A crisp autumn wind swept through the hills of Chen Valley as Lin Feng adjusted the cuffs of his charcoal coat. For the first time in months, he was preparing to leave the valley—not for deliveries, not for procurement—but to walk directly into the belly of the beast.
Hangzhou.
The invitation hadn't been acknowledged, but he knew they'd expect him. And showing up unannounced was part of the message. They were trying to draw him out with offers and pressure. He would answer—not as prey, but as equal.
As he stepped into the black electric SUV parked near the cooperative gate, Xu Yuhan caught up, breathless.
"You're really going?"
"Yes."
"Alone?"
He nodded. "They expect a chess piece. I'll walk in like the player."
She hesitated. "At least let me come with you—media cover."
Lin Feng gave a rare smile. "If anything happens, tell the world I fed the people before I fed the giants."
Her fists clenched. "Stop making me nervous with lines like that."
"I'm not going to war, Yuhan," he said gently. "I'm going to water a different kind of seed."
---
Hangzhou, with its glittering towers and glass-walled offices, was a world apart from Chen Valley's mist-covered serenity. But Lin Feng didn't flinch.
The address led him to the 37th floor of the ZhenHua Tower, a corporate monument overlooking the West Lake. The reception area was all minimalist black marble and potted bamboo. The kind of opulence that tried to look humble.
He was greeted by a young woman in a navy skirt suit.
"Mr. Lin, they've been expecting you. Right this way."
She led him down a corridor to a room more fitting for diplomacy than agriculture. Inside, a long conference table held six men and one woman—each representing a different interest.
Li Zhihong, from Yingtai Ventures, sat casually at the far end. His smirk hadn't changed.
"Mr. Lin," Li said, gesturing to the open seat. "Glad you came."
Lin Feng didn't sit.
"I came to listen," he said.
A middle-aged man with graying temples leaned forward. "I'm Zhang Ke, policy advisor for the Rural Innovation Commission. What you're doing is remarkable. But unregistered."
Lin Feng tilted his head. "Unregistered because I never applied for external funding. Not illegal."
Another man chimed in, "Mr. Lin, this isn't a tribunal. We're offering an opportunity. A formal proposal to integrate your model into national revitalization strategy. With government backing, of course."
"And oversight," Lin Feng added.
"Yes," the man acknowledged. "Transparency ensures sustainability."
The woman—her card read Miao Lian, Chief of Brand Strategy, ZhenHua Holdings—tapped her tablet.
"We project that within 24 months, your produce brand could dominate the organic luxury market. With our logistics and legal teams, you could set standards nationwide."
Li Zhihong interjected. "Or you could be swallowed up by competitors in the next quarter."
Lin Feng finally sat down. He looked at each of them. "Let's stop pretending this is about farming."
A pause.
"This is about controlling a narrative. You see me as a variable. I see myself as soil."
They blinked.
"In soil, things either grow or decompose. But the soil itself remains. You want to plant your flag in me. But I'm not land to be claimed."
Zhang Ke leaned back. "You're turning down national-level backing?"
Lin Feng's voice was steady. "I'm turning down leverage. What I've built thrives in secrecy, in cycles, in patience. You operate on quarters. I operate on seasons."
Li Zhihong gave a sharp chuckle. "So what's your plan, stay in your valley and play philosopher-farmer while we industrialize your model?"
Lin Feng's eyes narrowed. "Try. You'll find the model works only with my soil, my microbes, my sequencing. What you'll grow will be tasteless and weak."
Miao Lian closed her tablet. "This wasn't the negotiation we expected."
Lin Feng stood. "It wasn't meant to be."
He walked out without another word.
---
Back in the valley that night, Lin Feng returned not with fear, but with clarity.
They had underestimated him. They saw a rural anomaly. He was building a resilient biosphere—economically, ecologically, philosophically.
He gathered his team in the main office.
"We double the seed vault storage," he instructed. "Begin testing vertical root zone structures in the Inner Realm—six levels deep. And initiate Ghost Bloom Protocol."
The team blinked.
"What's Ghost Bloom?" Liu Qiang asked.
Lin Feng unfolded a hand-drawn schematic.
"Time-release agricultural insurgency."
---
Ghost Bloom was his most audacious idea yet.
Lin Feng began embedding self-sufficient grow kits into parcels of donated land across five remote provinces—under different names, with varying crops. Each site would be powered by solar microgrids and water condensation collectors. The kits included soil microbes from the Inner Realm, hidden under layers of generic fertilizer packaging.
He labeled them "training centers" for underprivileged rural farmers. In truth, they were decentralized colonies—nodes of his regenerative system, ready to flourish when activated.
He left no fingerprints. Only growth.
---
Meanwhile, demand for the Silverleaf Greens was exploding.
Food critics wrote glowing articles describing its "transcendental mouthfeel" and "aromatic shimmer." A top chef in Chengdu compared it to "eating sunlight crystallized in dew."
Lin Feng began rationing shipments—just 800 grams per restaurant, per week. No exceptions.
The scarcity created a cultural myth.
And with it, came danger.
---
At 3 a.m. one night, Lin Feng was alerted by a motion sensor ping in the outer greenhouse. He dressed quickly and moved with practiced silence.
Through the moonlight and fog, he spotted a figure in a black hoodie kneeling over the root beds—digging.
Lin Feng emerged without hesitation.
"Take one more scoop," he said quietly, "and the only thing you'll grow is regret."
The figure froze, then bolted.
Lin Feng didn't chase. He'd already installed traceable soil particles in each bed—a mixture of bio-coded spores that would react under lab testing.
If that soil showed up elsewhere, he'd know.
The Inner Realm wasn't the only place that could keep secrets.
---
The next morning, Lin Feng added a final line to his legacy document, stored within a secure capsule buried beneath the aquaponics greenhouse.
> "We do not grow to be seen.
We grow to remain unseen—until the world tastes the truth."
---
By now, local authorities were aware of the growing fame of "Chen Valley Greens," though they had yet to connect it directly to Lin Feng. He kept the cooperative's books tight, records clean, and staff loyal.
One day, the county magistrate made a casual visit, posing as a curious tourist. Lin Feng greeted him like he would any stranger, offering tea made from his mountain mint.
As they walked, the magistrate made vague references to "regional economic potential" and "model rural templates."
Lin Feng just smiled.
"Nothing grows faster than ambition," he said. "Except weeds."
---
That evening, Lin Feng and Xu Yuhan sat on the hill overlooking the valley. Lantern lights flickered below like stars fallen to earth.
She leaned back on her elbows. "Do you ever miss normal life?"
He chuckled softly. "What's normal? Traffic? Cubicles? Packaged rice?"
She grinned. "Fair."
He turned serious. "I miss the idea of anonymity. Before all this, no one asked where my vegetables came from."
"Now the whole country wants to know."
He looked at her. "They'll never find out."
She stared at him. "Then what's your endgame?"
He didn't answer for a long time. Then:
"When I die, I want the soil to outlive my name. And the food to carry stories no one remembers writing."
She was quiet.
"Is that lonely?"
He looked up at the stars.
"No. It's eternal."
---
End of Chapter 29