Chapter 108

Acid Rain contains high concentrations of nitrogen dioxide and sulfur dioxide. Since the onset of global Acid Rain, aside from the ongoing Food Crisis, the most pressing issue for residents has been the scarcity of clean drinking water.

Last July, Longxia signed the Acid Rain Filter Cooperation Plan with several countries, agreeing to supply them with Acid Rain filtration equipment. Due to the high production costs, the average export price per unit was one million, with prices in some countries tripling.

While the filters helped alleviate drinking water safety concerns, their size and operational limitations meant that the global water crisis remained severe.

After watching the [DH Water Filter] demo, everyone immediately clicked to activate it. The moment they did, the air in front of them twisted and shimmered, and a sleek, silver-white transparent kettle materialized. The kettle had two compartments: the upper chamber was 47 cm, the lower 3 cm, separated by a mesh-style filtration net. The lid featured a smart display screen.

Liu Wensheng pressed the power button, but the screen flashed: [Filter is dry. Activation failed.]

After thinking for a moment, Liu Wensheng fetched a container of Acid Rain from outside and poured it into the filter. The device automatically began heating.

“It’s basically an electric kettle now,” one of the researchers joked, drawing laughter from the group.

Five minutes later, Song Yueshan poured the filtered Acid Rain into a container for testing. The results showed a pH value of 7.2, with no organic pollutants, bacteria, or heavy metals—meeting the standards for daily drinking water. The impurities from the Acid Rain were automatically filtered into the bottom compartment.

“There’s probably a filtration chip from another dimension inside,” Sun Yiping speculated, analyzing the material and structure of the bottle.

Over the next two hours, they tested various contaminated water sources and canned beverages. The final conclusion: while the filter couldn’t remove additives from drinks or fine dust particles, it was highly effective at isolating Acid Rain contaminants.

Qin Yun opened the system marketplace, where the [DH Water Filter] had just been listed. It was priced at 100,000 points each and restricted to use within the farm area.

“The Technology Group’s got their work cut out for them,” someone teased, all eyes turning to Sun Yiping. This kind of tech clearly fell under their domain.

“Striving for excellence!” Sun Yiping responded with spirited determination.

Over the next week, the farm focused on planting new crops and preparing for upcoming experiments. After careful planning, they cleared and organized 20,000 mu of new farmland on the eastern side of the fields.

As the last of the seeds were sown, Liu Wensheng looked out over the apple orchards and murmured, “Let’s hope we get a good harvest.”

With sorghum, soybeans, apples, and pineapples all planted, the next step was research, research, and more research.

A week later, the Agricultural Group was the first to develop off-site rice seeds. The technology behind Off-site Seeds wasn’t particularly complex, and with the support of their lab and Longxia’s existing tech, they managed to create seeds that, while sterile and unable to reproduce, functioned just like regular seeds in every other way.

On the evening of February 28th, Longxia released breaking news:

[On February 27th, the Longxia Academy of Sciences announced the Longfeng No. 2 Rice. Tests show that Longfeng No. 2 is suitable for cultivation in mid-equatorial regions…]

“Rice that can grow in mid-equatorial regions?”

“Does that mean we can plant rice in Mali?”

…

Within moments of the news release, major global media outlets picked up the story.

Since the resolution of the Ship Hijacking Incident, global maritime trade had returned to a time of peace. However, the Food Crisis still had the world in a chokehold. The unveiling of Longfeng No. 2 Rice highlighted one crucial point: Longfeng seeds could be cultivated across different regions!

By 10 p.m. that night, #LongfengNo2 was trending worldwide.

The Longxia Academy of Sciences followed up by publishing detailed data on Longfeng No. 2. Due to agricultural technology constraints, the seeds were sterile, with an expected yield of 1,000 to 3,000 jin per mu.

The Academy concluded with a sincere statement:

“The Longxia Academy of Sciences will continue striving for breakthroughs and aims to develop even more adaptable seed varieties.”

Initially, the Academy had anticipated international skepticism due to the seeds’ sterility, but the global response was quite the opposite—

“Thank you, Longxia, for the No. 2 seed!”

“Gratitude to the researchers at the Longxia Academy of Sciences.”

“Looking forward to planting Longfeng seeds…”

…

Three years ago, people might have viewed Longxia’s seeds with suspicion and conspiracy theories. But after extensive research by various countries, it became clear that Longxia’s Acid Rain Seed technology was incredibly complex and difficult to replicate. Now, even with profits already secured, Longxia was still investing time and resources into developing globally viable seeds—a clear display of true great-nation spirit.

According to calculations by the Academy, Longfeng No. 2 was expected to reach nationwide mass production by mid-April. Specific cooperation quotas were still under negotiation.

“At 10 p.m. on February 28th, the Prime Minister of Cybera called Longxia, hoping to secure a seed procurement deal.”

“At 9 a.m. on March 1st, the President of Mali called Longxia, expressing interest in a diplomatic visit.”

“At 2 p.m. on March 1st…”

…

Within 24 hours of the Longfeng No. 2 announcement, over thirty mid-equatorial nations reached out to Longxia.

“Thank you, Longxia.”

“Looking forward to the rice seeds in April.”

“Grateful for Longxia’s No. 2 seed.”

…

The Central Equatorial Region was deeply grateful to Longxia. After two years of hunger, the appearance of the Off-site Seeds gave them hope—they could already envision fields of rice growing once more.

“Longxia might consider evaluating the land suitability in the Weir Region.”

“Canpesheng welcomes Longxia’s agricultural team for a geological survey…”

…

With the Central Equatorial Region stepping into cooperation, other countries began extending olive branches as well. If Longxia could develop Acid Rain Seeds suited for the Central Equatorial Region, then surely they could create seeds for other regions too. Several countries that had refrained from taking sides during the Ship Hijacking Incident were now breathing a sigh of relief—so long as they could partner with Longxia, they could at least ensure basic stability within their own borders.

In contrast, the Five Major Nations were feeling rather frustrated. Though they had dealt with the Seven Major Grain Enterprises, their initial inaction had left their relationship with Longxia strained. Now, watching the news about Longxia’s seeds, many were cursing the Seven Major Grain Enterprises under their breath… Compared to saving face, Longxia’s seeds were far more practical!

As global attention mounted, on March 3rd, Longxia released another announcement: [Longfeng Watermelon Seeds have been developed in collaboration with major seed companies and will be available nationwide starting March 5th.]

The First Day Watermelon yields between 8,000 to 12,000 jin per mu and can be cultivated across the entire country.

“We’ve been banging our bowls waiting for a month!”

“Craving that sweet, sandy-fleshed watermelon!”

“Aunties and uncles across the country—plant fast, rush in!”

…

Online, netizens flooded the hashtag #WatermelonRush, igniting a new nationwide watermelon craze.

“Mooom!”

Just as the nation buzzed with anticipation for the First Day Watermelon, on March 7th, Liu Xiaoyuan stepped off a long-distance bus, lugging several large bags. She was currently in her senior-year internship and planned to spend March at home planting watermelons, returning to campus for her thesis defense at the end of June.

“Tired from the trip?” Zhao Fengxia took the bags from her, unable to hide the smile tugging at her lips.

“Just sat on the bus the whole time. Not tired,” Liu Xiaoyuan replied, glancing around curiously. “The road’s been redone?”

Huilong Town was a well-known impoverished county in Yun Province. Its main road used to be an old dirt path, but now it had been replaced with smooth black asphalt. She’d heard the town government had invested in roadwork, but she hadn’t expected it to be done so cleanly and efficiently.

“They say it cost twenty million,” Zhao Fengxia clicked her tongue. The town used to be full of left-behind elderly and children, but now there was a wave of people returning home to farm. Even the local market days were livelier than before.

Half a minute later, Liu Xiaoyuan climbed into the back seat with her luggage.

As Zhao Fengxia started the motorbike, she said, “I got our land back. Once we clear it, we can start planting.”

Their family owned ten mu of hillside farmland. Two years ago, during the return-to-farming boom, they had rented it out. Just two days ago, they got it back.

“They didn’t object?”

“The lease was up—what’s there to object to?”

Chattering away, they arrived home at 7:30 p.m.

They lived in an old row house. As soon as Liu Xiaoyuan got off the bike, Liu Xiaorui came dashing out of the house. “Sis!”

Liu Xiaorui was her nine-year-old little sister—dark-skinned, skinny, and nimble like a little monkey.

“I brought you snacks,” Liu Xiaoyuan said, pulling out several large bags of treats from her backpack.

“You’re the best!” Liu Xiaorui squealed, hugging the snack bundle tightly, then tugged Liu Xiaoyuan into the house. “Mom made smoked pork, pig knuckles, and braised beef for you…”

By 8 p.m., the three of them had finished dinner in warm, cheerful harmony. Liu Xiaoyuan was a hands-on type. The next morning, she followed Zhao Fengxia out to their farmland.

Their land was located on the southern side of Yuhezi Village. Since only Zhao Fengxia and her younger sister lived at home, the land had been left idle and rented out. Liu Xiaoyuan had taken out a 50,000-yuan startup loan from her school and planned to hire a few workers to plant watermelons. Once things scaled up, she’d register a base company.

“Xiaoyuan’s back?”

“She’s grown into such a fine young lady!”

Several villagers greeted Liu Xiaoyuan warmly. Previously, the government had encouraged farming, and most villagers planted mountain-grown sweet potatoes. Now, everyone was busy digging them up with renewed enthusiasm.

The tenants had already harvested the sweet potatoes from her family’s land. Liu Xiaoyuan walked around for a bit, then joined Zhao Fengxia in clearing out the leftover sweet potato vines.

After two hours of hard work, Zhao Fengxia suddenly clutched her chest and started coughing heavily.

“What’s wrong?” Liu Xiaoyuan was startled.

“Probably just the season change,” Zhao Fengxia waved it off. She had mild asthma, and every seasonal shift irritated her throat—though this year was worse than the last.

“We’ve got some time these next few days. Let’s go get you a check-up,” Liu Xiaoyuan said with concern.

At 2 p.m., after clearing the vines, they headed straight to the seed distributor. Since the watermelon seeds had just hit the market, a crowd of farmers was already lined up to buy them.

They squeezed into one of the shorter lines. In the past, farming wasn’t profitable—only one out of ten windows would be open. Now, all ten windows were operating. Watching the bustling scene, Zhao Fengxia couldn’t help but reflect on the contrast between then and now.

Back then, people thought farming was a dead end. Now, it wasn’t that it had no future—it finally had a way forward.

An hour later, the two of them walked out of the distributor with their seeds. They’d bought enough for ten mu of land. To save on costs, they planned to plant the seeds themselves and follow scientifically proven methods they’d researched.

By 6 p.m., they were back home. In the courtyard, Liu Xiaorui was crouched on the ground, drawing with a stone on the dirt.

“Drawing something?” Liu Xiaoyuan asked curiously.

“Solving math problems.”

“Why not go inside?”

“It’s not homework—I can do it right here.” Though only nine, Liu Xiaorui was already quite frugal in her daily habits.

Liu Xiaoyuan walked over. “Anything you don’t understand?”

“I don’t get this problem,” Liu Xiaorui asked, her eyes full of admiration.

“You have to multiply first, then subtract…” Liu Xiaoyuan began explaining patiently, starting with the basics and gradually going deeper. As the sun dipped below the horizon, the two sisters studied with full concentration.

In the kitchen, Zhao Fengxia was stir-frying dishes. She glanced out at the courtyard and rubbed her eyes. Life at home hadn’t been easy. Liu Xiaoyuan had studied her way out just like this, and now Liu Xiaorui was just as hardworking. Zhao Fengxia felt incredibly grateful to have two such sensible daughters.

Cough, cough. She had just finished two dishes when the itch in her throat came back. She’d had asthma for twenty years—used to have frequent attacks when she was younger, but it had eased up with age. Lately, though, the coughing had returned in fits and starts, and she had no idea why.

She took some medicine to ease it, but the coughs kept coming. It wasn’t just the coughing—something felt stuck in her throat. She rubbed her neck and grabbed a piece of tissue from nearby.

She spat out something onto the tissue and froze. It wasn’t just phlegm—it was a thick, dark clot of blood.

Cough, cough! The coughing worsened. Her head felt heavy, her vision blurred with flashes of light dancing before her eyes…

Thud! Twenty seconds later, Zhao Fengxia collapsed to the floor.

“What was that sound?”

“No idea…”

…

In the courtyard, the sudden noise startled the two sisters.

They looked around, confused, until Liu Xiaoyuan reacted first and bolted toward the kitchen. The food on the stove was already burning. Zhao Fengxia lay on the floor, motionless, with a blood-streaked tissue beside her…

“Liu Xiaorui!” Liu Xiaoyuan screamed, her legs going weak beneath her.