Letting out a long breath, Qiao Ning set the bowl down with great reluctance.
No more.
He was genuinely stuffed. Who knew how many strawberries he’d eaten—not many left on the desk.
But he’d verified it on himself: Spirit Spring strawberries, beyond being extraordinarily delicious, had no other issues so far.
They say discussing toxicity without dosage is nonsense—and going by the sheer quantity of Spirit Spring strawberries he’d eaten, if there were any harm, he’d have poisoned himself long ago.
Also, the Spirit Spring’s effect on plants—or at least strawberry plants—was extremely fast, no delay whatsoever. Qiao Ning guessed the spring’s potency was simply overwhelming.
Then he’d just keep diluting it, using less at a time.
Qiao Ning simply moved the shrimp and clams he’d bought into the bedroom too, crushed a strawberry, and scattered the pieces into the basins of clams and shrimp.
No idea if they’d eat it. Try and see.
They ate it!
Qiao Ning watched several shrimp squabbling over strawberry flesh, holding pieces up to their mouths with their pincers, eating astonishingly fast—two of them even brawled over a single chunk.
Declining to referee the shrimp brawl, Qiao Ning continued his Spirit Spring experiments.
This time he filled an entire basin with water and dripped in one drop of Spirit Spring, dissolving it into Spirit Spring water.
Strawberries again.
He moved Strawberry No. 2 onto the desk, pushing it further inward this time so no overripe strawberry could roll off the edge.
He ladled out a cup of the diluted Spirit Spring water and poured it over Strawberry No. 2—pouring slowly, eyes glued to the plant, especially the fruit.
Under his gaze, those tiny greenish-white berries visibly swelled and slowly turned red.
Compared to Strawberry No. 1’s mad growth, No. 2 developed far more slowly. By the time the reddest berry was fully ripe, several others hadn’t finished coloring—looking on the verge but not quite.
Qiao Ning picked that fully ripe one, then the few others that had ripened properly, studied Strawberry No. 2 carefully for a while, took photos for the record, and moved it to the balcony.
The shop owner had told him: a potted strawberry only needs watering every three to five days, and not too much.
No watering at noon either—morning or evening was best.
Qiao Ning had been purely impatient, ignoring morning-or-evening rules entirely.
The owner had also said that if a strawberry plant set a second wave of flowers indoors, you’d have to hand-pollinate.
Qiao Ning hadn’t pollinated Strawberry No. 1 at all—it flowered and fruited all by itself, completely defying nature.
One basin of water, and Strawberry No. 2 had used only a cup. Qiao Ning didn’t dare pour more—no telling whether the owner had already watered it at the shop.
Now that he knew Spirit Spring water was a good thing, he was reluctant to waste a drop.
He moved over a blueberry pot and a cherry tomato pot, marking them Blueberry No. 2 and Cherry Tomato No. 2—No. 1s were reserved for the same treatment as Strawberry No. 1, one cup of undiluted cup-mixed Spirit Spring water, to see what a single cup would do to blueberries and cherry tomatoes that hadn’t yet flowered or fruited.
But he feared they’d fruit as madly as the strawberries and become unmanageable—better to wait until he’d dealt with the houseful of strawberries first.
One cup each of the basin-diluted water for Blueberry No. 2 and Cherry Tomato No. 2, and both plants changed.
The blueberry had been holding buds with just two sparse blooms open—one cup of Spirit Spring water, and both flowers had opened fully, the little buds slowly unfurling too.
The cherry tomato hadn’t had a single bud; now many little flower buds clustered thickly along its branches.
Even diluted in a basin, the spring’s effect remained strong.
Qiao Ning simply gave the small kumquat and aloe some water too. He’d only bought one of each—no comparison experiments—just keep them alive and usable.
After watering, both pots visibly improved. The kumquat opened more flowers and set more buds; the aloe’s existing leaves grew thicker and longer, and several new tender leaves emerged.
When all the watering was done, a little over half a basin of Spirit Spring water remained.
Qiao Ning simply poured it into the basins of carp, shrimp, and clams, and the bowl holding the two goldfish—waste was unbecoming.
Strawberry No. 3, Blueberry No. 1, and Cherry Tomato No. 1 hadn’t gotten any Spirit Spring water yet. Qiao Ning planned to dilute it further tomorrow with even more water, hoping to find a dilution standard that made plants thrive without being conspicuous.
Not today, though—making more diluted water would just sit unused. Wasteful.
After photographing the No. 2s for the record, all ten pots stood on his little balcony.
Strawberry No. 2 had ripened a few berries. Qiao Ning washed them all, intending to see whether they tasted different from Strawberry No. 1’s fruit.
No difference. Equally delicious.
These had ripened just right—slightly crisper than the ones that had overripened and dropped, a touch more sour too, but still sweet over sour, the flavor just right.
Qiao Ning ate some of his own hand-picked No. 1 strawberries as well—about the same, the only difference being ripeness. No gap in deliciousness.
Well, since I’ve already eaten… a bit more, then.
Really too delicious. Can’t stop.
Qiao Ning ate another bowl of strawberries, so stuffed he burped—and even the burps tasted like strawberries.
Covering his mouth, he told himself: self-control. He had a Spirit Spring now—whenever he wanted some, he could have it. Couldn’t wreck his stomach.
He was counting on living to a hundred this life—make it to eighty at least!
What remained was one heaping basin of strawberries, heavy in the arms, plus the pile on the desk—twenty-some jin by estimate.
Even skipping dinner and eating only strawberries, he couldn’t finish all this.
And strawberries don’t keep—they spoil easily. These were at peak ripeness, even less durable.
Waste was absolutely out of the question. He couldn’t bear to waste a single one.
First, he messaged the roommates in the group chat, asking who had time to come pick up some strawberries.
Eldest Brother Zhang Bowen and Second Brother Qin Hao were both studying and might not have seen their phones. It was Sixth Brother Lu Zeyu who replied first.
[Sixth Brother: Where’d the strawberries come from? Just eat them yourself—strawberries aren’t cheap these days.]
Qiao Ning replied: [An older brother sent them. Too many, I can’t finish them. I’ll share some with you all; the rest I’m going to sell at a street stall.]
[Third Brother: Where’d you get an older brother? Don’t you only have a little brother?]
Third Brother Wu Yiming had taken the civil service exam for his hometown—written test passed, prepping for the interview at home.
Fourth Brother had signed with a company out of town, also his internship company, and had already gone ahead to start his life as a Corporate Workhorse. Probably at work right now.
[Second Elder Brother: Besides us brothers, you actually have other good brothers?]
The group chat paused for a beat, then a string of copy-pastes followed.
Even Sixth Brother piled on. He was barely half a month older than Qiao Ning and had never once willingly accepted the role of sixth little brother.
Qiao Ning, amused, sent a few disdainful stickers. After a round of group banter, Zhang Bowen changed the subject.
[The True Eldest Brother: Need help with the stall? I’m in.]
The others all chimed in—just holler if you need a hand.
Qiao Ning politely declined. He had two plans: sell them if he could; if not, make strawberry jam. He’d already looked up jam recipes online.
Finally Lu Zeyu said: [I’ll come get them. Good excuse to get out and move around.]
They agreed to meet at the nearby subway station. Qiao Ning remembered little vendors occasionally setting up there, selling fruit, flower bouquets, and the like.
The strawberries were too heavy, and the pots were unmanageable, so Qiao Ning packed some and went to borrow the landlady’s electric Tricycle—she lived on the third floor.
Catching that intoxicating strawberry fragrance, the landlady beamed and pressed the keys into his hand: “You’re too polite, bringing me all these strawberries! They’re gorgeous—just the smell of them is delicious. Not cheap, are they?”
Qiao Ning smiled shyly. “My older brother sent them. He said it’s a specially cultivated variety. Probably pretty expensive, I think.”
Anyway, better than the two-hundred-a-jin strawberries he’d eaten once—those came individually wrapped, one per package, with gift boxes and everything. Clearly expensive, though he’d never imagined two hundred a jin. It had left a deep impression.
The landlady’s smile deepened. She wasn’t short of money, but she knew Qiao Ning was poor—and so poor yet willing to send her strawberries this expensive. What an innocent, generous boy.
The strawberries in her hands kept radiating that tempting aroma. She’d never thought of herself as a particular strawberry lover, but right now her cravings were being hooked relentlessly.
The moment Qiao Ning left, she rushed to wash the strawberries, picked up one Ruby-like berry, and popped it in her mouth.
Mmm—
The landlady’s eyes went wide, chewing nonstop.
This strawberry was too good! The flavor was so true—sweet and sour in perfect balance, strawberry taste rich and full. Not like some strawberries, pretty to look at but chewing on them was like chewing radish—flavorless.
Cradling the remaining strawberries, she chased after him, stuffing berries in her mouth as she ran, successfully intercepting him at Qiao Ning’s door.
Qiao Ning had just carried the strawberries out. The big dough basin couldn’t hold everything, and there was no better container in the kitchen—he’d had to use plastic bags.
“Little Qiao, sell me some of these strawberries first.” The moment the landlady saw what he was carrying, she fretted, “You can’t carry them in plastic bags! You’ll ride over there and the bumps will crush them all.”
Qiao Ning laughed awkwardly. “I was going to check the supermarket by the community gate for some boxes.”
“I’ve got boxes!” the landlady said warmly. “I have foam boxes, and fruit boxes with compartments! Come with me, I’ll get them for you.”
Qiao Ning was almost overwhelmed. He hadn’t interacted much with the landlady, but she’d never been this warm, as far as he could remember. He’d even overheard his housemates saying she was too shrewd, hard to get along with.
She seems perfectly nice?
Even as she talked, the landlady’s eyes kept drifting to the strawberries in Qiao Ning’s hands.
So fragrant. The moment she’d stepped in, that strawberry scent had hit her like a wall. What quality fruit must this be—fragrant and delicious. Perfect. No idea what variety.
She’d asked Qiao Ning; Qiao Ning couldn’t say, still vaguely crediting that nameless older brother.
The landlady helped carry the two big bags of strawberries while Qiao Ning carried the big basin himself.
Up on the third floor, Qiao Ning stopped at the doorway, too polite to step in. The landlady fetched him two foam boxes—formerly used for fresh produce and fruit, ready to use.
The fruit boxes were actually gift boxes. The landlady pulled out the unfinished jumbo cherries inside to give him the boxes, but Qiao Ning declined—the foam boxes were plenty.
Those gift boxes were pretty, sure, but they held only a few strawberries apiece.
Seeing the logic, the landlady set the box down and produced her brightest smile: “Little Qiao, sell me some of those strawberries first.”
Without waiting for an answer, she pressed on: “I know you young folks—thin-skinned, too embarrassed to name a price. I want a lot. I’m not asking you to give them to me—it’s not begging. Whatever the price is, that’s the price.”
Since she’d put it that way, Qiao Ning didn’t stand on ceremony. “Thank you for the business. Though I haven’t officially started selling yet, and I haven’t set prices…”
Seeing his honest attitude, the landlady felt comfortable, even more unwilling to take advantage of him, and analyzed earnestly on his behalf: “These strawberries really are good. Better than the five-hundred-yuan boxes I’ve bought—and those weren’t even two jin.”
“But those come from big premium supermarkets—brand markup, packaging fees, after-sales guarantees and all that. Selling them your way…”
The landlady glanced at the strawberries in the foam boxes, looking pained. “You won’t get anywhere near that price.”
Qiao Ning nodded along eagerly. “I know.”
Seeing him take the advice, she was even more satisfied. “But with quality like this—flavor this good—any packaging is just icing on the cake. Selling too low would definitely be a loss. How about this…”
She deliberated: “Give me a hundred a jin. And if you keep making this product down the line—new packaging and all—whatever the market price is then, that’s what I’ll pay.”
