Although she was physically disabled, Wei Li’s mental strength drove her to return to the chicken coop even after getting her casts. However, she could hardly do anything in her current condition. The most she could manage was pressing a switch to feed the chickens.
The last time Zhao Linong was there, Wei Li had used a crutch and a hose to clean the chicken manure aisle twice, keeping the coop tidy. But now, confined to a wheelchair, she couldn’t risk it—if she slipped, it could be disastrous.
As Zhao Linong was about to take the bags of dried chicken manure, Wei Li offered, “If you flush the aisle twice for me, I’ll give you an extra 500 points.”
Without hesitation, Zhao Linong set the manure bags aside and agreed, “Sure.”
With the manure cleared out, she didn’t mind hosing down the aisle.
Wei Li wheeled herself to a clean spot nearby and watched as her schoolmate rolled up her sleeves and got back to work.
Zhao Linong was tall and thin, dressed plainly in worn clothes. Her pants were faded and frayed at the cuffs, but despite her modest appearance, she had a clean, fair complexion and clear, calm eyes, exuding an inexplicable warmth and elegance.
Wei Li pondered why she seemed so familiar, and then it struck her—Zhao Linong reminded her of the researchers at Academia Sinica, who spent their days in spotless labs, calmly conducting experiments and recording data.
But as she watched Zhao Linong methodically wash away the chicken manure, Wei Li dismissed the thought—what kind of researcher would clean chicken coops for 500 points?
“Senior? Senior?” Zhao Linong’s voice snapped her back to reality. She had finished her work, washed her hands, and now stood before Wei Li.
Wei Li blinked, “Huh? What is it?”
Zhao Linong replied, “If you need help with anything else, just let me know. I’m happy to assist, and we can negotiate the payment.”
Since her classes weren’t daily, and she didn’t always have to monitor the fields, Zhao Linong could take on other tasks.
“Well…” Wei Li considered it and, impressed by Zhao Linong’s efficiency, said, “I could use some help regularly. If you come on time, I’ll give you 500 points every day.”
The two then exchanged their real names and classes.
Zhao Linong had some points saved up, but whenever she had free time, she’d still browse the forums, picking up any suitable tasks.
He Yuesheng had often warned her about being too bold, fearing plant mutations, and had even tried to persuade her to join him in a private business venture.
“I can’t do that,” Zhao Linong declined, shaking her head. “Agriculture students should be exposed to more crop plants.”
He Yuesheng gave her a curious look, muttering thoughtfully, “You’re like a researcher.”
Researcher, graduate student—just one word apart.
Zhao Linong’s heart skipped a beat when she heard that, but she quickly realized what he meant and suppressed her anxiety, smiling casually, “Why do you say that?”
“Don’t researchers spend all day studying plant mutations?” He Yuesheng shrugged. “But they have guardians to protect them, and you don’t.”
“The teacher said we can safely observe mutations in plants below C level. I’ll be careful, and nothing will happen,” Zhao Linong replied calmly, “Besides, C-level plants rarely appear in the base.”
Ever since Kang Anru had explained the different levels of mutated plants, Zhao Linong had a clearer understanding of the dangers at the Ninth Agricultural Base.
The danger was always present, but it didn’t mean certain death.
Before she understood the risks, she’d even wandered around the base alone at night.
Zhao Linong feared death like anyone else, but after studying plants for seven years in her original world, analyzing and researching them had become second nature.
In her original world, she wasn’t much different from a typical agricultural college graduate student.
Her tutor, a prominent figure in the field, initially only assigned her minor tasks. But as she excelled, he began involving her in more significant research, and before she knew it, she was working alongside graduate students.
Naturally, she never succeeded in changing her major.
On the day she planned to switch, her tutor called her to his office for a lengthy discussion. She barely remembered the specifics, only that she somehow agreed to pursue a career in agronomy.
When the time came for graduate school placements, she was directly promoted to her supervisor’s student and began working alongside doctoral candidates.
The program lasted three years.
At just 21 years old, Zhao Linong was already on the verge of skipping grades.
Reflecting on her mentor, she wondered if he had overestimated her abilities.
He wanted her to participate in several research projects, often taking her out for fieldwork. During those three years, she was constantly under pressure, rarely seeing her roommates. Whenever they did meet, they’d remark on how much weight she’d lost from the stress.
But those years significantly expanded her knowledge and perspective.
A sudden thought crossed her mind: …Did she die suddenly in her original world?
…
By May, the tomatoes had grown to half a meter1
, and the okra and watermelon seeds had sprouted, showing their first true leaves.
As the temperature rose, some of the agricultural students began wearing short sleeves in the fields.
Zhao Linong gathered some dead branches and sticks to build a frame for the tomatoes, ensuring they’d grow upright and not topple over. The well-rotted fertilizer was also buried in the ground. It wouldn’t be long before the tomatoes experienced explosive growth, and when that happened, she’d need to thin out the leaves and flowers.
Zhao Linong also transplanted a few watermelon seedlings between the two rows of tomatoes, planted okra at the waist of an old pair of jeans used as a flowerpot, and grew green vegetables in the other parts of the trouser legs. The space was maximized, leaving no empty spots.
She wanted to grow more crops but lacked the land, so she had to wait until she could accumulate enough points to rent a plot or a greenhouse.
One day, she received a message from Wei Li: “I’m getting my cast removed today. Can you come to the East District and help me feed the chickens?” Along with the message, 500 points were credited to her account.
Throughout the month, Zhao Linong frequently went to East District 4-52 to work for Wei Li. As time passed, the two became more familiar with each other.
Although Wei Li had a run of bad luck, her family seemed well-off. She didn’t mind the daily expense of 500 points and often delegated tasks she couldn’t handle to Zhao Linong.
Zhao Linong took the opportunity to learn more about the chicken feed’s composition. It turned out to be made from mutated plants that the central base harvested from the wild and ground into feed.
Wei Li explained, “Those mutant plants were found by the research institute. They aren’t aggressive but continue to grow. Researchers discovered they aren’t harmful to animals and have no side effects. Dean Zhou initiated this research.”
“Non-aggressive mutant plants?” Zhao Linong was intrigued, hearing about them for the first time. “Are there many of these plants?”
“Not many,” Wei Li admitted, not knowing much more. “The Central Base only sends troops to certain areas annually to harvest those harmless mutant plants for livestock breeding.”
Even though there weren’t many, the rapid and large-scale growth of these plants provided enough supply for the base’s needs.
Zhao Linong speculated that these mutant plants were either high-level or abundant in certain areas, which explained the plentiful supply of feed at the central base.
…
As per Wei Li’s request, Zhao Linong completed her tasks in the chicken coop. Just as she was about to leave, another message came in from Wei Li: “Can you go to the cafeteria and buy me a bowl of porridge and some fruit? I’ll transfer 5,000 points to you, which should be enough. The rest is for your trouble.”
Concerned, Zhao Linong replied, “Senior, what happened?”
Wei Li responded, “I was halfway through getting the cast removed when I suddenly got a stomachache. The doctor diagnosed appendicitis. I just got out of surgery. :)”
Wei Li lay on her hospital bed, still in pain and frustrated. She had planned a celebratory meal after getting her cast off, but now she was stuck eating bland, liquid food.
Zhao Linong wanted to comfort her but wasn’t sure what to say. Instead, she gently suggested, “Senior, maybe it’s time to change your online name?”
Wei Li replied, “Oh, you don’t get it—it’s my way of protesting against fate!”
Despite the points, Zhao Linong hurried to the cafeteria and bought some porridge and fruit for her unfortunate senior. This was her first time in Canteen 1, where the food was more refined and of better quality than in Canteen 2, but it also required more points.
She selected fruits suitable for a patient and spent nearly all 5,000 points, leaving no money for herself. She then carried the items to the base hospital and found Wei Li in a private room.
Wei Li, looking pale and tired, was lying in bed, her eyes fixed on a public screen opposite her. When she noticed Zhao Linong at the door, her eyes lit up, “Porridge… I need porridge!”
She was clearly hungry. Zhao Linong set the porridge on a small table by her bed and placed the fruit on the bedside table.
Not wanting to leave in case Wei Li needed something else, Zhao Linong glanced at the public screen, which was broadcasting news from the central base.
The report stated, “On May 6, the Central Base sent a team to Yuan Island, where they neutralized seven A-level mutant plants and captured two A-level mutant plant seeds. These seeds will be transported to the Central Research Institute for study by researchers including Luo Fanxue and Yan Shengbian. We eagerly await their findings.”
The camera then cut to a port, where soldiers stood at attention as several researchers disembarked from a plane.
In the footage, Zhao Linong recognized Luo Fanxue in the center. Behind her, a young man was almost out of the frame—likely the guard named Ye Changming, as she noticed the Tang sword he carried.
Now that they had returned to the central base, away from the mutated plants, they no longer needed to be on high alert.
Ye Changming removed his black veil, revealing a cold, strikingly handsome face.
At that moment, the camera zoomed in on him again.
As if sensing something, Ye Changming suddenly lifted his sharp eyes and cast a frosty glance at the camera, his gaze so intense it felt suffocating even through the screen.
