Courtyard House: I fish in the heavens, a professional bird abuser.

Time flows forward like a river.

The days after sowing were not too difficult.

There was work to do every day—training, patrolling, moving logs, digging ditches, and repairing fences. Being busy was the best tranquilizer in the apocalypse; as long as your mind was occupied, you wouldn't have much time to overthink.

He Yuanchao arranged for someone to guard and water the vegetable garden.

The old pastor Phillips was in charge of this matter.

The old man was too old to do heavy work, but he was extremely patient and meticulous in everything he did. Every morning at the crack of dawn, he would carry buckets to the river to fetch water, and then fill the vegetable garden with the water, bucket by bucket. After watering, he would squat on the edge of the field and recite two passages of scripture, as if he were performing a mass for the land.

He Yuanchao neither confirmed nor denied this.

He doesn't interfere with matters of faith.

As long as the work is done, that's fine.

On the third day, Phillips reported that there seemed to be movement in the soil—fine cracks appeared on the surface of the soil, as if something was arching upwards from below.

He Yuanchao glanced at it, nodded, and said nothing.

Day .

Tender green shoots emerged from the soil.

One tree, two trees, ten trees, dozens of trees.

They were neatly arranged in rows along the planting furrows, like a line of soldiers in formation.

The people in the camp noticed it but didn't take it too seriously—it's sprouting, after all; things planted will sprout sooner or later.

What truly caused an uproar was the seventh day.

That morning, He Yuanchao was still leading people in morning exercises on the training field.

Phillips's shouts came from the vegetable garden.

It wasn't the kind of terrified screams like "Fire!" or "Zombies are coming!"

It's that kind of—

"God—come and see—"

Everyone dropped what they were doing and ran over.

Then they were all dumbfounded.

That vegetable garden, which is over 300 square meters.

Seven days ago, it was just a patch of turned brown soil.

now--

Everywhere you look is green.

Fresh, vibrant green, glistening with dewdrops in the morning light.

The corn seedlings have grown to knee height, their leaves unfurling and swaying gently in the breeze.

The potato stems and leaves grew outwards like crazy, forming a large, lush green patch that covered the furrows where they were located, with leaves so large they could cover a palm.

Several leafy greens—bok choy, lettuce, and spinach—are growing particularly vigorously, some already more than a hand's length tall, with broad, dark green leaves that clearly indicate they are well-nourished.

In the desolate wasteland of the apocalypse.

In a deathly landscape filled with gray and black.

This small patch of vibrant green life—

It was like a ray of light.

A tenacious, stubborn light rising from the earth.

The old pastor, Phillips, was the first to kneel down.

His knees slammed heavily onto the ridge of the field, splashing mud and water all over his trousers, but he didn't care at all.

He was praying, his hands clasped together, his eyes closed, and his lips moving rapidly.

It's not the kind of formal, rote prayer.

It was the kind of gratitude that came from the depths of one's soul, that made one tremble all over, and that sounded like a sob.

"God... thank you... you haven't abandoned us..."

The people around them also started to tear up.

The young mother, Emily, held her baby in one arm and covered her mouth with the other, tears streaming down her face like broken beads.

Her husband died at a checkpoint in Raccoon City.

She crawled out of hell alone with her child.

She experienced despair, hunger, and the terror of being awakened in the middle of the night by the howling of zombies.

But she never cried.

Not even once.

Until I saw these vegetable seedlings.

Until I saw it—that in this world full of death, living things can still grow.

Two high school students, Taylor and Marcus, stood by the vegetable patch, their mouths agape, wide enough to fit a fist.

"Holy shit..." Taylor blurted out—and was immediately slapped on the back of the head by Greg next to him.

"Mind your manners!"

"But this is too fast! It grew this tall in just seven days?! The tomatoes in my yard don't even grow this tall in a month!"

"Advisor He!" Beads of sweat glistened on Greg's bald head as he shouted at He Yuanchao, "What kind of seed is this?! Has it mutated?!"

He Yuanchao stood by the vegetable garden with his hands in his pockets, his expression as calm as if he were watching a sunrise that was not unexpected.

"It's not a mutation. It's genetic modification."

He paused for a moment, carefully considering his words.

"I used to work in Umbrella's labs. Those lunatics research everything—viruses, weapons, and agriculture. These seeds are accelerated-growth varieties they developed, originally intended to ensure food supplies for base personnel under extreme conditions."

"The T-virus can alter human genes, so it can certainly alter plant genes as well. It's just that their research on plants has been more successful—there are no side effects, and the growth rate is five or six times that of ordinary crops."

This explanation is reasonable.

What kind of outrageous things can't Umbrella Corporation produce? A company that can create Lickers and Nemesis, developing a few fast-growing seeds is a piece of cake for them.

Most people accepted this statement.

But Alice didn't.

She stood on the periphery of the crowd, still clutching the military knife in her hand—she had just run over from the training ground.

Her gaze swept back and forth between the astonishingly growing crops and He Yuanchao's face.

There was a complex light in those blue eyes.

It's not a doubt.

It's not a question.

It's more like a kind of confusion—"I know you're lying, but I can't quite put my finger on what's wrong."

He Yuanchao felt her gaze.

He didn't make eye contact with her.

He simply bent down and reached out to touch the leaves of a corn seedling.

The leaves are thick, full of moisture, and smooth to the touch.

He silently calculated in his mind—at this rate, the first batch of corn and potatoes would be ready for harvest in seven to ten days.

Three hundred square meters of farmland.

Based on the improved seed yield efficiency.

The first harvest should yield at least 300 kilograms.

Enough to feed seventy people for a month.

He Yuanchao straightened up.

"Alright, stop just looking."

He clapped his hands twice.

"If it's something you deserve to do, you still have to do it."

"Phillips, continue watering and fertilizing. Keep an eye out for pests—although these seeds are very resistant to pests, we can't be careless."

"Greg, add another low fence around the vegetable garden. Not to keep out zombies—it's to keep out rabbits. Old Tom said yesterday that there are rabbits around here. If those bastards get in and eat the seedlings, I'll make you regret it."

"Jill—"

"exist."

Jill stepped out from behind the crowd.

Her eyes were still a little red, but her face had regained its capable composure.

"From today onwards, you will be in charge of farmland management. I'll draw up an improvement plan for the irrigation system for you—how to divert water, how to distribute it, and how to control the water volume. You have more patience for these things than I do."

Jill took the sketch filled with lines and numbers that He Yuanchao handed her.

I glanced at it twice.

He nodded.

"no problem."

These two words were spoken very decisively.

In the past—in the STARS era—she never imagined she would one day be managing a vegetable garden.

But now she feels that managing this vegetable garden is more important than any of the counter-terrorism operations she has participated in before.

Because those guns and bombs were protecting a city.

And what this vegetable garden protects is—

Seventy lives.

He Yuanchao turned and walked towards the training field.

The crowd behind them began to disperse. Some went to move wood, some went to patrol, and some continued to squat beside the vegetable garden, watching the tender green seedlings—reluctant to leave.

The system displayed a line of text on He Yuanchao's retina.

The improved crop successfully grew for the first time, and the cause-effect points increased by 300.

He Yuanchao closed that line of text.

The corners of her mouth curled up slightly.

Then continue on his path.