to do something.

In fact, if he hadn’t been beaten into the hospital, Yan Zhenwen might have gone after someone else.

They hadn’t been swayed, but what about everyone else?

Five million wasn’t enough—what about ten million?

Those crops were the livelihoods of countless people.

Had Yan Zhenwen thought about them when he did this?

The crowd in the livestream was getting excited because, just then, another earthworm had been caught by the chickens.

“I’ve decided—from today on, you’re all my brothers and sisters.”

“Hello, Brother Chicken and Sister Chicken…”

“It wasn’t for nothing that Senior fed you all those delicious treats every day.”

“Go on, peck it.”

“I never thought I’d be moved by a few chickens one day.”

“I’m leaving the task of protecting the crops to you.”

…

Watching as the chickens pecked the earthworm to death, Ning Langdong and the others quickly stepped forward to pick up the carcass.

Although those earthworms weren’t poisonous, just looking at them was unsettling.

More importantly, the chickens seemed to want to eat them—that wouldn’t do. What if they choked?

These chickens were now the saviors of the world.

In the evening, when Tong Zhanyan fed the chickens, he made sure to give them extra.

It wasn’t out of gratitude; it was purely to prevent them from pecking at the crops in the fields.

Ning Langdong and the others misunderstood and were quite touched.

That evening, Tong Zhanyan didn’t pay any attention to the chickens, but they still obediently returned to the coop.

They had already gotten used to sleeping in the coop.

That night, Ning Langdong and the others decided to keep watch.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t interfere.

He slept soundly until dawn.

When he went downstairs, Tong Zhanyan didn’t even have to ask—he saw the answer in the smiles on Ning Langdong and the others’ faces.

The chickens hadn’t caught any earthworms that night, yet the crops in the fields hadn’t been damaged either.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t rush to lock the chickens up, deciding to observe them for another two days.

Meanwhile, he reminded Old Xu and Old Wang to arrange for the harvest.

They’d been so busy searching for earthworms that it had been several days since the last harvest.

The group hurried to the back to find Yang Hong and the others.

Over sixty people worked for two days.

As cartload after cartload of crops was delivered to the gate, everyone’s face was beaming with smiles.

Tong Zhanyan removed the plastic sheeting from the plot where the soil had been properly decomposed, then gave the entire area a thorough tilling.

The soil, enriched with various plant fibers and a large amount of manure, had clearly become much looser, though the incubated organisms were still somewhat concentrated and required some stirring.

After tilling, Tong Zhanyan divided the area into sections and simultaneously sowed two batches of seeds for cherry radishes and baby bok choy.

Whether the infection rate could break through 20% depended on this attempt.

If it worked, a zero infection rate wasn’t impossible, and there would still be hope for Qing Jiyue’s grandfather and the others. If it didn’t…

Tong Zhanyan didn’t dwell on it for long. He covered the plot with plastic sheeting and went to check on the watermelons.

They were ready for transplanting.

Tong Zhanyan took them to the newly cleared plot, planted them separately, and left.

He didn’t raise the temperature immediately.

Although watermelons are summer crops, they don’t need to be in high temperatures right from the moment they’re sown; in fact, they’re better suited to a climate of 15 to 25 degrees in the early stages.

Watermelons have a longer growth cycle than cherry tomatoes and the like; even under ideal conditions, they take over eighty days to mature.

After planting them, Tong Zhanyan immediately turned his attention to other tasks.

The cherry tomatoes, eggplants, and cucumbers were ready for harvest, which meant it was time to clear more land.

He already knew that crop infection rates would plateau around 20%, so he had no intention of continuing to plant the low-infection-rate seeds he’d bought from the Alliance.

Conversely, he planned to plant more of each of the cherry tomatoes, cucumbers, and eggplants this time.

Especially for pumpkins and corn, he planned to plant five mu of each, aiming to ensure the chickens and pigs had enough to eat at every meal.

Plus, the next batch of sweet potatoes is ready for cuttings…

If he plants ten mu each of pumpkins and corn, that’s at least forty mu…

Which means this land reclamation effort will require at least twenty mu.

Tong Zhanyan had no choice but to consider the possibility of hiring someone to develop a plow.

Such a machine doesn’t exist in this world.

In his previous world, they did exist, but ordinary tillers could only dig to a depth of thirty to forty centimeters, with the deepest reaching just over a meter. But what he needed was deep tilling down to two meters.

Moreover, the soil at the base was loess, which was extremely hard. If he couldn’t break it up sufficiently, he’d still have to till it by hand after the machine had gone over it once…

Given the level of technology in this world, developing such a machine shouldn’t be too difficult.

With this in mind, Tong Zhanyan went straight to see Old Xu and Old Wang.

Upon hearing that he intended to use machinery to till the land, their first reactions were surprise and disapproval; in their view, farming had always been a rather sacred endeavor.

However, when they turned to look at the thousands of acres of loess stretching behind them, both fell silent.

They had already gone through the ordeal of clearing land once.

The younger folks like Ning Langdong might be able to handle it, but the two old-timers really couldn’t take much more.

They agreed to help ask around.

That night, Tong Zhanyan marked out the new land to be cleared.

As soon as the boundaries were drawn, the livestream went wild.

Twenty mu was already a large area; forty mu was so vast that it would take half a day just to drive around it.

Previously, they had merely imagined Senior Da Liu one day filling this entire base with crops, but now they were already worried about something else: would this base really be big enough for him to cultivate?

It hadn’t been long, and he was already using up forty mu; at this rate, a thousand mu really wouldn’t be enough.

Before they could recover from that excitement, an announcement suddenly popped up in the live chat: the Farm Fun lottery had officially entered its first phase—submitting materials and verification.

There were a total of twenty spots: ten for the front lines and ten for everyone else.

For the first draw, only those who had already entered the state of frenzy were eligible.

As soon as the announcement was released, the channel for submitting materials opened.

Countless people had been waiting for this moment, and as soon as the announcement went out, the live chat immediately erupted with discussion.

No one objected to the fact that half the spots were reserved for those on the front lines; instead, they focused more on the detailed explanations that followed.

The duration of the first phase is tentatively set at six months.

“Six months… getting free food and lodging at the seniors’ place while getting to work with crops every day… I’ve got a crazy idea…”

“Don’t say it—you’ll definitely get beaten up if you do.”

“I really want to go…”

“Six months’ worth of crops—how much is that worth? Why does this feel more worthwhile than winning the lottery?”

“Did you guys see the photo the comment moderator just posted? So many cages—are they planning to make everyone live in cages?”

“That’s normal. They’re already in a deep frenzy—who knows when they might suddenly snap?”

“Praying I get in…”

“Daily labor? Does that mean the senior will personally guide us in planting? Wait, if we go in and come out, won’t we have learned how to plant by then? They’re providing food and lodging and even teaching us how to plant step by step?”

“To the person above, that perspective… I’m already getting jealous.”

…

Less than an hour after the data upload channel opened, the live stream backend was flooded with over a thousand pending review notifications.

Tong Zhanyan delegated the review process to Ning Langdong, Tian Xinqing, and Su Yanran. Each submission was reviewed three times, with the primary focus on ensuring consistency, authenticity, and validity.

Tong Zhanyan, meanwhile, led Old Xu, Yang Hong, and the others to begin clearing the land.

They didn’t know how long it would take for the tillers to arrive, but planting couldn’t be put on hold.

With twenty mu of land to clear at once—and to a depth of two meters—two excavators simply weren’t enough.

Tong Zhanyan went out and bought five more.

In addition, he purchased five more three-wheeled carts for transporting crops.

As the farmland expanded, each fertilizer application required a vehicle to haul it, and over time, the vehicles inevitably became stained. He decided to separate the vehicles used for transporting crops from those used for manure.

No sooner had Tong Zhanyan placed an order worth several million than Qing Jiyue contacted him—the blueprints for the tillers were ready.

Tong Zhanyan hurriedly took a look.

There were two types of tillers: one large and one small.

The first type was designed for deep, rough tilling specifically for clearing virgin land.

It could dig as deep as two meters, so it required significant power; consequently, the machine was very large. Combined with the sharp plow blades attached to the rear, at first glance, it resembled a massive monster that could transform at any moment.

The second model was much smaller in comparison and didn’t plow as deeply, making it more suitable for soil that had already been cleared and was ready for sowing.

Tong Zhanyan gave his approval.

The excavator was delivered two days later, and the land clearing began again.

Yang Hong and the others all came over to help.

With so many people and machines, it was quite a lively scene.

While they were busy, Tong Zhanyan gradually collected the seeds.

He now had a considerable amount of seeds; even collecting them had become a rather time-consuming task.

The chickens, however, were quite happy; while he was busy, they stayed by his side, waiting for the fruit pulp and seeds to eat.

Watching them go about their leisurely business, Tong Zhanyan had one thought: sooner or later, he would have to put them back in the chicken coop.

With them running all over the place, collecting their droppings had become a real hassle.

A week later, by the time Tong Zhanyan had finished harvesting all the seeds, Old Xu and the others had already completed the first round of digging on the land they were clearing.

News also came from Qing Jiyue: the tiller had entered the trial production phase, and if things went smoothly, it would enter the testing phase in another week.

Hearing this, Tong Zhanyan glanced at Old Xu and the others, who were working up a sweat in the fields, and silently decided not to bring it up just yet.

That night, Tong Zhanyan conducted the prize draw.

The first batch of winners was from the general public—over 200,000 people competing for ten spots.

The second batch was from the front lines—80,000 people competing for ten spots.

The results were announced the moment the draw concluded, bringing joy to some and sorrow to others.

As usual, Tong Zhanyan didn’t spend much time on the matter; after announcing the winners, he went back to his own business.

As for follow-up matters, Tian Xinqing was already handling them.

Two days later, a group of people arrived at the gate.

Given the nature of these visitors, they entered through the back door.

After seeking Tong Zhanyan’s approval, Tian Xinqing even brought a camera along.

This wasn’t the first time Tong Zhanyan had received visitors, so he wasn’t the least bit nervous, but the people who had traveled such a long distance were quite anxious.

Yet this was precisely a situation where they couldn’t afford to be nervous.

So, within five minutes of meeting, a layer of iron bars separated them.

The entire group voluntarily climbed into the cage.

For some reason, the song “Tears Behind Iron Bars” suddenly played in Tong Zhanyan’s mind.

Thinking about his own “prison-style” agritourism spot, he fell silent.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t stay there long; after making a brief appearance, he was “escorted out” by Ning Langdong and the others.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t seem to realize it, but Ning Langdong and his group were well aware of what Tong Zhanyan meant to the newcomers.

If he’d stayed any longer, they might have actually entered a state of frenzy.

Since he didn’t have to host them, Tong Zhanyan was actually glad to have some time off. After resting for a while in his small house, he drove his utility vehicle toward the watermelon field.

Half a month had passed, and the plants had already gotten through their acclimatization period and grown quite a bit.

Later that day, when Tong Zhanyan returned to the small building, Old Xu, Yang Hong, and the others were already continuing to clear the land.

Tong Zhanyan went over and helped out for a while.

Harvesting was scheduled for the next day.

Also on that same day, the school sent over some tree leaves.

Both sides were busy with their own tasks, and things were quite bustling.

Tong Zhanyan personally delivered a batch of the harvested crops to the back gate.

Mainly, he needed to discuss matters regarding the cafeteria and restrooms with Ning Langdong.

Ning Langdong had been waiting for them for quite some time; on top of that, since there was indeed a lot to handle at the beginning, he had headed to the back area before dawn.

When Tong Zhanyan arrived, Ning Langdong was running back and forth.

Tong Zhanyan called him over and led him to the cafeteria.

He had built the cafeteria based on the university cafeterias from his previous world: the kitchen was in the back, and just past a door from the kitchen was the serving counter, with the dining hall right in front of it.

Of course, there were also some break rooms and storage areas inside.

Inside the kitchen, Tong Zhanyan had already laid out all the pots, pans, and utensils.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t plan to hire a chef from outside; instead, he intended to train someone from among those twenty people.

The “meals” those people ate were very simple—basically just boiled vegetables with a little salt—so no special skills were required.

After giving his instructions, Tong Zhanyan went to wash the vegetables, while Ning Langdong went to ask who had relevant experience or interest.

A moment later, Ning Langdong returned with two people.

Upon seeing Tong Zhanyan, the two who had been smiling as they entered stopped in their tracks and silently retreated outside.

If they were in a frenzy, the house would be destroyed in an instant.

They didn’t care about themselves, but it would hurt Tong Zhanyan.

They had so much they wanted to say to Tong Zhanyan—words that had been swirling in their minds for a long time—but now they didn’t even dare to approach him.

Tong Zhanyan smiled warmly at the two.

They immediately took a few more steps back.

The smile froze on Tong Zhanyan’s face.

Was he that terrifying?

Seeing this, Ning Langdong silently took the vegetables Tong Zhanyan was washing and pushed him out the door.

Tong Zhanyan, don’t cause trouble here.

Just being in Tong Zhanyan’s presence put them in danger; if the others found out the vegetables they were eating were prepared by Tong Zhanyan himself, this cafeteria would likely be in serious trouble.

Feeling rejected, Tong Zhanyan was filled with helplessness. He had no choice but to go over to Qing Jiyue’s side to watch the commotion and, while he was at it, tell him about Yang Hong and the others.

Yang Hong and his group needed to eat crops too, and they usually helped out anyway, so they might as well be assigned to the farmstay.

Walking past that prison-style iron cage, Tong Zhanyan spotted Qing Jiyue from a distance, talking to someone.

The other person was speaking, and Qing Jiyue was listening intently.

Tong Zhanyan quickened his pace, “Qing—”

Tong Zhanyan stopped in his tracks because he recognized the person talking to Qing Jiyue: Gu Yinfeng.

Tong Zhanyan was surprised to see Gu Yinfeng here, but upon reflection, he felt relieved.

He needed help over there, and so did Qing Jiyue, and Gu Yinfeng was undoubtedly the person Qing Jiyue trusted most.

With that in mind, Tong Zhanyan turned and slipped into the iron cage.

In their fused state, their forms were massive, making the iron cage seem exceptionally tall; walking through it felt rather oppressive.

It took him a while to get through, but Tong Zhanyan finally boarded the vehicle and headed back to the small building.

Beside the iron cage, Qing Jiyue, who had been listening to Gu Yinfeng recount the situation at the front lines, spotted that receding figure and found his gaze following it involuntarily.

“Are you even listening to me?” Gu Yinfeng looked in the same direction.

Qing Jiyue pulled his gaze back. “Thank you both for your help.”

His father was able to recuperate here in peace, largely thanks to Gu Yinfeng’s mother, Gu Zaixia.

Gu Yinfeng looked from Qing Jiyue to Tong Zhanyan, who was already far away. “Do you like him?”

Qing Jiyue paused, then looked up.

How did Gu Yinfeng know?

“Does he know?” Gu Yinfeng couldn’t help but laugh and cry at the same time.

Back in school, he’d found it strange that Qing Jiyue—that training fanatic—would actually give up training just because of a message from someone else.

Later, during patrols over the holidays, Qing Jiyue would watch live streams whenever he had a moment. At first, he thought Qing Jiyue was just looking at the crops, but then he realized he actually recognized the person in the stream.

On top of that, during that period, Qing Jiyue was always secretly contacting someone, even going so far as to abandon his patrols and leave suddenly—a complete departure from his usual self.

Later, when he learned that the person who’d called Qing Jiyue away and the person Qing Jiyue had been secretly contacting were both Tong Zhanyan—and that the two were even roommates—he began to have a vague suspicion.

“Aren’t you going to formally introduce him to me?” Gu Yinfeng had a pretty strong impression of Tong Zhanyan.

It wasn’t just the stuff in the livestream; more importantly, it was the incident when they first met—Tong Zhanyan rummaging through a trash can.

Qing Jiyue lowered his gaze. “He doesn’t like me.”

Qing Jiyue didn’t really want to talk about this. “I’ve got to get back to work.”

With that, he turned and headed toward the cafeteria.

Gu Yinfeng hadn’t expected such a response and was quite surprised.

After rounding the corner, Qing Jiyue stopped in his tracks and looked back in the direction Tong Zhanyan had gone.

There was no sign of him there anymore.

Qing Jiyue summoned his Spirit Beast.

The Spirit Beast looked at him blankly.

Qing Jiyue crouched down to meet its gaze.

“Meow.”

The Spirit Beast blinked.

“Meow.”

The Spirit Beast walked away.

Qing Jiyue felt like he was losing his mind.