Chapter 148

Hugua H1 separation technology, global seaweed cultivation, outdoor oxygen production systems…

Over the next three days, Farm focused its efforts on the Wishing Pool Reward. Due to the restrictive nature of the Wishing Pool Reward system, after careful screening and selection, Farm finalized the reward on August 5: the Marine Biology Research Lab.

Currently, the Arctic Biological Station has discovered a horned whale beneath the permafrost. However, due to technological limitations, research on the horned whale has hit a bottleneck. The Marine Biology Research Lab will primarily serve as a support facility for this research.

After reading through the details, Qin Yun entered the Wishing Pool Reward.

“Wishing Pool Reward: Marine Biology Research Lab. Confirm?”

“Confirm.”

“Congratulations, Host, for selecting the Wishing Pool Reward. System updating…”

Thirty seconds later, the update was complete.

Host Name: Qin Yun

Current Mission: Sell 500 million tons of Farm grain

Mission Reward: Marine Biology Research Lab

…

The moment the mission requirements appeared, not only Qin Yun but everyone else was momentarily stunned.

Selling grain was one of Farm’s most basic tasks. Since 3029, however, most missions had revolved around “off-site cultivation” and “Global Soil.” So when they saw the figure—500 million tons—it took a moment to register.

Half a minute later, Song Yueshan was the first to react. “That’s it?”

Liu Wensheng read it over three times carefully. “That’s it.”

In 3030, Longxia’s total grain output was 1.27 billion tons, and the global output was 3.22 billion tons. Selling 500 million tons wasn’t a simple task—but that was in the context of conventional farming.

“What’s our current daily output?” Liu Wensheng turned to Qin Yun.

“Three thousand tons of wheat, five thousand tons of corn, ten thousand tons of sweet potatoes…” Qin Yun reported seriously.

Farm currently had 100,000 mu of farmland. Since its upgrade, it had been in a constant state of “plant, plant, plant.” After five years of cultivation, the current production cycle yielded 500,000 tons, and the grain reserves stood at 120 million tons.

After confirming that there were no additional mission requirements, Liu Wensheng made a decisive call. “Plant!”

Selling wasn’t the hard part. The real challenge now was producing 500 million tons.

After some discussion, Farm decided to plant all 1 billion mu of land with potatoes. Regular potatoes yielded 10,000 jin per mu, while high-grade ones could reach 40,000 jin per mu.

At the same time as confirming the all-potato strategy, Qin Yun directly purchased: [Farmland Growth Spring] x 10 million units.

[Farmland Growth Spring] was a system item introduced after Farm’s latest update. It could randomly shorten crop maturation time by 30% to 50%. With its effects, Farm’s maximum monthly output could reach 20 million tons. With a 400-million-ton shortfall remaining, even at 20 million tons per month, it would still take at least two years…

“Now it’s just a matter of time,” Liu Wensheng sighed. Twenty million tons was equivalent to a county’s annual output, but compared to Farm’s mission, it was just a drop in the bucket.

With the planting strategy finalized, Farm began negotiating grain export plans with various countries.

Although global farming conditions had improved, tsunamis and high temperatures still made food a hard currency worldwide. After two weeks of back-and-forth negotiations, on August 27, Longxia signed a Potato Strategic Cooperation Agreement with 32 countries, instantly becoming the world’s largest grain exporter.

On August 29, Fengshan Potatoes began shipping out to countries around the globe.

…

“One slice of bread, two chocolate egg tarts, and a slice of cheesecake.”

“We’ve got creamy mashed potatoes in stock. Would you like to add some?”

“How much?”

“Two Natal Coins.”

“I’ll take three.”

…

At 9 p.m. on September 12, James had just seen off his last customer and was leisurely tidying up the shelves. He wore a Hugua Mask, a Thermostatic Isolation Suit, and had an oxygen tank strapped to his waist—looking like an extra from a disaster movie.

At 9:30, a lean young man walked into the shop. He was thirty-two, also dressed in the full Hugua gear.

“Three egg tarts and one mashed potato,” the man said.

“Only coconut flavor left.”

“That’s fine.”

After paying, the man sat down and started eating his egg tarts.

James poured him a cup of coffee and asked, “How’s work going lately?” The man’s name was Jack, a regular at Knight Tart Shop.

“At least I’m not unemployed,” Jack sighed.

He was thirty-two this year and had previously worked at a nearby software company. During the economic crisis two years ago, he was laid off. After a year of bouncing around, he now worked at a real estate firm.

They chatted for a bit, and Jack looked at the mashed potatoes in his hand with surprise. “This tastes amazing.”

“It’s a new item,” James said proudly.

The mashed potatoes were made from Fengshan Potatoes. Ever since Fengshan Flour took the world by storm in 3029, he had been a loyal fan of the Fengshan brand. But since Fengshan products were only sold domestically, he had waited two years for them to be exported again.

While they were chatting, the shop door opened again. It was the customer who had just bought the egg tarts. He walked straight up and said, “I’ll take five portions of mashed potatoes.”

“Just a moment.”

James skillfully packed the order. As he worked, the customer said cheerfully, “The mashed potatoes are incredible—like a cloud of cotton candy melting slowly in your mouth…” He had bought them on a whim, but the taste far exceeded his expectations. It felt like it could wash away all the day’s troubles.

“They really are something special.”

James handed over the packed order. Lately, pitching mashed potatoes to customers had become his favorite part of the job. More than half of those who tried it came back for more the same day—that was the magic of Fengshan Potatoes.

Half a minute later, the customer left. Jack had cleaned his plate. “I’ll take two more.”

James hung the “Closed” sign. “We’re sold out.”

“Sold out?”

“Yep.”

Jack looked visibly disappointed, then turned hopeful eyes toward James.

“There’s no more potatoes left in the shop… I can reserve up to three portions at most.”

After some bargaining, James agreed to reserve three portions for him.

At exactly ten o’clock, James and Jack closed up and stepped outside. They had just walked out the door when they saw people hurrying along the street.

Looking up, they saw snowflakes the size of dandelion seeds drifting down.

James blinked. “What day is it today?”

“September 12…”

…

Global temperatures had been abnormal for a while now. This year, the snow had started falling as early as September.

“September 12: A powerful cold air mass has appeared in the southwest of Natal. It is expected to move south by mid-October.”

“The Longxia Meteorological Bureau warns: This winter will arrive earlier than last year. Residents should prepare for the cold in advance.”

…

As snow fell outside Knight Tart Shop, domestic news broadcasts were also reporting on the global cold air front.

“Snowing again?”

“Feels like the year isn’t even over yet, and it’s already winter again…”

“Let it snow, let it snow. Time for this year’s snowman contest!”

…

Netizens cracked their knuckles, feeling like time had flown by without a moment to react.

“Ten pounds of scallions, all tied up, please.”

“Got any long-shelf-life milk? The kind in those brick cartons…”

“Fifty self-heating hotpots—can you give me a discount?”

…

This time, there was no need for a reminder from Longxia. People across the country had already started stockpiling groceries on their own. The average temperature in Longxia was still thirty-seven degrees Celsius, yet for the first time ever, people were hoarding winter supplies in the middle of summer.

…

“This celery’s all wilted. How about ten yuan for the whole bunch?”

“Thirteen, lowest I can go.”

At 5 p.m. on October 7, Zhao Dafu strolled casually through Shunnan Market, wearing a constant temperature jacket and a face mask. Zhao Dafu was sixty-two this year, retired, and the main person in charge of grocery shopping for his household.

Half an hour later, he walked back to his tricycle with a satisfied look, carrying celery and eggs. Just as he placed the celery on the cart, a short, chubby man passed by and greeted him, “Out shopping?”

Zhao Dafu pointed at the tricycle. “Picked up a few things.”

“Did you get any meat? Xingwang Supermarket’s running a promotion—buy five jin of pork, get half a jin of eggs free…”

The chubby man was a former coworker. The two stood chatting at the market entrance. As they talked, Zhao Dafu began to feel tightness in his chest. He clutched at it briefly, then pulled an oxygen canister from his pocket and took a couple of practiced puffs.

“You carry that around now?” his coworker asked curiously.

“Getting old, can’t help it,” Zhao Dafu said with a sigh. He still wanted to be as energetic as the younger folks, but with low oxygen levels and high pressure, he’d been relying on oxygen to get through the discomfort lately.

“I carry one too.” His coworker unzipped a small pouch. Inside was the same model of oxygen canister, labeled with his name and phone number.

He took a couple of puffs, then gestured at the street. “Back when the pollution was at its worst, even then we didn’t need these.”

Both men were retired steelworkers. The steel plant had been dusty and heavily polluted. At its worst, just one lap through the workshop would leave them looking like they’d been rolled in dirt. They were used to high-pollution environments, but even then, the plant never issued oxygen masks. Now, masks and oxygen canisters had become standard gear.

Zhao Dafu looked out at the street.

People bustled back and forth, all wearing masks, oxygen canisters, and constant temperature jackets—the new standard trio. Since the jackets were mass-produced, from a distance everyone looked like factory workers, even more uniform than during company meetings.

He tugged at the hem of his jacket, thinking he might spend a bit more and order a different style from Longbao later.

At 7 p.m., Zhao Dafu returned home. His son and daughter-in-law were still at work. His wife was in the living room, holding their grandson and watching TV.

“Grandpa!” The little boy spotted Zhao Dafu and ran over to him.

“Got something for you.” Zhao Dafu pulled a lollipop from his pocket.

The boy squealed with delight and ran off to enjoy his treat.

Zhao Dafu changed clothes and stepped out onto the balcony. He had some scallions, ginger, and garlic growing there. He checked them and asked, “Did you water the garlic?”

His wife called out from the living room, “I did.”

The garlic had just started sprouting. Zhao Dafu figured once it grew a bit more, he’d stir-fry some garlic shoots.

At 8:20, his son and daughter-in-law came home. As his son peeled off his decontamination suit, he said, “Old Zhao from our unit got hospitalized from oxygen deprivation. You two make sure to carry your oxygen canisters when you go out.”

“We always do,” Zhao Dafu replied, then asked curiously, “The air pressure’s already equivalent to a thousand meters above sea level. Why wasn’t he carrying one?” They lived in Chuanfeng City, Gan Province. At this altitude, with Level 5 air pollution, carrying a mask and oxygen canister was basic common sense.

His son said, “He went back to his hometown last time and thought he was in good shape. Hasn’t used oxygen for a month and a half.”

Zhao Dafu nodded in understanding. Just another tough guy overestimating himself.

“He’s okay now?” Zhao Dafu asked.

“They managed to save him. He’ll be discharged next month.”

The oxygen in Fengshan wasn’t pure in the strict sense, but a synthetic blend designed to support human physiology. It could save lives in emergencies, and using it casually didn’t do much harm either. There were three sizes of oxygen canisters on the market—large, medium, and small. The smallest was about the size of a soda can, and most people carried one with them when they went out.

After chatting for a bit, the family of five sat down for dinner.

They turned on the news. Reports covered Hugua H1 casualties, seaweed degradation, global hypoxia…

The TV played the latest headlines. After the initial wave of panic had passed, people had gradually come to accept the global situation. This was a disaster even more devastating than war.

At 9:30, Zhao Dafu was in the kitchen washing dishes. Halfway through, he heard a sudden crackling noise outside.

He opened the window.

Hail was falling, mixed with snowflakes.

On October 7, snowfall began across the entire country. Due to global warming, the snow wasn’t as heavy as in previous years, but like a leaky faucet, it kept falling in a steady drizzle.

That year, the snow continued from October all the way through January of 3032. At first, people were annoyed, but gradually they got used to it. On the rare days without snow, folks would take pictures and post them online in surprise.

It was all dirty, slushy snow. Apart from a few regions, no one really felt like playing in it.

As one snowfall followed another, the Spring Festival of 3032 passed quietly beneath a blanket of snow.