Chen Hao stared at the chick for several seconds. Its mouth opened and closed, as if it were speaking, or perhaps just yawning. He rubbed his eyes, slammed the notepad on the table, and turned to walk towards the lab door.
“Alright,” he said. “Then let’s farm.”
Nana didn't move; the robotic arm remained in the sample extraction preparation position. "You just said 'farming'?"
“What else?” He opened the locker and pulled out a rusty old-fashioned fertilizer bag from under a pile of spare parts. “We’ve already developed X-07, we can’t just use it to save chickens. Besides, what our ecosystem lacks most isn’t medicine, it’s food.”
He shook the bag, and dust fell down in a flurry. "Let's try the worst plot of land first; anyway, even weeds can't be bothered to grow there."
Nana scanned the agricultural database and pulled up the soil report. "Plot No. 3 in the East District has an organic matter content of less than 0.2%, a slightly alkaline pH, and is deficient in nitrogen, phosphorus, and potassium. In the past twelve rounds of sowing, the average germination rate was 37%."
"Perfect." Chen Hao picked up the small bottle containing the purple powder. "We'll try anything, even if it means dying once more."
They spent half an hour grinding the crystal into an extremely fine powder. This time, they didn't use metal tools, relying entirely on a ceramic pestle and an agate mortar to grind it bit by bit. Chen Hao hummed a song as he ground, the tune wildly off-key, like background sound effects for some kind of emotional breakdown.
“You know what?” he suddenly looked up. “Our biology teacher at school said that genetically modified crops would dominate our dinner tables within ten years. I asked him, ‘What about the poor who can’t afford them?’ He said, ‘They can eat paper.’”
Nana looked at him: "This sentence is not recorded in the educational database."
"Of course not." He pouted. "The teacher regretted it as soon as she said it, and changed her tune in the next class to say 'everyone will be equal in the future'."
The powder is ready, with the concentration controlled at 1.5 parts per million. This value is the safe upper limit determined through repeated testing last night; any higher, and the cells will swell and burst like soaked wood ear mushrooms.
At 4:17 p.m., Chen Hao put on protective clothing, carried a fertilizer bag on his back, and swayed down the slope like an old farmer going to the city to sell fertilizer.
The wind was coming from the west.
"Spreading powder with the wind at your back makes it twice as effective." He stood on the edge of the field and opened the small opening at the bottom of the bag. "This is called having the right time, the right place, and the right people."
Fine, wispy purple powder drifted in the wind, like a miniature sandstorm sweeping across withered wheat seedlings. Ground sensors provided real-time feedback on sediment density, with deviations controlled within eight percent.
"Uniformity meets the standard," Nana's voice came through the headset. "It is recommended to stop the dissemination."
"Add two more handfuls to the corner." He twisted his body and moved a few steps to the north side, shaking the bag vigorously. "The last pinch, for good luck."
As the last wisp of purple powder fell to the ground, the setting sun was just touching the horizon.
They stood by the field for a while. Nothing happened.
"Do you think it will be effective by tomorrow?" he asked.
"Plant growth cycles are affected by multiple factors, including light, temperature, and water," she said. "It takes at least 48 hours."
"Oh." He patted his pants. "Then I'll go take a nap. Maybe I'll see wheat dancing in my dreams."
The alarm sounded at 6:39 a.m. the next morning.
It wasn't a red light, nor a piercing beep, but rather a green notification automatically pushed by the system: [Vegetation coverage in Plot 3 of the East District has increased to 82%, and the average plant height has increased by 110%]
Chen Hao was woken up by the noise. Still half asleep, he grabbed his tablet and almost rolled off the bed.
"Is this thing crazy?"
He put on his shoes and rushed outside, not even fully wearing his protective suit. When he reached the edge of the field, he froze on the spot.
The wheat seedlings that were drooping yesterday are now waist-high, with broad, glossy leaves and a faint purple halo between the veins, like starlight flowing through blood vessels.
"They...are glowing?" He crouched down and reached out to touch a leaf.
A slight warmth came from my fingertips.
“It’s not luminescence.” Nana started the sampling program. “It’s fluorescence. The plant is synthesizing a new type of anthocyanin in large quantities, which has strong antioxidant and energy conversion functions.”
"Translate it."
"This wheat might be more nutritious than beef."
Without saying a word, Chen Hao plucked an unripe ear of wheat, stuffed it into his mouth, and chewed it a couple of times.
"Sweet?" His eyes widened. "It's fucking sweet!"
He grabbed another handful and stuffed it in, his cheeks puffed out like a hamster's. "It's even more satisfying than the honey jars I used to sneak drinks from when I was a kid!"
"I recommend stopping direct ingestion." Nana took out the testing device. "Unknown ingredients may cause delayed reactions."
“I’ll eat the delayed-onset one too.” He wiped his mouth. “I’m so hungry I’m hallucinating. I thought I heard the wheat singing when I was chewing.”
The data came back quickly: protein content increased 4.8 times, vitamin E increased sixfold, and dietary fiber density approached that of bamboo charcoal. Even more surprisingly, the carbohydrate structure underwent subtle changes, with some sugar chains exhibiting a helical nested pattern, suggesting the presence of slow-release energy.
“This is no longer food,” Chen Hao said, staring at the report. “It’s alien compressed biscuits.”
“We need to expand the observation range.” Nana pulled up the infrared image. “Root activity is unusually active, and the underground mycelial network is expanding at a rate 30 times faster than usual.”
They walked around the edge of the field. The soil was soft and moist, and even though it hadn't rained for the past few days, the humidity was still ideal. Tiny purple mycelia sprouted from the cracks in the soil and wrapped around the base of the wheat stalks, as if giving each plant invisible armor.
"These things...are they newly grown?" Chen Hao squatted down and gently brushed away the surface soil with his fingers.
“It didn’t exist 24 hours ago,” Nana confirmed. “It’s presumed to be the result of x-07-induced soil microbial community reconstruction.”
"So it's not just changing plants, it's changing the land too?" He looked up. "Is the next step for earthworms to evolve six-pack abs?"
"No animals have been found to be involved in the mutation so far," she said. "But the balance of the ecosystem may face challenges."
"What's there to be afraid of?" He stood up and clapped his hands. "As long as there's food, that's all that matters. At worst, we can call this field the 'Purple Sweet Potato Life Field' from now on."
On the morning of the third day, the entire wheat field was bathed in a faint purple glow. From a distance, it looked like a nebula spread across the ground. As the morning breeze blew, the undulating waves of wheat shimmered with flowing patterns of light, as if the earth itself were breathing.
Chen Hao stood on the observation platform, clutching half a wheat stalk in one hand and stuffing a baked flatbread—made with flour from the first batch of harvested wheat—into his mouth with the other.
“To be honest,” he chewed on the biscuit, “this is the best breakfast I’ve ever had in my life.”
“Nutrition absorption monitoring shows that your current metabolic efficiency has increased by 22%,” Nana said. “The possibility of a placebo effect cannot be ruled out.”
"Don't be a spoilsport." He swallowed the last bite. "I genuinely feel refreshed. I wasn't even out of breath yesterday when moving equipment."
He suddenly stopped and looked at the center of the field.
"Wait...did that move over there?"
Nana immediately turned the camera around. The image zoomed in, focusing on a dense field of wheat. A single ear of wheat swayed slightly, not in the rhythm of the wind, but as if it had been gently touched and bounced back.
“No insects were recorded,” she said. “The environmental detectors did not capture any signals of flying or crawling organisms.”
Chen Hao squinted and slowly squatted down.
Just then, a very thin reflection flashed through the gaps between the wheat stalks.
It is neither metal nor a reflection of water droplets, but a thin, almost transparent wing that briefly appears in the morning light.
Immediately afterwards, the second and third appeared in different locations.
They glided close to the ground, moving nimbly and avoiding the main scanning area of all the sensors.
"Did you see that?" he asked in a low voice.
“Three micro-disturbances were observed.” Nana adjusted the focus. “The preliminary judgment is that they are small arthropods, no more than two centimeters in length, and their movement patterns show phototaxis.”
"Attracted to light?" He stared at the fleeting transparent wing. "Are they coming for purple?"
“The possibility is extremely high.” She activated the localized isolation plan and “recommended to establish a cordon immediately.”
Chen Hao didn't move; instead, he took two steps forward.
He reached out and parted a clump of wheat in front of him.
At the base of the wheat, a small, translucent insect lay on the mycelium, its back slightly raised, as if carrying a crystal shell. Its antennae trembled gently, yet it remained motionless, facing the purple-glowing wheat ears above.
He held his breath and slowly moved closer.
The insects didn't escape.
Instead, she slowly turned her head, and his magnified face was reflected in her compound eyes.
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