When Tong Zhanyan arrived at the small house the next day, Ning Langdong and the others were already gathered around the vegetable patch.

Since Tong Zhanyan wouldn’t let them go inside to look, they just circled around the perimeter, peering in.

Tong Zhanyan simply shooed them all away.

With them gone, the number of bees in the vegetable patch did indeed increase, and occasionally, two cabbage white butterflies could be seen fluttering about.

Mr. Bai arrived a little after nine.

His seeds had only just been sown; even with high germination rates, they wouldn’t sprout for at least two or three days, and the plastic sheeting couldn’t be removed for at least ten days—yet he simply couldn’t stay put.

Fearing he might try to help, Tong Zhanyan handed him off to Old Xu and Old Wang, instructing them to keep him occupied.

With the pollination task off his hands, Old Xu and Old Wang—the two most anxious members of the group—were given something to do to ease their anxiety.

Watching Old Xu and Old Wang drag him away, Tong Zhanyan headed to the greenhouse with satisfaction, ready to apply fertilizer to the corn.

Upon entering, his first glance went to the wheat.

The wheat was still growing much faster than the corn; in just one week, it had almost caught up. But he wasn’t sure if it was just his imagination—it seemed a bit shorter than it had been at the same stage last time.

Thinking this over, Tong Zhanyan went back to his small house to find the notebook where he’d recorded his initial mixed planting of corn and wheat, then took a tape measure to the greenhouse.

The measurements were nearly identical to before, and Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but feel disappointed.

If the plants couldn’t return to their previous size, even if the infection rate dropped and the inspection results were fine, Tong Zhanyan wouldn’t eat them.

Despite his disappointment, Tong Zhanyan still watered the corn.

With no need for pollination, and since weeding and fertilizing would disturb the bees, the only tasks left for Ning Langdong and his group were feeding the chickens and pigs.

That didn’t require more than three hundred people, so for a long time afterward, the base was filled with people just sitting around.

Having grown accustomed to being busy, they found it quite difficult to suddenly stop.

Ning Langdong, Tian Xinqing, and Su Yanran even went to school for two days—something they hadn’t done in ages.

Watching them leave, Tong Zhanyan felt a momentary pang of longing.

But before he could make up his mind, the piglets were ready to be separated into pens, and the time he’d booked for castration had arrived.

Tong Zhanyan contacted Su Yanran.

The next day, the farmhands arrived.

This wasn’t their first time, so everything proceeded smoothly.

There were still plenty of people who couldn’t bear to watch, but this time they hid themselves away beforehand.

There were two more piglets this time than last, so it took longer; they started at nine in the morning and didn’t finish until nearly noon.

The new pens had been prepared long ago, and the castrated pigs were immediately placed in them.

Because the procedure was done late, the piglets had been given medication; the effects hadn’t worn off yet, so the pens were still quiet.

After seeing the farm workers off, another two hours passed. Once the medication wore off, the pens erupted with cries.

The group, who couldn’t bear to watch the scene anyway, turned pale and retreated even further.

Su Yanran’s face also went pale, but he couldn’t bring himself to leave, so he kept pacing back and forth, making those around him even more worried.

Tong Zhanyan, preferring not to see it, went straight to Qing Jiyue’s side.

Since pollination wasn’t required, there were quite a few people at the back door.

Tong Zhanyan first went to the dormitory but didn’t find anyone there, so he headed toward the area where Guan Shendu and the others were in a frenzy.

Qing Jiyue was indeed there.

Another person had regained consciousness, and this time it was someone who had been out of their mind for over three years—nearly four.

They had long since identified the pattern, but watching those people wake up still moved Qing Jiyue involuntarily.

Qing Jiyue said, “The first few who woke up are already doing fine. They’ve asked to go home.”

“The base is too crowded. Living there, they only get two days of visitation time each month. They’ve been separated from their loved ones for far too long, and now they finally have a chance to see them again…”

“That’s a good thing,” Tong Zhanyan said.

Qing Jiyue stopped and looked at Tong Zhanyan.

A moment later, he continued walking forward.

He had expressed his gratitude so many times that even he had grown weary of saying it.

As they spoke, the two strolled along the foot of the mountain toward the lake.

The lake lay further back behind the mountains.

As conditions on the ground gradually improved, the wild grasses in the mountains, along the rivers, and in the forests were also thriving.

Plus, Tong Zhanyan had scattered quite a few seeds of purple vetch and other plants earlier, and they had all sprouted.

Although the base was still somewhat barren, it was no longer the wasteland of yellow earth it had once been.

That made even a stroll a pleasure.

So the two walked without haste.

“If there’s anything you need them to do, I can pass it on for you,” Qing Jiyue said.

“I don’t need anything, and I’m not doing this for them anyway.” Tong Zhanyan turned his head with a hint of exasperation. Was Qing Jiyue really bringing this up now?

Qing Jiyue understood, but he still had to convey the message: “This is what they want.”

What Tong Zhanyan had done was far more than simply pulling them out of chaos; he had saved their families.

They actually wanted to come over themselves, but two large groups had already left Tong Zhanyan’s base, and they were just a few of them. If everyone were to seek out Tong Zhanyan for a private chat, he’d be swamped.

And Tong Zhanyan was already running himself ragged just trying to take care of this base.

Tong Zhanyan was speechless.

In just a moment, they could already see lakes and streams.

When Tong Zhanyan had initially unlocked the aquatic plant seeds, he hadn’t just unlocked those that grew in the water, but also those that grew along the shore—and among them were reeds.

Reeds take about four to six months to grow from sprout to bloom, and now, exactly half a year later, the lakeshore was blanketed in white.

The scene bore a striking resemblance to the world outside the protective barrier.

The two did not continue their previous conversation; instead strolling aimlessly around the lake.

Tong Zhanyan snapped off some reeds and, relying on his somewhat hazy memory, wove grasshoppers, butterflies, and little lanterns, then gave them all to Qing Jiyue until both his hands were stuffed full.

Every time Qing Jiyue received a new gift, he would examine it intently for quite a while.

Tong Zhanyan was quite skilled with his hands.

When he was done, Tong Zhanyan found a spot without reeds, squatted down, and washed his hands.

The water was crystal clear, though a bit chilly.

The temperature at the base generally ranged from fifteen to twenty-five degrees, and the water was even colder.

As Tong Zhanyan was washing, a tiny finger-width fish fry swam leisurely past him.

At first, Tong Zhanyan didn’t even notice it, because the color of its back blended so well with the water plants and mud—until he saw it flick its tail.

“What’s wrong?” Seeing Tong Zhanyan crouching motionless on the ground for a while, Qing Jiyue came over.

“A fish.” Tong Zhanyan pointed to the tiny, unafraid fish in the water.

This was the first time Qing Jiyue had seen one either, and he couldn’t help but stare for a moment.

In his mind, fish—like crops were creatures that required careful tending to survive; he’d never even seen a picture of one swimming so carefree in the water like this.

“They must be the fry born from those carp,” Tong Zhanyan said.

Grass carp generally take about three years to grow from fry to adulthood; carp are slightly faster, but even the fastest ones still take over two years.

The grass carp Tong Zhanyan had bought earlier were fingerlings about three fingers wide; the carp, however, were purchased specifically to deal with the earthworms, so he’d bought them four fingers wide.

Four fingers wide was already considered a half-grown fish.

Plus, it had been about half a year since he’d bought them, so the timing was about right.

The little fish were nowhere to be seen.

Tong Zhanyan shook the water off his hands and stood up. “The big fish should be ready to eat. As for the carp, it’s good braised, boiled, or in soup—though it does have quite a few bones.”

Qing Jiyue couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth curl up. He realized that, as far as Tong Zhanyan was concerned, all the crops and creatures at the base were judged by the same standard: whether they were edible.

“I wish I’d stocked more back then,” Tong Zhanyan said with a hint of regret. The big fish had only just reached the spawning stage; catching them now would be like killing the goose that lays the golden eggs.

Fish have a long growth cycle; for the long term, they should be raised.

Tong Zhanyan made a move to open his terminal; the people at the aquaculture farm had previously sent him a list of aquatic species.

He opened the terminal, then closed it again—it was a rare chance to take a walk with Qing Jiyue.

Having spotted the young fish, the two lingered by the stream for quite a while before strolling back.

Qing Jiyue hung all the little trinkets Tong Zhanyan had woven in front of the bookshelf; when the wind blew, they swayed gently.

In the afternoon, Tong Zhanyan only stopped by the fields to take a quick look.

That night, while Qing Jiyue was busy writing up today’s log, Tong Zhanyan contacted the aquaculture farm and ordered a new batch of aquatic products.

The aquatic products were mainly fish—more than ten varieties—along with two types of shrimp, one large and one small.

In addition to the fish and shrimp, there were crayfish, loaches, eels, river clams, and frogs.

Fish and shrimp are common, but crayfish, loaches, eels, river clams, and frogs are considered rare even in the aquaculture industry. The farm agreed only to inquire on his behalf; whether they were available or when they might be was not up to them.

Learning from past experience, this time Tong Zhanyan purchased only medium-sized specimens, with a minimum order of fifty per species.

For smaller species like shrimp, Tong Zhanyan ordered 500 of each variety outright.

The main reason was that, in the current ecosystem, these species occupy the very bottom of the food chain; any shortage would leave them without enough to eat.

As for snails and clams, he couldn’t even think about them in the short term—it would be a miracle if they weren’t eaten to extinction.

Tong Zhanyan was generous when placing the order, but when it came time to pay, he felt a sharp pang of financial pain for the first time in a long while.

The unit price of these items wasn’t cheap, and with the increased quantities, the deposit alone amounted to tens of millions, with the final payment set to triple that amount.

Feeling the sting, Tong Zhanyan turned and threw himself into Qing Jiyue’s arms, seeking comfort.

As they comforted each other, the two of them ended up rolling onto the bed.

Having just broken their fast, they were like dry kindling and a raging fire. Neither knew who started it, but by the time they realized what was happening, the entire room was filled with the sound of their labored breathing, which they struggled to suppress.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan was woken up by a call from Su Yanran—something was wrong with one of the piglets.

Tong Zhanyan quickly got dressed and rushed over.

There were eleven piglets. The other ten were still a bit anxious from being separated from their mother, but they weren’t making much noise. Su Yanran pointed out the one who was clearly unwell.

Tong Zhanyan immediately contacted the farm.

Two hours later, someone arrived.

The piglet’s wound had become infected, so they gave it an injection.

Veterinary techniques for livestock and poultry are relatively advanced, but the piglet was still too young, and it looked like it was really suffering.

After checking on it, Tong Zhanyan took the opportunity to look at the pair of pigs they’d bought for breeding.

That pair was already fully grown, and they were due to go into heat within the next month or two.

Tong Zhanyan figured that once they’d had their own litters, he’d keep a few pairs as breeding stock and then castrate the current four breeding pigs.

The piglets he raised himself had much gentler temperaments because they were fed crops, so they could be castrated about seven days after birth.

At that stage, the wounds are small and heal quickly. Plus, with maternal antibodies providing protection, the risk of infection is low, so they suffer much less.

When it comes to poultry and livestock, if you call it pitiful, it certainly is—they have no control over their own birth or death.

But this is not something Tong Zhanyan can change; the only thing he can do is not abuse them and spare them as much suffering as possible.

At noon, Tong Zhanyan went to check on them again. The medicine had taken effect, and the little piglet was drowsy.

In the evening, Tong Zhanyan checked on it again. Perhaps because the medicine was taking effect, it finally had the strength to get up and move around.

Su Yanran felt heartbroken watching this, so he cooked some corn, pumpkin, and extra pig feed just for it.

Piglets in the weaning stage usually start learning to eat some feed from the trough like their mothers, but they still rely mostly on milk. It sniffed the food and walked away.

When Tong Zhanyan visited the next day, it had clearly recovered and, like the other piglets, had the energy to wander around looking for its mother.

Tong Zhanyan and Su Yanran both breathed a sigh of relief.

After watching for a while longer, Tong Zhanyan headed over to the small building.

Mr. Bai was inspecting his seeds under the watchful eyes of Old Xu and Old Wang.

The seeds had already sprouted, but it would be a few more days before the plastic wrap could be removed.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t go over. After ordering another batch of quarantine tanks and water pumps for fish and shrimp from an online store, he headed toward the greenhouse.

A few more days passed, and the wheat plants had clearly grown another inch. This time, Tong Zhanyan felt even more strongly that they seemed shorter than usual.

He measured them again.

The height was pretty much the same as before.

Tong Zhanyan was a bit confused. Had he been so nervous and eager that he’d imagined it?

Unable to figure it out, Tong Zhanyan didn’t dwell on it. He packed up his things and headed back toward the back door.

As for the field, he planned to check on it again in a few days.

Unlike humans, bees don’t pollinate in orderly rows; they move completely at random, so it takes much longer to see the results.

Before leaving, while Su Yanran’s attention was focused on the little pig, Tong Zhanyan sneaked into the chicken coop and grabbed three chickens.

On his way out, he also made a quick stop at the orange grove.

Another half-year had passed. The saplings Tong Zhanyan had planted himself were now nearly chest-high, while the older trees he’d bought from Old Xu were mostly nearing harvest.

Tong Zhanyan had strictly controlled the fruit set earlier, leaving only about a hundred fruits on each tree.

Because of this strict control, the fruits had grown quite plump, though their skins were still green and hadn’t begun to change color yet.

At this stage, they were so tart that just thinking about them made Tong Zhanyan’s mouth water.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t dare eat them, but Qing Jiyue seemed to really enjoy sour flavors.

Tong Zhanyan selectively picked a few with thin skins and large fruits, then hurried away.

Seeing him bring the chicken over, a crowd gathered at the back door immediately, eager to help.

The more impatient ones were already swallowing hard.

Since they weren’t on the menu, the chicken soup and meat were served in limited quantities. Those who weren’t quick enough never managed to get any, and that still made them drool whenever they thought about it.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t insist. After giving detailed instructions, he tucked the oranges under his arm and went to find Qing Jiyue.

Qing Jiyue was standing by the small building, talking to the group of doctors.

They had already grasped the basic principles, and Qing Jiyue was preparing to issue a detailed guide to help those outside whose families had severely infected members come on their own.

Eighty percent of the crops in Tong Zhanyan’s base were currently in the phase with a low infection rate.

This meant that any crops from Tong Zhanyan’s base would be effective as long as people kept eating them consistently; the only difference was the timing of consumption relative to the onset of infection.

Detailed instructions could also greatly alleviate people’s anxiety, since not every family had enough money to experiment freely.

Tong Zhanyan waited patiently nearby until he was finished, then stepped forward. “Close your eyes.”

Qing Jiyue had noticed Tong Zhanyan long ago.

Hearing this, he shot Tong Zhanyan a suspicious glance but obediently closed his eyes anyway.

Tong Zhanyan held up an orange and waved it in front of his nose. “Guess what it is.”

Qing Jiyue opened his eyes. “An orange.”

Tong Zhanyan shoved the orange in his hand toward him, then pulled three more out of his pocket and handed them all to him. “They’re all yours.”

“Ahem.” Someone coughed.

Tong Zhanyan looked over.

It was Chu Yi.

He had been standing behind Qing Jiyue for who knew how long.

“Xiaoyue calls me ‘teacher,’ so that means you—” Chu Yi glanced at the tangerines in Qing Jiyue’s hands; whenever Tong Zhanyan had something good, he always saved it for Qing Jiyue.

Before he could finish, Qing Jiyue tugged Tong Zhanyan away. “Ignore him.”

Chu Yi’s mouth twitched. After a moment, he shook his head. “A disciple who can’t be kept—sigh.”

Once they were far away, Qing Jiyue picked up an orange and examined it. “It’s not ripe yet.”

The ones he’d bought for Tong Zhanyan before were all orange-yellow.

“You can still eat it, but it’ll be a bit sour.” Tong Zhanyan said, “I remember you like sour things, so I picked this one for you to try first.”

Qing Jiyue held it under his nose to sniff, then chose the smallest one and carefully peeled it.

The unique scent of the orange spread instantly as the juice from the peel splashed out.

Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but swallow.

Qing Jiyue finished peeling it and offered half to Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan shook his head. “It smells sour.”

Qing Jiyue didn’t press the issue; he carefully broke off a segment and tasted it.

“Is it sour?” Tong Zhanyan asked, swallowing hard.

Qing Jiyue shook his head, his expression unchanged.

Tong Zhanyan felt a flicker of interest.

In his former world, it had actually become rare to find oranges with such a rich, fruity aroma.

It wasn’t just oranges; to maximize profits, many vegetables and fruits had been replaced with high-yield varieties that were easier to transport and had longer shelf lives—yet such varieties often lost the original flavor of the produce.

Qing Jiyue handed the other half back to Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t refuse this time.

Although he hadn’t watered it much, he’d saved a few of the fruits, so the taste should still be decent.

As the flesh neared his nose, the fragrance hit him.

Once the flesh entered his mouth, the citrus aroma instantly filled his entire nasal cavity and mouth.

Tong Zhanyan took a bite, and juice with a rich orange aroma immediately burst in his mouth, accompanied by a sourness so intense it made his features contort.

Those oranges were indeed primitive varieties, but their growth cycle was too long, and the infection rate had long since risen, so they also carried a bitterness.

That made the sourness even more agonizing.

Tong Zhanyan’s face flushed crimson.

He bent over, unable to recover for quite some time.

Qing Jiyue called this “not sour”?

Tong Zhanyan looked up. Qing Jiyue, who had just moments ago looked perfectly composed, now had a furrowed brow and a look of being stung by the sourness.

Tong Zhanyan instantly realized: Qing Jiyue had done this on purpose. he’d picked up a bad habit.

“Fine…” Tong Zhanyan gritted his teeth. Had Qing Jiyue copied him?

Tong Zhanyan lunged forward, intent on teaching Qing Jiyue a lesson, but he sidestepped just as he moved.

When it came to combat experience, Qing Jiyue was leagues ahead of Tong Zhanyan.

Tong Zhanyan wasn’t giving up and immediately lunged again.

Qing Jiyue stepped back once more.

They kept playing around until the aroma of chicken soup wafted through the air, and only then did they stop.

Tong Zhanyan decided to keep the orange peels. Fertilizer was still in short supply for the next batch of crops; one or two oranges meant nothing to him now, but a few thousand would make a difference.

A crowd had already lined up in the cafeteria.

After leading Qing Jiyue inside, Tong Zhanyan shamelessly cut in line and went straight to the front.

They were still short on fertilizer for the fields, and he’d originally slaughtered the chicken to help Qing Jiyue recover—even though he was fully healed now.

The two were among the first to get their meals, so naturally, they were also among the first to finish eating.

As they were leaving, Tong Zhanyan happened to see Ning Langdong and Tian Xinqing trying to persuade Su Yanran while swallowing their saliva; they’d only managed to snag a bowl of soup.

At the moment, Su Yanran was the only one still refusing to eat chicken.

It wasn’t that Su Yanran was against eating meat; he just couldn’t get past the emotional barrier—he’d watched it grow up.

Two days later, the seafood Tong Zhanyan had ordered earlier began arriving in batches.

This time, it was mostly fish.

The water pumps for the tanks Tong Zhanyan had purchased earlier had already been delivered. While Ning Langdong and the others were at the gate receiving the fish, he dug them all out and gave them a thorough rinse.

He placed the fish and shrimp in the rarely visited corner to the left of the warehouse on the right side of the small building. By the time all the fish and shrimp were settled, there were already more than ten boxes there.

After confirming everything was in order, Tong Zhanyan paid a portion of the remaining balance.

Aquaculture wasn’t really Tong Zhanyan’s area of expertise; he was raising them based on his memory, which inevitably led to some losses.

When Tong Zhanyan checked on them again that night, several fish had already floated belly-up, and there were several others in poor condition, teetering on the brink of death.

Tong Zhanyan buried the dead ones directly in the soil and warned the struggling ones: if they didn’t try to survive, they’d end up in the ground too.

The next day, whether his warning had taken effect or they’d come to their senses on their own, those fish actually seemed to be recovering.

Tong Zhanyan breathed a sigh of relief.

While Tong Zhanyan was busy, Old Xu and Old Wang—who had been idle for nearly ten days—finally found work for the group: the purple vetch and other crops were ready for watering.

The crops near the small building were in the critical pollination phase, so they couldn’t use the greenhouse’s built-in rainwater system. However, the purple vetch and the others were indeed due for watering, so they decided to use the irrigation system.

Five hundred mu of land—even a thousand sprinkler heads wouldn’t be enough to handle it all.

The group was actually quite happy about it; they were used to being busy, and it kept them from dwelling on the importance of pollination.

Two days later, after the bees had been pollinating for over ten days, Tong Zhanyan went out to the fields to check on the situation.

If things really went wrong, manual pollination could still salvage part of the crop.

Seeing this, Old Xu, Old Wang, and the others hurriedly followed him into the fields.

At first, everyone was just anxious and tense, but soon their brows were all furrowed.

Ten days had passed; normally by this time, the first fruits to be pollinated would already be about the size of a fingertip, but now there were hardly any fruits to be seen in the fields.

After selectively inspecting parts of the 500-mu field, the group gathered together and looked at Tong Zhanyan with deep concern.

Tong Zhanyan was still out in the field.

Another half hour passed before Tong Zhanyan finally returned.

Before Ning Langdong and the others could speak, he cut in: “Let’s wait another five days.”

Old Xu took a step forward, and Old Wang’s lips twitched, but both swallowed their words just as they were about to speak.

Ning Langdong and the others also looked as if they had something to say, but held back.

If they acted now, the loss would be limited to at most one-third, but if they delayed any further, the damage wouldn’t be contained by just a 50% loss.

The viewers in the livestream were also quite anxious.

“No, please don’t! I’m still waiting to buy the crops.”

“Why don’t we pollinate part of the fields just to play it safe?”

“I think that’s a good idea. There’s really no need to push through this.”

“Half the yield from 500 mu of land—that’s gotta be over a million jin of crops, right? That’s quite a massive investment…”

“This heart-pounding feeling… this familiar sense of suffocation…”

“This proves our senior is still the same old senior.”

……

Tong Zhanyan saw the dire situation too. It wasn’t that he didn’t care—but since he’d decided to conduct the experiment, he had to see it through to the end.

Fifty thousand bees. In just half a month, back in his previous world, that would have been enough to cover about two hundred mu of land.

But the base was already overwhelmed, relying solely on manual labor, and since he’d pinched the flowers off his crops quite ruthlessly at that, the flower yield from five hundred mu was roughly equivalent to that of two hundred mu in his previous world. Therefore, it was theoretically feasible.

These bees were also noticeably larger than those in Tong Zhanyan’s previous world; theoretically, their pollination capacity should be stronger.

In addition, to prevent root rot, Tong Zhanyan keeps the base exposed to a gentle breeze at all times.

The breeze also aids in pollination, though this is only effective under natural wind conditions.

Bees, flower quantity, wind, infection rate, soil, fertilizer—there are too many variables and possibilities; this is no longer something that can be resolved through guesswork.

This is a first for Tong Zhanyan as well; he is still experimenting.

Moreover, this isn’t just about this single pollination cycle—it affects every cycle to come.

As for the baseline, as long as the flowers still contain pollen and nectar, the bees will continue to visit. While this might indeed preserve the yield, it would compromise the experimental data.

“Everyone, go back,” Tong Zhanyan said.

Seeing Tong Zhanyan’s firm stance, the group of students began to stir.

“Alright, everyone, go.”

“It’s not like we’re missing out on five days.”

“Aren’t you happy to have a break?”

Old Xu, Old Wang, and Ning Langdong exchanged glances before turning to speak up on behalf of the group.

Tong Zhanyan had always relied on himself to get through everything; as for them, simply not causing trouble was already a favor.

Seeing the five of them act this way, the others finally began to move.

Watching them walk away, Tong Zhanyan exhaled and headed back toward the fields to inspect the remaining areas he hadn’t checked yet.

A little over two hours later, just as he had finished a general inspection of all the crops, he looked up and spotted Qing Jiyue on the road not far away.

Qing Jiyue must have come over after hearing the discussions near the back gate; it was unclear how long he had been there.

“Why didn’t you say anything when you arrived?” Tong Zhanyan approached him.

“You were busy,” Qing Jiyue said, looking toward the fields. “Is the situation bad?”

“It’s hard to say…” Tong Zhanyan shook his head. “Bee pollination isn’t like manual pollination; the timing is completely different. I just did a rough estimate—about one-fifth of the flowers should have been successfully pollinated.”

Qing Jiyue wasn’t very familiar with farming, but he could tell that this percentage was rather low.

“Let’s wait a little longer. Maybe some have already been pollinated successfully, but the fruit hasn’t appeared yet because the time isn’t right,” Tong Zhanyan said.

The two got into the utility vehicle Qing Jiyue had driven over and headed toward the small house.

On the way, Qing Jiyue looked even more grave and serious than Tong Zhanyan.

He wasn’t worried about the crops, but about Tong Zhanyan.

Ever since Heihei became the first to grow crops with a reduced infection rate, people had been coming forward over the past six months claiming they’d achieved the same.

But that didn’t affect Tong Zhanyan’s or the base’s standing and reputation in everyone’s eyes.

In fact, as the base’s land expanded, more crops were sold, and more people managed to control their condition by eating the base’s produce, the name “Tong Zhanyan” carried even greater weight.

That was a good thing, but it was also quite a source of pressure.

Watching Qing Jiyue like that, Tong Zhanyan couldn’t help but let the corners of his mouth curl upward, a warm glow spreading through his chest.

Back at the small house, after showing Qing Jiyue the newly arrived fish, Tong Zhanyan took him to the orange grove and waved his hand broadly. “Pick as many as you want.”

Qing Jiyue looked around, picked two that looked the largest, and headed up the mountain.

Tong Zhanyan followed.

The mountains around the base were quite high, but since they were barren and offered little to see, Tong Zhanyan rarely went up them.

The two didn’t climb for long; they stopped halfway up the mountain at a spot with a wide-open view where they could sit.

From up high, the base looked quite different, especially the purple vetch—the vast swathes of lush, green young leaves were particularly soothing to the soul.

They hadn’t bloomed yet.

The two stayed up there for quite a while, until night fell and the air turned slightly cool.

Five days later, before Tong Zhanyan could even speak up, Ning Langdong and his group had already rushed out to the fields early in the morning.

When Tong Zhanyan went over, Qing Jiyue followed him.

It wasn’t very obvious whether the rapeseed and corn had been pollinated, but with the tomatoes and yardlong beans, it was clear at a glance.

Tong Zhanyan spent over two hours patiently inspecting every plant in the field.

When he looked up from the field after more than two hours, Ning Langdong and the others were already waiting nearby.

Compared to the tension and anxiety of their last visit, the expressions on everyone’s faces were noticeably more relaxed this time, as the condition of the crops had improved significantly since their previous inspection.

Just as Tong Zhanyan had suspected, many of the flowers had already been pollinated; it was simply that when they had checked last time, not enough time had passed for any changes to be visible.

After another five days had passed, the changes gradually became apparent.

Overall, about two-thirds of the flowers had been pollinated.

While the yield would certainly be affected compared to if they had done it themselves, it still met Tong Zhanyan’s expectations.

Most importantly, having assessed the bees’ pollination capabilities, he now had a clear plan for how to proceed—including how to control the quantity of each batch of flowers to be planted.

With a thousand mu of land, it was unlikely they could sow and harvest everything in a single go; they would certainly need to stagger the planting in batches later on.

“Let’s head back,” Tong Zhanyan repeated his earlier words, though his tone was noticeably lighter.

This time, no one hesitated; they all followed Tong Zhanyan as he moved.

As they walked, Tong Zhanyan turned to Old Xu, Old Wang, and the others. “Later on, give the rapeseed, corn, and pumpkins another round of pollination.”

These three crops were the main source of fertilizer for the next batch of crops, and two of them served as the primary food for the poultry and livestock; losses must be minimized as much as possible.

Both corn and rapeseed are pollinated by vibration, so even with a large area, it wouldn’t be too difficult.

“Alright.”

“Got it.”

The others nodded immediately.

Tong Zhanyan looked at Qing Jiyue.

Sensing his gaze, Qing Jiyue turned to look back.

Tong Zhanyan took two steps forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with him, taking his hand in the process.

Qing Jiyue usually didn’t get involved in his farm affairs, but this time, he had come along as well.