Tong Zhanyan walked over and picked it up.

The cassava had indeed sprouted; it wasn’t his imagination.

Once he was certain, Tong Zhanyan actually started to get a headache. Where should he plant it?

Cassava is usually propagated by stem cuttings, which have a high survival rate and a relatively short growth cycle—though even that takes eight to ten months.

Since his cassava was starting from a sprout, and considering the issue of the root tuber’s vitality, it would take at least a year before it could be harvested.

That meant he certainly couldn’t plant it in the vegetable patch, where crops needed to be rotated frequently.

After pondering for a moment, Tong Zhanyan looked toward the orange grove.

Strictly speaking, cassava isn’t a crop but a type of shrub, so planting it in a fruit grove would actually be quite suitable.

Tong Zhanyan went to the shed to fetch a small trowel and a few stakes, then made his way over.

The sprout was so small he feared it might get trampled, so after burying it in the soil, Tong Zhanyan used the stakes to erect a fairly conspicuous fence around it.

Once he was done, Tong Zhanyan took a quick look at the tangerines.

Another two months had passed, and the ones he’d planted himself hadn’t changed much—they’d only grown about ten centimeters taller. However, the older saplings he’d bought from Old Xu were already showing flower buds.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t come here often, so seeing this was quite a surprise.

After his moment of delight, he went ahead and picked the flowers.

Mandarin trees are actually quite prolific bloomers; if they’re in good condition, they can produce anywhere from a few thousand to tens of thousands of flowers at a time.

These trees had just had their roots and leaves pruned by him, so they weren’t in the best shape, but each one already had over a hundred flowers.

Without hesitation, Tong Zhanyan picked until only twenty or thirty blossoms remained.

There weren’t many trees, so it took Tong Zhanyan only twenty minutes.

After finishing, Tong Zhanyan returned to the shed to put down his small shovel, then mixed some fertilizer solution and carried it over to water the trees.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t water the orange trees very often—only two or three times a month—but the upcoming fruit-enlargement stage required a significant amount of fertilizer.

After watering the trees, Tong Zhanyan was carrying the bucket back when Ning Langdong and the others had just finished sowing a batch of seeds and were preparing for a short lunch break.

After putting his things away, Tong Zhanyan was just about to head over to the greenhouse to check on things when he saw Old Xu and Old Wang walking toward him with serious expressions.

“The preliminary lesson plan is ready. Take a look?” Old Xu opened his terminal.

Tong Zhanyan paused for a moment before realizing there was such a thing; he hurriedly opened his terminal to receive it.

The file was massive—at least five or sixty thousand words.

It would take far too long to read through it all in a single sitting, so after briefly skimming the beginning, Tong Zhanyan put it away. “I’ll look at it later.”

After a pause, he added, “I’ll put together a set of exam papers while I’m at it. Let Gu Yunyang and the others know.”

Although Gu Yunyang and his group started later than the other students at Sidi Military Academy, they’d been there for half a year by now, so it was time to assess their progress.

Upon hearing about the exam, Old Xu and Old Wang perked up instantly.

Tong Zhanyan wasn’t being selfish, but since he’d been busy managing the base, he genuinely hadn’t had much time to handle matters at the academy.

If he were willing to personally prepare a set of exam papers, it would undoubtedly be of immense help in establishing the school in the future.

“Alright.”

“We’ll go tell them right away.”

With that, the two headed over to where Gu Yunyang and the others were.

Gu Yunyang and his group were resting, some sitting and some standing. Upon hearing about the exam, many of them turned their gaze toward Tong Zhanyan.

The youngest among them were already in their twenties, the majority were in their forties, and the oldest was nearly seventy.

They had long since left school, and it had been ages since they’d taken any exams.

The sudden announcement of an exam piqued their curiosity.

Seeing them discuss the matter, Tong Zhanyan turned and went into the small building to review the lesson plans.

Old Xu and Old Wang had been farming for two or three decades; they were titans of the industry before Tong Zhanyan arrived and possessed profound knowledge of agriculture.

During the year he’d spent at this base, they’d been constantly learning, and their theoretical knowledge was now very solid.

This allowed them to compile teaching materials that were quite comprehensive—perhaps even overly so.

Take watering, for example. As if afraid they hadn’t explained it clearly enough for readers to understand, the two had listed no fewer than seven or eight examples to determine whether crops or soil were lacking water.

Tong Zhanyan glanced through the examples; they were all sound, but as teaching materials, they were undoubtedly too verbose.

Similar issues existed in sowing, transplanting, and transplanting—they seemed eager to list every possible scenario for every crop.

The problem is, farming has no absolute rules; what matters is learning to make judgments.

After making a copy to keep, Tong Zhanyan set about cutting and deleting content.

With such a massive volume, it took Tong Zhanyan an entire afternoon and evening just to get through the first pass.

The next day, after taking a walk through the fields, Tong Zhanyan opened the document again.

After deleting those examples, the remaining word count was around 300,000.

Tong Zhanyan kept cutting and trimming, then rearranged the content, eventually reducing it to 250,000 words.

Even then, Tong Zhanyan still felt it was a bit too much.

However, considering how little the people of this world knew about crops, Tong Zhanyan decided not to cut it down any further.

With the textbook ready, Tong Zhanyan immediately turned his attention to designing the exam.

He had always been the one taking exams before; suddenly, having to create them for others felt rather complicated.

There were now many more factors to consider—it couldn’t be too difficult, nor could it be too easy.

After spending some time mulling it over, he created a 100-point exam based on his previous world, consisting of fill-in-the-blank questions, multiple-choice questions, true-false questions, and application-based essay questions.

Once the exam was finished, Tong Zhanyan first summoned Old Xu, Old Wang, Ning Langdong, Tian Xinqing, and Su Yanran, and had the five of them take the test on the terminals.

Although Ning Langdong, Tian Xinqing, and Su Yanran didn’t live on campus like Gu Yunyang and the others—coming in every morning and returning home every evening—they were still students in the Plant Department.

The questions weren’t too difficult, but it still took some time to complete them.

While waiting, Tong Zhanyan went out to the fields to take a look.

Gu Yunyang and his group were still sowing seeds.

The purple vetch was ready to have its plastic sheeting removed.

Tong Zhanyan called over twenty people to help remove it.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t rush to water the fields after removing the sheeting; the hundred mu of land was too large for the sprinklers to cover, so he planned to let nature take care of it with a rain shower that night.

It had been a long time since it had rained at the base anyway.

The rapeseed, along with the radish and Chinese cabbage seedlings planted at the same time, had already grown to five or six centimeters. The radishes and Chinese cabbage would be ready for transplanting in a few days.

The cassava sprouts hadn’t emerged from the soil yet, but the orange trees had bloomed quite a bit.

Tong Zhanyan casually plucked the flowers.

Over by the greenhouse, the cabbage white butterflies still hadn’t been brought under control; in fact, they’d already begun to pupate.

In just a few days, the wheat had shot up to his thigh height, looking so full of life it was enough to drive him crazy.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t stop watering and fertilizing; instead, he kept at it, hoping to see if he could suppress the growth once more.

When Tong Zhanyan returned, Old Xu and the others had just finished writing.

Tong Zhanyan collected the exam papers and began grading them immediately.

The five stood nervously by his side; every time Tong Zhanyan paused, their breaths caught in unison.

Twenty minutes later, Tong Zhanyan handed the papers back.

All five had scored quite well, with marks above ninety points, and Tong Zhanyan was reasonably satisfied.

After the five breathed a sigh of relief upon realizing they had passed, their brows immediately furrowed again.

The exam had been quite simple; they had sensed that while they were working on it.

Yet even with such a simple exam, they still failed to achieve a perfect score.

While the five were comparing answers, Tong Zhanyan got up and went outside to tell Gu Yunyang and the group of students sowing seeds in the courtyard about the exam scheduled for tomorrow morning.

The group had been craning their necks in anticipation for quite some time. Seeing that everything was settled, they exchanged glances, feeling both excited and nervous.

Because of this, the group was noticeably distracted during the rest of the morning’s sowing work.

Meanwhile, the crowd in the livestream chat couldn’t get enough of the drama.

“I’ve been watching Senior’s livestreams for so long, I feel like I’ve already memorized most of the material.”

“After the exam, could Senior post the test so we can take a look?”

“Judging by the expressions of those five during the exam, the test shouldn’t be too difficult.”

“Just admit it if you didn’t pass.”

“Don’t scare them, you up there. Haven’t you seen how pale some of their faces are?”

……

At dusk, Tong Zhanyan sent Ning Langdong to print the exam papers outside the base, while he led the others to the back gate to harvest the corn.

That night, Tong Zhanyan arranged for rain.

The next day, the ground was a muddy mess, and the air was thick with the scent of earth.

The exam was held in the cafeteria by the back gate.

The following day, once Gu Yunyang and the others had gathered, Tong Zhanyan led them straight there and handed out the exam papers.

The group was remarkably disciplined; no one whispered or chatted. As soon as they received their papers, they buried their heads in their work.

The group that hadn’t come for the exam lottery gathered outside the cafeteria to watch the commotion.

Ning Langdong and the others were there as well.

The exam lasted forty minutes.

Tong Zhanyan had Ning Langdong and the others proctor the exam, while he stepped outside the cafeteria to ask the guards about the recent situation around the back gate.

The back door had always been managed by Qing Jiyue; Tong Zhanyan rarely came by unless there was a specific reason.

After nearly a month, the situation with the second group of people who had arrived for the prize draw had stabilized, so they could now go to the front to help out.

Of the two deeply infected individuals who had awakened in the second group, the one who woke up first had already regained human form, and the one who woke up later was now able to communicate effectively.

Apart from them, there was a person who had been deeply infected for two years, and recently, he had also shown signs of recovery.

The testing of the medication had reached the fifth round, but the results were still unsatisfactory.

Forty minutes later, Tong Zhanyan returned to the cafeteria.

Everyone put down their pens, and Tong Zhanyan collected the exam papers.

“How did you all do on the exam?”

“I didn’t find it too difficult overall, but there were a few questions I wasn’t quite sure about.”

“How did you all answer the last open-ended question? I feel like I might have strayed a bit from the topic.”

“The one about why watermelons need to be water-restricted and how exactly to do it?”

“Right.”

“I…”

……

Tong Zhanyan didn’t grade the exams right away; he planned to go over them carefully that evening.

After collecting the exams, he headed back to the small building.

A little later, once Gu Yunyang and the others had calmed down from their excitement, they resumed planting. Tong Zhanyan led Ning Langdong and the other four to transplant the radishes and cabbages.

Since they were practicing crop rotation, this batch of radishes and cabbage only covered about one mu of land, so six people were more than enough.

Tong Zhanyan had previously grown the radish and cabbage seedlings in seedling trays, but he didn’t use them this time; the seedlings were much smaller.

After transplanting, they looked a bit listless.

Tong Zhanyan watered them and left them be.

That night, Tong Zhanyan had originally planned to grade the exams, but his attention was drawn to the battle updates from the Four Great Families online.

Since the beast tide began, fighting had been ongoing. Thanks to thorough preparations, the defenses had held firm—until today.

It was the Qing Family’s defenses that had been breached.

The previous attack had had a significant impact on the Qing Family.

Tong Zhanyan hesitated for a moment, then contacted Qing Jiyue.

Qing Jiyue replied almost immediately, “The situation is under control. Don’t worry.”

“What about you?” Tong Zhanyan was concerned about whether Qing Jiyue had been injured; he himself had only recently recovered from a serious injury.

“I wasn’t injured this time,” Qing Jiyue replied.

Tong Zhanyan breathed a sigh of relief, but the next moment, he keenly picked up on the implication in Qing Jiyue’s words: “This time?”

Qing Jiyue didn’t reply.

“Were you injured before?” Tong Zhanyan pressed.

He had been following the frontline situation closely, but there had been no reports online that Qing Jiyue had been injured.

“It wasn’t serious,” Qing Jiyue replied.

“Let me see.”

“Really.”

“Let me see,” Tong Zhanyan insisted.

Qing Jiyue sent a photo.

In the photo, there was a noticeable scrape on his right knee.

Given that he was on the front lines, the injury was indeed nothing to speak of.

“Is that all?” Tong Zhanyan asked for confirmation.

“Mm-hmm.”

“Take a full-body shot so I can see.”

Qing Jiyue obediently did as asked, though he couldn’t help but let a smile tug at the corners of his mouth.

The photo was sent almost immediately.

Qing Jiyue was at a makeshift outpost, surrounded by people bandaging their wounds; Tong Zhanyan even spotted Qing Suifeng among them.

Qing Jiyue was covered in dust and looked a bit disheveled, but she seemed in good spirits.

“That’s good.” Tong Zhanyan’s tense nerves relaxed.

Since Qing Jiyue was on the front lines and could be in combat at any moment, he tried not to disturb him unless absolutely necessary.

Come to think of it, they hadn’t spoken in several days.

With this rare opportunity, and since Qing Jiyue’s situation seemed safe for the moment, Tong Zhanyan didn’t want to end the call just yet. “Show me the cat.”

Qing Jiyue opened the video recording function and aimed the camera at the Spirit Beast licking its fur at his feet.

Noticing Qing Jiyue’s actions, the little tiger silently turned its back; Qing Jiyue didn’t touch it.

Qing Jiyue sent the video to Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan watched it twice, then silently downloaded and saved it.

A long time later, when Qing Jiyue and Tong Zhanyan finished chatting and looked up again, they realized that his father, Qing Suifeng, was watching him while eating.

“Tong Zhanyan?” Qing Suifeng asked.

Qing Jiyue felt slightly uneasy. “Mm-hmm.”

Qing Suifeng said nothing, but began to ponder something seriously in his mind: When he was pursuing Jifei back then, he surely wasn’t this foolish?

Although Qing Jiyue was his biological son, he wasn’t the sole source of his genes; the problematic part might have come from Jifei’s side.

Thinking of Jifei, a hint of sadness flickered in Qing Suifeng’s eyes.

The next day, as soon as Gu Yunyang and his group entered the base, they nervously fixed their gaze on Tong Zhanyan.

Under their stares, Tong Zhanyan finally remembered he still had exam papers to grade.

Two hours later, the scores were in.

This exam had indeed been somewhat easy; sixty percent of the students scored ninety points or higher, and most of the rest scored around eighty.

To his surprise, there were actually eight students who scored around sixty points, and among those eight was someone he already knew.

Jin Daoyun, Old Jin.

In the lobby on the first floor of the small building.

Tong Zhanyan sat expressionless on the sofa, while Old Jin and the other seven stood there awkwardly.

“Is it because I don’t explain things clearly enough in class?” Tong Zhanyan looked at Old Jin.

When called out, Old Jin’s face flushed crimson, and his speech became slightly slurred. “It’s very clear…”

“So you have a problem with me?”

“No…” Old Jin’s face flushed even deeper.

“Then what’s the deal with this exam paper?” Tong Zhanyan waved the paper in his hand.

Every question on the exam had been answered; several essay questions were even filled out in full. Yet while the multiple-choice and fill-in-the-blank sections had few errors, the essay answers were completely off the mark.

Old Jin muttered something under his breath.

“What?” Tong Zhanyan hadn’t heard him clearly.

Old Jin’s face turned crimson, and after a long pause, he finally managed to blurt out, “…When I was in school, my essays always went off-topic.”

He hadn’t expected to have to take a test before coming here.

He certainly hadn’t expected that, at nearly seventy years old, he’d one day be called in for a talk because of poor test scores.

Tong Zhanyan’s mouth twitched. That explanation…was actually quite convincing.

Tong Zhanyan rubbed the bridge of his nose. “So, why do watermelons need water restriction, and how exactly should it be done?”

“Reducing watering during the fruit’s ripening period can effectively increase sugar conversion…” Old Jin answered without hesitation.

Tong Zhanyan listened carefully, then asked about a few other questions.

Old Jin was able to answer them all.

Tong Zhanyan nodded and looked at the others.

The group was all quite a bit older—at least older than Tong Zhanyan—and now that they were being scrutinized, their faces turned crimson.

Tong Zhanyan asked each of them for their reasons.

Some had misjudged the questions, some were too nervous, and some genuinely hadn’t thought it through—but none of them were actually ignorant of the subject.

They didn’t seem to be lying either.

After giving them a few words of advice, Tong Zhanyan let them go.

The group scattered as if fleeing.

When Tong Zhanyan went back out, he picked a few questions with the most common mistakes and briefly explained them.

The group listened while continuing to plant seeds.

Later that evening, Tian Xinqing came over and asked if he could post the exam papers in the livestream.

Tong Zhanyan agreed; after all, the test papers wouldn’t be needed again anytime soon.

The livestream instantly buzzed with excitement.

“Why do the questions feel so easy?”

“They really are pretty simple. I could get an 80.”

“I think I could get a 90.”

“Ahhh, this makes me want to try growing some crops myself.”

“Theory and practice are still different, aren’t they?”

……

A little later, after Tong Zhanyan reviewed the revised lesson plans once more, he sent them to Old Xu and Old Wang.

He also spoke with the two of them privately about why he had made those changes.

The sections deleted from the lesson plans weren’t entirely useless; they could serve as references for future exam questions.

Old Xu and Old Wang had thought through the issues quite thoroughly.

Now that the lesson plans were ready, they naturally needed to be printed.

Old Xu and the others could help arrange the logistics, but as for the cost, Tong Zhanyan had originally planned to cover it himself. After some thought, however, he contacted the school and decided to have them cover the expenses.

Strictly speaking, Gu Yunyang and the others were students of the Sidi Military Academy.

As for the knowledge itself, he had frequently discussed it on camera, so at this point, he certainly wouldn’t mind whether it was entirely under his control.

He also had no intention of putting his own name on the publication.

Others might not know, but he was well aware that all he was doing was passing on what he had learned from the school and from the predecessors of his former world to the people of this world.

To claim it entirely as his own would be no different from a cuckoo taking over a magpie’s nest.

Even if others didn’t know, he himself would feel guilty.

Old Wang and Old Xu could certainly have their names listed as compilers; after all, organizing those knowledge points was no easy task.

When they heard he had no intention of taking credit, both Elder Xu and Elder Wang were astonished.

Seeing that Tong Zhanyan remained steadfast, the two looked at him with mixed emotions for a long time, but ultimately said nothing more.

Even without his name attached, the three characters “Tong Zhanyan” would eventually become a legend in this world.

No, those three characters were already a legend.

Once everything was settled, Tong Zhanyan left the matter in the hands of Old Xu and the others to handle, while he turned his attention to other tasks.

A week later, more good news came from the back gate: two more severely infected individuals in a state of frenzy had regained consciousness, and the latest round of sowing was drawing to a close.

The end of the sowing was accompanied by the start of transplanting and relocating the seedlings.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t plan to transplant the corn and pumpkins this time; he had them planted directly into the ground, which saved a lot of trouble.

However, there was ten mu of land for each of these crops. Even though they skipped the transplanting step, just moving them into the ground still took them four or five days.

Once the corn and pumpkins had been transplanted, it was time to set out the cowpeas that had been sown later.

Ning Langdong and his group began setting out the seedlings.

Taking advantage of this opportunity, Tong Zhanyan led a group of more than twenty people to sow another mu of radishes and Chinese cabbage.

Ten days later, while Tong Zhanyan was sowing the third batch of radishes and Chinese cabbage, a group from the Institute of Paleontology paid a visit.

The last time they came, the bees on the mountain had shown signs of producing brood, so they wanted to check if they had hatched.

Tong Zhanyan followed them up the mountain.

“They’ve hatched, they’ve hatched.”

“How many?”

“More than last time—at least five thousand…”

The group was so excited that they were practically jumping for joy. Watching them from below, Ning Langdong and the others—who had been lifted up by the beasts during beastification—couldn’t help but hold their breath, afraid they might accidentally fall.

After all, they were all getting on in years.

Tong Zhanyan was quite pleased as well. The base already had over three thousand bees; if this batch yielded over five thousand, that would bring the total to over eight thousand.

“Should we go check on that hive down below?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

“Let’s go.”

“We definitely should.”

Tong Zhanyan nodded and led the way down the mountain after they had descended.

Twenty minutes later, the same delighted voices rang out once more.

“They’re in the middle of production…”

“Don’t disturb them. Let’s move further away before we talk.”

The group quickly moved away from the hive.

Once they were far enough away, they pulled out the scan images they’d just taken to examine them.

“There should already be over three thousand of them.”

“The breeding period should last a few more days. If all goes well, they’ll produce at least another three thousand.”

Tong Zhanyan went over to take a look as well. The scan was filled with a dense cluster of red dots, making his scalp tingle.

Still, this was indeed good news.

Eight thousand plus six thousand—that’s nearly fifteen thousand bees.

With this number, not counting the ones from the purple vetch, it’s actually enough to cover the other crops.

More importantly, with this many new bees, there’s a high probability that the next batch will include new queens.

As long as there are new queens, it won’t be long before they swarm again. The next production cycle could involve four, or even five or six queens at once.

One queen produces five thousand bees; five queens would mean twenty-five thousand new bees.

Add that to the current population, and we’re looking at well over forty thousand bees. With a bit of wind to help, stopping manual pollination might actually be feasible.

Even without counting the newly cleared land, the next batch covers a full two hundred mu. To manually pollinate all of that, it would take about a month—even with five hundred people.

Faced with such a massive workload, even Old Xu and his group—who held crops in such high regard and viewed pollination as a sacred duty—couldn’t help but smile.

Realizing they might be replaced, the group couldn’t help but laugh along.

Of course, the most excited were the paleontologists.

A population of this size could already be considered a full recovery.

They held onto Tong Zhanyan for a long time, expressing their gratitude; when they became emotional, their voices even choked up, and their eyes reddened.

Tong Zhanyan was already used to it.

As long as they stopped trying to sell him mosquitoes and red spider mites.

Because they were so excited, the group didn’t leave until after 8:00 p.m.

After seeing them off, Tong Zhanyan returned to his small building and immediately opened his terminal to check the situation.

As time went on, the situation on the front lines grew increasingly tense; in just the past two days, there had already been several reports of defensive lines being breached.

The Qing Family’s side had been breached twice.

At the top of the Green Shade homepage was a new battle report; Qing Jiyue appeared in the video for two seconds.

Tong Zhanyan zoomed in to take a closer look.

Qing Jiyue had sustained a new injury—this time on his right arm.

The injury didn’t look serious, but with over a month left until the beast tide ended, Tong Zhanyan feared something might happen to him if things continued like this day after day.

After watching for a while longer, Tong Zhanyan went to wash up.

When he returned from washing up and lay down on the bed, Tong Zhanyan noticed he had a new unread message.

Thinking it was from Qing Jiyue, he opened it immediately.

The message was from the Planting Alliance, informing him that a new batch of funds had been deposited.

Tong Zhanyan glanced at it, then transferred twenty million back to the account Qing Jiyue had given him earlier.

With that, the three hundred million he owed for the base was fully paid off.

He and Qing Jiyue had originally agreed on a five-year installment plan, and this was only the second year.

He actually had enough money long ago; it was just that he earned a lot and spent a lot.

Especially when it came to customizing various machines, buying tillers, upgrading infrastructure, purchasing seeds, pigs, fish, and shrimp, the costs started at tens of thousands and could reach tens of millions in a single transaction.

Not long ago, he had also voluntarily taken on the full cost of compensation for that attack, which was another massive sum.

After making the payment, Tong Zhanyan thought it over and sent Qing Jiyue a message to let him know and to remind him to stay safe.

Qing Jiyue hadn’t replied by the time Tong Zhanyan fell asleep.

When Tong Zhanyan woke up the next day, Qing Jiyue had already replied.

Qing Jiyue would arrange for someone at the base to handle the settlement.

Additionally, Qing Jiyue might have to make a trip outside the protective shield.

As more and more beasts were drawn to the area, the battle situation grew increasingly dire. At this rate, the front lines would soon collapse on a large scale.

After discussing it, the Four Great Families decided to dispatch a mopping-up squad to clear the area outside, thereby relieving pressure on the defensive lines.

The leaders of the squad had already been chosen: Qing Jiyue and Chu Yi.

They volunteered for the mission.

Both possess supernatural abilities and specialize in area-of-effect attacks, making them the perfect choice.

Staring at the message, Tong Zhanyan sat there for a long time, unsure how to respond.

He wanted to stop Qing Jiyue from going, but she wouldn’t possibly refuse.

“How long will you be gone?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

“We plan to lead separate teams heading in opposite directions simultaneously until we’ve circled the entire protective barrier. If all goes well, it should be over in a month; if not, it might last until the beast tide ends.”

“Don’t get hurt.”

“Okay.”

Tong Zhanyan typed out a long message full of warnings to be careful, but after thinking it over, he deleted it all. He said, “I’ll be worried.”

Qing Jiyue didn’t reply immediately.

After waiting a moment and still receiving no response, Tong Zhanyan got out of bed.

By the time he finished washing up and went downstairs, Qing Jiyue had already replied.

“Tong Zhanyan, I like you.”

Tong Zhanyan’s breath caught, and his footsteps faltered.

He stared at those seven words for a long time, as if they possessed a spellbinding power that made it impossible to look away.

“I like you too,” Tong Zhanyan replied.

He had originally planned to wait until Qing Jiyue returned to say these things; he preferred to make things clear in person.

Qing Jiyue took a while to reply, sending back a system-generated smiley face.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but chuckle. Even though he was only twenty, Qing Jiyue sometimes acted like an old man.

Tong Zhanyan suddenly thought of the person who had tipped him back when he was short on money to rent a training room.

He hadn’t thought much of it at the time, but now that he thought about it, he had been short on cash, and that person had suddenly tipped him—it was a bit too coincidental.

And that name, so full of world-weary wisdom…

Over a year had passed, and his list of tippers had been refreshed countless times by now; even if he wanted to find that person, it wouldn’t be easy.

Tong Zhanyan immediately wanted to ask Qing Jiyue if it was him, but on second thought, he decided against it.

He would wait until Qing Jiyue returned to ask him in person.

Tong Zhanyan took a deep breath and went downstairs.

In the open space beside the small house, Ning Langdong and his group were already preparing to continue the transplanting.

Nearly half a month had passed, and the transplanting was nearing its end.

After taking a look at the greenhouse, Tong Zhanyan selected a few people to head to the sweet potato field; the sweet potatoes were ready for cuttings.

The sweet potatoes were thriving, with vines growing quite densely, so unlike last time, they wouldn’t need to plant in two separate rounds—one round would suffice.

The only issue was that Tong Zhanyan had originally planned to plant ten mu of land, but later set aside one mu of the reserved land for green manure.

As they trimmed the sweet potato vines, the group discussed what to do.

Some suggested planting more densely, while others thought they should plant fewer.

Without a moment’s hesitation, Tong Zhanyan proposed a solution no one else had considered: intercropping with corn.

Crops are generally not intercropped casually, as planting them together causes competition for soil, nutrients, and sunlight. The weaker crop may not only grow poorly but, in the worst-case scenario, could die entirely.

But sometimes they do mix them intentionally, as this can boost yields and enhance resistance to pests and diseases.

The two seem contradictory, but in reality, they are not.

Not all crops can be interplanted, and those that can generally have different root systems and sunlight requirements.

Corn and sweet potatoes are a classic example.

Corn roots typically grow deep into the soil with few surface roots, while sweet potato roots generally remain near the surface.

Corn plants are tall and can block all the sunlight above them.

Sweet potatoes, however, can survive even with limited sunlight and have excellent resistance to the hot, stuffy conditions found in cornfields.

Additionally, corn and pumpkins can be interplanted to some extent, as pumpkin nectar attracts the black wasp, a natural predator of the corn borer.

The corn borer feeds on corn and is one of its primary pests.

Using the scent of garlic to repel pests is also a common pest control method.

Tong Zhanyan’s farm currently has no need for this, but as soon as he spoke those words, another idea came to mind.

Could other crops be intercropped with wheat to purify the wheat?

Once crops are contaminated, the infection rate skyrockets—this is common knowledge in this world.

But it is also a fact that once a crop’s vitality reaches a certain level, it gains the ability to purify.

What if the two were combined?

Would the crop become contaminated, or would it purify the source of contamination?

Tong Zhanyan practically dropped his shears and ran back toward the small building.

There was no need to wait for an answer; a test would reveal it.

Moments later, he emerged with a bundle of rubber tubing and began taking samples from various plots.

The base’s soil infection rate had originally hovered around 30%. After mixing in humus, plant ash, and eggshell powder, the infection rate had risen to between 32% and 35%.

Yet the crops in the green manure plots now had the lowest infection rate, having dropped to around 12%.

Soil with a 32% infection rate had produced crops with a 12% infection rate…

Apart from when he first moved in, he had almost never tested the base’s soil, because the fact that the crops were fine already indicated that the soil’s infection rate hadn’t exceeded the limit.

Thinking about it now, everything had been unreasonable for a long time.

He placed the samples into the machine, and while waiting, Tong Zhanyan was burning with anxiety.

A few minutes later, the results came in.

Tong Zhanyan looked immediately. The infection rates in the other fields varied, but most hovered around 25%.

The five samples from the green manure field, however, all showed infection rates of around 20%.

Significantly lower.

Those crops with reduced infection rates had not only purified themselves but also purified the soil that nurtured them.

Interplanting wheat with other crops is feasible.

The question is: how should it be done?

The wheat’s vitality is terrifyingly strong; simply interplanting it would only contaminate the other seeds…

Tong Zhanyan’s mind was racing when Su Yanran came running over, her face ashen with panic. “Tong Zhanyan, something’s happened.”

Tong Zhanyan’s mind ground to a halt. Something had happened to Qing Jiyue…

“The pig is about to give birth.”

Tong Zhanyan was momentarily bewildered.

What on earth?

“The sow in the pigpen seems to be about to give birth,” Su Yanran repeated.

“What’s going on?”

“The pig?”

A group of people who had been busy nearby was also drawn to the commotion.

Su Yanran had never experienced anything like this before and was already frantic. “It keeps squealing—it sounds like it’s in pain… What should we do? Should we take it to the hospital?”