“My hand is broken, yet they still made me come up here to recount last night’s events,” Wei Li complained as the elevator ascended. “In that situation, who could even remember all the details?”
“My teacher said it’s just for completing the report,” Zhao Linong responded calmly.
Wei Li frowned. “But they’ve got the surveillance footage. It wasn’t even damaged.”
Then, her eyes lit up as she turned toward Zhao Linong. “I saw the footage from the cafeteria—you reacted so fast! Someone else would’ve gotten hurt if it weren’t for you.”
Zhao Linong looked surprised. “You didn’t see the footage again during the questioning? They played it back for me.”
“Nope, they just asked me to recall everything. I didn’t want to watch that awful scene again,” Wei Li said, shaking her head vigorously to clear the memory.
Zhao Linong averted her eyes, her thoughts deepening. Just before stepping out of the elevator, she asked, “Senior, is there anyone in Class C who could make it as a researcher?”
Wei Li hesitated for a moment, then replied, “Not really.” Not wanting to discourage her junior, she quickly added, “But even in Class A, graduates don’t become researchers immediately. They usually start as planting officers and work their way up.”
When Zhao Linong remained quiet, Wei Li rushed to say, “But don’t worry, you saved my life. I might not be able to make you a researcher, but I can pay for you to get some researcher experience. It’ll help keep you safer when you become a planting officer.”
Zhao Linong didn’t respond directly but instead asked, “Is there any other way to gain researcher experience besides paying?”
Wei Li tilted her head, thinking. After a moment, she recalled something. “Well, a long time ago, someone attacked a researcher and got hold of classified information. They sold it afterward. So, if anyone suddenly knows advanced agronomy without the proper background, they get investigated.”
“But how could they even afford that kind of information without money or connections?” Zhao Linong pointed out.
Wei Li shook her head. “It’s not always about money or power. After the mutations started, some agricultural experts were given special protection. Later on, they scattered, but the central authorities kept growing. So if someone’s family was part of that group, it’s likely their descendants know agronomy.”
That explained a lot.
It made sense why people had been so cautious toward her in the cafeteria. Most Class C students wouldn’t have even noticed the mint leaves rooting in the thermos.
After they parted, Zhao Linong returned to her dorm. Upon entering, she found Tong Tong tidying up.
“You’re back,” Tong Tong said, standing up as she noticed her. “The guards came through and searched all the dorms for potential threats.”
Zhao Linong’s eyes drifted to the vase on the table, and as she expected, the flower was gone. Staring at the empty vase, she felt an unexpected surge of frustration. Even something as simple as a flower couldn’t survive here.
“It’s okay, it would’ve withered soon anyway,” Tong Tong said, trying to comfort her.
Zhao Linong gave a small smile and gently patted Tong Tong’s hand, signaling that she was alright.
“I saw the surveillance footage from the cafeteria,” Tong Tong said, his face serious. “You were way too close to that mutant plant, Linong. It’s a miracle you weren’t hurt.”
“Just lucky,” Zhao Linong replied as she pulled out a chair and sat down. She glanced up at him, her expression softening. “You need to stay cautious too.”
“I will,” Tong Tong nodded resolutely. “I still want to grow a Teng Caihong to show grandma.”
The appearance of the C-level mutant plant, which claimed three lives and injured two others, dominated discussions at the base for days. However, like countless other incidents before it, the buzz eventually faded, and life returned to normal.
Meanwhile, in the freshman agronomy classes, the tomato plants had reached the fruiting stage. Around this time, the Ninth Agricultural Base entered its rainy season. Torrential downpours drenched the fields, and some low-lying areas became entirely submerged. Without high rain boots, anyone stepping into those fields would have their calves submerged, and the crops would be even worse off.
Many freshmen tomato fields were completely waterlogged.
Zhao Linong and He Yuesheng’s fields were also affected, but they had the advantage of high ridges and slightly elevated land. After some drainage work, they managed to divert the water into the nearby wasteland.
At first, the main concern among the freshmen was the hassle of visiting their flooded fields. Wearing long boots was inconvenient, as the thick mud clung stubbornly to the soles, making walking difficult.
Then, after the rains stopped and the sun came out, someone noticed something unusual with the tomato plants. Initially, only the top leaves began to wilt, but the symptoms spread gradually down the stems. Strangely, the wilting occurred only during midday, with the plants seemingly recovering by evening.
This odd pattern caused some students to panic and pull out their tomato plants prematurely.
The braver ones chose to leave the plants, hoping they might recover, but the plants eventually died with green leaves still intact. As the disease spread, panic gripped the Agricultural Science School’s freshmen, and many, fearing for their final grades, uprooted their tomato plants in desperation.
Word of the mysterious tomato disease quickly spread across the three freshman classes. Class A students, who had the means, bought points to access expert advice on the official website, learning how to manage the issue. Class B students, with fewer resources, pooled their points to buy a similar guide. They ruled out some possible causes, such as yellow wilt, and decided to purchase pesticides they thought might help.
Class C, however, had fewer students who could afford to spend points, except for a handful like He Yuesheng, who had earned points on their own. Most were left waiting, hoping their crops might survive. If their plants became too sick, they would have to pull them out, but doing so meant risking failure in the course—an outcome none of them could afford after all their hard work.
“I’ve got a sick plant too,” He Yuesheng said as he bent down to examine one of his tomato plants, his expression growing darker. “I heard this disease might be contagious. Should I pull it out, Linong?”
He glanced up to find Zhao Linong deep in thought once again.
“Linong! Zhao Linong!” he called, repeating himself until she snapped back to attention.
“Huh? What did you say?” she asked, startled.
“I said one of my tomato plants is sick,” He Yuesheng repeated, puzzled by her distraction. “You’ve been zoning out a lot lately.”
“I didn’t hear you,” Zhao Linong replied, walking over to inspect his plant. She saw water-soaked brown spots covering the wilted stem, and the lower root looked rough and uneven, with numerous small offshoots sprouting.
“If I pull it out now, maybe the others can survive,” He Yuesheng said, clearly worried. “If it spreads—or worse, if it mutates—then what?”
Without saying a word, Zhao Linong pinched the diseased stem. A milky-white substance oozed out.
It was bacterial wilt.1
Tomatoes, like many plants in the Solanaceae family, are particularly vulnerable to diseases in hot and humid conditions. Zhao Linong had considered this when selecting the planting site, but bacterial wilt is caused by bacteria that can remain in the soil for long periods.
She remembered asking Wei Li about the previous year’s crops and learned that potatoes, also in the Solanaceae family, had been grown in the same fields. Repeatedly planting the same family of crops in the same soil was a bad practice. The lingering bacteria made reinfection almost inevitable.
It wasn’t entirely hopeless to save the plants, but…
Her hand clenched by her side as she hesitated. In her previous world, there was no definitive cure for bacterial wilt in tomatoes. The most effective solutions were crop rotation, improving soil quality, or grafting. Early treatment with chemicals applied to both the leaves and roots could sometimes halt the damage.
But here, at the base, crop rotation wasn’t practiced. And as a student from Class C, she wasn’t supposed to have such advanced knowledge.
Still…
Zhao Linong thought about the students from Class A and Class B. She hadn’t realized that even agricultural research was divided by class ranking.
“Shit!” He Yuesheng cursed suddenly, his eyes fixed on his laptop screen. “Someone in our class just got beaten up.”
Zhao Linong frowned. “What happened?”
“One of our classmates tried to secretly follow the Class A students to find out what they were using to treat the diseased plants but got caught.” He Yuesheng’s expression darkened. “It happened right at the city gate, in front of everyone passing by.”
The worst part was that several base teachers were standing nearby, yet none of them stepped in to stop it.
“It’s outrageous!” He Yuesheng spat angrily. “Class A students are keeping all the treatment methods hidden and won’t share unless you pay up.”
In this world, agronomic knowledge was treated as valuable property. Spying on how others treated plant diseases was equivalent to stealing their assets.
Zhao Linong stared at the video posted in the group. A boy from Class C was being beaten up by several students from Class A, while guards and teachers stood by without intervening. Kang Anru’s claim that the Ninth Agricultural Base was hell felt all too real now.
Eventually, a girl from Class A walked by. After learning what was going on, she ordered the attackers to stop and leave. Then, she arranged for the injured boy to be taken to the hospital. Clearly, she held a lot of influence in Class A.
“It’s Yan Jingshui,” He Yuesheng said, identifying the girl in the video.
But Zhao Linong wasn’t paying attention anymore. Coming back to herself, she quickly said, “I’ve got something to do. I need to head back.”
She left He Yuesheng standing alone in the field.
…
Two hours later, Zhao Linong arrived back in the city. Instead of going to her dorm, she went straight to find Wei Li.
“You said you needed my help. What is it?” Wei Li asked when she heard the knock at the door. She was reading breeding materials in her dormitory and immediately came to let Zhao Linong in. Her hand was almost fully healed.
“Come in, come in,” Wei Li urged. She owed her life to Zhao Linong and had been looking for a way to repay the favor, but Zhao Linong never asked for anything. She often helped Wei Li out by feeding her chickens. So today, when Wei Li heard that Zhao Linong needed her help, she was instantly excited.
Zhao Linong stepped into the dorm. Unlike the outer circle dormitories, Wei Li’s living quarters were spacious and well-furnished—her family was wealthy, something that had always been obvious, and which Wei Li never tried to hide.
Until now, Zhao Linong had never thought of asking Wei Li for help. She had acted on instinct to save her, just as He Yuesheng had helped her on the train. But this time, she had no choice but to ask.
“So, what do you need help with? Tell me!” Wei Li asked eagerly, practically bouncing with excitement. Life had been dull lately, and she was eager to do something for Zhao Linong.
Looking directly into Wei Li’s eyes, Zhao Linong said slowly, “I need to borrow some money.”
