Lin Feng sat at the edge of the inner realm's pond, hands coated with rich, black soil. Before him stretched three long furrows, each neatly prepared and lined with composted mulch. He had just finished transplanting the first batch of early spring cucumbers—sturdy seedlings with deep green leaves and thick stems. Behind him, several rows of Chinese cabbage rustled softly in the breeze, fully grown and ready for harvest.
The inner realm was now more than just a secret; it was an ecosystem. A living, breathing farm with distinct zones, carefully scheduled crop cycles, and natural harmony that no outside farm could match.
The past few weeks had been relentless. While the external world saw only a quiet, rural entrepreneur juggling a few small businesses, Lin Feng had been living a double life of high-speed agriculture and tactical deception.
He checked his notes on the clipboard—handwritten, waterproof, and bound in sturdy leather. Inside, everything from sowing times to fish feeding ratios, animal health logs to zone maintenance cycles. Lin Feng didn't trust software for this; he preferred something untraceable.
As he stood and wiped his hands, he whispered softly to the sky above him, "Let's take this up a level."
---
Later that morning, back in the real world, Lin Feng sat in his town apartment scanning recent RuralChain metrics. The app had recently introduced a business dashboard for verified producers, and Chen Valley Naturals had ranked #8 in local organic sales over the past week.
He smiled slightly.
His produce had gained popularity because of consistent quality, rich taste, and fair pricing. Customers regularly left glowing reviews, praising the "old-style flavor" and "natural aroma."
What they didn't know was that the vegetables they ate had grown in a space where time bent to Lin Feng's will. Where no pesticide touched a leaf, where soil enriched itself every few days, and where every chicken pecked at hand-picked grains.
And now, demand was rising.
Liu Ying had called earlier that morning. "We've hit 3,000 units this week across all fronts. If we keep this up, we'll need to consider stable supply agreements or find a way to raise our yield."
"We'll raise yield," Lin Feng had said calmly.
He always preferred to grow it himself.
---
As he walked into the warehouse that afternoon, he found several workers packing small boxes of baby tomatoes. Each box had a neat sticker: "Chen Valley: Pure from Soil to Soul."
The slogan was Liu Ying's idea—he had quietly approved it. It felt honest, even if people didn't know how honest it truly was.
"Boss, RuralChain's regional director is asking if you'll participate in the spring fair," one worker said as Lin Feng passed.
"Fair?"
"Yes, a product showcase in the city. Just a stall. They're promoting success stories. You can sell or just display."
Lin Feng paused.
Publicity was dangerous—but so was hiding too much. Sometimes, blending in meant participating just enough.
"Tell Liu Ying I'll approve. But no photos. No interviews."
The worker nodded.
Lin Feng made a mental note: he needed someone who could attend events in his place. A representative. A calm, convincing face who knew how to talk, but not say too much.
He would ask Liu Ying to shortlist candidates.
---
That evening, as the sun dipped behind the hills, Lin Feng found himself checking the card left by Xu Yuhan again.
He hadn't called her yet.
But she remained on his mind.
Smart, direct, and unusually sincere—qualities that stood out in the polished, scripted world of city nonprofits.
And though he wasn't ready to let someone into his real world, partnership didn't always mean exposure. Sometimes, it just meant alignment.
After some hesitation, he sent a short message.
[Text to Xu Yuhan]: "This is Lin Feng, from Chen Valley. Thanks again for your visit. I've been thinking about your offer. Would like to hear more when you're free."
The reply came thirty minutes later.
[Xu Yuhan]: "Glad to hear from you. I'll be in town next week. Coffee?"
He stared at the message for a moment, smiled faintly, and typed:
[Reply]: "Sounds good."
---
The next day, inside the inner realm, Lin Feng stood at the animal enclosure's edge, evaluating the chicken coop's upgrade plan.
The current wooden structure was functional, but with the growing demand for free-range eggs and poultry meat, he needed to think long term.
He had designed a semi-automated rotation system—three coop units on tracks that allowed for rotational grazing. While only one set of chickens grazed outside, the other two could rest and feed, reducing stress and ensuring steady egg production.
In the real world, this kind of system would take weeks to build.
Here, it took him three days—thanks to the time ratio and readily available materials.
The chickens were already healthier, meatier, and calmer compared to commercial breeds. The ducks had started laying as well, and the goats were giving milk more consistently.
He had also built a fermentation pit for animal waste—turning it into odorless, nutrient-rich compost. Nothing was wasted.
As he watched a rooster strut proudly across the grass, Lin Feng thought to himself:
"This place is no longer just a tool. It's becoming a legacy."
---
By the following week, Liu Ying had compiled a shortlist of potential brand representatives. Three candidates—all college-educated, experienced in agriculture marketing, and trained in media etiquette.
But one stood out: Zhao Yun, a 28-year-old former farm tech consultant who had previously worked with village revitalization projects in the west.
Lin Feng met her in the conference room above the Chen Valley warehouse.
Zhao Yun was sharp, soft-spoken, and most importantly, she didn't ask unnecessary questions.
After a brief interview, Lin Feng hired her on probation.
"You'll represent us at the spring fair," he said. "You'll get a product sheet and story background. Stick to that. No deviation."
Zhao Yun nodded. "Understood. One question: what if journalists push for an interview with the founder?"
"Politely decline. Or say I'm traveling."
He left her with a folder and a contact number—then returned to the inner realm to prepare the fair's sample produce.
---
Meanwhile, in the real world, new opportunities were bubbling.
RuralChain had just opened applications for a "trusted farm" tier, offering higher platform exposure, local government endorsements, and access to a shared cold chain transport system.
But applicants needed verified land ownership.
Lin Feng sat in front of his computer that night, scrolling through listings of small village farmlands in remote counties.
By morning, he had acquired ownership of nine disconnected farmland parcels across three provinces—each under a different company name.
They were real properties, managed lightly by retired villagers and simple tenant farmers.
To the government and RuralChain, this now gave his "brands" legitimate planting bases.
And Lin Feng, behind layers of legal smoke, had quietly completed the next step in his plan:
He had gone from secret supplier… to visible producer.
---
Two days before the spring fair, Zhao Yun visited the inner realm warehouse entrance—without knowing what it was.
Lin Feng had prepared sample boxes of assorted vegetables: cherry tomatoes, scallions, finger carrots, baby spinach, and duck eggs. Everything cleaned, dried, and packed in eco-friendly boxes with QR codes linked to brand landing pages.
He handed the boxes to Zhao Yun and gave a final reminder.
"No media contact. No story deviation. We're a quiet farm, focused on the soil. If anyone presses, just smile and nod."
Zhao Yun smiled. "That's easier than my last job."
---
The fair itself was held in the city's old agricultural exhibition center—a refurbished brick hall with wide glass ceilings and hanging plants on steel trusses.
Booths were arranged neatly, each showcasing a different niche: honey, mushrooms, handmade jams, even organic soap.
Chen Valley's stall was simple but elegant. The samples drew attention immediately—vibrant colors, clean scent, and freshness that stood out among the rest.
Within the first hour, several buyers from small grocery chains came asking about supply volume.
Zhao Yun smiled politely and said, "We're small-scale and selective. But we welcome inquiries."
She took cards, gave sample packs, and noted potential leads—never promising too much.
By the end of the day, they had received twenty-four expressions of interest.
Lin Feng didn't attend, but he watched updates through Zhao Yun's photos.
He smiled at her restraint, her precision.
And quietly sent her a performance bonus that same night.
---
Meanwhile, Xu Yuhan returned to town.
They met at a quiet lakeside café—Lin Feng arriving in his usual, unbranded hoodie and jeans, carefully low-key.
Yuhan was already there, sipping tea and tapping on her tablet.
"You're even more mysterious than I expected," she said with a teasing tone.
Lin Feng smiled. "I get that a lot."
Their conversation flowed easily—about sustainability, rural markets, green policy.
Eventually, she leaned forward.
"We're preparing a youth agriculture program. Something educational. Nonprofit. If you're open to partnering, even anonymously, we'd love to feature your techniques."
Lin Feng paused.
He saw the sincerity in her eyes. She wasn't after profit. She believed in something bigger.
"I'll think about it," he said.
And he meant it.
---
That night, under the glowing stars of the inner realm, Lin Feng planted new seeds near the pond—blueberries this time.
Their bushes would take time to mature, but he had time.
Plenty of it.
The wind rustled through the grasses, carrying the scent of fresh soil and wild mint.
He stood silently for a long while, then said aloud:
"Let's make this last."
Because the empire he was building didn't need to shine under the spotlight.
It only needed to endure.
---
End of Chapter 15