With over three hundred people, thirty chickens, and a dozen rabbits were undoubtedly scarce, but their appetites were small now. Plus, Gu Yunyang and the others had nutrient solutions, and the group of people in frenzy mode had corn buns and other vegetables—it was more than enough to fill everyone’s stomachs.

Tong Zhanyan and Qing Jiyue received their meals relatively early; by the time they finished eating, many others were only halfway through.

The two didn’t linger in the dining hall; they cleared their bowls and chopsticks and headed out.

As they walked through the dining hall, Tong Zhanyan was surprised to see Su Yanran.

Having slaughtered chickens and rabbits—nearly fifty of them in one go—Tong Zhanyan had assumed he would surely be hiding away, feeling distressed.

In front of Su Yanran was a bowl of chicken soup.

When Tong Zhanyan saw him, he was holding the bowl of soup with a grave expression.

Beside him, Ning Langdong and Tian Xinqing kept stealing glances at him while eating their own meals.

Tong Zhanyan paused for only a moment before continuing on his way, choosing not to join the commotion.

Tong Zhanyan’s words proved prophetic; that night, Qing Jiyue’s stomach did indeed act up.

Qing Jiyue didn’t say anything, and Tong Zhanyan didn’t notice at first—until Qing Jiyue rolled over in his arms for the fifth time.

“Stomachache?” Tong Zhanyan turned on the light.

Qing Jiyue shook his head. “It doesn’t hurt, but my stomach feels like it’s on fire.”

Qing Jiyue had never experienced this before and found it hard to describe the sensation, but Tong Zhanyan understood immediately—it was heartburn.

Qing Jiyue had rarely eaten spicy food before, and having been on a nutritional drip for so long, suddenly consuming so much spice—especially with the greasy meat—was bound to upset his stomach.

It was his fault for not being firm enough earlier; he should have stopped her.

“Are you going to throw up?” Tong Zhanyan asked.

Qing Jiyue shook his head again.

“That’s good.” Tong Zhanyan got up to pour some water; drinking water could provide some relief, though it wouldn’t do much good.

There was a resident doctor on the back side, but people in this world rarely suffered from such issues, so even if they called him over, it wouldn’t be of much use.

A moment later, Tong Zhanyan came back in with a cup of warm water and watched as Qing Jiyue drank it all in one gulp.

After doing this, Tong Zhanyan lay back down on the bed.

He turned off the light, placed his hand over Qing Jiyue’s stomach, and began to gently massage it.

Qing Jiyue’s body had been tense due to his stomach discomfort, but as he felt the intermittent strokes on his abdomen, he quickly relaxed.

It was late at night, and he began to show signs of drowsiness.

Tong Zhanyan’s lips curved into a smile. Qing Jiyue looked like a cat that had been soothed by a belly rub. “Go to sleep. Once you’re asleep, you won’t feel any discomfort.”

Qing Jiyue settled into a comfortable position and closed his eyes.

In less than five minutes, Qing Jiyue’s breathing had become slow and steady.

Tong Zhanyan rubbed his stomach for a while longer before slowly withdrawing his hand.

Qing Jiyue wasn’t sleeping particularly deeply; the moment he stopped, Qing Jiyue rolled over toward him, seeking to snuggle close.

Tong Zhanyan had no choice but to pull him into his arms, then open his terminal and post in the base’s group chat that drinking hot water could help soothe an upset stomach to some extent.

Qing Jiyue rarely had the chance to eat spicy food, and the same went for Gu Yunyang and the others. It looked like some of them wouldn’t be able to sleep tonight.

Sure enough, as soon as Tong Zhanyan’s message popped up, a flood of replies followed.

Holding Qing Jiyue made it inconvenient to chat, so after a quick glance, he simply replied, “Get some rest,” and shut down the terminal.

The room fell back into darkness. Tong Zhanyan rubbed Qing Jiyue’s stomach for a while longer until sleep overtook them.

The next day, when Tong Zhanyan woke up, Qing Jiyue was already washing up.

Tong Zhanyan squeezed into the bathroom. “Still feeling unwell?”

Qing Jiyue shook his head; he was brushing his teeth.

Tong Zhanyan nodded, stood beside him, and began brushing his teeth as well.

A few minutes later, the two went downstairs together.

It was just around the time people were getting up, so the cafeteria was packed.

The people living near the back gate ate crops every day, and the cooks had learned from Tong Zhanyan to add a bit of chili now and then; they didn’t seem to mind it much.

Qing Jiyue stayed in the cafeteria to drink his nutritional supplement, while Tong Zhanyan went back to the small building to cook his own breakfast.

A little later, when Gu Yunyang and his group arrived, sure enough, most of them looked pale and exhausted.

Fortunately, the harvest had passed its busiest phase. Tong Zhanyan had already finished his work with the corn and pumpkins, so there wasn’t much left to do in the fields.

Tong Zhanyan decided not to send them out to the fields.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t go out to the fields himself either. Instead, he asked the farm for a list of all the poultry and livestock available on the market, intending to order another batch.

His base already housed chickens, ducks, geese, rabbits, sheep, and pigs—essentially covering most common livestock. The only animals not yet available on the market were cattle, quail, donkeys, and a few additional breeds of chickens, pigs, and ducks.

Beyond these, there were a few types of poultry and livestock unique to this world that had been domesticated later on.

The egg Tong Zhanyan first found in the school cafeteria trash can wasn’t a chicken egg, but rather came from a larger, chicken-like creature unique to this world.

The price of such creatures was comparable to that of the poultry and livestock Tong Zhanyan had seen in his previous world; after all, they were equally difficult to raise.

After searching online and giving it some thought, Tong Zhanyan ultimately decided against raising them.

First, the methods he used for raising chickens and pigs might not work here, since these animals appeared after the Great Cataclysm and had never actually consumed crops.

Second, he wasn’t sure if their manure would contaminate the crops.

Some forms of contamination aren’t immediately visible; it might take ten, twenty years, or even longer to discover.

Tong Zhanyan wasn’t willing to take that risk.

With his decision made, Tong Zhanyan contacted the farm directly and placed orders for the few items he didn’t already have.

When paying the deposit, Tong Zhanyan winced at the cost.

This time, the number of poultry and livestock was far fewer than the fish and shrimp he’d bought previously, but they were much larger in size.

Even if he bought smaller donkeys and cattle, a single head was worth dozens of fish.

Cattle, in particular, came in three distinct breeds: the common yellow cattle, water buffalo, and dairy cows. Considering the need for sufficient numbers of each breed for breeding purposes, these alone cost Tong Zhanyan nearly 70 million.

Tong Zhanyan planned to raise quails in pens.

Quails lay eggs more prolifically than chickens; while chickens produce only about 200 eggs a year, quails can lay nearly 300, and possibly even more.

Moreover, quail meat is highly nutritious, so much so that it’s sometimes called “animal ginseng.”

Most importantly, they can be prepared in various ways—steamed, braised, stir-fried, deep-fried, in soup, or grilled—and they all taste quite good.

Since quails are small, Tong Zhanyan plans to raise about 200 of them, depending on the situation, so that when he gets tired of eating chicken, he can switch to quail.

After finishing his work, Tong Zhanyan took a walk over to the newly built pens; they had dried out completely and were ready for use.

The next day, Tong Zhanyan led a group of people to move the chickens, ducks, geese, sheep, and rabbits into the new pens and sheds.

Because the layout had been reorganized, some of the new pens were separated from the old ones by a distance, requiring a fair amount of manpower to herd the animals over.

Tong Zhanyan hadn’t touched the first batch of chickens, ducks, and geese with high infection rates; he planned to eat them later.

After moving the chickens and ducks to the new pens, Tong Zhanyan dismantled all the old ones, returned the metal bars and netting to the warehouse, and gave the ground a final cleanup.

Due to years of shoveling manure, the ground in the chicken and duck pens had been dug down lower than the surrounding area. Although the pens were now gone, that section of ground remained conspicuous.

Once they finished here, Ning Langdong and the others returned to continue picking and harvesting the seedlings, while Tong Zhanyan headed to the greenhouse.

The wheat had already reached the grain-filling stage.

The last batch of wheat had a growth cycle that was five days later than before.

That might not sound like much, but since their original growth cycle was only twenty days, that’s an extra quarter of the cycle—a significant change.

With this new planting, their growth rate was noticeably slower.

It had been nearly a month since sowing, and they had only just reached the grain-filling stage. Judging by the appearance, maturity was still at least a week away—meaning it would take forty days to fully mature.

That was a full twenty days slower than before—twice as long.

However, what pleased Tong Zhanyan most wasn’t this, but the fact that the wheat plants’ stature had clearly changed this time.

They had visibly shrunk.

It wasn’t an optical illusion caused by drooping leaves; they had genuinely become shorter.

At this stage in the past, they would have already reached around 2.5 meters, but this time they were only about 2 meters tall—barely a little taller than the corn.

Some varieties of corn, or those in particularly good condition, could grow to 2.5 meters, but the corn here rarely reached that height at this stage.

After making a round, Tong Zhanyan applied fertilizer to all the corn plants and watered them as well.

Once he finished here, Tong Zhanyan went to the warehouse to fetch two boxes and a pair of shears, then took them to the orange grove.

The oranges had already changed color and were ready to be harvested.

There were only a dozen or so orange trees in total, so Tong Zhanyan didn’t call anyone else.

When he arrived, there was someone standing in the area where the chicken and duck coops used to be—Su Yanran.

He was just spacing out.

Tong Zhanyan walked over. “What are you spacing out about?”

Su Yanran snapped back to reality and looked at him.

“What’s wrong?” Tong Zhanyan asked, as Su Yanran rarely acted this way.

“The chicken soup…” Su Yanran paused. “It’s really good. It smells so good.”

Tong Zhanyan immediately felt a smile rising, but he suppressed it—it seemed no one could escape the “it smells so good” phenomenon.

Just as the corners of his mouth began to curl upward, he forced them back down.

Su Yanran was watching him, his eyes filled with confusion; this wasn’t something he should be laughing about.

Tong Zhanyan patted Su Yanran on the shoulder without saying a word, then turned and walked into the orange grove.

These branches had only sprouted this year; many were still tender, so they lacked much strength to support the weight.

Once the oranges ripened, they were weighed down and began to droop. Combined with the fact that the ripened fruit became immediately noticeable, it had a certain resemblance to the “branches heavy with fruit” scene from the cherry tomatoes back then.

Gu Yunyang and his group had already come over to check this out several times, and much of the recent chatter in the livestream had revolved around this spot. However, since Tong Zhanyan had seen orange trees like these in his previous world, he didn’t think much of it.

There were only about a dozen trees in total, and Tong Zhanyan finished picking them in no time.

There were two full crates of fruit, and it took Tong Zhanyan two trips to carry them all back.

After returning to the small house, Tong Zhanyan brought the smaller crate inside and placed it in the house, while the larger crate was left under the eaves.

As night fell and he finished his work, Tong Zhanyan distributed the entire contents of the larger crate to the group at the base.

He didn’t plan to sell them because he wanted the seeds and the peel.

This small amount of orange peel didn’t mean much to him now, but it was better than nothing.

“Why does it taste a little sweet? Aren’t oranges supposed to be sour?”

“Have you eaten them before?”

“I’ve heard about them.”

The group discussed it while carefully tasting the fruit.

Gu Yunyang cast a cautious glance at Old Xu. Although he had never eaten oranges grown by Old Xu himself, he had seen others eat them.

He still remembered the look on that person’s face—their features contorted by the sourness.

But the orange in his hand, though tinged with a high infection rate and a hint of sourness, was overall on the sweeter side.

Old Xu didn’t notice Gu Yunyang’s gaze, because he had actually eaten the oranges he’d grown himself.

That made him let out an involuntary sigh, his feelings mixed.

In the livestream.

“I had a feeling when he put it under the eaves.”

“Just as I thought…”

“I knew it.”

“Damn…”

“I really think you should work on that habit of yours, Senior. They’re here to study and get treatment—why go out of your way to be so nice to them? Crops, eggs, chickens, rabbits, and now oranges…”

“Another day where my defenses crumbled.”

“So is the remaining box meant for sale?”

Tong Zhanyan distributed the extra box to the others at the base. As for the smaller box, he moved it back to the back door later and took it to Qing Jiyue’s dorm.

Qing Jiyue liked this stuff, so he’d let him eat his fill.

When Qing Jiyue returned later, he saw the massive crate—big enough to fit two adults—and it took him a while to come to his senses.

He suspected Tong Zhanyan was treating him like some kind of livestock in the breeding pen.

“You can only eat four a day at most,” Tong Zhanyan reminded him; eating too much of this stuff would burn your stomach just the same.

Two days later, part of the livestock and poultry Tong Zhanyan had ordered arrived.

The base already had pigs and chickens; this shipment was just to round out the varieties, so the others had seen them before and weren’t surprised.

But the new cows and quails piqued everyone’s curiosity.

Especially when Tong Zhanyan led the group, guiding a yellow cow toward the livestock area, everyone couldn’t help but stop what they were doing to watch.

In this world, living creatures tend to be a bit skittish, and cows are no exception.

Surrounded by onlookers, they snorted and stamped their hooves on the ground several times.

Fortunately, they were still small and posed little threat, so Tong Zhanyan wasn’t worried.

Fearing they might fight, Tong Zhanyan led them into the pen but didn’t untie the ropes; instead, he tethered them separately.

Finally, Tong Zhanyan had Su Yanran lead some people to cut some purple vetch and bring it back to feed them.

A lot of that purple vetch is actually used as animal feed.

After finishing his work, Tong Zhanyan was heading back toward the small building when a scooter suddenly shot out at breakneck speed.

Tong Zhanyan was startled and was about to call out to warn the rider to be careful when he saw the person slam on the brakes and immediately shout toward the group of people in the field, “Ning Langdong?”

Many of the people who had been busy looked up.

But because there were so many people, the driver couldn’t spot Ning Langdong. “Ning Langdong? Your mother seems to have woken up. You need to go to the back—”

Tong Zhanyan froze.

The group of people on the ground also froze for a moment, then all turned to look in the same direction.

Before they could get a clear look, a figure suddenly burst out of the crowd and sprinted toward the back door at breakneck speed.

“Start the car!” Tong Zhanyan quickly called out.

Ning Langdong, who had already run a good distance, hurried back. He chose the nearest vehicle, started it, and slammed his foot down on the gas pedal.

The road wasn’t entirely smooth, and because he was going too fast, the car jolted violently.

The man who had gone to call for help quickly started his car and gave chase.

Tong Zhanyan hesitated for a moment, then got into the car as well.

Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran also got into the car.

A few minutes later, when they arrived at the back door, Ning Langdong was already standing in front of the cage.

Inside the cage before him, a gaunt lion—its ribs clearly visible—was whimpering in pain while shaking its head.

Its behavior differed from that of the deeply infected individuals who only attacked wildly, yet it was clearly not yet fully conscious.

“……” Ning Langdong couldn’t help but take a step forward. He tried to speak, but the bitterness in his throat prevented any sound from escaping.

The lion in the cage didn’t recognize him at all. Sensing someone approaching, it instinctively slammed into the bars and let out a dangerous, angry roar.

“Don’t go over there.” A doctor standing nearby hurriedly pulled Ning Langdong away from the cage. “It’s still very dangerous at this stage.”

The group of medical staff was also visibly shaken.

When Ning Langdong’s mother was brought here, she had already been in the advanced infection stage for eight years. Combined with the year or so she’d spent at the base, that made it over nine years—placing her among the few at the base with the longest duration of advanced infection.

Since people arrived at the base at different times, the previous person to regain consciousness had only been in the advanced infection stage for about four years.

If she were to wake up, that record would be broken.

Those with deep infections would go berserk at the slightest disturbance, and coupled with their massive size, making them difficult to care for, they generally grew weaker as time went on.

Very few could survive fifteen years, and those who made it to twenty were even rarer.

If someone infected for nearly a decade could regain consciousness, that would essentially cover the vast majority of those with deep infections.

That would be more than just breaking a record.

Those who noticed Tong Zhanyan approaching turned to look at him.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t go over; he just watched from a distance.

After observing Ning Langdong’s side, he turned his gaze to Qing Jiyue.

Qing Jiyue’s grandfather had been in a deep state of infection longer than Ning Langdong’s mother, already fifteen or sixteen years.

His grandfather and Ning Langdong’s mother had been brought in at the same time; they were among the very first subjects of the experiment. If Ning Langdong’s mother had woken up, his grandfather’s turn couldn’t be far off.

Qing Jiyue hadn’t noticed Tong Zhanyan’s arrival; he was staring blankly at the cage where his grandfather lay.

Disturbed by the commotion, the large tiger inside the cage was growing restless.

It had been in a deep infection state for far too long, leaving it even weaker than Ning Langdong’s mother—so much so that it no longer had the strength to attack.

But as long as it was still alive, there was hope.

And now, that hope was closer than ever.

Having just regained consciousness, the state wouldn’t last long, nor would it be fully lucid.

Ning Langdong’s breath, still ragged from running, had not yet fully settled when the lion inside the cage began to go wild.

Seeing this, the doctors hurriedly pulled the cloth over the cage and began to disperse the onlookers.

Tian Xinqing and Su Yanran stepped forward and led Ning Langdong away.

Ning Langdong kept looking back.

Tong Zhanyan glanced once more at Qing Jiyue, who was already busy, then followed after them.

It wasn’t until they had walked quite a distance that Ning Langdong stopped looking back.

As if waking from a dream, he halted and turned to look at Tong Zhanyan. “Tong Zhanyan…”

“You shouldn’t go to the fields anymore,” Tong Zhanyan said.

Ning Langdong’s lips trembled as he tried to say something.

His mother didn’t want to stay; to avoid being a burden to him, she had even attempted suicide back then. It was he who had insisted on keeping her there against his will.

He held onto hope, but in reality, he was desperate.

The seed bank had been unsealed for over fifty years, yet they still couldn’t even grow crops—how could they possibly treat anyone?

He knew it; he really had no hope.

But he just couldn’t bring himself to give up like that.

She was his only family; he was his mother.

After enrolling in the Sidi Military Academy, he had no choice but to work part-time while attending classes.

Watching his grades slip bit by bit, he wasn’t without anxiety, but even in his darkest moments, he persevered.

He had prepared himself for expulsion…

But it was right then, with less than ten days left before the final exams, that Tong Zhanyan reached out to him.

At first, he thought Tong Zhanyan had merely given him a helping hand at that moment.

Later, he realized that in the hand Tong Zhanyan had extended to him lay hope.

Tong Zhanyan didn’t just give him a helping hand; he gave his mother a helping hand, and he gave everyone a helping hand.

“Spend more time with her; maybe she’ll get better faster,” Tong Zhanyan said before Ning Langdong could speak.

After entering the base, Ning Langdong was assigned to handle matters at the back gate. He couldn’t often see what Ning Langdong was busy with, but he never worried.

Because he knew Ning Langdong would definitely handle everything well.

And Ning Langdong did indeed handle everything well.

Aside from his duties at the back gate, Tong Zhanyan often saw him near the warehouse in front of the small building in the evenings after everyone else had left.

He would organize the tools returned to the warehouse, gather the mobility scooters that had been left scattered everywhere, and wash the dirty boxes…

Tong Zhanyan was genuinely happy for Ning Langdong that his mother had woken up.

“I’m fine—” Ning Langdong realized that planting season was about to begin, and he’d be very busy.

“I told you not to go,” Tian Xinqing interrupted him.

“With so many people at the base now, they won’t miss you,” Su Yanran added. “At worst, we’ll just work a little harder and cover your share too.”

Ning Langdong looked over.

He tried to say something, but before he could gather his thoughts, his vision blurred, and something scalding hot slid down his cheek.

Ning Langdong quickly turned his head away and wiped his face. “…Thank you.”

He didn’t want the three of them to see him looking so disheveled, but at that moment, he really couldn’t hold it together.

Su Yanran patted Ning Langdong on the shoulder. “We’re here for you.”

Tian Xinqing walked to Ning Langdong’s other side, smiling as he hooked his arm around his neck. “You little rascal…”

Tong Zhanyan followed behind them.

After walking a short distance, as if sensing something, Tong Zhanyan turned to look back.

Behind them, Qing Jiyue was walking toward them alone.

Tong Zhanyan stopped to wait for him.

A moment later, Qing Jiyue caught up to Tong Zhanyan. Just as Tong Zhanyan was about to lead him to catch up with Ning Langdong and the others, he realized that the three of them had already stopped to wait for them.

Tong Zhanyan and Qing Jiyue quickly picked up their pace.

Once they caught up, the five of them set off together toward the front, just as they had back in school.

“When I have some free time, I plan to spend a while at school. I’ve never participated in field training before,” Tong Zhanyan suddenly recalled.

Qing Jiyue already knew this and had said he’d accompany Tong Zhanyan.

Upon hearing this, Ning Langdong and the others all turned to look back.

“Sounds good. Count me in when the time comes,” Tian Xinqing said first.

“I’m going too,” Ning Langdong took a deep breath; his eyes were still red-rimmed, but a smile had returned to his gaze.

“We’re all in our third year now. By the time he’s free, we might all have graduated by then,” Su Yanran reminded them wistfully.

Of all people, those who had come to help knew better than anyone just how busy Tong Zhanyan had been these past two years.

And precisely because they knew how busy Tong Zhanyan was every day, they had gritted their teeth and persevered during their time at the base, even when they were so exhausted they couldn’t get out of bed in the morning.

“If it really doesn’t work out, we’ll just go on our own. We’ll treat it as a vacation,” Tian Xinqing said.

“How are we supposed to go on our own?”

“Are you going or not?” Tian Xinqing asked, looking at him.

“Of course I’m going,” Su Yanran said.

“Then that settles it…”

Walking behind them, listening to the conversation between Ning Langdong and the others, Tong Zhanyan glanced at the person beside him.

The fact that Ning Langdong’s mother had woken up held special significance for Qing Jiyue as well.

That night, after finishing his work in the fields, Tong Zhanyan returned to Qing Jiyue’s dormitory. As soon as he walked in, he saw Qing Jiyue communicating with Qing Suifeng.

Qing Jiyue was sitting with his back to the door, and Tong Zhanyan walked right into the frame.

That caused an instant awkwardness in the air.

Due to the persistently high mortality rate, people in this world didn’t look down on same-sex relationships. He hadn’t hidden his feelings for Qing Jiyue, but barging in like this in front of the other’s father…

Qing Jiyue, however, didn’t seem to mind. His father had long been aware of his feelings for Tong Zhanyan, and both men were among the people closest to him.

Qing Suifeng was the first to react. He looked at Qing Jiyue and said, “I’ll go get back to work now.”

“Mm.”

Watching the call end, Tong Zhanyan let out a sigh of relief.

No sooner had he exhaled than he heard Qing Jiyue say, “He’ll be over as soon as possible.”

Tong Zhanyan’s scalp instantly prickled. “Over?”

If Qing Suifeng was coming over, wouldn’t that mean they’d have to see each other every day?

Tong Zhanyan suddenly didn’t even know where to put his hands and feet.

After a moment of silence, Tong Zhanyan steeled himself and asked, “Where did he used to live?”

“Next door,” Qing Jiyue replied.

Tong Zhanyan instantly felt like he wanted to die.