Chapter 101

“We’ve got a juicy scoop!” On the evening of January 28th at 8 PM, Meng Jiao burst into the dorm, visibly excited.

The other three roommates were studying on their beds. Seeing Meng Jiao so worked up, one of them asked curiously, “What kind of scoop?”

“Take a guess!” Meng Jiao exclaimed as she dropped her backpack.

“A celebrity divorce?”

“A variety show scandal?”

…

Everyone started throwing out guesses, chatting animatedly. Though they were all just killing time during the Global Crisis, gossip was still a welcome distraction.

After a while, one of the more impatient girls couldn’t take it anymore. “What is it already?!”

Meng Jiao didn’t keep them in suspense. “A big one!”

Everyone: ???

…

“Ahhh! It’s about watermelon!”

“First Day No.1, developed on the first day of the Lunar New Year!”

…

Half an hour later, the group was huddled around the trending news. Right now, #AcidRainWatermelon and #FirstDayNo1 were topping the real-time hot search list. According to official Longxia sources, the Acid Rain Watermelon was developed by the Longfeng Base. It was the nation’s first fruit capable of growing in Acid Rain conditions and was scheduled for nationwide planting by February 15th.

“No more tomatoes!” one roommate wailed, staring at the tomatoes on the table.

Ever since the torrential rains in Longnan, the price of watermelon near the school had skyrocketed from 3 yuan to 35 yuan each. Not just watermelon—fruit prices across the board had soared. To maintain necessary nutrition, everyone had been using tomatoes as a substitute. Longfeng tomatoes were nutritious and tasty, sure, but eating them for half a year straight? It was getting unbearable.

“Chilled watermelon, watermelon lemonade, watermelon tapioca…” The girls began fantasizing about all the watermelon treats they could finally enjoy.

They eagerly opened up their social media feeds.

“[Watermelon Classroom: Health Tips You Didn’t Know About Watermelon.]”

“[The Cultural History of Watermelon…]”

“Ughhh, I can’t wait for watermelon! 🍉🍉”

…

Out of every ten posts on their feed, nine were about watermelon. To celebrate the Acid Rain Watermelon, the four roommates pooled their money and bought a Qilin Watermelon from the supermarket. It cost 350 yuan—a bona fide luxury item.

At 10 PM, they sat on the school field eating their prized watermelon. January nights were chilly, and the watermelon was cold too. It felt like biting into ice chips, but for something that cost several yuan per bite, they were all gleefully devouring it.

By 10:20, they were walking back to the dorm, shivering in the cold wind. On the way, Meng Jiao nudged Zhang Xiaoyuan. “Are you planning to work or go to grad school?” With the economy in a slump, Meng Jiao had decided to continue her studies. Zhang Xiaoyuan was still torn between the two options.

“I’m going home,” Zhang Xiaoyuan replied without hesitation.

“Back to Yun Province?” Zhang Xiaoyuan’s hometown was Huilong Town in Yun Province, one of the top ten poorest counties in the region.

“I want to start a watermelon farm.”

Zhang Xiaoyuan’s tone was firm. Huilong Town was economically underdeveloped, but last year, the government had invested in infrastructure, paving the 70-kilometer mountain road connecting the town to the county. Now, more vegetable wholesalers were coming to Huilong to buy local produce. The town had a stable year-round temperature range, making it ideal for greenhouse fruit farming.

The more Zhang Xiaoyuan thought about it, the more feasible it seemed. She pulled out her phone and started researching.

With nothing better to do, Meng Jiao opened Longbo News.

A self-media outlet had published an article titled—[Two Years of Longxia’s Journey: From Longfeng Wheat to First Day Watermelon]

Meng Jiao felt a little dazed. She remembered two years ago, when Glib Glutinous Rice Ball had livestreamed a wheat tasting in a Sichuan Province plaza. That was the first time Longfeng products had appeared on the national stage. Back then, everyone speculated about the origins of Longfeng wheat. No one expected it to be backed by Longxia. And now, less than two years later, they had achieved such remarkable success in the face of adversity…

“First Day No.1: Longxia’s Acid Rain Watermelon.”

“Acid Rain Watermelon may be cultivable in various terrains like deserts and mountains.”

…

On January 29th, Longxia’s “First Day No.1” made international headlines.

At that moment, Wernerthal was being hit by a massive blizzard, and several island nations were suffering from tsunamis and rising sea levels. Seeing Longxia’s First Day No.1, people around the world were filled with envy.

“This is Eden in the midst of disaster,” one international netizen commented. Longxia had vegetables, meat, and now fruit—things others could only dream of.

“Our country’s Acid Rain crops have failed again.”

“Acid Rain soil contains not only essential metals but also years of accumulated oceanic impurities. With current technology, we can’t purify it.”

“Rice cultivation trials are a no-go…”

…

As international netizens looked at First Day No.1, they turned their attention to their own countries’ research.

Since the Shuilan Alliance issued a global disaster warning, many nations had launched Acid Rain crop research projects. However, the high concentration of precious metals in Acid Rain soil remained a major barrier that existing technology couldn’t overcome.

Right now, food was the world’s most scarce commodity. Many countries had their eyes on Longxia’s seeds.

Longxia’s seeds were the only ones in the world that could grow in extreme conditions. Thanks to Longxia’s large-scale cultivation, other countries had managed to obtain some of their seeds.

But according to research, due to factors like soil, climate, and environment, these seeds could only be successfully cultivated within Longxia. Other countries had attempted small-scale cultivation in controlled environments, but none had succeeded in scaling up.

Attempts to crack Longxia’s seeds had all ended in failure.

Even Farm Laboratory’s efforts to grow the seeds in foreign soil had failed. The Longxia team speculated that this was due to the seeds being highly localized—closely tied to native soil samples and lab-specific cultivation processes.

“Does Longxia have a talent recruitment program?”

“I want to immigrate to Longxia.”

…

In the past two years, many residents had hoped to immigrate to Longxia. However, Longxia does not recognize dual citizenship, and with strict immigration requirements, successful cases have been few and far between…

On the fifth day of the lunar new year, Longxia residents began returning to work after the holiday.

Some resumed their jobs, while others stayed home to plan small vegetable businesses. As everyone was making plans for survival in the year 3030, on February 1st, the ninth day of the new year, Longxia Television Station interrupted regular programming with breaking news:

“At 3 a.m. on February 1st, Longxia’s cargo ship, Meteor No. 3, encountered a monsoonal tsunami in the Wyman Strait. The vessel has temporarily lost contact. Longxia is currently conducting an emergency search and rescue operation…”

“The Wyman route is well-established. It shouldn’t just go dark like that.”

“I looked it up—it’s a Category 4 tsunami. Shouldn’t be too serious.”

“Maybe it’s just poor signal at sea? They probably just lost contact temporarily?”

…

The Wyman Strait stretches over 3,000 kilometers, narrowing to 700 kilometers at its slimmest point. It’s one of the world’s busiest trade routes. Now, with Meteor No. 3 suddenly out of contact, most people remained optimistic, assuming the signal loss was caused by the unexpected tsunami.

“Sending prayers!”

“Hope everyone’s safe.”

…

Countless netizens offered their prayers for Meteor No. 3.

“Hope they’re okay.” But unlike the hopeful crowd, some netizens felt a heavy sense of unease. The Wyman Strait was a mature, well-monitored route. For a routine tsunami to cause a total signal blackout—it didn’t sit right. Especially since Meteor No. 3 was a massive cargo ship carrying 250,000 tons of goods…

Given the recent shifts in global affairs, many couldn’t shake a gut feeling that something was very wrong.

According to official reports, Meteor No. 3 had been out of contact for seven hours. All further updates were pending government confirmation.

…

“Still no news?”

“Nothing yet.”

…

As the world waited anxiously, at 8 p.m. on February 1st, Zhang Zhenghao sat wearily on the couch. Meteor No. 3 was a joint cargo vessel operated in collaboration with Jier Jiyue. Onboard, along with 30,000 tons of corn, were over 300 Jier employees—including his younger brother, Zhang Zhengjie, listed among the crew.

His secretary tried to comfort him, “It’ll be fine.”

Zhang Zhenghao forced a smile. “Thanks.”

Though he said it would be fine, deep down he wasn’t optimistic. Just earlier, officials from the Longxia Government had come to gather information. Since the ship was shared by over a dozen companies, the total number of missing personnel had reached 3,272.

The sudden tsunami had struck around 11 p.m. the previous night. At the time, Meteor No. 3 had reported the situation to the central station. The ship was crewed by seasoned sailors—many had weathered not just minor tsunamis, but even Category 1 disasters. Despite the sudden nature of this one, both the crew and the central station had remained confident.

They had been in constant communication, updating each other on the storm. Just when it seemed they’d made it through safely, at 3 a.m., Meteor No. 3 suddenly went silent…

Currently, Longxia authorities were reaching out to other vessels in the area. Though there was no definitive conclusion, Zhang Zhenghao suspected the worst—pirates.

Since the onset of the Food Crisis, pirate activity had been reported sporadically across international waters. Some were remnants from the old Bluewater conflicts, others were refugees from disaster-stricken nations.

From last March until now, there had been 31 major ship hijacking incidents worldwide.

At 8:20 p.m., even the secretary began to doubt the signal failure theory. After a moment’s thought, he said, “Even if it’s pirates, they’ll come back safe.”

Longxia had faced two pirate hijackings in the past two years. Thanks to the country’s growing international influence, both incidents had ended without casualties.

“Yeah.” Zhang Zhenghao tried to force a smile.

They chatted for a while, when suddenly his phone rang.

Zhang Zhenghao answered, “Mom.”

“What time are you coming home?”

“I have to work late tonight, probably around eleven. Don’t wait up—get some rest.” After a few more words, he hung up.

“Mom was asking when I’d be back,” he said to the secretary. According to the original schedule, Meteor No. 3 was supposed to return around the fifth. His mother had been eagerly awaiting Zhang Zhengjie’s return since yesterday. The freezer was stocked with dumplings made for the New Year. He just couldn’t bring himself to tell her the truth…

As they waited in silence, at 8:50 p.m., the office landline rang.

The secretary picked up quickly, then turned to Zhang Zhenghao with a complicated expression. “It’s the government. It was pirates.”

“Meteor No. 3 Update: According to the National News Channel, Meteor No. 3 was attacked by pirates at 3 a.m. These are a new type of pirate group…”

“The Longxia Ministry of Foreign Affairs is currently in talks with countries like Slanton regarding the whereabouts of the pirate group.”

“Long Xia News: We vow to protect the life and safety of every crew member.”

…

At 8:50 p.m., Long Xia News interrupted programming with the latest update on Meteor No. 3.

“They got hijacked?”

“Didn’t Wyman Strait just have a pirate sweep? How are they back again?”

“A 300,000-ton cargo ship! They hijacked something that big?!”

…

The moment the update aired, netizens were stunned. Not because they thought Longxia was immune to piracy, but because the Wyman Strait had just recently undergone a pirate crackdown. Previous attacks had only targeted smaller vessels. But this—this was a full-scale, high-profile hijacking.