Chapter 20

Qiao Ning’s read had been right—the co-renting couple bullied the weak and feared the strong. After his warning, they were meek as quails these past couple of days, not daring to provoke him at all.

With them not stirring up trouble, Qiao Ning couldn’t be bothered to deal with them. Using his free time, he bought some close-fitting clothing, shoes, socks, and the like.

Soon his online-ordered cardboard boxes arrived—same ordinary boxes as last time. Qiao Ning had considered whether to order custom nice gift boxes with refined packaging this time.

On second thought: his current customers mostly bought for themselves—mainly because his output was so small, people couldn’t even gift it if they wanted.

A gift box’s only function, for him, would be justifying higher prices. And honestly, Spirit Spring fruit was already pricey in Qiao Ning’s view—plus his big customers had voluntarily raised the price for him once already.

Making a fancy box only to raise prices again and sell to the landlady and the like… Qiao Ning felt a bit embarrassed.

If they truly wanted to gift it, they’d turn their noses up at his handmade boxes and repackage anyway.

There wasn’t much fruit left regardless. Once this batch sold, he was heading home—no point fussing. Ship it all out quickly and be done.

With containers in hand, the rest was simple. Accelerating fruit with high-concentration Spirit Spring Water was old hat for Qiao Ning by now.

And so, after witnessing the strawberries go berserk and the cherry tomatoes go berserk, Qiao Ning now watched the blueberries go berserk.

The plants shot up and stretched, flowers burst open furiously, and branches drooped with plump fruit. Blueberries were smaller than strawberries and cherry tomatoes, so they fruited even more abundantly—dense and jostling. Even as prepared as he was, Qiao Ning couldn’t pick them all in time and could only watch masses of overripe blueberries drop from the branches, landing on the EPE Pearl Foam he’d laid out.

The fresh, sweet blueberry fragrance gradually filled the entire room. Qiao Ning had no time for anything else, frantically picking and packing blueberries.

To his surprise, Blueberry No. 1 stopped its mad flowering and fruiting after only five rounds—yet it didn’t wither and die like the strawberry and cherry tomato plants. It remained full of life.

Qiao Ning thought carefully about the differences. After being watered with concentrated Spirit Spring Water, all three plants had grown, but the blueberry most dramatically—it had already outgrown its pot, visibly top-heavy.

Besides, Qiao Ning looked up these three plants online. Blueberry trees—what he raised couldn’t count as a tree yet, just seedlings—were perennial plants with very long life cycles: ten to twenty years, some even fifty.

By contrast, strawberries and cherry tomatoes were short-lived. Strawberry plants lasted two or three years; cherry tomatoes just one. No wonder they withered after their frenzied fruiting—truly burned out.

In other words, Spirit Spring Water merely amplified a plant’s vitality. The blueberry tree had greater life potential, so after fruiting several times, once the Spirit Spring Water’s energy was spent, it stopped fruiting.

But it hadn’t died.

Since it hadn’t died, there was no need to water it to death. He was taking the little kumquat home anyway—bringing three pots of blueberry too was nothing.

And—

Qiao Ning tallied Blueberry No. 1’s harvest. Five rounds only, but the quantity was substantial—six or seven jin per round, over thirty jin of blueberries in total.

If Blueberry No. 2 and No. 3 yielded similarly, that’d be over a hundred jin. Good thing they only fruited five times—like the strawberries and cherry tomatoes, his boxes wouldn’t have sufficed otherwise.

He packed this batch of blueberries into cardboard boxes and started accelerating No. 2 and No. 3.

Perhaps because No. 1 had fruited once before, No. 2 and No. 3 each fruited six rounds. In the end, Qiao Ning harvested a hundred and ten–plus jin of blueberries.

He had a scale now—his roommates had bought him a small one last time—so he no longer portioned by feel, but weighed properly.

Same as before: a layer of EPE Pearl Foam on the bottom, another layer on top. With the box weight, each box held six jin and a few liang—counted as six jin.

Eighteen boxes total, with three or four jin left over—not enough for another box. He kept those for himself.

All done, Qiao Ning immediately filled a big bowl with blueberries, washed them, and dug in.

He’d been craving them since that first taste. Did he know what blueberry popping boba was? This. Each blueberry crisp and sweet; teeth closed gently and it burst in your mouth, juice sweet and clear, flesh tender. One after another, absolutely impossible to stop.

Qiao Ning demolished two big bowls himself before taking out his phone to contact customers.

First, naturally, the landlady—his first VIP customer. But as he was searching for her chat window, a new WeChat message popped up first, from Lin Chengxuan.

The guy messaged Qiao Ning a few times nearly every day. Ask about fruit—Qiao Ning said none. Invite him to dinner—rejected. He’d even tried referring Qiao Ning for a side job with first-rate pay, clearly well aware of Qiao Ning’s financial situation.

Qiao Ning hadn’t taken the bait. He planned to go home and Lying Flat—no need to consider side jobs. If he wanted money, better to just sell more fruit.

After several rounds, Lin Chengxuan had learned his lesson: besides a daily fruit inquiry, he stopped the awkward small talk.

Today was the same—greeting, then asking if there was fruit to sell. What a coincidence.

Qiao Ning had never said he wouldn’t sell to him, so he replied: yes.

‘[If none, then…]’

Lin Chengxuan’s hand slipped, sending the half-typed message. He quickly hit unsend.

‘[Do you have stock? Is it the same cherry tomatoes as last time?]’

‘[Not cherry tomatoes. Blueberries. Same source, very tasty too. You could try some first.]’

Qiao Ning replied brimming with confidence. The taste-test gambit had never failed—so far, the only complaints were about price; no one had ever tasted it and called it bad.

Lin Chengxuan’s heart leapt. To say that so boldly, the blueberries’ quality must be decent.

He immediately arranged a time and place to meet with Qiao Ning—near a membership-only private kitchen. Lin Chengxuan gleefully plotted: they’d chat a bit upon meeting, it’d be about mealtime, and he’d smoothly invite Qiao Ning to eat.

Qiao Ning opened his map, searched the location Lin Chengxuan named, and replied: ‘[That spot… would need to be a bit later.]’

Lin Chengxuan: ‘[Is something inconvenient?]’

Qiao Ning: ‘[It’s a bit far. I’ll call a Huolala Logistics.]’

A big customer had asked for fifty jin off the bat—eight boxes by count. If it were close he could borrow the landlady’s small tricycle, but too far and he feared the tricycle’s battery wouldn’t last.

Lin Chengxuan: “…”

Lin Chengxuan: “…………………………….”

He wiped his face and told Qiao Ning not to bother with the logistics van—he’d drive over and load it himself.

Fine by Qiao Ning. Saved the Huolala fee.

Qiao Ning made sure to add: ‘[Don’t drive the sports car—it might not fit.]’

Come to think of it—a young master in an open-top sports car, passenger seat loaded not with beauties but two boxes of fruit… rather rustic, actually.

Lin Chengxuan silently set down the sports car keys and switched to a roomy SUV, driving a million-yuan luxury car to haul fruit.

Qiao Ning then messaged the landlady that the blueberries were in.

The landlady happened to be home. Hearing there was more fruit, she said she wanted some without a second’s delay—and clearly more experienced than Lin Chengxuan, she first asked how much Qiao Ning had on hand.

Qiao Ning told her honestly: eighteen boxes total. One box for friends, eight reserved by his schoolmate, nine remaining.

The landlady’s crisis instincts flared. Before, whenever Little Qiao had fruit, she was always notified FIRST!

Where did this so-called schoolmate pop out from, cutting in front of her?

But since he was a schoolmate, not a friend, it meant the relationship hadn’t reached that level.

The landlady subtly planted thorns: “Little Qiao, don’t mind Auntie meddling. You’re soft-faced. When that schoolmate of yours ordered fruit, did he put down a deposit? Did you settle the price? Don’t let him take advantage, only to turn around and complain your fruit’s too expensive.”

Qiao Ning’s box-carrying paused. The landlady had a point.

Rich as Lin Chengxuan’s family was, rich and stingy wasn’t impossible. He hadn’t mentioned price because in previous contacts, Lin Chengxuan had made a point of saying that as long as quality held, price was no object—very big talk.

Qiao Ning had never sold blueberries before, and he no longer dared trust the reference prices from his phone searches—big data had decided he was a pauper, after all.

He’d meant to sell to the landlady first and ask her opinion. She was a customer, sure, but she’d never deceived him—always looking out for his interests.

Tucking his phone into his pocket, Qiao Ning carried two boxes of blueberries up to the third floor. The landlady was already waiting and opened the door.

Neither wasted words. The landlady first washed a plate of blueberries—taste first, talk after.

Well then. Nothing left to discuss.

No one could refuse blueberry popping boba!

Like Qiao Ning, the landlady couldn’t stop once she started. She polished off nearly half a plate before remembering to comment: “Incredible. This texture, this flavor…”

She smacked her lips, mouth full of the juicy blueberry fragrance, and couldn’t help popping another.

Too delicious. The juice—firm, not at all mushy; the texture wonderfully crisp.

Plate finished, the landlady declared without hesitation: “Little Qiao, I’ll take all nine of your remaining boxes.”

Qiao Ning hesitated. A buyer like the landlady was of course ideal—bought plenty, paid promptly, raised prices without being asked instead of haggling.

But some of the scattered customers he’d dealt with before were quite interesting too, with great feedback on his Spirit Spring fruit.

He hemmed: “There are still some other customers who told me a while ago they wanted to buy…”

The landlady smiled. Little Qiao was simply no businessman—too soft-hearted.

But that temperament wasn’t unlikable. If she’d only cared about money, she wouldn’t keep looking out for him either.

“So have you decided how much per jin for the blueberries?” the landlady asked pleasantly. “Little Qiao, with blueberries of this quality, ordinary walk-in customers may not be able to afford them.”