Chapter 79

“Such incredibly strong flour!”

“This is the most delicious hollow noodle I’ve ever had!”

“Highly recommend the Longxia corn pizza—absolutely delicious!”

…

With advertisements rolling out across nations, Fengshan Grains began appearing on dinner tables worldwide. And everyone who tasted it had just one reaction: delicious!

“Three corn egg tarts, please.”

“Sorry, we’re sold out…”

Afternoon of June 22nd, in the city of Florença, Natal—James regretfully closed the shop door.

Despite the global crisis, Natal had ample reserves and hadn’t been hit too hard yet. James owned an egg tart shop. On June 15th, Fengshan Grains hit the shelves in Natal. The moment it became available, he pre-ordered twenty bags of flour. Unlike others caught up in the Longxia celebrity hype, James wasn’t into stardom. His reason for ordering the flour was simple: to make egg tarts.

According to the meteorological bureau, Natal was expected to be hit by the Harma Storm in July. With global disasters as a backdrop, food prices in Natal had begun to rise, now matching international levels.

James had run his egg tart shop for twenty years. The price of his tarts had risen from 0.5 Nata Coin to 1 Nata Coin.

He used flour directly to make his tarts. The ones made with Fengshan Flour were fragrant, sweet, and refreshingly light—the first time he’d ever crafted such a perfect piece of edible art. He devoutly took a bite of one tart, and just as he was about to eat a second, a customer walked in. And from then on… business boomed.

Where he used to sell out by 9 PM, the past two days he’d been closing at 5 PM. Today, he shut the doors even earlier—by 3 PM.

At 3:20 PM, James locked up and stared blankly at the blazing sun. The sun felt fiercer than in previous years, and it had been a long time since he’d had nothing to do…

“Hey!” A blond, blue-eyed young man rode up on a bike, snapping him out of his daze.

“Jack,” James greeted with a smile. Jack worked nearby and came by every afternoon for two egg tarts.

Jack parked his bike and looked at the shop, his hopeful expression turning to disappointment. “Too late again.”

James pulled a tart box from behind him. “You might need this…”

“Thanks!” Jack opened the box in delight and took a huge bite—half the tart gone in one go. “This is amazing. I’m ordering twenty!”

These were the shop’s new Fengshan egg tarts. He’d eaten them for three days straight and planned to bring a box to his grandmother tomorrow. But just as he finished speaking, James replied regretfully, “There might not be any left.”

Jack froze.

James glanced at his shop. “I’m out of Fengshan Flour…”

He’d ordered twenty bags of flour two days ago, each weighing 50 kg. Normally, that would last half a month. But with business booming, he’d sold out fast. He’d earned a hefty sum of Nata Coins, but the flour was gone.

“Do you still have the regular egg tarts?” Jack asked after a moment.

“I do.” James nodded.

The next afternoon, Jack returned to the shop.

“When will the Fengshan tarts be back?”

“This isn’t the flavor I wanted…”

…

Seven customers were crowded inside the shop, all voicing complaints about the egg tarts. Jack squeezed through the crowd and bought three. He took a bite—sweet, crisp, and flaky—but something was off.

“Doesn’t taste quite right?” Jack looked at James in surprise.

“It’s the same recipe as before.”

James shrugged. The tarts weren’t lacking flour or sugar—they were the same as always. But ever since switching to Fengshan Flour, people’s palates had been spoiled.

…

“No more corn cakes…”

As the egg tart shop ran out of flour, similar scenes played out across the globe. Fengshan Grains were selling out everywhere. Most of the grains were turned into flour or flatbreads. Thanks to government partnerships, people had rushed to buy them as soon as they hit the market.

In today’s connected world, everyone had already seen reviews from Longxia before buying.

“The tastiest flour,” “World’s best corn,” “Unforgettable sweet potato starch”—these were the kinds of reviews coming out of Longxia. While people respected Longxia’s culture, wheat was still wheat—no matter how you grew it, it couldn’t be that special. The flood of praise from Longxia seemed… exaggerated.

“Maybe Longxia needs to try Weir wheat.”

Some residents compared the grains to their own country’s agricultural specialties. Many believed Longxia had never tasted truly flavorful grains. But as the grumbling continued, Fengshan Grains launched globally—and promptly proved everyone wrong.

Fengshan Grains were light, soft, and absolutely world-class.

People turned to their own country’s ads—

“Come taste Fengshan Grains.”

“This is an exceptional grain product…”

…

Each country’s ads featured big-name celebrities. Initially, people didn’t care much. But after tasting the real thing, they could feel the ads had been… half-hearted. Not because of the celebrities, but because of the attitude behind the campaigns.

“No need to be so half-assed…”

“Longxia is selling this grain at low prices—it’s already amazing.”

…

Netizens began reflecting on what Longxia had done. From last year’s sweet potato aid to now, Longxia had exported a total of 500 million tons of grain globally. It couldn’t solve the global crisis, but it did provide a basic survival guarantee for disaster-stricken areas. Thanks to Longxia, nearly 200 million people around the world had not died in this catastrophe.

Now, with Fengshan Crops being co-distributed with other nations, Longxia could have priced them at 50 Longxia Yuan per jin, given the current situation. But they stuck to the lowest possible price. Their efforts had helped many regions, and in return, Longxia only asked for two things: 1) help promote Fengshan, and 2) ensure Fengshan Grains were available to local citizens.

Two incredibly simple requests. The second was fulfilled, but the first… was done with minimal effort. After experiencing the quality of Fengshan Grains, people couldn’t help but feel uneasy about that.

Amid this awkwardness, a blogger released a video compilation: “Fengshan Grains Promotional Highlights.”

Talk shows, skyscraper LED ads, celebrity endorsements—every frame was a high-budget production.

“This is Michael Joe, a seriously ripped muscle guy.”

“This is the Duolado Tower, a landmark in Duolado.”

“This is…”

…

The Promotional Highlights video ran for 52 minutes and 27 seconds.

Though the ads had felt perfunctory, they were still national-level productions. Every shot looked like it belonged in a blockbuster film.

Global audiences had mixed feelings about Longxia. Due to past frictions, relations weren’t exactly warm. But in this case, Longxia had helped many countries and showcased its unique character.

Focus on the issue, not the country. And on this issue, they had indeed dropped the ball.

“We could follow Duolado’s lead and use LED screen ads…”

“That stadium ad was pretty clever.”

“@Guqia, please take notes.”

…

Netizens began analyzing the promotional video. By the end, many were leaving comments on their own government websites, urging for better, more thoughtful advertising.

Of course, comments were just comments—people still stuck to one principle: no real spending.

Take Duolado’s LED screen ad, for example. It looked expensive, but for a government, it was just a matter of telling a building to display it on their screen…

No cost—just effort.

And that’s what most citizens appreciated.

As the discussion continued, several countries began copying each other—creative ads, digital projections, variety shows singing praises… All still followed the “no spending but flashy” rule, but now the flashiness had a bit more heart.

On June 28th, Fengshan Collection: Volume 2 was released, immediately climbing into the global Top 10 search rankings.

And with the release of Volume 2, people began to notice something—Fengshan Grains were getting harder to find…

By June 30th, international statistics showed that 90% of Fengshan Grains worldwide were sold out.

…

Host: Qin Yun

Current Mission: None

System Points: 1.35 trillion

Starlight Points: 570 million

…

While netizens around the world were focused on Fengshan Grains, inside Fengshan Farm, Qin Yun and Liu Wensheng opened the System Interface. This batch of grain consisted of a mix of wheat, sweet potatoes, and corn. The farm’s production cost: 8 yuan per jin.

They sold one hundred million tons, earning a total of 1.68 trillion yuan—equivalent to the annual GDP of an entire province.

1680 billion had already been funneled through a series of operations into the national finance department. The funds would primarily be used for post-disaster infrastructure following last year’s floods and snowstorms. The 1680 billion was gone—but the 1680 billion in points remained.

Over the past two weeks, departments had been freely applying for research equipment like farm seeds, irrigation machines, and automated harvesters. After reviewing the current state of the farms, the Longxia Team approved most requests with a casual wave of the hand.

Lately, the smiles on the faces of the farm researchers had practically reached their ears. Yet even with all that, they’d only managed to spend 300 billion points.

For the first time, everyone was feeling the effects of point inflation—the strange pain of having too many points and not enough ways to spend them. It wasn’t that people were getting cocky; the issue was that farm equipment could only be used within farm boundaries. They had the gear, but no budget for space to store it… frustrating, to say the least.

Compared to the points, Starlight Points were increasing at a more reasonable pace. After a month of promotion, the total had reached 570 million, and it was still steadily climbing.

When Longxia engaged in international trade, it used Longxia Coins calculated against current exchange rates, strictly preventing other nations from printing money to get food for free. Longxia used the food revenue to purchase international energy and essential survival supplies, holding fast to its principle: food for energy, food for materials.

Thanks to Longxia’s international operations, they’d managed to stockpile another large batch of petroleum fuel.

In a global crisis, energy was a form of security.

“Excellent!” Liu Wensheng reviewed the interface three times. This one-billion-ton deal would be a win for both the farms and the nation.

After reviewing the data, Liu Wensheng turned to Qin Yun.

Qin Yun opened the system store.

My Plantation: 300 million points, 300 million Starlight Points.

My Ranch: 300 million points, 300 million Starlight Points.

Biological Laboratory: 2 billion points…

…

Currently available: 1.35 trillion points, 570 million Starlight Points.

Qin Yun finished reading, then followed the team’s plan and clicked on [My Plantation].

“[My Plantation], regional reward. Price: 300 million points, 300 million Starlight Points. Confirm purchase?”

“Yes.”

…

The moment Qin Yun clicked [Yes], a [Plantation] card appeared in his hand—no surprises there.