Dawn broke with a warm blush over Chen Valley, casting golden light through the misty hills. Birds flitted across bamboo groves, and dew clung to the greenhouse panels like diamonds waiting to melt. Lin Feng stood by the edge of the main field, eyes fixed on the horizon. The air was still, but his thoughts churned with a new intensity.
The world was waking up to what he'd built. Slowly, suspiciously—but it was happening.
And so, he moved faster.
Today marked the beginning of his most ambitious maneuver yet.
Satellite Farms.
Not visible from the outside. Not affiliated on paper. But grown from the same roots.
He glanced at the spreadsheet on his phone. Six locations, each within a 200-kilometer radius, each already scouted, negotiated, and quietly leased under shell cooperatives. He wouldn't expand through the cooperative—he would expand around it.
Just like vines climbing a wall.
---
Later that morning, Liu Qiang met him at the refurbished fertilizer plant.
"The first satellite site is prepped," Liu reported. "Old orchard land outside Shuangxi Town. You were right—the villagers didn't know what to do with it. It's practically untouched."
Lin Feng nodded. "Soil reports?"
"Rich in micronutrients. Slight acidity, but nothing compost can't fix."
"And the caretaker?"
"Local. Retired teacher. Lives alone. We've hired him under the Qingyun shell."
"Good." Lin Feng smiled faintly. "Make sure he knows this is just a trial plot. No marketing, no press. Only production."
Liu Qiang gave a mock salute. "The legend of the invisible farmer grows."
Lin Feng chuckled, then turned serious. "We'll plant Silverleaf Greens there. Quiet harvest, minimal footprint. Label everything under the Silver Leaf logo and route it through our cold-chain node."
"What about inspection?"
"None needed. It's still legally categorized as a 'rural rehabilitation plot.'"
"And our buyers?"
"Will never know the source shifted."
---
Meanwhile, Xu Yuhan was sitting in her small city apartment, brushing her hair absently as she listened to a podcast about China's rural economic resurgence. The host was praising "mysterious high-quality produce" that had begun popping up in top-tier city restaurants—anonymous, ultra-fresh, and priced like jewelry.
She smirked. "You've become folklore, Lin Feng," she whispered.
Just then, her phone buzzed.
Chef Gao: "Any chance of getting 5kg more mushrooms? Sold out last night. Also, someone from a culinary magazine is asking about the Silver Leaf brand. What should I tell them?"
She stared at the screen.
Another message buzzed in before she could reply.
Unknown Number: "Who supplies Yuyuan Table? Let's talk distribution. Name your price."
Her smile faded. The pressure was building faster than expected.
She called Lin Feng.
"We're getting approached by food critics now. You want me to lie?"
"No," Lin Feng said calmly. "Tell them the truth."
She raised an eyebrow. "Which version?"
"That the Silver Leaf brand supports small farms that practice regenerative agriculture. That the farmers remain anonymous by choice, to protect the land from industrial farming."
She laughed. "That's poetic."
"It's also the truth," he said.
---
That afternoon, Lin Feng returned to the Inner Realm. The air there always smelled cleaner, the wind more fragrant, the light softer. He passed the camphor saplings—already growing taller, stronger—and reached the herbal terraces.
Today, he harvested wild chrysanthemum, licorice root, and honeysuckle vines—ingredients for an herbal tea blend he had been perfecting.
He brewed a pot on a stone stove, the steam wafting up in wisps. The taste was clear, with floral and earthy undertones. Calming, but energizing.
He called it Morning Dew.
Not yet for sale. Not yet for sharing. But soon.
His vision had always gone beyond vegetables. He wasn't just farming produce—he was cultivating health, trust, and legacy.
Each leaf, each seed, was a brick in the house of reputation he was building.
---
Elsewhere, in the bustling offices of Yingtai Ventures, Li Zhihong sat in a private meeting with two men from an investigative consulting firm.
One of them laid a map on the table.
"These plots," he pointed, "all show recent underground construction permits. The contractors are small, but they follow a pattern—three layers of company proxies."
"And the common thread?" Li asked.
"All payments originated from Qingyun Freight Services. Quiet, consistent, cash-backed."
Li frowned. "So that's the shell."
"Most likely," the man said. "And the logo shows up here—" He flipped to a satellite image of a cold storage facility. A single white truck had a stylized silver leaf painted on its rear door.
Li Zhihong leaned forward, lips curling. "So this Lin Feng… built an empire in reverse."
"Sir?"
"He didn't start with sales. He started with control. Land. Storage. Quality. Distribution. Now demand is chasing him."
The room fell silent.
Li finally said, "Let's pull back. Let him grow a little more. When the fruit ripens, we'll squeeze."
---
At the end of the week, Lin Feng and Xu Yuhan walked along the riverbank that curved around the village. Wildflowers bloomed by the shore, and dragonflies danced on the surface.
"Do you ever stop?" she asked, sipping from a thermos filled with the Morning Dew tea.
He shook his head. "Not really."
"You know, most people in their twenties are still figuring out who they are."
"I figured it out when I saw the state of my parents' farm."
"Was it that bad?"
He nodded. "Abandoned, overrun, forgotten. But I remembered what it was. What it meant. I'm just rebuilding that—on a larger scale."
Xu looked at him. "You're not just a farmer, Lin Feng. You're an ecosystem."
He smiled quietly.
They sat down under a willow tree, listening to the wind whisper through its branches.
"You know," she said softly, "I used to think ambition was cold. That it made people ruthless."
"And now?"
She looked at him. "Now I know—it can make people care, too. Just in deeper ways."
He turned toward her.
"You make this easier," he said.
Her smile was shy, but steady. "And you make it harder to walk away."
Neither said more. They didn't need to.
---
That night, Lin Feng received a package. No return address. Just a USB drive inside, with a short note:
"You are not invisible. Be careful who watches the leaves."
He plugged the drive into an offline laptop.
Inside were drone images. Photos of his satellite farm in Shuangxi. GPS logs. Heat maps. Even blurry screenshots of cold trucks departing at midnight.
Someone had eyes.
And they were watching from a higher perch than he had expected.
He closed the laptop, face calm.
But his mind raced.
It was time to call in a favor.
One he'd been saving.
---
The next morning, Lin Feng took a train to a nearby city and met with an old acquaintance—a man named Guo Ming, a former intelligence analyst turned cybersecurity consultant.
They greeted each other with brief nods. No hugs. No back pats. Just a shared past.
"You still walk the tightrope?" Guo asked.
"Just higher now," Lin Feng replied.
He handed over the USB.
"Find out who sent it. I need eyes on the watchers."
Guo whistled low. "They've gone deep. But I can trace the node origin."
"How long?"
"Three days. Maybe four."
"Good. And Guo?"
"Yeah?"
"This doesn't leave your desk."
Guo smirked. "You taught me better than that."
---
By the end of the week, two new satellite farms were operational. The greenhouse in Chen Valley had reached full production. The first herbal tea prototype had been sent—anonymously—to a wellness chain for tasting.
Feedback came within 24 hours.
"Where is this from? We've never tasted anything like it."
Lin Feng deleted the message and sent two tins instead of five.
"Let them ask," he told Xu Yuhan. "Curiosity is more powerful than marketing."
She smiled. "And you're more addicting than your tea."
---
In the shadows of a rising empire, Lin Feng stood tall—not as a mogul or a face on a billboard, but as a root buried deep in fertile soil.
What he built wasn't obvious.
But it was growing.
And soon, the whole world would feel it—
Even if they never saw his name.
---
End of Chapter 26